#but today I'm running the health center

[icewindandboringhorror]

Well! I started remodeling the house sooo long ago (original post of it back in 2018), then got distracted and forgot it in the closet for a long time, ignored it on and off, etc... Then, finally finished the house in 2022. THEN, I forgot about the pictures I took of it in 2022, and am now posting them in 2024.. A good example of how the timeline of my side craft projects usually go lol

But, at least I do have the photos now, so... finally sharing them ! 

I just used a blue sheet as a 'sky' and a green sweater with some fake flowers on it to try to look like it was on grass lol...

(more images under the readmore)

The bedroom-

The library/potion room -

The living room area-

Then the little kitchen

The pictures are not very good, but these are the best I could find? I filmed a video of me working on the whole thing (who knows when that will be out..if it took me TWO years just to post the photos lol), so I think while I was taking the pictures, I was thinking “eh, they don’t have to be great, since I’ll show it in more detail in the video :3″, but now I kind of regret not having more actual detail shots or anything.

(sidenote: I'm pretty sure I've posted better pictures of some of the individual rooms before though too? sometime before I had added the finishing touches but when they were basically done and looked almost the same as these. so maybe it's okay that these are kind of bad lol)

I think progress on it also stalled a bit due to the pandemic starting, since like 90% of the stuff in here is random things I found at the bins (giant goodwill donation center where you dig through tubs of various items all thrown together), so once I couldn’t go out to the bins anymore, I lost my method of hunting for new items, and just had to work with whatever scraps I already had or could make myself with very few materials/tools.  The bins is a really large and always crowded place, so it's still not safe for me to go with current community transmission levels lol... who knows when I shall be able to use it to get dirt cheap crafting supplies ever again.. T o T

ANYWAY! It was a fun little project, even though of course it's a little rough around the edges and not exactly as I'd envisioned lol. As usual, I always enjoy the MAKING of things the most, yet then have no idea what to do with the finished project, since the process is what's enjoyable to me.

I think I'm going to take all the glued down furniture out of it and then repaint it, then maybe donate the base house back to the same thrift store I found it at. Like completing some sort of crafting circle of life or something lol

slowly making some progress on the doll house I’m trying to remodel! 

[trans-androgyne]

As of today I've officially read every post in the transandrophobia tag for an entire year--in addition to running a discord server on the topic for six months--so I feel I have some amount of insight into the term and the little community we seem to have been building around it.

I've seen people stumbling into the discussion and having their mental health immediately wrecked, so I want to share a few quick and basic reminders/lessons I needed to hear a year ago.

You're not a transmisogynist for using the word transandrophobia. You're not an MRA or a TERF either and it's messed up to call you those things. I used to question myself constantly about these things, but I've also now spent hours looking at what real MRAs and TERFs believe and it is nowhere near my beliefs.

You're allowed to take up space. In physical spaces of course--your presence isn't a threat just because you're a man/masc--but also in discussions of feminism and transphobia. It isn't talking over women to share your experiences as a trans person. You experience gendered oppression and it's okay to talk about it.

People lie about us constantly. I'm always hearing things like we think trans women oppress us or so and so in the discussion said something transmisogynistic; do not take these claims at face value, look into them yourself or ask someone who has done so.

Stereotyping us is bigotry plain and simple. That includes considering us more aggressive, annoying, self-centered, toxic, attention-seeking, and misogynistic compared to other groups.

Sexism can very much target men and mascs. If you've been defining transandrophobia as solely an intersection of transphobia and misogyny, I implore you to just look up sexism to see how it can affect nonnormative men. I can give examples.

We have allies! When I found the discussion and saw the vitriol and violent threats directed at us I felt hopeless and alone, but now I know there are plenty of trans women and fems who support me having language. You'll find your people.

I have more to say and I'd be happy to talk to anyone new to the discussion, just reach out.

[latenightdaydreams]

Please do part 2 of Mechanic Konig. I'm begging you!!! Your writing is AMAZING! I have to reread your writing every day because I can't get over it 😩

Thank you!!! I'll be writing a lot more this week, so there will be more! I finally made a part 2!!! I hope you enjoy!!🥰

Mechanic!König x Reader Part 2 (fem)

MDNI🔞

Part 1 here! 🚗

Master List!

>cw: fem/afab, pregnancy, p in v, oral

1.4k word count

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You sit in your car holding your newest ultrasound pictures. You made a last-minute appointment to see the doctor assuming you might have the flu, but being a few days late on your cycle the doctor asked for you to take a pregnancy test. Once it came back positive you were sent to the women’s health center for an ultrasound. You’ve been celibate for almost a whole year, other than your random hook up with that mechanic… You let out a long sigh before driving off.

You pull up in front of his shop, putting the ultrasound photos in your purse before stepping out of the car. Walking up to the open garage door, it’s almost like déjà vu. There König is wearing a white shirt and jeans, covered in oil. He looks up and meets your gaze for a split second before he looks down, realizing who he just saw, his head snaps back up.

“Y/n?” König speaks softly as if surprised to actually see you again. The last few weeks you’re all he has been able to think about. He’s been waiting for you to call or show back up and now here you are. His eyes drift down your body, taking in how amazing you look, and back to your eyes.

“Hi, König.” You walk closer into the garage. “Are you busy right now?”

“No,” he gently shakes his head. He closes the hood of the car he was working on and grabs a rag to clean his hands off. “Do you want to go to my car?”

Yes, you think to yourself, but you came here to talk. “No, I think we should talk.”

König tilts his head when you say no. He drops the dirty rag on the bench behind him and he looks at your cleavage again before back to your eyes.

“Is your car running okay?”

“Yes, its fine.”

“So, what is it?” He leans back as his blue eyes keep glossing over your body. All he can think about is how good you felt and looked naked in the back of his car.

“Um, so, I went to the doctors today.” The word doctor piquing his interest. “And she did a few tests on me…” You stall nervously not knowing how to tell him. What if he reacts poorly?

“Are you pregnant?” König asks, hurrying your story along.

“I am,” you nod softly, “I have ultrasound photos.”

“You do?” He perks up. “How far along are you?”

“11 weeks,” you go into your bag and pull out the ultrasound photos.

König quickly steps forward and grabs them from you.  His eyes glued to the image of a tiny fetus shown on the ultrasounds.  He studies every photo, a flood of emotions rushing through him at this moment. He can’t believe he actually got you pregnant.

“I came to be responsible and tell you. I don’t know what I’m going to do-” he cuts you off.

“I said that I would support the both of you and I meant it.” His eyes meet yours. “I have a big house, I make great money, and you’ll never have to work again Schatzi. You can just focus on raising our baby.”

You don’t say anything as you stand there taking in what he has said. Supporting a whole family is a huge responsibility. You don’t even know him, could you really build a life with him?  

“You laid down with me, you let me get you pregnant. Please, let me take care of you. Both of you.” He reaches a hand out and gently caresses your upper arm. His eyes showing genuine intent as they fall to your stomach even though you aren’t even close to showing yet.

“We don’t even know each other…”

“We will learn,” He looks back down at the ultrasound photos in his hand. “Please.”

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König runs his large hands over your swollen stomach, softly holding it as his eyes watch your growing breast bouncing. Your nipples have darkened and areolas enlarged. You’ve even been gaining weight, making your thighs and ass bigger. Your changing body is a beautiful sight to behold and it’s changing all because of him. Small moans of pleasure leaving his lips as he watching you eagerly bounce on his cock. Since you entered your second trimester, your hormones have been all over the place making you extremely horny. König is loving every second of it.

“König,” you whimper his name out as you feel yourself getting ready to reach your third orgasm.

“Ja, Liebing, there you go, let it out.”

He moves one of his hands down and begins to rub your sensitive clit with his thumb. He moves in slow focused circles making your legs begin to tremble. You slow down and lean forward slightly, letting out loud moans as your velvety walls flutter around his cock. König takes deep breaths and tries to focus his mind to not cum yet, he knows you aren’t done. Once he feels your body relax, he moves his hand away from your clit.

He gently lifts your body and leans back, grabbing a pillow and putting it under your head before laying you down gently. His eyes roam down your body as he bends down to lick your nipples, softly sucking on them as he feels your fingers comb through his short hair. He lines his cock up with your entrance and pushes himself back into you, mouth still latched to your breast.

“Oh yes, please.” You push his head away so he can sit up. “Fuck me harder.”

König nods his head as his hands wrap around your thick thighs, he pulls your legs apart and back making sure to be careful with your baby bump. König can’t believe how beautiful you look; how tight your cunt feels. He can’t believe how he got so lucky with you.

Your eyes trace the shape of his muscular body, seeing how his muscles flex under the light sheen of sweat covering his body. Your hands gripping the bedsheets as he fills your small cunt completely. You feel euphoric burst of pleasure every time he thrust forward; you clench down on him. König lets out a loud moan in response.

“Meine Liebe, I’m going to cum.” König’s voice cracks as he doesn’t slow his motion. His toes curling and eyes fluttering.

“No, please don’t stop, I’m not done yet.” You pant, feeling your next orgasm just beginning to build.

“Es tut mir Leid,” König chokes out as his hands drop your legs and move up to your full breast and squeezes them. His motion slows as his cock throbs inside of you.

Once he finishes, he pulls out and drops to his stomach, placing his head between your legs. He begins to lick your clit, his tongue flicking back and forth causing you to squirm and moan softly. One hand rest on you stomach as the other pushes two fingers into your cunt full of his cum. Curling his fingers up, he begins to finger you, quickly moving his arm. He tastes the mixture of your creamy cunt and his salty seamen.

“Right there, please don’t stop.” You moan in a whiney tone; König loves to hear it.

He doesn’t stop as his lips wrap around your swollen clit and sucks. His fingers rubbing against your g-spot rapidly as your back arches. Listening to you moan out his name as your squeeze his head between your plump thighs he lets out a satisfied groan into your cunt. Finally, you orgasm, he licks long laps up and down your pussy before pulling his fingers out.

He looks up and smiled at you as you lay there catching your breath. He has an air of arrogance about him, being able to make you cum so many times.

“I’m going to go clean up Liebling, I’ll be back with a towel to clean you too.” König leans in and kisses your belly before standing from the bed and going to the bathroom,

Once he was all clean, he grabbed a towel and began to walk back to you in the bedroom. Once there he sees you fast asleep, cuddling the blanket. König can’t help but to smile. He leaves the towel at the edge of the bed and tries to cover you the best he can without waking you up.

König decides to get dressed and goes to the nursery to continue painting, what he was doing before you ask to be fucked. He opens up the can of paint and pours some in the tray. Getting the roller covered in paint, he begins to cover the last white wall in the room with a pale pink color.

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

Hi so I wanted to request something I just thought of if that’s okay! A little meet cute story from season 4 where reader is the midwife who helped deliver Henry and her and Reid meet in the hospital and just hit it off🥺

this is so cute! this strays a lot from the plot of the episode because i haven't watched it forever and don't feel like it lmao

The Lanky Guy in Room 603

She wasn't sure if the long, lanky man curled up in the uncomfortable chair was Jennifer's brother or husband. He looked young; with a blemish-free baby face and a mop of soft brown hair. She could tell it had a slight curl to it and she had to resist an urge to tuck the stray pieces that fanned out behind his ear. Perhaps it was because she spent her days and nights caring for expecting parents, she just couldn't help but want to care for the sleeping man.

Jennifer was watching television, a pained look on her face as she held her round belly.

"You said it would be today," Jennifer groaned, the pain of labor evident on her face, "It's almost tomorrow."

Y/N sat on the stool beside Jennifer's bed, "I know I did, honey." She pressed a damp cloth to Jennifer sweaty face, attempting to cool down her body temperature. "But it seems like this little baby's got a mind of their own."

"Just like her mother."

The voice came from behind her. The sleep man, now not sleeping, unfolded himself from his pretzel-like position on the chair. He joints popped as he stretched his legs. Y/N noticed his socks were patterned. His left foot donned socks with gray tabby cats and a navy blue background. His right foot donned pumpkins on a lavender background.

Jennifer smiled, thanking Y/N for the damp cloth, as her companion checked her vitals. He peered at the numbers, probably attempting to decipher their meanings regarding his wife's health.

"Your wife is perfectly healthy, sir. You''ll have a healthy, sweet, baby within the next day. I'm sure of it."

Jennifer chuckled, "He's not my husband. Spencer's my....."

"Co-worker. Very proud godfather of her soon to be born baby girl?" Spencer injected, still reading the vitals.

"I'm concerned about JJ's vitals. Are you sure that her lab work is updated? It needs to reflect the high stress nature of her job. And her blood pressure? It was last checked thirteen minutes and twenty seven seconds ago. And does the satellite birth center have enough blood in the bank. On average a laboring mother may loose about...."

"Spence," Jennifer, or JJ as the man named Spencer called her, "I'm going to be just fine. The baby is going to be just fine. Please don't harass the midwife. Or I'll have to switch you out for Penny instead."

"You know if you wanted to get stuff done, you should've picked Hotch or Emily," Spencer countered, "I'm just going to be a nervous wreck."

"You're going to be fine. And think of it as practice for when your wife is pregnant. You'll be a pro by the time that rolls around."

Spencer chuckled dryly. His cheeks blushed crimson as he checked the clock. "It's now been fourteen minutes and thirty four seconds." He whispered under his breath.

"Are you and your wife expecting as well? It kinda smart for her to send you here for a dry run?" Y/N commented, making light talk with Jennifer and Spencer. Through her couple of years a midwife, she learned that many laboring parents and their companions need to have their minds occupied.

"N-no, no wife," Spencer said, his lips formed a tight smile as he looked at Y/N and then back to Jennifer, "We have a very time consuming job. Dating is hard. And family life is even harder. It’s common for many families in the BAU to end with divorce between the two partners.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Spence,” Jennifer quipped as a wave of labor pains came over her.

“I don’t mean you and Will,” Spencer backtracked, “You’re not even married to him.”

Jennifer rolled her eyes at Spencer, and Y/N got the sense that the Spencer and Jennifer shared a sibling-like relationship. It made sense, she supposed as she watched Spencer continuously checked Jennifer’s vitals. He hovered like a mother hen, but made no attempt at physical contact like the husbands usually did.

“Distract her,” Y/N whispered to Spencer, “And don’t talk about how her marriage is statistically likely to end in divorce. That’s not the way to comfort a mom that’s about to push a 8 pound baby out of her vagina.”

Spencer shut his mouth quickly, returning to Jennifer’s side. As Y/N walked out of the room, she noted that the soon to be godfather asked her if she needed anything.

***

“Y/N!” Nurse Lorraine said from her perch. “That tall kid from Room 603, the one that looks like he’s about to faint? He’s looking for you.”

Room 603? Y/N checked her chats, shuffling through the pile of laboring parents.

Ah! That would be Jennifer Jareau. And her very eager friend/co-worker/godfather of her child.

“Oh, Spencer? He’s a sweetheart. Trying to help her. He could teach those husbands a thing or too.” Y/N said, as she typed away at her computer.

“He’s not the husband?” Lorraine questioned, her tone making Y/N stop typing.

“What are you doing, Lo?” Y/N sighed with exasperation. “You’re meddling. And it’s not a cute look, I’m afraid.”

“It’s been how long since that idiot of a man dumped you for his unpaid intern? Todd? Taylor? What was his name again?”

“Tyler. He was an ass. I don’t think I’m ready to get myself back out there. He really did a number on me.” Y/N lamented. She took a sip of her third coffee of the day. It was a distraction from tearing up or worse, actually crying in front of Lorraine, the hardass nurse who makes Attendings cry.

“Y/N, honey,” Lorraine sighed, “Don’t waste your youth or your beauty on someone who doesn’t deserve it. I’m not saying that man in 603 deserves you, but he’s holding his coworker’s hand as she’s delivering a baby that’s not his. All because her boyfriend is stuck at work in New Orleans. He’s a good man. And he’s looking for you. And he blushed when he asked for you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes at Lorraine’s gossipy tendencies. “How do you know all that? I’ve been with him all day and I hardly can get him to tell me his name. Beside the snide comments about me not checking the vitals enough.”

“See! He’s protective over people he cares about, even if talking to the gorgeous nurse terrifies him. I can lock you two in the supply close if you’d like. I mean the piles and piles of extra large padsicles and bed pens aren’t very romantic, but maybe romance isn’t what you need right now.” Lorraine quipped.

Ignoring Lorraine, “I’m going to see what he wants from me.” Y/N said, recoiling because she knew Lorraine would twist her words into some sort of sexual innuendo.

“Go get’em, Tiger!” Lorraine called from the Nurse’s Station with a mischievous glint in her eye.

***

“Spencer?” Y/N whispered, noting that Jennifer was sleeping in her bed, “Nurse Lorraine said you wanted to speak to me.”

Even in the dark room, minus the glow of equipment monitoring Jennifer, Y/N could see his light blush. He was cute. She thought that before Lorraine even broached the subject. She though that when she silently wondered if he was Jennifer’s husband or not.

He was cute. Handsome, even.

Spencer couldn’t be more than 26 or 27. He had brown eyes that were kind and warm. Spencer looked gentle, and that was evident by the easy way he cared for Jennifer.

“I wanted to make sure I was doing it right,” Spencer confessed, “I’m not really good with all this,” he waved his hand around the room to show what he meant, “My mind can only focus on the possibilities of what can go wrong. I’m not cut out for this.”

“For what being a companion? A godfather? Spencer, Jennifer clearly cares for you and wants you in her baby’s life. She sees that you’re kind and caring and gentle.”

Spencer cracked a smile, warming Y/N heart. She hated it. Yet she liked it. And that only made her hate it more.

“Thanks.” Spencer said, taking a sip of his probably now cold coffee.

“You know there’s an excellent microwave in the nurse’s lounge room. Lorraine bullies enough attendings that I can totally sneak you in there to warm up your coffee.” Y/N offered, “Jennifer needs sleep. It’s the best thing for her right now. Besides, I can teach you how to swaddle a baby and change a diaper.”

“I know how to deliver a baby,” Spencer said, “It’s a lot messier than I thought.” He said with a shiver.

“Are you in healthcare?” Y/N asked they walked to the nurse’s lounge. It was so late that most of the families were either sleeping, in labor, or being discharged. “You certainly know a lot about medicine. And for the record we do have plenty of blood in stock. But we’re looking for donors every third Tuesday if the month.”

“Not technically. Well, not the doctor you’re thinking of at least. I have three PhDs. In mathematics, chemistry, and psychology. It’s….a lot I know,” He offered a small smile, “People either think I’m like some super genius or a freak. But not. I’m just….me.”

“Well I happen to think that you’re pretty awesome just being you. I can’t technically say it, but you and Jennifer are my favorites of the night. So it’s only my duty as a L&D nurse to make sure you are the best baby swaddling godfather in the metro area.”

“Now that’s quite the title to live up to. Do we use real babies or dolls to practice?” Spencer inquired.

Y/N giggled as she reached into the supply closet, “I’m in the business of delivering babies. Not kidnapping them, Dr. Spencer……?”

“Reid.”

“Reid.” She nodded, handing him a baby doll to practice with. “If it was twelve hours earlier I would be making you wrap my burrito to practice.”

“I think I’m going to equally as bad as wrapping a burrito as I would be a baby.” He confessed.

“Fear not, young grasshopper, your teacher is here.” Y/N teased, grabbing Spencer by the arm to the table where she ate lunch every day with Lorraine and Hector, her favorite to nurses on the floor.

She laid out a blanket and a baby on the table as her and Spencer stood side by side. “So fold the corner of the blanket down for the baby’s head to rest. And the you gently lay the baby down. Now wrap over the left triangle to the baby’s middle.” She watched as he followed expertly, “Good! Now fold up the little triangle at the baby’s feet. Make sure it’s snug, but not too tight.”

“It’s easier than it looks,” Spencer said as he folded the last part of the blanket and held up a swaddled baby doll.

“Now try when it when a baby is screaming at you and you’ve been on your feet for ten hours.”

“I’ll sit to my day job,” Spencer joked, “But call me if you ever need a swaddling partner.”

Y/N’s face heated at the thought of calling Spencer, of talking to him beyond this night when he friend was about to give birth.

“Where did you learn how to deliver a baby?” She asked, hoping to divert the conversation.

“I read about it.” Spencer replied.

“In college? Did you take a human biology class on pregnancy as well?”

“Uh, no,” Spencer said, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, “I read about it. I read it today when JJ was getting admitted.”

“Getting admitted takes like 30 minutes? How on Earth did you read about human delivery in 30 minutes?” Y/N asked with awe on her face.

“Actually, it took 31 minutes and twelve seconds. Which is 2 minutes and 39 seconds faster than the average,” He blushed when Y/N raised eyes meant his comment only added to her questions, not answered them, “I have a very good memory. And I can read fast.” He explained.

“Oh,” Y/N said, taking out two mugs from the cabinet, “that explains the three PhDs and how you hounded me about vitals before. You’re brilliant. And a very good friend.”

“I don’t get brilliant often. Genius, yes. Freak, yes. Strange, yes. But brilliant isn’t usually reserved for me. I think my quirks out weigh my strengths and thus that changes how I’m perceived.”

“Well, I don’t see a freak or a stranger,” Y/N told him, “I see a man who’s probably 6’3” that crammed himself into a tiny plastic chair and has been fetching ice chips and throwing down with the toughest nurse to get his friend a blanket. That’s not a freak. Or a weirdo. Or anything besides a good, gentle, kind man. I don’t really know you, but it’s my job to watch people here. I watch all these husbands who don’t dote on their wives as they push a whole baby out of their bodies. They complain to them about how long it took to find parking, or that they had to pay 10 bucks for a decent cup of coffee at the cafe, or that the chairs hurt their back. I haven’t heard you say that once. You’re good, Spencer. There’s a reason Jennifer wants you to be her baby’s godfather.”

Stunned, Spencer’s lip twitched into what resembled a smile. He bit his lip as his eyes scanned the room.

“Thank you,” Spencer whispered, “it means more than you know.”

“Good. You seem like the kind of person that deserves to hear good things. And plus, I’m sure your wife or girlfriend will be very happy you spent the night learning how to swaddle babies and change diapers.”

“Uh, I’m not committed to anyone.” Spencer corrected, the blush returned to his face, this time it crawled all the way up to his ears. It only increased his cuteness as it increased the way Y/N’s heart pumped blood. Her nervous system was on overdrive and she hasn’t even touched the man. Yet there was something about him that drew him to her.

“Oh, seeing someone casually and don’t want to freak her out?” Y/N offered. “Because I will admit that’s not what you want to say to the girl you have a situationship with.”

“A situationship?” Spencer questioned, shaking his head. “Never mind. I’m not seeing anyone casually or otherwise. It’s never been my strong suit.”

“Seriously?” Y/N said, pouring her coffee and Spencer a cup, “That’s very surprising.”

“Why?” Spencer asked, accepting the coffee with a tight lipped smile.

“Not to cross any professional boundaries, but you’re literally what most girls look for when they want a partner. Especially one that they want to you know,” she gestured to the baby doll on the table, “settle down with. You’re husband material.”

“Husband material?” Spencer asked, clearly beyond confusion. It was like it was his first time hearing that he was desirable to women. An overwhelming urge to tell him just how desirable he was to her overcame Y/N.

She fought it hard.

“You know,” she started, “you’ve got a great job, nice and normal friends, you’re close friends with a woman, but there’s zero sexual tension between the two of you. That means a lot to girls. It means that you can see women as whole people.”

“What else would I see them as?” Spencer questioned aloud. “They’re people. Not props or conquests.”

Y/N threw her hands up in surrender as if she finally has given up. “See, you’re like perfect. Not to mention you’re very nice to look at.”

Spencer gulped a big sip of coffee, but the burning liquid spewed out all over him and the table. Y/N dodged it, spending nearly three years getting out of the way of mysterious liquids from all different patients had certainly paid off.

“Sorry, sorry, god that was embarrassing,” Spencer lamented. “I hope I didn’t get it all over you.” He apologized.

Holding in a giggle, Y/N waved off his fears. “Don’t worry. You’re just fine, Spencer.”

In more ways than one, she thought silently to herself.

“I apologize if I made you uncomfortable. It’s highly unprofessional of me to comment on your appearance.”

No matter how attractive she finds him.

Spencer’s face melted as she apologized. “No!” He practically yelled. “Don’t think that. Please don’t think that. I didn’t mind it at all. It’s just, I’m not used to hearing it. Especially from women that are like you.”

“Like me?”

“Smart. Hardworking. Kind. Funny. Beautiful.” Spencer confessed.

The last one hit a certain part of her heart that went pang. Tyler never called her beautiful. He would call her hot and sexy, but not beautiful. But maybe once he did. But he said she “looked beautiful” not that she was beautiful.

There was a difference between looking beautiful and being beautiful. And she was looking right at it.

“Spencer,” Y/N whispered. “Once Jennifer is discharged from L&D could I maybe take you out on a date?“

Spencer nodded, and she swore she could see his eyes light up at the possibility of something between them.

“Sure. Isn’t there a blood donation clinic next week?” He smiled and took a sip of his coffee, “I promise I won’t spew coffee all over you when you compliment me again,”

***

Tagging people who are active But please reblog and comment if you stumble across this. It’s a great way we can show our love :)

@reidsbookclub @boldlyvoid @foxy-eva @candlesandsoftrain @radiant-reid

[rothpie]

❝INHERITANCE❞|part1

MASTERLIST -`✮´- Marriage of Convenience; JJ Maybank x Kook!Reader

Summary: The rebellious child of a noble family, the last hope, the one meant to carry on the family name. Your grandfather’s health was failing, and though you were expected to inherit everything, he had pulled away from you completely. Now, there was only one condition for you to receive his inheritance; to get your life in order, stop coming home late at night, give up drinking, and, of course his last wish—a marriage.

Warnings: kind of daddy issues, mentioning losing parent

selly's note: I'm so excited!!! hope you like it💗💗💗

next

Parties had always been intriguing. For some, they were an escape from life; for others, a lifestyle. They were places where you’d run into everyone you knew or didn’t know. You always hoped they’d play good music, and when you walked in, you loved that moment when most eyes turned your way. Feeling their gazes, being the center of attention, being talked about—that was power. You couldn’t live without attention. Sure, everyone enjoys a little of it, but you craved it every moment.

You loved dancing wildly, drinking, and letting loose at parties. It was one of those rare times you’d truly disconnect from everything. Laughing crazily with your friends, getting close with a guy—it thrilled you. It was as if the world were ending and you were going out with a bang. Live fast, die young, right?

You were meant to live each day like it was your last. You were here to enjoy life, and you had no intention of stopping—because you wouldn’t stop. Today could be your last day.

It wasn’t just a behavior; it was a way of life.

And you were in love with it.

The future could wait; you had more important things to do now—like being young.

You loved the label of “party monster.” Even while listening to The Weeknd, you couldn’t help but imagine yourself in the scene. You didn’t think you could live without partying—not at this point.

Most people didn’t matter much to you. Usually, you enjoyed drinking and hanging out with people your own age, soaking in the party vibes, watching people cannonball into pools, the beer pong games, seeing everyone try to drink from kegs. You loved being young.

No lie, you loved everything that came with youth—guys, the fun, the parties, sex, the yacht parties…

Even if you didn’t always prefer getting drunk, your body wasn’t exactly used to it. Strong drinks got you tipsy fast. Most times, you ended up having friends drop you off at home, or you’d wake up at some guy’s place you’d hooked up with. It didn’t matter. You never felt ashamed of one-night stands. Sex was just a part of life. And though you didn’t always like sneaking out quietly, you still did it.

Sticking around and getting emotional wasn’t your style. You hated the “What are we now?” question. You’d rather jump off a cliff than hear it.

Sometimes, though, you’d wake up at home, only to face your dad’s and grandfather’s disapproving stares. Most mornings, you’d stumble down to breakfast looking like a mess. Even after washing your face, your mascara and eyeliner would still smudge, the headache hitting hard—you looked fucked, no doubt.

But you were just a young girl who partied.

You might come home late, drink, be out most of the week, and practically treat the house like a hotel, but hey—at least you didn’t do drugs. That was an accomplishment, right?

You were just a girl.

Hanging out at the golf club didn’t interest you. You thought it was ridiculous, even though you were part of the Kook crowd. With so many things to do, golf? Really?

There was only one reason you’d stay out under the sun that long—tanning. Nothing else could keep you baking in the sun. Ever.

Most people at the golf club weren’t there for golf anyway. They’d wear their best outfits, spritz on perfume, do their makeup, and show up just to flaunt themselves. Some were hoping to score a date for the night, others looking for a potential spouse. The place was swarming with people trying to show off their wealth, a live version of a dating app. You hated it.

Waiting in line for a guy? 

You wouldn’t even look at someone who wasn’t interested in you from the start. Your guy had to be loyal. Chasing other women while pursuing you? Eliminated. Eyeing three other girls in the same room as you? Out. Walking alongside you and your best friends on the same beach? All three of you would kick him to the ass.

You never needed it. Your family name was known, and everywhere you went, you stood out. You didn’t need to make yourself known or put in extra effort to catch people’s attention.

You were already valuable. The brightest jewel on the island. The shiniest diamond.

You were noticeable even on the path you walked.

Still, your love life wasn’t exactly successful. You weren’t sure if it was by choice or if the guys on the island were just idiots. Either way, you always knew most of them were after your family name—maybe to get into the company, or for the benefits it would bring to their own families. It was always a letdown.

Looking back, you were grateful. Those experiences taught you something, and you were now certain none of them were worth a second thought. Your exes were terrible. Thank goodness you hadn’t given any of them your virginity.

One had been worse than the others. But at least he was handsome—and muscular, tall… Too bad he’d left the island.

You were never treated as the “heir” they wanted. Before you were even born, they’d wished for a boy. They’d wanted you to be a son. It was insulting. But you just preferred to think of it as saying, 'Too bad, bitches—I’m a girl!'

Thank heavens.

As a kid, you always wanted a sibling. So did your parents, especially a son to carry on the family line. But when your parents plans conflicted with God’s plans, there’s no telling what might happen.

Before you could have a sibling, you lost your mother. She was in the same car as your dad, and he was the only one who survived. When he refused to remarry, you were left as the family’s only grandchild.

No, you weren’t a boy. But you were still the one they had to trust to carry on the family line. You’d take over the company someday; you’d be the boss. They’d always made that clear. They let you be a kid for a while, but the moment you hit adolescence, the serious talks started. Because of the family’s public image, they always expected you to be polite and courteous. You were, of course.

But over time, these expectations became stricter, and as you felt more pressure from your family, your need for freedom grew.

As much as you loved the party life, you’d take over the company one day. That ambition was in you—it was just a matter of time. And until then, you’d live it up.

Who said girls can’t carry on the family name?

You were living proof, like millions of women out there. You had plenty of time before taking over the company, and for now, you were enjoying the moment. Future you could deal with the future. Why would you worry now?

At this age, you and Jada and Aaliyah were way too busy partying.

It had taken days for you all to decide on a birthday dinner over a party, if we’re honest. It was Jada’s 20th. It was a big deal, and you’d discussed a lot of options. But finally, she decided on a quiet celebration with her closest friends instead of a big party.

The reason was simple.

Her family had just bought a new home, and they’d made it clear they wanted no parties for a while. Jada was on board with that anyway. She didn’t want people throwing up on her new couches or couples making out all over her place.

Besides, she realized you could manage with a small, private party of your own.

First, you’d talked about doing it on a yacht, but Jada didn’t want to risk throwing up on a boat after drinking, not to mention the fear of falling overboard while drunk. It was very much something that would happen to her. She couldn’t stay stable on anything that moved.

After a lot of back-and-forth, Aaliyah came up with the idea of a dinner. She told you both to leave the details to her and picked the spot. Jada was thrilled.

She felt like she was getting a surprise party—although she knew it’d be just the three of you and was fully aware of the plan, she still acted clueless. Even on the way there, she acted like she had no idea why or where you were going—as if it wasn’t her birthday.

But neither you nor Aaliyah broke character. You both played along as if you were headed to the yacht. It became a little game between you.

“Girl, I swear—kisses to the chef won’t cut it! I need to go back to the kitchen and fuck him. If a man cooks like this, I owe him at least ten kids,” Aaliyah said, cracking you both up. Thanks to her, you had the best seats with a full view at Figure Eight’s top restaurant—prime Instagram Story material.

As you took a sip of your white wine, Aaliyah cleared her throat. You turned to her, smiling.

“Girl, you’ve lost it. What if the chef is, like, 54?” Aaliyah scrunched her face, and you joined in, pulling a face as Jada raised an eyebrow. She seemed incredulous. She took another bite before saying anything.

“You two are fucking idiot. Hugh Jackman’s 56, and I’d get in his bed in a heartbeat. I’m ready to be his personal whore.”

She had a point. If the chef looked as good as Hugh Jackman in his fifties, maybe he deserved a look, especially considering guys your age were nothing to brag about.

But still—the idea of dating, let alone sleeping with, a guy old enough to be your dad? That made you feel pretty gross. Just thinking about it made you cringe.

It was nasty.

Unless, of course, it was Hugh Jackman. For him, you'd practically sign up to be his broodmare.

After Jada threw out her little example, the silence stretched, and she looked at both of you with a smug grin. She’d laid down her final word. Period.

Spending time with these girls? Honestly, the best.

Aaliyah, right beside you, let out a dramatic sigh, catching your and Jada’s attention. When she put her hand to her mouth and dropped her fork, the two of you exchanged puzzled, worried glances. Was something wrong? But just as you started to feel real concern, Aaliyah moved her hand and started talking. “I cannot believe I forgot to tell you!”

For a moment, you were seriously worried about her, but quickly you realized that what she’d forgotten was merely a juicy piece of gossip. Which, for the three of you, was life-or-death level serious. If it wasn’t something major, there’s no way she’d be reacting like this. You dropped your fork, grabbing your wine glass as you turned to her. Jada followed suit, shaking her head with a hint of annoyance. “Girl, you’d better mean this in a good way, or I’m throwing you over the railing. You just freaked us out.”

Aaliyah tucked her hair behind her ears, her face breaking into a huge grin. She knew she was holding gold. This might just be the gossip of the year.

After clearing her throat, she looked at the two of you with sparkling eyes. “First off, I heard this from my mom. The whole island doesn’t know yet, but soon enough, everyone will. So we’re like, one of the first. Do you realize how big this is?” Aaliyah took a deep breath, savoring your expectant stares. She was clearly pleased at how primed you both were.

If she held back any longer, you were about to discover telepathy.

“You guys know the Rodolp's, right? They have a son our age, Harry. Apparently, Mr. Rodolph has been coming home later and later, and eventually it came out—he’s cheating on Mrs. Rodolph.” Gossip-wise, you were unimpressed. Who cared about middle-aged infidelity? Cheating on your wife of forty years was just... gross.

“I can see it on your faces. Hold on. Apparently, the person he’s seeing is someone our age.” Now that was interesting.

You turned fully to her, a mischievous grin growing on your face. “Girl, you’d better give us more. I’m dying of suspense here.” Jada nodded in agreement, pointing to you as she puckered her lips. “Right on the money, babe.”

“Do you remember our last year? That term when we mostly had classes together? Biology class, with Liliana. Apparently, Mr. Rodolph is fooling around with Liliana from biology. And it gets even worse—Liliana and Harry are dating. The guy is cheating on both his wife and his son, with his son’s girlfriend.”

Aaliyah was a fucking queen.

You and Jada were on the verge of screaming. If you’d been at home, you two would’ve been shrieking your heads off, but since you were in a restaurant, you both had to clench your teeth to avoid an outburst. This scandal was going to be the talk of the town for months, and thank heavens it had come your way first.

“Damn… Double homicide.”

Leaning back with pride, Aaliyah pointed to herself, clearly reveling in her role. She looked like she’d just swept every major award.

Best Gossip in the Game.

That award was hers. She deserved it.

After that, things settled down a bit. You went back to eating as Aaliyah filled you in on the divorce proceedings, how Harry was firmly on his mom’s side, and any other spicy detail she had on the Rodolph's situation. Jada blew out her birthday candle, and you handed over your gifts—she was thrilled. With a designer bag in one hand and a diamond necklace around her neck, she struggled not to scream from excitement, kissing each of you about a thousand times.

The rest of the evening felt like the perfect girl’s night. You laughed, gossiped, had a blast—until the food was gone and the alcohol intake was way too high.

No one expected to get that drunk. You were pretty sure Aaliyah had promised to only have a little, yet you were positive she had polished off a bottle herself. Jada? She didn’t even pretend; she kept saying it was her birthday and she was entitled to it. She wasn’t wrong.

At one point, Jada even contemplated going into the kitchen to hunt down the chef. She nearly got up but couldn’t decide if she should carry her new bag or stick with her regular one. She added something about 22 or 52 looking no different in her eyes.

And you? Every moment with these girls was priceless. You were making new memories to look back on, imagining them as your kids’ honorary aunts, and then as their kids’ aunts too. Best friends for life.

None of you stopped drinking. You egged each other on, shot after shot, until you lost count.

At the end of the night—you were all completely hammered.

How you got home, who paid the bill, who drove? No clue. You opened your eyes the next morning in your own bed, with a throbbing headache. You felt as if you hadn’t had water in forty-eight hours, and your stomach was burning. You wanted to just lay down on the cool floor. Hangovers like this were the worst.

Sitting up, you reached for your phone. The group chat was lighting up with notifications. When you opened it, you saw that Jada and Aaliyah were already awake, talking about just how far things had gone last night. Jada was still going on about the chef. You’d really gone too far.

It was supposed to be a normal dinner, celebrating Jada’s 20th birthday. A night to hug each other, share some love, then go home—naturally, you’d gone way beyond that.

After reading about Aaliyah getting scolded by her mom, you set your phone back on the bed, unable to deal with more notifications with your throbbing head. You’d text them back later. As much as you loved the wild nights, you hated the mornings after.

To snap yourself out of it, you headed to the bathroom for a quick shower. You were sure you reeked of alcohol, which you absolutely despised. Smelling bad was practically the worst thing you could think of. You had to smell good, always. The shower didn’t take long, and after you got out, you brushed your teeth and went back to your room. You wrinkled your nose at the lingering smell of alcohol.

You opened the windows, threw on some casual workout clothes, and as you brushed your hair, you couldn’t help but think how much you loved being a girl. The self-care, the hair products, all the creams… how do guys even go without this stuff?

What the fuck do they even talk about? How do they survive missing out on all this?

You couldn’t. It was baffling.

Once you were done, you left your hair damp and headed out of your room.

As you were about to enter the living room, three men in suits caught your eye as they exited. Instead of finding your dad and grandfather seated as usual, you noticed your father standing by the window, gazing out over the view, while your grandfather was settled in an armchair, tapping a pen rapidly.

"Good morning," you said, hesitating slightly. Things were always tense in these situations—you were used to it. They didn’t approve of your lifestyle. They might even consider it… unbecoming. And you got it to an extent, but the tension was draining. You’d always hated it.

“More like good afternoon, dear.” Your grandfather’s voice was gentle, but you sensed the sarcasm. He wasn't pleased. Classic.

Just as you were about to respond, you saw your dad turn away from the window. He rubbed his face with his hands, his eyes settling on you with a look so intense it ignited a spark of dread in your gut.

What the fuck was going on?

“Would you like to sit down?” Your grandfather’s voice broke the gaze you held with your dad. You immediately took the seat across from him, catching a hint of a smile on his face. Yet it wasn’t warm. It was an unsettling grin, one that made you feel… uneasy.

You did not like this. Not a bit.

Your dad moved to stand between you and your grandfather, arms crossed. But now he wasn’t even looking at you.

“You never understood.” Your grandfather’s voice cut through, and your brow furrowed. You hated this strained atmosphere. You wanted to get up and leave. But you knew you wouldn’t.

"I’ve tried to help you understand; your father has tried. You’re twenty years old. What are you even living for?”

Okay, now you were officially starting to worry. Your grandfather’s tone, the whole approach—he seemed to be trying to soften the blow. And that, somehow, was even worse. Right now, you hated everything about this.

“You used to be a kid with straight As, despite those odd habits of yours. You didn’t want to go to college; we let it slide. You carry yourself with a confidence that can only come from knowing you’ll always be cushioned. No lie, it’s true.” His smirk widened as he placed the pen down on the coffee table and leaned back.

You’d rarely felt fear in your life. With your father and grandfather behind you, the family name erased any need to be afraid. Your last name was its own protection.

You’d always known that whatever happened, you’d come out fine. That’s why you’d never been scared.

But now? Now your body was nearly trembling. This wasn’t like the usual lecture about your carelessness, or how thoughtless you could be. It was always that same song and dance. But today, they’d taken it somewhere new.

You couldn’t help but be scared.

“So we expected, at the very least, that you’d learn from your mistakes. But it’s clear that’s not happening. You need something to wake you up—a push. And we’ve found one. Until you prove yourself, you won’t receive even a single percent of your inheritance.”

What?

Did he just—did he really just say you were cut off?

As if you didn’t carry the family name? As if you weren’t his grandchild? There was no one else in line for this inheritance. If he left it to your dad, it would still go to you eventually.

So, just because you were young, he was really taking away your rights? This was your birthright! What you did—it wasn’t some rebellion, wasn’t meant as a statement. You didn’t act this way because—

This was your birthright…

Your grandfather started coughing suddenly, his frail body rattling with each hack. Your father moved quickly to his side, and you got up as well. But he raised his hand to stop you both. A helper came to wheel him out of the room, his chair squeaking slightly on the floor. Watching him leave, you replayed his words in your mind, trying to make sense of it.

It was impossible. This was your birthright! How could he just strip it from you?

“You’ve gone too far,” your dad spoke, fixing you with a look that felt like a fireball about to explode. You wanted to lash out, to yell, to demand that this decision be taken back. But the words didn’t come.

“You came home last night like a disaster. Do you know how hard I had to fight to keep him from cutting off your credit cards?” He shook his head, his voice rough. “You’re going to fix this. You’re going to restore your image in his eyes, because right now, you are anything but the girl he wants you to be.” Your hands went to your wet hair, squeezing in frustration. You wished this was all a nightmare, that you were still sleeping.

“What do you want from me, Dad? Should I become some kind of church girl?” Your voice had risen without you realizing it, and you quickly quieted down. You hated feeling cornered, hated this situation, hated everyone—everything.

And those credit cards… if they were cut off, there’d be nothing left for you. And now, losing your future inheritance entirely? It was catastrophic. It wasn’t like you wanted your grandfather dead; you loved him, outdated as he was. But this felt so unfair… You hated every bit of it.

“If that’s what it takes, then yes!” Your dad’s voice snapped you back to reality, his tone so firm it reminded you of being ten years old, on the verge of crying because you hadn’t gotten your way. “Your grandfather is ready to leave the money to the government, do you understand? No—look at me. Let this sink in. Money, property, the company—everything. Fix this. He got married at twenty. It’s practically a miracle he hasn’t lost his mind with you staying out all night, bringing home God knows who. You’re going to fix this, understand?”

You found yourself nodding automatically.

The way he was using this inheritance as a punishment was disgusting. Leaving it all to the government—now that was a nightmare. You did not want that.

“Can’t you… Can’t you change his mind?” you asked, voice low. Your father gave you a look like you’d just spoken in a foreign language. He took a few quick steps forward, disbelief on his face. He was furious that you still seemed unwilling to accept this reality.

“Do I look like I haven’t tried?” His voice was hard, his expression angry. He was holding back to avoid drawing attention. Neither of you wanted this conversation getting back to your grandfather. “If you want the money, you’re going to stop spending your nights out like some fool. Yes, actually, a church girl wouldn’t be a bad idea. Hell, maybe even get married if you need to, I don’t know! Just make him happy! I’m not the one causing this mess!”

Your hands pressed against your head as you closed your eyes, feeling the weight of it all. You tried to think. Even if you did all of this, how did you know your grandfather would ever change his mind? Maybe he’d never truly approve…

When you opened your eyes to speak, you found an empty room.

Of course—your dad had left.

[ideasarestuckinmyhead]

Can you do a mini fic of al and seth accidentally running into boos ex?

He who shouldn't be named.

I use (Y/N) bc the ex isn't gonna know Boo's new nickname so lol

"Didn't (Y/N) say this brand?" Holding up a brand of flour, Seth turned to Alphonse. The pinkette paused from trying to leave to the bread isle in the small grocery store.

"Seth. Please I literally made a list, here just look I need to get the right bread this time or (Y/N)'s gonna have my head." Shivering a bit remembering when he forgot the bread. Alphonse was scolded and given a 'I'm not mad just disappointed look' from Boo and that wasn't so nice.

"Okay listen here you pink fu-" Growling out an insult Seth's anger was paused by a man coming up to the two men. Alphonse turned his head where Seth was looking and glared slightly, confused.

"Can I help ya?" Asking the random man who walked up to the duo, Seth spoke first. Alphonse turned fully holding the shopping bag, looking down the man wondering why he looked familiar?....

"Hi, I was wondering if you were taking about (Y/N) (L/N)? by any chance?" Nervously questioning, the man looked at the two. His hands moving like he was washing them, this made the duo before him shoot a glace at each other.

"Why do you need to know?" Seth Demanded giving the man a face, Alphonse looked at the guys face a bit more. And then the pinkette went wide eyes and gasped.

"Your that fucking ex! The one that fuckin' cheated on 'em!" Spitting out loudly, Alphonse gripped the bag he was holding tighter. Seth looked at the taller man, processing his words then snapping his head to the man before them.

The blonde man before them flinched and looked around, trying to shush them since everyone could hear. But Seth opened his mouth and loudly exclaimed.

"Boy, don't try and shush me! How the hell did you find them huh?" Getting defensive Seth took a step forward. Remembering stories of how the cheating bastard fucked their mental health up. Their 5 year boyfriend form high school doggy styling their ex-best friend, in the bed in their SHARED apartment.

"I- facebook? their parent posted and I just wanted to talk-" Getting more nervous as random bystanders peaked into the aisle the menn were in. Some giving him glares since everyone knows the sweet baker down the street.

"LIKE HELL YOU ARE!" Hissing out Alphonse shouted and stepped forward leering over the shorter blonde in front of him. "If you go near my fucking Boo Ima snatch you up! What the hell you think gonna happen? Their gonna forgive ya?! Self center dick wad!"

Seth nodded along with his friend's words, honestly the 5'10' man wanted to grab him right now. But he thought of Boo, who wanted the boys to come back quickly so they could bake together.

"Come on Al, let's just go. This baster isn't even worth being made over. Plus, Sugar wants ta bake with us today, remember?" Huffing out an explanation, Seth turned and grabbed the flour they needed off the list. Then turned to where the 6'2" man was standing and gently touched his arm.

Alphonse looked down at the blonde cowering below him and rolled his eyes. Following Seth's lead to the broad isle grabbing the bread Boo wanted and going to check out.

"Look I really just wanna talk to them!" The annoying voice was back. Seth groaned as he watched the cashier, a young woman look at the blonde.

"Go away. We ain't gonna tell ya shit." Sternly saying Seth stood between the ex bastard and Alphonse. The pinkette chose to be quiet grabbing the money for the groceries and grabbing the bags.

"Please-" Desprate the ex tried to reach out and touch Seth. That's when Alphonse placed the bags down and shot his arm to the blonde.

"Listen here, I fucking WARNED you right?" Gripping the man's shirt Alphonse growled out. Looking down at the blonde cowering, Seth gripped his shoulder and got him to let go.

"Alphonse-" Whispering quietly trying to get him to calm down. Seth was interrupted by a gruff voice.

"Alphonse. Put that man down, I got the sheriff here. Let him deal with it." Turning everyone saw the old grocery store owner and the sheriff. Who glared at the blonde, taking a few steps he nodded to Al who let go.

"You two go run along to ya baker. I got this, I was informed that (Y/N) was worried about him comin' here." The old man put on a stern face looking at the ex. "Dylan Selick, your comin' with me boy."

After grabbing the bags and thanking the sheriff the boys wanted down the street. Seeing Boo in front of the bakery all worried and sighed seeing the two of them.

"I was wondering why it too you two so long-" Words cut short by them getting engulfed into a hug. Boo froze but then melted as Alphonse and Seth hugged then tightly, reassuring them.

"It's fine Sugar. Now let's ignore that shit and go bake some brownies!" Lighting the mood Seth ushered everyone inside to start baking.

[villainofmyownstory]

Day Zero chapter 4

masterlist | taglist | AO3

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pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x plus size fem!reader

summary: Your horror and fear after what happened at the town hall are mixed with hope. Unfortunately, the newly met man in the mask doesn't make things any easier for you. He is stubborn and distrustful. However, when night comes, he takes you to his only safe place. To his house. Home.

tags: AFAB reader, plus size reader, dog german shepherd, weapon, suicide

author's note: I decided to post a new chapter today, unfortunately I'm having a worse time in my life again…. I hope it will get better soon. The longest chapter so far, let me know what you think.

Warning!! Mention of a suicide attempt, if you don't want to or can't read this, skip the parts where day 64 is referred to. Your mental health is more important! Take care of yourself, dear reader.

AO3

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Chapter 4: The one where you visit Ghost's house

Day 732

Getting to the tower by car definitely shouldn't take as long as your hike. The distance to cover, from the center to the suburbs, did not seem so far. You both remain silent the entire way. Ghost keeps looking in the rearview mirror while driving. As if he had to make sure you were still sitting on the trunk. When it reduces speed or (worse) brakes to almost zero on the odometer. His gaze focuses on the mirror. As if the man expected you to take advantage of the opportunity and jump out of the car, taking Riley with you. You will run away and disappear, just as you suddenly and unexpectedly appeared.

Admittedly, you had no intention of doing so. Quite the opposite. You wanted to stay. Even though the man was hostile towards you, you were sure of that. Damn, he wanted to shoot you!

Like a hunter hunting a defenseless deer. A sniper in war, shooting at a designated, nameless target. Without blinking an eye, in cold blood, in one breath. Shot. Exhale. End.

Without even exchanging a word with you. Without asking you anything. Not wanting to know anything. One shot and you're done, you wouldn't even feel it. He pulled the trigger without hesitation.

Remembering what happened a dozen or so minutes ago, you clench your hands into fists. Rubbing the material of your gloves against each other. Feeling the rough material slide over the skin of your hand. You try to focus exactly on that feeling.. You don't want to let fear and terror get the best of you. Breathe, slowly. Don't let these bad thoughts defeat you. Luckily for you, the man didn't do anything to you. Maybe he is also a lost and lonely man. Who is slowly losing his mind under these circumstances. He can't cope. Just like you.

You swallow. The hands are still tightly clenched into fists. Your hands are sweaty from stress.

The sun slowly hides behind the buildings, getting darker with each passing minute. The night is getting closer. The car is traveling at a higher speed. There are fewer and fewer buildings, they are probably suburbs, so you are getting closer to your goal - the tower.

You have to be strong, not show weakness. Focus. To listen carefully. Observe.

Although it's all Ghost, he has the upper hand. He has the most important argument and strength - he has a gun. Also, he's in his own territory and is undoubtedly a man with military training. He's taller and better built than you. Definitely stronger and athletic. Yet you try to control another panic attack, you won't give in to him so easily. You may not be in a lost position. You just have to convince him somehow. After all, somehow he has to believe that you came here alone. If you gain his trust without lying to him, maybe he'll let you stay. You don't really have anywhere to go back to. That house somewhere far away wasn't fit to live in for another winter. No heating, a leaking roof, you could list more defects. And the food supply in the area was running out, you found almost everything edible. You didn't know if it would be safe to return to that place.

You swallow. Your hands are still clenched into fists. Sweaty from stress.

The sun slowly hides behind the buildings, getting darker by the minute. The night is getting closer. The car is traveling at an increasing speed. There are fewer and fewer buildings, probably suburbs, so you are getting closer to your goal - the tower.

You have to be strong, not show weakness. Focus. To listen carefully. Observe.

Without a doubt, the whole Ghost guy, has an advantage over you. He has the most important argument and power - he has a gun. Besides, he is in his own territory and is undoubtedly a man with military training. Higher and much better built than you. Stronger. Athletic. But, if you are trying to control another panic attack, you won't give in to him so easily. You may not be in a lost position. You just have to convince him somehow. After all, he has to believe in some way that you came here alone. If you gain his trust without lying to him, maybe he will let you stay. You don't really have anywhere to go back to. That house somewhere far away, is uninhabitable for another winter. There's no heating, the roof is leaking. And food supplies were running out in the area, you could find almost anything edible. You don't know if it would be safe to go back there.

This town you are in now is the only one of the larger ones in this area. He seems to be better organized, definitely better than you. You haven't even found a car in working order with at least a little bit of fuel in the tank. So maybe it's better to stay with him. It will be easier to survive. Maybe the two of you can find other people?

Maybe the man knows something more, maybe he knows about a settlement, a safe place? Some larger group of living people? Maybe there is some hope.

Meeting this man caused a small spark that some future might exist.

Although it is probably not difficult, you have never been able to plan or predict. You lived in the moment. Not worrying too much about what the next day will bring. Not really taking into account.

The consequences of your actions or, inversely, your inaction. It's time to grow up, the worried voices of your parents echo in your head. Well, maybe you should have listened to them.

You sigh and look away from the passing suburban landscape, still lost in your own thoughts. You look down for a moment, at your protruding belly and wide thighs. You haven't even lost much weight in the last two years. You blame it on your bad, inappropriate diet. You mainly ate carbohydrates and cans of ready-made or sweetened food. You found any canned vegetables less and less often. Lots of cans of carbonated drinks and lots of sweets. Not to mention salty snacks. It was easier that way. Everything had long expiration dates and was tightly packed. Thanks to this food, you satisfy your hunger and provide your body with endorphins. Fighting with your own bad, dark thoughts, when you had supplies of food and drink. You simply lay in bed on the mattress for weeks. Vegetating, waiting. Counting on... you didn't know what.

You look back at the passing landscape, individual buildings and road signs. City exit sign, highway exit, empty fields.

You regret that in the past you were never interested in the army. You didn't even know what military unit this man was from. The only thing that was clear to you was the British flag attached to his uniform. Maybe it meant something? Perhaps he was here for a reason?

Even now, when the cold of the coming evening and the breeze caused by the speed of the car caress your cheeks and exposed neck. This causes goosebumps and reddened cheeks. It was bearable, the feeling of cold wasn't really that bad.

The most significant thing is that you no longer have to walk.

The important thing is that after so many days you at last found hope.

The fact that you are finally not alone.

You choose not to think about it any longer, clinging to Riley, thanking him without words for saving him. You calm down a little.

When you finally arrive at your destination, the man hurriedly gets out of the car and opens the trunk with a gun in one hand.

“Riley stays with me”

If you don't mind the penetrating chill of the coming evening, the coldness in the man's voice definitely makes you shiver.

‘And you, woman, go into the building and tell your people to leave. I have you in my sights all the time.’

You don't have the strength to argue with him. Another exchange of words makes no sense at this point. You dream of eating something and finally taking off those damn shoes. Your legs hurt so terribly. Subconsciously, you already know that a verbal battle with this man is pointless now. He won't believe you anyway, he has to see for himself. See what you keep telling him.

One thing you were sure of right from the start. This guy was definitely confident and he didn't tolerate a word of disagreement, he knew best. Stubborn. Probably soulless, a killing machine. Who knows what bad shit he'd done in the past?

So as you slowly walk towards the building next to the tower, you wonder if your back might get shot. Simple and clear. He will execute you and this will all be over. Perhaps it would have been better. Maybe that was your end.

Fate. Destiny.

Maybe these two years of loneliness and torment were supposed to end this way. Your body will remain near the tower as a warning to other travelers. If anyone but the two of you had survived this long. Because during these few months, without seeing any sign of another person's life, you began to believe that you were completely alone. That somehow you were the only one who survived.

Day 64

You

You didn't think the crisis would come so quickly. That you will lose faith. You didn't see any solution to the situation, or there never was one.

You weren't the type of person who was sad, emotional, or prone to depression. You were always a ray of light, a cheerful green pea, as your dad used to say.

But now, as more days passed, more days of darkness, emptiness, silence. Fucking loneliness.

You couldn't handle it.

You have stopped looking out the window for hours, hoping that your loved ones will come home.

That some familiar face will save you. That someone will break the silence.

The worst were the sleepless nights. Curled up somewhere in a corner or hidden in a bathroom, somewhere in a room without windows. As far away from the outside walls as possible.

You gave up really fast. And you made one most important decision. And that day, early in the morning, when the first rays of sunlight appeared in the sky. You left the house at a brisk pace and easily reached your destination without stopping. Standing in front of the abandoned pharmacy, you knew why and for what you had come here. Without blinking an eye, you went inside and quickly found the right packages and took them from the shelves. Then, just as efficiently, you hurried back to the empty family house.

However, as you crossed the threshold of the building, the familiar smell, so close to your heart reached your nostrils. Home, the family nest. The door slammed behind you and then, for the first and only time, you hesitated.

Just as you had done for years, now, you called out to the empty rooms.

“Mom? Dad? Sis?... I'm back..."

Silence.

Nobody answered.

Emptiness.

So that was a sign, no one was there. And the decision was made, there was no turning back.

Sitting down on a chair in the dining room, you carefully unpacked the contents of the packages you brought. Earlier, you prepared a kitchen mortar and a glass of water.

Slowly, systematically, one by one, you place tablets of different sizes on the bottom of the agate dish. You don't know what quantity is right. Probably the bigger the better. The more the faster. The larger the quantity, the much painless it should be. You hope so. End the pain. Put an end to this misery.

Stirring slowly with a heavy stone pestle, you don't worry that some of the grinded medicine, will fall on the table. White powder stains the dining room table and your jeans.

Nobody will see the mess anyway. And if they do, they won't pay attention to such a detail anyway. They're more likely to notice you.

You pour the ground contents into a glass of water. Hoping that some of it will dissolve and make it easier for you to drink.

Bitterness. This is all you feel.

The cold water with the crushed tablets slowly passes down your throat into your stomach.... The bitterness on your tongue. The ground up undissolved pieces irritate your gums, sticking like sand between your teeth. You feel the acid under your tongue. Something in your throat.

You slowly swallow the rest of the mixture in the glass. Now you just have to wait. You fall asleep.

Alone.

But you won't wake up on your own. Eternal peace. Eternal peaceful sleep.

Maybe it'll be better if there's anything waiting for you afterward. If only this pain would go away.

That's what you're counting on. Well, you haven't been good at math since kindergarten.

Day 732 

Finally, after a long while of walking, with a feeling of fear, with the gun pointed at your back, you reach the door of the building. With a deep sigh, slightly irritated by this whole protracted situation, you open the door

“Hey guys, come out.”

With irony in your voice, you look at the man standing at a notable distance from you.

"You see? Like I said, no one. here. There isn't"

You say angrily, clenching your fists. After a few moments, you turn on your heel and cross your arms over your chest, waiting for Ghost to move. Whatever was going on in his head right now was starting to irritate you. Constant silence on his part, and when he did have something to say. It was his words that were cold, harsh. Angry, rough commands. He addresses you without respect.

In fact, he treats you worse than a dog.

“I'll shoot you if no one comes out soon."

Ghost adjusted the gun resting on his shoulder, still aiming at you.

“No one will come out of this building...”

You sigh.

“...maybe you'll finally believe me and we'll end this nonsense? If this is how you host all your guests. I'd rather not know how my predecessors ended up.”

You add, exhaling loudly through your nose

“And I don't really want to find out”

While waiting for the man's reaction, you look at him closely. Why is he so hostile? Why does he still not believe you?

Yes, no one had the right in these strange times to trust anyone or anything, however, you appeared in the area defenseless. Without any weapons. You didn't even think to bring a knife with you. Nothing for possible self-defense. So he, after all, was just plain stubborn.

Finally, the man slowly, silently approaches you and searches the inside of the building.

Of course there is no one inside.

Paying no attention to you, the masked man turned around and moves back toward the vehicle.

“Let's go. There's not much time left.”

He throws over his shoulder in your direction. Nothing more, no apologies, you're right. I believe you now. No remorse, no understanding. Heartless, strange, Ghost.

As you sit next to the dog, with your back to the boot, the man starts the car with a squeal of tyres. The speed of the car is definitely higher. You are going too fast, even though there are no other road users besides you. It's as if Ghost is racing against the setting sun. Every now and then he nervously checks his watch and turns his head over his shoulder, towards the western sky. And so on and on.

The streets grow darker and darker. Night is coming. Nightfall.

This time you are heading in a different direction from the centre. A new, unfamiliar one. With Riley at your side, you watch the changing landscape with curiosity. Crowded, densely built-up streets with many tall buildings turn into new suburbs. Single family houses and wide pavements with overgrown yards appear before our eyes. This must once have been a nice, quiet and green neighbourhood. Families with children probably spent their best moments here, enjoying a happy life together. The middle class probably lived here and worked hard for every square metre. After school, children rode their bikes on the wide streets or ran on the green, evenly mowed lawns.

Once. Past. Memories.

Finally, after several minutes of crazy driving, the man parks the car next to one of the houses. Hurriedly he gets out and opens the garage door with a flourish.

Ghost quickly pulls in and reaches for the dog and pulls him out of the trunk. He puts him in another car, parked in the garage next door.

“Hurry up, we don't have much time.”

With that, Ghost opens the passenger door and gets behind the wheel without waiting for you.

When you change to a smaller vehicle and sit on the passenger side, you ask in surprise

“Why a we changing the car? What's going on?"

He doesn't answer anything, he rushes away. He drives for a while, again, in silence you notice him circling the area. You definitely pass the same house several times.

“Why are we driving around?”

You ask with a little fear. From minute to minute, every behavior of a man causes increasing nervousness in your body. Again, you find his behavior strange, irrational.

‘We need to confuse the trail, cover our tracks.’

The man finally speaks up and after a few moments stops at the next house.

‘Stay in the car and don't go anywhere, understood?’

Ghost quickly picks up Riley and, with the dog in his arms, marches quickly in an unknown direction. Disappearing from your sight after a moment. You're left alone, in the car, in an unknown place.

The sun was almost below the horizon, a small red glow gently illuminated the wide street.

Suddenly, the door opens on your side and you jump in your seat, slightly scared. Seeing the now familiar, masked figure, you breathe a sigh of relief.

“Shit!”

 You clutch your chest, mumbling.

“Put this on your shoes and walk fast, damn it.”

The man hands you something like hospital slippers. You quickly put them on over your shoes. Hearing his voice, you know perfectly well that there is no time for discussion. Time is running out.

"Pull your hair back or keep it out of the wind and follow me quickly. Don't you dare turn around and stop!"

The man grabs you by the elbow and pulls you out of the car. He moves quickly, taking quick and decisive long strides. Compared to his legs, yours are considerably shorter than his, you practically have to run to keep up with his pace.

Not only do your legs hurt, but you are simply out of shape. Many weeks of trekking to this city and saving the portions of food you took with you. And also, the nerves caused by today have left you simply out of shape, out of strength.

Stumbling, your legs slowly give up and you hold your hair with one hand to keep it from being blown away by the wind, as commanded. You try not to fall behind the man.

At one point, Ghost slows down for a moment and turns his head, looking behind him.

“Damn it, faster.”

Regardless of your protests, he grabs you and lifts you off the ground.

"Hold on to me and don't let go."

He energetically grabs your hips and lifts you up, pulling your body towards him. He squeezes your plump body hard, digging into your skin. He's practically running now. You hold on to him, praying that he doesn't fall under the pressure of your weight or suddenly drop you.

However, nothing of the sort happens, and you both quickly reach one of the larger houses in the area. The only thing that distinguishes it from the others. Apart from its size, is that it has massive shutters and is not as overgrown with weeds as the others in the area.

The man opens the door locks, with one hand, and hurriedly enters the house. Finally, he sets you down on the floor, mumbles something unintelligible under his breath. He closes first one front door and then another, more massive one with multiple security features.

The room goes dark.

‘Where are we?’

You finally ask hesitantly, catching your breath. You didn't even notice when you held your breath.

‘In my house.’

He answers briefly and walks past you into the cramped vestibule, deep into the dark hallway

‘Take off your shoes and jacket, leave them here. Follow me.’

Ghost's house is warm and somehow strangely cozy. Standing in the doorway of the living room, while the man hastily closes the shutters and before the room goes completely dark, you try to look around. Get acquainted with the new surroundings.

The interior is decorated in a simple style. Plain, single-coloured shelves. The dark furniture bends slightly under the pressure of the collected objects. Against the walls, where there is no furniture, stand towers of neatly arranged things. There were a lot of objects here. Everything neatly, perfectly arranged. Books, CDs, clothes, bins, boxes containing other things (rather essential for survival and ordinary daily needs). Everything neatly and evenly grouped. You will not be surprised if you find that the man has everything carefully catalogued. So if you were to ask him for a small lithium battery of the CR1620 type, he would certainly find it in a few moments, without hesitation.

Despite the large number of items stored, the space does not seem cluttered. In the middle of the room is a large dark sofa with a small coffee table, opposite one of the walls on which is a large flat-screen TV. Looking to your right, you notice a slight glow and notice that instead of another wall with lots of cupboards and shelves filled in, there are open double sliding doors that lead into the kitchen. Now that glow reaches you, it's the light from the LED lamps above the worktop, slightly illuminating the distant room. You make a mental note to ask the man later where he gets his electricity from. Because he definitely has some sort of energy source. So it's not just the tower you were in last time that has a power source. It looks like this house has been inhabited for a long time and is definitely set up to live in such apocalyptic conditions for a long time. Rather, you could ask the man if he found this house by chance. Did he know about this building beforehand, and if not, how did he know to prepare so much?

Maybe he was one of those weirdos who believed every conspiracy theory, every rumour. Perhaps he was once in some sect that spoke of the imminent end of the world.

When Ghost finishes closing the shutters, the room is completely dark. You don't even hear the man moving around the room because suddenly you hear his low voice from behind you.

“Follow me, you need to wash up.”

It's only now that it's come to you. That's right. You must stink badly. Now the smell must be clearly noticeable in an enclosed room.

You feel a wave of shame sweep over you. Your cheeks are definitely red.

So many days of wandering, sleeping anywhere, as long as there was a roof over your head.

When you set off, you didn't take too many things with you. You mainly packed food, a sleeping bag and one thick sweatshirt, which usually served as a pillow. In order not to carry too many weight in your rucksack. You did not take excess clothing, but only the most necessary things to survive. You didn't expect to find much food along the way that was still edible. You didn't know how long the trek would take. However, you didn't think it would be that long. Too long.

So you turn away in shame, lowering your head, even though the house is dark, you are afraid of the man's gaze. You feel your way towards where the Ghost's voice had just come from.

You feel embarrassed about yourself, you must have, well literally, stank. You can't even remember the last time you washed yourself properly. Before setting off, you managed to heat up the water you had collected and washed yourself thoroughly in the bath. You don't even remember how many days ago that was. Too long ago to remember.

You have quite long hair, which you had tied up in a braid for days without even untangling it or combing it every day. Now many strands have fallen out of the braid, in fact, even your hairstyle looked more like your hair was loose than braided.

But the fatigue and frustration of the ongoing journey had subsided and you no longer cared about looking presentable. You didn't expect to meet anyone.

Seeing the soft light that spread a pleasant warm and yellow aura in the narrow corridor. You slowly approach the open door. Finally you hear the clear voice of a man from deep in the room, and he speaks to you again in the same dark and monotonous voice.

“Take a bath, you have everything you need in the bathtub”

Then, following his voice, you enter a slightly lit room.

It is a large bathroom decorated in a minimalist style. Dark tiles and silver fittings. No windows, no shelves of supplies. Simple minimalist interior.

A man stands next to a large free-standing bathtub. Without waiting for your answer, he leaves and speaks again.

“Wait a few minutes, the water needs to heat up”

Before you can say anything, Ghost pushes past you and closes the door behind him.

You stand in the room for a few moments, you feel so unreal and strange. As if you were in some hotel. On a special vacation.

There was a time, well, you hardly even remember, when you had things like hot water, warmth, a house without a dripping roof and just a safe space. Everything is prepared and at your disposal. You don't have to search for anything. Scouring shops and houses to find the thing you need like shampoo, toothpaste or a hairbrush.

You sit down on the closed toilet, gently remove your gloves and place them on the sink, having to wash them by hand to put them back on as quickly as possible.

You struggle to remove your shoes, and a terrible sight appears to your eyes: socks that were probably white were now a mixture of several colours. Brown, greyish black or crimson. With great difficulty you remove the sock, hissing loudly in pain. The cotton material has stuck to the dried blood, fusing with the cotton material of the sock and with your foot. Some of the wounds are reopening. Most of the nails are practically black. They are likely to fall off soon. Now that your feet are finally uncovered and you are free to lay them on the cold stone tiles on the bathroom floor. You breathe more deeply.

Cursing under your breath, you try to undress. You slowly stand up, shaking on your swollen legs. It seems to you that it is even worse than when you had tightly knotted shoes on your feet the whole time.

After a few moments, you slowly reach for the rest of your clothes and slowly undress, throwing your dirty clothes on the floor. The last layer of clothes, the one closest to your skin, has practically stuck to it. The material is wet, as if greasy and even hard in some places, soaked through with the sweat that your skin has secreted over many weeks.

When you finally manage to undress, with shaking legs you walk over to the bath and sit down on its edge. As you turn on the tap you almost sob with joy. It's been a long time since you've seen running water. Hot straight from the tap. It used to be a normal thing that attracted attention, today it's an incredible luxury.

You hesitantly reach your hand under the flowing stream of water and shiver with pleasure. It's really, really warm. You don't even know what you're going to say to Ghost when you get out after your bath. You are so grateful to him. There are no words now to describe your joy and gratitude over such a trivial matter as this bath.

You reach for the bottle standing next to the bath. A 3-in-1 body wash. For men. Well, you can't have everything. But even if you only had warm running water at your disposal, you wouldn't mind at all.

When the bath fills to the bottom, you slowly step into it and sit down. Despite the growing tingling on your skin and the pinching of your wounds. You lean more comfortably against the tub, tilt your head back and close your eyes. You finally feel comfortable and can relax, at least for a while. Your muscles and injured skin, although they seem to hurt less for a while, can finally rest.

Hot water heats the bathroom, slowly steam appears in this small space, it becomes stuffy.

The bath takes a really long time. You contemplate how the water will slowly warm your frozen, swollen body. You wash every inch of your body thoroughly. The gel smells nice, you can feel lavender and sandalwood.

You don't care that a man might be angry with you and full of further resentment. Because you spent so much time in the bathroom. That you used too much water.

It feels so wonderful. Blissful. You finally wash your greasy and tangled hair and massage your scalp. You feel tears coming to your eyes. For the first time in you don't know when, you feel safe, just clean and comfortable. You allow yourself moments of weakness.

Relaxed, you fall asleep, but unfortunately the bad memories haunt you once again.

Days 64-66

You

You didn't see how long it would be before these peculiar cocktails full of anxiety would kick in, so you chose the closest place that seemed comfortable. The sofa in the living room.

Lying down, you hugged one of the cushions you had taken from your parents' bedroom earlier. It was big, soft and smelled like.... Mum. Home. The closeness. Security. Stability. All the good things that no longer existed.

You don't know how much time has passed, each passing minute seems like an eternity.

Eventually your eyelids become heavier and heavier. Your breathing slows down. You fall asleep. Hoping forever.

Unfortunately, you were wrong, the mixture of drugs was not what you expected. You wake up with a terrible, huge stomach ache, headache, nausea. You don't even have the strength to open your eyes.

You vomit. You can't collect your thoughts, you don't know what's going on. There is only one thing in your head: pain, pain, pain.

All this goes on for hours, moaning in pain, nausea, fainting. Breathing problems come on suddenly, convulsions occur.

Everything is one long agony.

This is not how it was supposed to be.

You were not meant to suffer.

Tears run down your cheeks, mixing with the vomit that is practically everywhere. You must have fallen off the couch. You don't even feel yourself hitting the floor.

Everything hurts so much.

 You fall asleep for brief moments. It all continues, the pain, the crying, the momentary loss of consciousness and then back again. Vicious circle. Endless.

When it all goes away for a while, you don't have the strength to get up, you stare at the white ceiling. Your heart beats fast.

Night and day pass. In the end, everything slowly subsides. This time you have failed. Something gave you another chance. Maybe there was a reason that you survived after all.

Days 732

You

You wake up abruptly and only after a while do you remember where you are. The bath water is already cold. You sit up shrinking your legs, hugging your legs tightly to your chest, wrapping your arms tightly around them. You bury your head, trying to make the bad memories disappear, hide, or preferably erase them from your mind.

It's not just the constant, daily nightmares that remind you of the ordeal that day. When you swallowed the ground pills and the wrong mixture caused one of the side effects to appear. That night you lost some of your hearing.

Maybe it was a punishment, or maybe it was meant as a reminder. It's not worth it. You shouldn't. No.

You will never forget.

Once the water is very cold, we get out of the bath. Although your body has thankfully relaxed a little. You wrap yourself in a towel and look around the bathroom. No sign of a change of clothes. After all, you're not going to parade around in a small towel that barely covers your pudgy body.

Slowly, hesitantly, you open the bathroom door, wanting to call out and ask a man for clean clothes. Because there is no point in wearing the old ones. They are fit to burn at most. You don't believe that even the best washing machine and detergents can cope with such dirt that has dried for weeks.

Looking down the corridor you notice a few changes. The corridor is softly lit, no longer dark.

And the other thing is that there is a chair opposite the bathroom door.

And on it lie nicely stacked brand new clothes, deodorant and a toothbrush. Next to it lie plasters, bandages and wound disinfectant.

You look around the corridor, but there is no one there but you.

In the distant kitchen you hear the clink of plates and cupboards being opened. You think you hear the clatter of Riley's claws walking quickly across the kitchen floor, a very familiar sound, something known from the past.

In addition to the symphony of sounds, your nostrils are filled with a smell. Food. Dinner. Definitely a warm meal. It's all so unreal, ordinary, idyllic. So innocent and mundane. As if those two years never happened, as if you were spending your weekend off gossiping at a friend's house. And you weren't struggling in drudgery and terror to survive.

Hurriedly, feeling your stomach growl with hunger, you pick up the things Ghost left for you from the chair. You glance at the tag of one of the clothes, not only were they the right size, they were from a really good and expensive company.

Returning to the bathroom you smile slightly, hugging the fresh and tactile clothes.

Well, maybe meeting and visiting Ghost's house wasn't as bad as you thought at first.

And maybe under the mask he wasn't such a scary person after all.

taglist:

@leviathanleva @chocolate-noodles @vmaxis @poohkie90 @ghostlythots @nobodys-coffee @famouscattale @youdontneedtoknow1226 @pimpinsins @justguessfan @novasilvae @pausbirudanlumbalumba @ella2497 @lunamoonbby @sams-pineapples @tonylagsagne @lurkinwbreexy

[neriumxoleander]

If you could explain, I'm only learning this now! What's going on with Gato? I've only seen vague posts but I know all social media is gone (because by god fucking twitter apparently) I've seen from the fake gatobob account post about recent events and I'm soo confused. Could you please shed some more light on this? If you are as clueless as I am, you don't need to respond. - @your-very-own-anon (mod speaking)

Sorry for the late response, I've been trying to retag some things while I'm focused on this account for once. I'll try to be brief? please don't take me as the authority on this, I just happened to get into the tags while it was unfolding earlier today. still going under a read more though. i suppose a tw for mentions of racism and xenophobia are warranted. And please do not interact if you are a minor or have no age listed on your blog, I will block you.

Gato deleted her social media accounts this morning (tumblr, twitter, pillowfort) and explained on patreon it was for her mental health and safety (which... safety? hm) and someone here immediately claimed the gatobob url. which happens, it's tumblr. but this person is using it basically as a callout center.

the callout seems to be about an incident that happened in the patreon exclusive discord server before it got shut down a couple months ago. tldr according to this person, someone (a mod?) made a racist comment towards someone, and gato apparently handled the situation poorly and neither her or the mods apology were really that great. I was in the server as a lurker more than anything, but I don't remember being there when this happened.

other people sending in asks to this new gatobob account have also been calling her out for xenophobia, but I have a feeling that's looking a little bit too much into statements she's made about her games being redistributed in Russia and Spain specifically if i recall correctly.

this new blog is demanding gato and the aforementioned mod properly apologize for their behaviour, but in my opinion, this is a really weird and bad way to go about it. Smart to use her url as a way to boost the problem, but... I haven't seen any solid evidence besides some very vague screenshots, none of them including the racist remarks (the screenshots they've posted so far definitely aren't good responses or apologies if they ARE linked to this incident, and it should have been taken seriously) And the victim from the racism incident is NOT the person running the new gatobob account, so it feels very weird to me that this person is taking it upon themselves to stir everyone up and demand things from gato and the mod.

as far as I can tell, gato hasn't said anything about this on patreon, although she's likely taking her separation from social media very seriously. If she is aware (and I'm sure she's getting plenty of DMs about this on patreon), she'll likely make a post there addressing it in the next couple days, but that's just speculation.

I'm keeping a mostly neutral stance in this whole thing, but I'm encouraging people to not interact with this new gatobob account. There's nothing we can really do; they aren't impersonating her, posting anything against ToS as far as Im aware, and people have been hoarding urls for years. Just... listen and learn, I think is all I can suggest. Form your own opinions, but don't go on a witch hunt about it, if that makes any sense.

I'll try to answer other questions, but I'm just one guy on the internet who doesn't usually get tangled with things like this. Please be patient.

[zorda-27]

Embrace

Summary:

A reader returned from work angry and tried to calm down in a rather destructive way. (All characters are adults)

(This work is also posted on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58076185 ) Hi, welcome to my first TMNT fanfic! I am a huge Leonardo stan, I love him in every adaptation ^^ Bayverse turtles are probably my favorite ones, like, they are so cute and ugly and their personalities are so good, even our edge lord Leonardo is so perfect for me!!!! But! My mood is kinda bad so I decided to write something more angsty? It's just an angry reader ;3 Hope yall like it!!! (I borrowed the nickname Tiny from Desceros https://archiveofourown.org/users/desceros/pseuds/desceros , you must check their works! Also they are on tumblr https://www.tumblr.com/desceros ) -----------------------------------------------------

- Motherfucker! - an angry, female voice called from the door, their backpack fleeing to the corner, as they stomped to the center. - Fucking piece of shit, I hope his family is cursed - they gritted, passing by the couch and entered the kitchen.

- Nice to see you too Tiny - said Raphael, currently sipping on his protein shake.

- Shut up! Shut the fuck up! I'm so done, I had enough of this hell hole. Why do I need to work? Can’t I just… ugh - they threw their fists in the air, trying to transfer their anger somewhere. It was too much for them. Work makes them super irritated, even if they like it. Mostly it was customers that tried to ruin Y/n mood, but today it was the customer-coworkers combo. All of them were so fucking stupid today it was probably illegal.

- Well, we already told you, If you don’t want to work to take care of your mental health, you can live with us - said Donnie, making himself a coffee. Y/n loved the smell of freshly brewed, perfectly burned beans, but today was different.

- I like working as a barista I just fucking hate people! - they yell, remembering all of the things that made them angry.

- We know, Tiny, you are fucking with our brother - Raph’s words should make them laugh, but instead, Y/n’s body started to slightly shake, their fingers spread in clawed motion, only to turn them into fists a second later.

- Should’ve fucked with you only to slice your dick off - they almost roared and ignored the need for something to eat, turning on their heel and walking off. They need to calm down, or they’ll do something actually stupid. Like challenging the god himself, or running into the wall. Both ideas were good at this moment, but there was something else. As Y/n couldn’t properly calm down, their sick mind turned into a more auto-destructive side. There were enough sharp weapons in the lair to ‘accidentally’ hurt themself. Stupid or not, they needed to blow the steam from their head off.

The dojo was surprisingly empty, with no training Leo or meditating Splinter. They probably drink some tea in the Sensei’s room. Y/n was the one to buy some new floral mix, hoping the two tea lovers would like it. Even If they didn’t, the dojo was empty and Y/n was so grateful for it, they almost decided to stop their stupid plan. Because what if someone notices? Or worse, someone will get worried? Hurting themselves was too stupid, even for them. But there was another way. Y/n closed the door to the dojo and walked into the gym section, with punch bags, weights, and this type of shit. They were too angry to register anything at this moment. The white fury behind their eyes as they walked to the bag, looking at it, dulls everything around them.

Leo cleaned the teapot and the cups after his afternoon tea with Splinter. The new tea was indeed very good, his father wanted to thank their human friend, but Y/n was nowhere to be found.

- If you are lookin for ya girl, they probably fight the god now - said Raph, all innocently, still drinking his shake. Leonardo looked at him, his brows furrowed a little and he looked at Donnie, waiting for the explanation.

- Y/n came back very angry, I think they headed to the dojo - said the purple one, cleaning his eyeglasses.

- Did they say anything? - asked the leader, already worried about his partner.

- Yea, something about snapping my dick off - chuckled Raphael, immediately meeting the angry gaze of his brother. - Well that’s true, go and ask’em - he said, raising his hands in defeat. Leo sighed deeply, turning his head in annoyance. Without a word, Fearless went to the dojo, respectfully knocking on the doors first, but there was no answer. Slowly, he entered the room, looking around. The sliding entrance to the gym section was closed, as probably someone was working out right there. The blue turtle knocked on the wooden surface, but again, there was no answer, so he slid them open.

Leo wasn’t entirely ready for the view that greeted him. Yes, Y/n was training with them from time to time, but not too hard, as their body was much softer than his. Whatever was going on in Y/n’s head was enough to numb the pain of the bleeding knuckles. The blood was dripping from their fists and from the punching bag, that they were trying to hit harder with every move. They didn’t even realize someone was watching them, tears streaming down their face, the huffs and puffs from their chest indicating how tired they were, and the iron smell was sealing them in their own little world.

- Y/n? - Leo’s voice was soft, calm, trying to ground his partner back, to patch their wounds and ask what was wrong, but it wasn’t enough. He repeated their name, touching their arm slowly. Immediately Y/n jumped back, startled by the touch and the presence of someone else. Their butt collided with the hard floor and they turned away, to hide their embarrassment, anger, and frustration.

- Go away - they said, as they realized what was going on. They raise their hand to wipe the sweat off of their forehead, realizing what happened to them.

- What happened? - asked Leo, standing still, trying not to grab his partner and run to the med bay.

- Nothing, fuck off - they answered, but the tears were still there. The leader spotted the bad condition Y/n was in. They were still having their go-to-work hairstyle, their work uniform sticking out from the hoodie and bags under their eyes. So they just came back from work. Something must’ve happened in there, something that made them fall into the spiral of anger, self-doubt, and self-destruction.

- I will if you let me patch you up - he said, pointing at the Y/n’s hands covered in blood.

- Fine - they huff out, still looking away. They stood up, adjusting their hoodie in a grimace, the pain was now present and very, very bad. It stings as hell, their arm hurt to the elbow like they were smashing the bag with their bones. Well, it wasn’t probably far from true. Leo waited until Y/n headed out first and followed them. He sends a text to his brothers to not freak out about the blood in the gym. Obviously, when the leader and his partner were crossing through the main area, there were curious looks from the kitchen.

- What happened to Tiny? - asked Mikey, sniffing the blood.

- Later - Leo answered, hoping it wouldn’t scare Y/n off, as they were still hesitant to the idea of calming down. They even stopped by the entrance of the med bay, but Leo lightly pushed them in. The human was seated at the chair by the counter, where all the medical supplies were. Leo first washed his hands and began to take care of his partner. As he was working on cleaning the wound, Y/n’s face was adored with new tears.

- Hurts - they whimper, but they sit, now scared of being reprimanded. - I- I don’t know why I was punching so hard. I was so angry, this day- this day was so fucking bad, everyone was getting on my nerves, one of the coffee machines broke and some fucking kid run into me, behind the fucking bar. I’m so done, I don’t want to work anymore but I can’t be some fucking unemployed piece of useless shit. I’m already useless - the last part was silent, even for Leo. He let them speak, as he knew how much decompression his love needed. Only when he wrapped Y/n’s hands in clean bondage, he took them in his arms, sitting on the floor.

- Shh, I'm here with you. I know it's hard sometimes, but you will get through this - he said, ignoring the part where Y/n was doubting themselves. If Leo would touch this subject, they would only disagree and argue.

- I'm so tired, the work, the fear of the foot clan attacking you, all the duties and responsibilities, the taxes to pay. It's just. Too much. - they said, their voice finally calming down as they let them sink into Leo's embrace.

- You're managing all of this and you are not alone, baby. I'm here for you - he kissed their temple, tucking their messed hair away.

- I feel like I disappointed you, being so weak, unable to take care of myself - Y/n sniffed, but they slowly came back to the world, grounding themselves back into reality, to their partner.

- You're not, I'm even glad for having you, even in this state, as I can help you, listen to you, and make you feel protected and loved - he said, smiling warmly, carefully taking Y/n hand and kissing their fingers.

- I'm sorry - they sobbed, hiding their face in Leonardo's chest, letting themselves feel like a wounded child.

-It's okay - he said, hugging them tightly. They sat like that for almost an hour when the Leader decided to take Y/n to their shared room. Passing by the living area, worried looks were pointed at the lovers, Raph even stood up.

-The fuck happened there? - he asked, seeing Y/n's hands covered in bandages.

-Later Raphael, let them rest - said Leo and disappeared into the area. He placed his little human on the bed and turned around to take off his gear, to snuggle a couple of moments later with them on the bed. He kissed their temple, hugging them tightly.

-Take a few days off, Donnie can place you on sick leave - he said, adjusting the duvet around Y/n.

-Mhm - they muttered, eyes closed, hand curled on Leo's chest, letting be surrounded by a loving embrace of his love. Maybe one day everything will be alright and they will feel good with themselves, but in this moment they sink into Leonardo's arms, which makes them feel loved and protected from the evil of the world.

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

Hope yall like it, I know it's not much, but I really tried to slip into tmnt fandom with my writing and my love for our god and savior edge lord Leonardo :'3 Please, leave a comment, let me know if you liked it!! Have a nice day/night!!

[batboyblog]

"My Name is Harvey Milk and I'm Here To Recruit You!"

If you don't know Harvey Milk was the first openly gay man elected to public office, to the San Francisco Board of Supervisors in 1977. To this day Harvey remains the most famous queer person elected to office maybe in the world. His short and tumultuous time in office was dominated by the fight for gay rights. In the late 1970s there was a huge backlash against the rise of gay rights spearheaded by a group called "Save Our Children". Across the country they organized elections to revoke local gay rights ordinances in Miami, Saint Paul, Wichita and Eugene in the summer and fall of 1977. In 1978 a California state Senator John Briggs brought forward a citizens referendum, Proposition 6, which would ban gay people and supporters of gay rights from being teachers any where in the state of California. The last year of Harvey's life was consumed with the struggle against Briggs who he debated across the state. In the end the Briggs Initiative was defeated 58-41% with Harvey's home of San Francisco turning out over 70% against. The national anti-gay fever broke and "Save Our Children" never recovered.

Harvey opened every speech he ever gave with "My name is Harvey Milk, and I'm here to recruit you" In the 1970s rather than accusing gay people of "grooming" children (an idea that didn't exist then) they were accused of "recruiting" them. "Recruiting our children to the homosexual lifestyle". So Harvey used it as a joke but also a battle cry

Today it feels like every day there's more bad news. Across the country state legislatures are trying to ban trans health care for minors and even adults. Local school boards are banning books about LGBT people (and others). States are trying to ban drag. violence and the threat of violence are trying to stop companies from doing Pride and attacking Queer events. The internet is flooded with "groomer" attacks on our humanity. There are days it does feel like the 1970s all over again.

BUT! we won then, and there are many lessons we can take from Harvey and his struggle and use to win the fight against the current wave of hate plunging American in darkness. Harvey's been gone a very long time so... My name is Max and I'm here to recruit you, here are some things I want everyone to do.

VOTE BITCH!

Are you an American citizen 18 years of age or older? Are you registered to vote? if the answer is no, register to fucking vote bitch, here check out what you need. If you want registered, click the link any ways and double check. If you're 16 or 17 years old good news more than half the states in America allow you to "preregister" so you're all signed up and become a registered vote right on your 18th birthday. Whats more ask every vaguely left of center person in your life, everyone who supports LGBT rights, if they're registered to vote and if any one says "no" bug the shit out of them till that changes.

But more than just registering to vote you have to go and vote, yes every election. Right now across America conservative queerphobes are using local elections that get little to no attention and are often very low turn out to take over and push wildly extreme and hateful agendas. Local school boards across America are banning books that have LGBT characters or themes. They pushing policies that refuse students the right to their correct names and pronouns. They want to require schools to out students to their parents against their wishes. Check Vote411 or ballotpedia to find what elections are happening around you.

Candidates on a local level, school board, town/city council, county government, even up to state Rep and state Senate candidates are almost always very responsive to questions. Email everyone running and ask them where they stand, you will get answers I PROMISE you will get answers. Its the easiest thing to do and everyone who has the right to vote in this country should do it, vote in every election.

"But I live in a super blue area my vote doesn't matter" SHUT UP! SHUT UP! even if every local election is Democratic it can be more progressive, ask local candidates what they're gonna do to push LGBT rights forward. Will your local school board push teaching LGBT history? respect trans students pronouns? will your local library board host a drag queen story hour and put together programs for pride? ask! push them! let local candidates know!

"but I live in a super red area my vote doesn't count" BULLSHIT! where ever you are there's a local election that can swing to the non-shitty side if people show up, you can be the difference in a school board election. No matter what stand up and be counted.

Come Out Come Out Wherever You Are.

Since the earliest days of the movement in the 1950s and 1960s before Stonewall, through Harvey Milk's time in the 1970s through to right now, the most powerful tool we have is to come out. It is easy to hate the homosexual, the transgender as an abstraction, as a stereotype as an unrefuted lie. It is so much harder to hate a brother, a sister, a son, a daughter, a friend, a neighbor, your lawyer, your doctor, the mailman, your 8th grade English teacher. In 1978 Harvey said:

"Unless you have dialogue, unless you open the walls of dialogue, you can never reach to change people's opinion. In those two weeks, more good and bad, but more about the word homosexual and gay was written than probably in the history of mankind. Once you have dialogue starting, you know you can break down prejudice. In 1977 we saw a dialogue start."

Thats what they're scared of, thats why they're freaking out in Target, why they're trying to shut down Drag Queen story hours and take away the books. Ignorance and hate lives in darkness and dies in the light. In 1978 gay men and lesbians went door to door in California and introduced themselves to strangers to explain the harm Briggs would do to them. They vote for us 3 to 1 if they know they know one of us.

It shouldn't be like this, it should be when you're ready when you have all the words, but they're coming for us all so come out come out wherever you are. If you know your parents will love you but you've been holding off because it's scary or stressful, nows the moment. If you're a grown ass adult who lives on your own and don't need mom and dad's money to pay your rent, tell them, no matter how much it hurts, call them on the phone, write them a letter if you have to. Does your family know but they asked you not to tell grandma, grandma, great-aunt Marge because they're old or whatever, or your aunt and uncle who are born again Christians. Listen if they still vote they could be hurting you and if they really love you they shouldn't want to do that, tell them! tell them who you really are, and it might be the work of years to bring that person around, but you never know till you try it.

Are there family members you have who know and love you but you know they're conservative and still vote Republican and you've been avoiding talking to them about it because it's awkward? Stop avoiding it, explain it to them, explain that it's not "just politics" explain to your loved ones that they ARE hurting you. If they don't hear it the first time, don't stop, if they love you they shouldn't hurt you.

Come Out at Work, Come out at your bowling league, come out to that friend of a friend you see sometimes, wear a pin, rainbow shoes, a shirt in public, tell your co-workers, your clients, your Church, your Synagogue. Wear that rainbow pin, that pronoun t-shirt, put a sticker on your car, your bag, your phone. If it's safe for you to be out in a space, claim it, COME OUT WHEREVER YOU ARE.

COMING OUT AS TRANS OR NON-BINARY

COMING OUT AS LESBIAN, GAY, OR BISEXUAL

Go To Pride This Year.

Conservatives are trying harder than any time in my lifetime to shut down Pride. Florida and Tennessee have passed laws that will limit pride events. Terrorists are threatening and attacking brands that are doing Pride themed events and products. These events and products go back at least 20 years but the violence of attacks against them is really new. So the only answer is to GO TO PRIDE. I don't care if crowds are not your thing, I don't care if its 97 degrees out the day your city does it, I don't care if your local pride is small and embarrassing, I don't care you might see that one ex, I DON'T CARE. If you physically can go to a pride event this June DO IT. If you're scared to be seen, wear a mask, go in drag, put make or body pant over your tattoos whatever you need to do. If we want to have Pride again next year in many areas this year needs to be a show of force. If you've never been and you never go again this is the year, do it, go, find the Pride event closest to you and do it.

Get Involved Whore!

So far I've offered you pretty easy asks for things you can do, voting, coming out, going to Pride. Now comes the harder ones, get involved. In 1978 gay men and lesbians knocked on doors and told voters across the state of California how an anti-gay measure would affect them personally. If they had the nerve less than 10 years after Stonewall to go to strangers houses and come out to them, I believe you can do it too. Get out there, knock doors, make phone calls, mail postcards, wave signs. Talk to Voters from anywhere, find your local Democratic Party, check out LGBT Democrats in your state, check out groups like the HRC and PFLAG

if you've got money give to HRC, give to GLAD, Give to The National Center for Lesbian Rights all 3 of whom have been the tip of the spear fighting the insane anti-LGBT laws coming out of the states.

If you don't have money, check out The Victory Fund thats supports LGBT candidates and find one close to you and sign up to help. Can't find anyone? try Run for Something that supports young progressives. If you live in a Blue area of a blue state, you can check the Sister District Project which links up volunteers with swingy districts across the country. Swing Left does much the same on a more federal level

crazy right wing extremists can count on organized support from Churches and far right groups. You, yes you, talking to you Glenn! HAVE TO be the support network, the volunteer base for LGBT candidates and their allies and supporters. You have to HAVE to get out there, give if you have money, knock on doors, call, text, write letters go to a protest, sit at a booth, register people to vote, hand out literature, WHATEVER whatever. You can do it, please give at least one weekend over the next two years to a political campaign, be it a local school board candidate, town council, working for the Democrats or volunteering through the HRC or a progressive group, the people who want to destroy you are out working to win elections, you have to be too.

Fucking Run, why not?

This is the last thing, the hardest thing and the thing I don't expect everyone to do. Run, yes really, run for office, yes you, yes I mean it. If the crazed insane conservative who thinks Hillary Clinton drinks child blood out of kids like a juice box is qualified for School Board to ban all the books with queer people or black folks, you are MORE than qualified. I don't care if you're a high school drop out with face tats, you're more qualified than these people, so do it, if you've ever thought of it, do it. Frustratingly dozens of dozens of offices across this country are filled every day but uncontested elections only one person signed up, hell that person can be you why not? Look into it Last year 41% of the seats in the Florida Legislature went uncontested, 37% of the seats in Texas, 53% in Tennessee, 58% in South Carolina. It's not for everyone, but if you've ever wanted to, ever thought about it, take this as your sign, do it. Do you have a friend who's so smart, cool, involved and just better than you in every way and you think they should run the world? Nominate them, give them a push to run

I think Harvey put the importance of electing queer people better than I ever could so

Somewhere in Des Moines or San Antonio, there’s a young gay person who all of a sudden realizes that she or he is gay. Knows that if the parents find out, they’ll be tossed out of the house. The classmates will taunt the child and the Anita Bryants and John Briggs’ are doing their bit on TV, and that child had several options. Staying in a closet, suicide, and then one day that child might open a paper, and it says “Homosexual elected in San Francisco,” and there are two new options. An option is to go to California or stay in San Antonio and fight. Two days after I was elected, I got a phone call, and the voice was quite young. It was from Altoona, Pennsylvania, and the person said, “Thanks.” And you’ve got to elect gay people so that that young child and the thousands upon thousands like that child know that there’s hope for a better world. There’s hope for a better tomorrow. Without hope, not only gays, but those Blacks, and the Asians, and disabled, and seniors. The us’s. The us’s without hope, the us’s give up. I know that you cannot live on hope alone, but without it, life is not worth living. And you, and you, and you have got to give them hope. Thank you very much.

If you read all this thanks, I can't make anyone do anything of course, but whatever you choose to do, I'll be out there knocking doors. I wish I did not live in such dark times but as Gandalf The Gray said "So do all who live to see such times, but that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.” 

Finally to all my Queer brothers, sisters, and siblings, even though I do not know you, and even though I may never meet you, laugh with you, cry with you, or kiss you. I love you. With all my heart, I love you.

[stories-of-the-nrm]

Time Doesn't Heal All Wounds Part 5

(Sir Topham Hatt looks over his schedule to see when he can allow Gordon to slip away to the medical center.)

Sir Topham Hatt: Dear oh dear. We're right in the middle of the summer holiday. Duck and Edward will be busy on their branch lines. Henry has the Flying Kipper for the next two weeks. I suppose the only way to get around this is to run multiple trains. James, Emily and the Scottish Twins will have to relay the express for the day.

(He organizes the timetable in a way that makes sense.)

Sir Topham Hatt: Well I guess this is good enough to send to all of the station masters.

(Sir Topham Hatt's assistant faxes the new timetable.)

Sir Topham Hatt's message: I want all of the stations on the Main Line to share this updated time table. Make sure all passengers going to and from the station are aware of the changes to the express service for the day.

Narrator: After all of the station masters receive the temporary timetable, everyone works to share that information with all of the passengers using the express service.

(It's now the end of the day at Tidmouth Sheds.)

Narrator: Gordon rolls into his shed just as Sir Topham Hatt arrives.

Sir Topham Hatt: Gordon I'm sure you already heard the news, but tomorrow you're going to the medical center. I redid the timetable so you can have the day for yourself and our passengers can still get to their destinations on time.

(Gordon humbly nods.)

Gordon: Thank you, sir. I understand how difficult it would be to replace me. I hope that this would only be for one day.

Sir Topham Hatt: I hope so too. Good night engines.

Tidmouth Shed Engines: Good night sir.

(Sir Topham Hatt drives home for the night.)

Emily: Gordon? What's going on that you won't be able to pull the express all day?

(Gordon sighs.)

Gordon: My brother Scott is in the human hospital. His rebuild is going very poorly and none of the humans know how to treat him.

Edward: My goodness! I've never heard of a rebuild going so poorly that an engine's had to go to a human hospital.

Gordon: Indeed. I believe it shows just how little is known about our human forms. From my understanding, Scott is only stuck in this position because some parts have been woefully delayed. I don't think he even has a boiler.

(All of the engines gasp.)

Henry: What will you have to do?

Gordon: I'm his only living relative. The A4's simply have nothing in common with Scott to determine what would be normal for his human form. As someone who actively pulls passenger trains, I consider myself to be in relatively perfect condition. Yes my age is to be considered, but in spite of that, my health is not a problem. Therefore, I was asked to go to the medical center and do some tests.

Emily: What would happen next?

(Gordon contemplates the possibilities.)

Gordon: If Scott is in a physical state that is completely different than mine, then I have no idea. Our human forms are after all based on the state of our engine. If an important part is missing, a human doctor simply lacks the tools needed to fix it.

(The engines look solemn.)

Gordon: I have no idea if Scott will even make it out of this. I can only hope that my tests will help his medical team find a solution.

(James has a rare look of maturity.)

James: At least you won't have to worry about the express. We'll take good care of your coaches.

Gordon: Thank you. Now I must get some sleep. I believe tomorrow will be a very long day.

(The sun rises for the next day.)

Narrator: The next day, Gordon arrives bright and early at the medical center.

Receptionist: May I help you?

Gordon: I have business on behalf of Scott of the National Railway Museum.

(She looks at her notes and puts in a call. A man enters the waiting area.)

Doctor: Hello Gordon. I'm Dr. Pine. Thank you for taking time to come here today.

Gordon: What do you need me to do?

Dr. Pine: Well we'd have to do some tests to see what would be considered normal for an engine like yourself. I would ask to do a blood test but I'm not sure if you even have blood.

(Gordon thinks about how to answer that.)

Gordon: How would you know if I do have blood?

(Dr. Pine leads Gordon to the lab.)

Dr. Pine: We will have to find a vein and see what comes out. Just have a seat here and we'll start.

(Gordon sits down as the lab worker begins.)

Narrator: Many tests are conducted until Dr. Pine has a thorough idea of what's considered to be normal for a steam engine.

Dr. Pine: Thank you for helping us Gordon. I think we have everything we need now. If we need anything else, we'll contact Sir Topham Hatt.

Gordon: I hope that my tests can help you manage Scott's condition. Can you please provide updates on his condition?

Dr. Pine: Why yes we can. As soon as anything changes, we'll let you know.

(Gordon shakes Dr. Pine's hand.)

Gordon: Thank you for taking care of my brother. I hope you have a good day.

Dr. Pine: Same to you Gordon.

(Gordon leaves the medical center hopeful that the effort put in today helps his brother.)

Tagging: @bluy1206, @werbitssft, @klein-sodor-bahn, @theyellowroseofsodor, @juniebugsss, @tornadoyoungiron, @pxmun,

@nelllia, @pxmun2, @thefedoragirl, @roosinii, @ethereal-capricorns-blog, @jessica-sv509510,

@jayde-jots, @thatcheeseycandle, @jordeynnotgordon, @be-kind-and-rewind-again, @hardchildpainter, @asktheoriginalorder,

@onyx-and-friends, @that-mr-e, @sustysteel198, @monika-396, @fabianvalencia561, @gordon208, @savannahlee-d29,

@bladexjester, @sketalya, @agent-7-at-your-service, @i-heart-ukrain3, and @engineer-gunzelpunk.

[newyorkthegoldenage]

Apologies—I meant to post this to another of my blogs. But since a few folks have liked it, I guess I'll leave it.

NYCB Attracting Younger Fans

The AP put out this story, which has run in many papers.

I've never understood why so many organizations prize young patrons over old. The old ones have more money, after all. But I suppose they're thinking of their future: today's young people are tomorrow's "sea of gray." 🙄

It's also news to me that Whelan is in charge of programming. I'm sure that Stafford has (a big) say in what goes on.

At 75, NYC Ballet is getting older. Its audience is skewing younger, and that’s the plan

By JOCELYN NOVECK Updated 12:58 AM EDT, May 24, 2024

NEW YORK (AP) — Alice McDermott settled into her seat at New York City Ballet on a recent Friday night, excited to see her first-ever ballet performance. The 31-year-old Manhattanite, who works in recruiting, was on a fun girls’ night out with three friends she’d met through work, starting with dinner.

“They told me I’d love the ballet,” says McDermott, who was also excited to realize she was already familiar with one of the evening’s performers, Tiler Peck, via the dancer’s popular Instagram feed. “They said you can put on a nice dress and just immerse yourself in another world, whilst marveling at what the human body can achieve.”

Seems they were right: At the end of the evening, McDermott, a new fan, went home and watched a ballet documentary.

Perhaps you could call it “Ballet and the City”? Whatever the term for McDermott’s ballet evening with pals, the scenario would surely be music to the ears of the company — which has been celebrating its 75th birthday with fanfare this year — and especially its artistic leaders of the past five years, Jonathan Stafford and Wendy Whelan.

The two, both former dancers at the storied troupe founded by George Balanchine, have made it a key goal to bring in a younger audience to ensure the company’s long-term health — and more broadly, to guard the vitality of a centuries-old art form.

It seems to be working. Though some initiatives have been in place for longer, the last five years have seen a marked shift, according to numbers provided to the Associated Press: In 2023, 53% of ticket buyers were under age 50, and people in their 30s made up the largest age segment by decade. Five years earlier, in 2018, 41% of ticket buyers were under 50, and people in their 60s made up the largest age segment.

Now, longtime ballet followers note that on a bustling Friday evening you can look down from the first ring of the David H. Koch Theater at Lincoln Center and not simply see, well, a sea of gray.

`A GENERATION OF YOUNG PROFESSIONALS’ A major factor in attracting younger people, especially those under 30, has been affordable pricing. There are also evenings targeting young professionals, including post-show receptions. And there have been collaborations with visual or musical artists with youthful followings — like the musician Solange, who in 2022 was commissioned to score a ballet by 23-year old choreographer Gianna Reisen.

The Solange collaboration was a significant moment, Whelan and Stafford said in a recent interview, surveying the past five years as the thumping of leaping dancers’ feet echoed through the ceiling above Stafford’s office.

“We sold out every show,” Whelan noted. “It was a little nugget, but it was memorable.”

Perhaps even more important was the fact, says Stafford, that about 70% of those ticket buyers were new to the company — contributing to “a generation of young professionals in the city that are at our theater every night now.”

Wendy Whelan and Jonathan Stafford, Feb. 29, 2024. Photo: Bebeto Matthews via the AP

Katherine Brown, the ballet’s executive director, said the company had taken a look at the theater and vastly reduced the price of certain seats — and saw them fill up. She also noted the 30-for-30 program, where members under 30 can buy any seat in the house for $30. “That thing has just exploded,” Brown says, from some 1,800 members in the last full season before the pandemic-forced shutdown, to some 14,000 now.

One can’t discount the “pure economics” of an evening at the ballet, especially for young people, says Wendy Perron, longtime dance writer and former editor of Dance Magazine. “When I was in New York in the ’70s and ‘80s, I just couldn’t afford to go to the ballet,” she says.

GETTING BETTER ACQUAINTED Also not to be discounted: the effect of social media in promoting dancers as people with personalities.

“We’ve got this crop of really exciting but also relatable, approachable dancers, and through social media, audiences can connect to them in a way they couldn’t back when we were dancing,” says Stafford, who retired as a dancer in 2014.

Consider Peck, one of the company’s most popular ballerinas (and a rising choreographer), whose Instagram feed had reached McDermott before she ever saw her dance. Peck supplies her half-million followers with short, punchy videos about everything from her 10 favorite dance roles to how she applies stage makeup. Her videos often feature her partner onstage and off, rising principal dancer Roman Mejia.

It’s all very different from a time when — like Odette in “Swan Lake” — ballerinas used to be mysterious and, above all, silent.

Social media — whether used by the company or via the dancers’ own feeds — can also answer questions. If you attended a performance of “The Nutcracker” a few seasons ago, you might have wondered why dancer Mira Nadon, as Sugarplum Fairy, suddenly disappeared from the stage at a key moment. The answer was on her Instagram later: her pointe shoe had slipped off.

“See, you can get all your answers from Instagram now,” quips Whelan, who herself has an active feed.

ESTABLISHING A PARTNERSHIP A few months ago, Whelan, a much-loved former NYCB principal who also retired in 2014, got a congratulatory text from Stafford in the morning — it had been exactly five years since the two had taken the helm after a turbulent period when #MeToo accusations caused scandal.

Historically, the company had been led by one man — Balanchine until 1983, then Peter Martins. This time, the board tried something new: a duet. Stafford was already interim head, and Whelan had applied for the job.

“They put us in a room and closed the door, and we were like – ‘Hi?’” Whelan says. “They were like, figure it out! And we did.” Stafford, the artistic director, serves as a bridge between the creative and business sides. Whelan, associate artistic director, focuses on the delicate task of programming.

Company insiders describe a mood different from the days when one outsized, all-powerful personality ruled from above. For one thing, the pair says they’ve instituted annual taking-stock conversations with each dancer.

Diversity — ballet is slowly changing but still overwhelmingly white — is also a priority, they say, and that includes diversifying “the pipeline,” meaning students at the affiliated School of American Ballet.

Recently, the company heralded its first two Black dancers to dance Dewdrop, the second most important female “Nutcracker” role: India Bradley and guest artist Alexandra Hutchinson of the Dance Theater of Harlem. Yet to come is a Black Sugarplum Fairy. The company says 26% of of its dancers identify as people of color, whereas 10 years ago that figure was 13%. Stafford and Whelan have commissioned 12 ballets by choreographers of color in the last six years, it says.

“We know where the gaps are, and we take it seriously,” Whelan says.

She and Stafford say they’re also paying more attention to wellness, be it physical training to avoid injury, healthy diets, or a more frank discussion of mental health.

As for the company’s financial health, it is strong, Brown says, four years after the pandemic cost tens of millions in losses The 2024 budget is roughly $102 million, compared to $88 million in 2019. Audience capacity has exceeded pre-pandemic levels.

As for new fan McDermott, she’s planning more visits, along with her friends.

“I think we have a new tradition between the four of us,” she says. “We’ll definitely be making it a bit of a thing.”

[angria]

Finally got an email about a potential site for my advanced field placement, which is supposed to begin in January (for a year). It's a community health center in a city neighborhood near my apt at least (13 min drive vs over an hour on public transit...typical). However, it looks like I will be doing the same stuff I am doing now, so I'm not sure I want to do the same things again: community connection, proposal research, grant writing, case management, resource development. Which is fine, but I was hoping for something different to get a taste of other macro roles.

Granted, the community health center is run by a major city hospital and it would be in a health care context (vs. my current super small community non-profit). And they have a specific racial justice and health equity task force, which would be really interesting. Idk, I think it may still be worth having an interview to get more information. I just don't want to run into the same issues that I'm experiencing now...smaller setting, same responsibilities, and my coordinator specifically stated they are still figuring out my roles (which my current placement still has no idea what to do with me).

In the meantime...still really struggling with ideation and dreading today's session. More attachment shit, abandonment/rejection, her. Not sure if I will get angry, cry, dissociate, or all of the above...

[jeonghanspookie]

The Truck Schedule

After the bird 'incident' that occurred yesterday, a team meeting had to be held.

All the team members in the building gathered around in a circle at the very center of the store. In the middle of the circle was Minghao.

As the HR rep, he had to be the one to call this very important meeting. (yay so fun)

Once everyone started to quiet down, Minghao took a deep breath.

"Okay" he sighed. "After an unfortunate incident that occurred yesterday," he paused, "Mingyu will be gone on a mental health leave for this week."

As the only people who knew what actually happened during the 'incident' the twelve pairs of eyes stole glances at each other.

The moment a pair would make eye contact their mouths would spread into a smile.

A few had to cover their mouths and Soonyoung had to fake a cough in order to hold in his chuckles.

Chan was on the brink of bursting out into laughter, but thankfully Seungkwan was their to nudge his side.

The rest of the team members present, outside of the thirteen friends, had no clue what went on yesterday. It was evident in their faces that they were concerned about Mingyu. (Although most of them were too tired to really care)

Hao carried on, "Since Mingyu is the one who runs the truck, we're gonna need to arrange for his absence."

The room filled with groans.

"I know it's very last minute, but the situation was so sudden" Hao explained, "I'll take any volunteers who can run the truck this week! I will leave a sign up sheet on the front desk in the office." he gave a big (fake) smile.

"Thank you for your time!"

"I cannot believe that Mingyu gets a whole week off just because a bird pooped on his shoulder!" Chan exclaimed.

Y/N thought back to the events of yesterday and smiled. "No yeah, if I was Gyu, I would be traumatized."

"So are any of you guys gonna run the truck?" Joshua asked.

Jeonghan was the first to speak up, "Well I would love to, really I would, but no one else can handle Guest Services. What a shame!" he pouted.

Joshua joined in, "Yeah and I'm only trained in the cafe so..."

The rest of the friends ignored the twos' fake sympathy.

Chan walked over to the list.

"Oh! It looks like Shownu already offered to take the truck for tomorrow and Thursday! And Johnny took Wednesday and Saturday."

Jun turned to Jihoon, "Do you want to throw the truck on Tuesday? I can help you too!" he suggested

Jihoon thought for a moment.

"Hmmm. I guess that'd be fine. But I'll probably need support in market afterwards."

Soonyoung's ears seemed to perk up to the mention of needing help in market.

"JI I CAN HELP YOU! PLEASE!" he desperately said.

Wonwoo looked at him puzzled.

"Why do you want to work in market so bad?"

Soonyoung stood up. It seemed like he was about to deliver a speech in front of a huge crowd.

"BECAUSE! I've only had shifts in drive up AND ITS TOO HOT TO BE OUTSIDE GIVING CUSTOMERS THEIR ORDERS! If i'm out in the sun for another day I will die of heatstroke!" he exclaimed.

"I WANT TO EXPERIENCE BEING IN THE COOLERS AND FREEZERS!"

Y/N gently pat his back affectionately.

"It's okay Soonie. I'll buy you ice cream after your shift today okay!"

After Soonyoung eventually calmed down after his little burst, the group continued to plan out the truck schedule.

"I'm in fulfillment this whole week. The batches don't even drop until the store opens so I'm sure me and Vernon can handle it! We can take a day for the truck!" Y/N cheered.

Y/N turned to Vernon.

"Vernon what day do you want to take?"

Vernon just shrugged, "I'm cool with whatever"

Minghao took a look at the list so far.

"Well we only have one day left to fill. Any takers?"

Chan quickly pointed to Seungkwan, who was literally minding his own business.

"I heard Seungkwan say he wants to volunteer!"

Seungkwan gave Chan the most bombastic side eye.

"I SAID NO SUCH THING! I HAVE NO TIME FOR THE TRUCK! HAVE YOU SEEN MY DEPARTMENT??!? I SPEND MOST IF MY TIME PICKING UP AFTER THE CUSTOMERS COMPLETELY TRASH THE PLACE!!"

Chan ignored his pleas and just gave Seungkwan a tight lipped smile.

"All I'm hearing are excuses"

"WHY YOU LITTLE-"

And so therefore an argument had erupted.

While Chan and Seungkwan were bickering the others turned to Y/N and Vernon.

Jihoon looked over at the two, "Can you guys really handle the truck on Friday?"

Y/N seemed to take offense to his comment.

She scoffed playfully, "Why? You think I can't because I'm a woman?"

"Nah Y/N I don't think we're concerned about you. It's Vernonie over here." Hao butted in. "I haven't seen him do much heaving lifting at work."

Joshua joined in too.

"Yeah to be honest, I don't think I see Vernon work at all. He usually does one batch and I swear he disappears for the rest of his shift!" he exclaimed.

This seemed to catch Cheol's attention. He made a mental note to check the cameras and see where Vernon would go off to.

Y/N shook her head. "Y'all are underestimating Kpoppapī. He's been working out."

Vernon nodded his head in agreement.

"Yeah. I gym."

"OKAY BUT HOW COME YOU WONT TAKE A TRUCK DAY HUH!" Seungkwan shouted.

Chan was quick to defend himself, "YOU KNOW ITS BACK TO SCHOOL SEASON! IM STRUGGLING IN THE SEASONAL DEPARTMENT! ALL I CAN SMELL ARE CRAYONS! CRAYONS!" he raised his hands like a mad man.

The rest of the group decided to focus back on the two arguing.

"Why doesn't Seokmin just take the last day?" Wonwoo suggested.

A loud gasp was heard from Y/N.

"NO! My little cupcake HATES running the truck" Y/N frowned, "I will not let that happen!"

(The favoritism is really showing)

Jihoon decided to speak up, "Well if I have to have Soonyoung help me in market, the least he should do is take a truck day."

"HOW DARE YOU!" Soonyoung said.

Hao seemed to agree, "Yeah that makes sense."

Soonyoung shook his head, "WHY DOESNT WONWOO TAKE A DAY!"

Soon more and more voices started to join in.

At this point there were 3 different arguments happening all at the same time.

"HOW ABOUT WE RECONSIDER JOSHU-"

While the whole group was busy arguing over who would take the last day, one person quietly made their way to a seat with the truck schedule in their hands.

Everyone else was too busy arguing to pay attention.

With a smile on his face, Jeonghan quickly wrote down a name on the very last spot.

Once he finished his task, he sat back and continued to watch his friends argue over the, now solved, issue.

He quietly snickered while rubbing his hands together like an evil villain waiting for his plan to be carried out.

On the schedule listed the following:

Mon - Shownu

Tues - Jihoon & Jun

Wed - Johnny

Thurs - Shownu

Fri - Y/N & Vernon

Sat - Johnny

Sun - Seungcheol

prev <- masterlist -> next

[theofreakingbell]

I'm crashing really badly today, so this will be brief, but one of the first disability activists I ever had the honor of running into online passed away recently. If you have the time and energy I'd appreciate y'all reading about her. 

for her funeral expenses: 

also, from her family's GoFundMe "Also, please help advocate for and enact public health policies that center the people who are most impacted by and high risk for COVID, especially people like Tinu. As Tinu wrote, "if you would wear a ribbon for a cancer patient, you should be wearing a Mask for Everyone"."

learn about what is happening with COVID now, even if it hasn't personally affected you yet. Recognise your own privilege and do what you can to protect others. Ignorance is not a luxury high risk people have, and even when we do everything we can to protect ourselves we are so often still failed by those around us. Tinu is not the first person to die because of that nor will she be the last, but it doesn't have to go on forever.

Remember the dead, fight for the living. 

#ForTinu

[nohoperadio]

I think I would break down the mental health benefits I get from running into two main things: on the macro level, it's one of the very rare examples in my life of me 1) forming a serious intention to make a new positive habit, and then 2) actually successfully maintaining that habit long term. That never happens! It's really nice to have a clear thing to point to that proves that this two-step process is actually possible sometimes. And objectively it's improbable that I happen to have stumbled on the only good habit I can actually keep up, so that's an argument that there might be other things in that precious center of the venn diagram between "worth doing" and "I'm not useless at it". Especially since step one of the two-step is something I don't even do very often so plausibly that's the major bottleneck.

And on the micro everyday level, it's good to have a regular activity that can frequently feel a bit aversive and "ugh I'm really not feeling doing it today" but then I virtually always feel good about having done it afterwards; I say virtually because occasionally my knee has been a bit hurty and that (or my neurotic overreaction to it, or both) has made particular runs net negative, but that's the only thing, when that's not an issue which it hasn't been for most of the time I never regret going for a run even when I don't really want to go. Which is a good thing to have--it's far far better, in fact, than if it never felt aversive, because I get the feedback that the "this will suck let's just stay home" voice is often lying. It's a very consistent and reliable way to get that message reinforced.