#white center seattle

[faggypainting]

Tour dates for all upcoming events and art markets. The very next one will be tomorrow morning when I'll be at La Paloma again! Please plan to come out to any of these if you want to have a good time and find me and my art 😁💖

[constancevigilant]

A year ago, I was recovering from melanoma surgery (successful! I'm good!) and then was almost immediately diagnosed with lymphedema in my right leg (don't recommend! but I'm mostly fine!). One thing I started doing was walking every day, which was a balm for my body and spirit, and helped me mitigate the lymphedema.

But I found I couldn't walk for more than 30 minutes without significant pain in both heels and tendons. I'd never had an issue like this previously and it's been a year of discomfort; sometimes more, sometimes less, but never not present. As the year went on, I slowly backed away from my daily walks, because it distressed me.

I've been seeking answers to this in a lot of varied places, and I'm finally seeing some results. I didn't realize it until recently, but I've been avoiding getting back to my regular walks. I've been afraid that I'd find that my progress was only wishful thinking.

I decided to break the seal on walking today. It was almost entirely discomfort-free! Only toward the end did I feel any pangs, but it was a shadow of what I'd been experiencing. I am thrilled and hopeful!

These are some trees that called to me. 🍁🌲

[twoseparatecoursesmeet]

Seattle, 2024

An image from my Yashica 635

[seattlefactsijustmadeup]

Seattle Fact#17,754,028,555,189:

Did you know White Center got its Rat City nickname because Lou Graham would dance around summoning rodents with a pan flute?

[thewildbelladonna]

Rumours tour, Seattle Center Coliseum, Seattle, Washington, September 3rd, 1977.

© Bill Hansen

[ilovejoyjessie]

the “Hidden Figures” series

+ Photographed by @skyclad.studio (ig) // website

Back in the before times, in 2019, I took a trip to Minneapolis for a concert on New Year’s Eve. With literally 30 hours in the city, I landed on the 31st at 9am, headed to the concert at around 9pm - had a transcendent time - then back to the hotel afterwards. The next day, I had about 5 hours to kill before having to head at the airport to return home. I asked the front desk for a late checkout - they obliged - and at noon I left my room with 3 hours still until I had to hit the road.

.

When I can squeeze it into a trip to a new place, I try to make a visit to an art museum or botanical attraction in the area. I looked to see what was nearby and fatefully, the Minneapolis Sculpture Garden - home of the Spoonbridge & Cherry and the notable Hahn/Cock - was a short drive from the hotel. I hailed a ride and hopped in, made lively banter with my driver, then soon enough stepped out of the car and down a set of steps onto the snowy park grounds.

.

As I walked among the pieces, several of them spoke to me: the fracturedness of Judith Shea’s “Without Words”, the pensive and mysterious “Walking Man” by George Segal, the playful “Empire” by Eva Rothschild, the eerie holiness of Theaster Gates’ “Black Vessel for a Saint”... Some of them spoke to different feelings I had inside me at the time; others depicted stories I felt I could relate to and wanted to watch unfold before my eyes. I found myself wanting to interact with so many of them - wanting to fit myself into their sculpted moments, entwine my stories and feelings between their crevices and curves. But with only a few hours left in the city, I couldn’t squeeze in the chance to link with a fellow artist to help me capture the visions I had. So I tucked the concept away in my mind and continued moseying through the winding pathways of the park.

.

Back to Seattle, the sculpture garden’s marks on me remained. As I embarked on other projects, processing other emotions through other pieces, I also started scouting places I could take my Midwest vision and execute it in the Pacific Northwest. Sure, there's plenty sculptures and statues in the city of Seattle - but getting to and interacting with them the way I wanted to (see my recent mini-post on nudity as vulnerability and power) would prove to be a little difficult...

.

A fellow artist mentioned the Olympic Sculpture Park and I thought back to what I remembered seeing there. It’d been a minute since I had last walked through so I visited it again and the pieces that I saw touched me differently from the last time I saw them. Then, I was new to the area - everything shined brightly, glowing with a promise of what was to come for me here: “Which pieces would be the ones that I would grow to understand - which ones would I grow to love seeing in the distance?” But walking through it in 2022, the sculptures spoke to me differently than they did the first time; and in turn, they also spoke to a different me...

.

I was seeing the sculptures with more worn eyes. And as I mentally noted which sculptures I could see myself fitting into like I had in Minneapolis, I started to realize that the pieces were reflecting a deeper feeling back at me: The pieces on the Olympic park grounds that spoke to me before were no longer the fascinating landmarks welcoming me to my new home - the pieces that spoke to me were the monuments that emphasized the outsider feelings I had that were settling in.

.

In a place I thought I’d fit into, that I thought I had....I was sticking out. The boxes I thought I’d fit into I was pouring out of. The doors I thought were wide open were really just windows ajar just wide enough for me to stick an arm’s length into. The language of the land I thought I knew and understood were now sounding strange. Though I’d been here for 4 years, I felt like a stranger who didn’t belong - an antigen the host was beginning to respond to and filter out, an intrusive thought in someone else’s dream.

.

I slowly realized that this concept was bigger for me than just speaking to my original thought of art begetting art as I combined my feelings and stories with the ones depicted on the park grounds. The feelings I had looking over the park pieces stirred the idea to speak to and represent the way I felt about being here now, with this iconic Seattle landscape as the backdrop. “Hidden Figures” then became my next cathartic art exercise - a visual representation of the struggle I felt trying to find my place in the city’s spaces I thought were made for me, the dichotomy of how standing out can be a strength and a hinderance here, and the lonesomeness that can come with being a transplant in the city - baring and presenting all those feelings in the heart of the city itself.

[notwiselybuttoowell]

The odds of this reaching who this needs to via tumblr aside, I thought I should share this: if you live in the Skyway or White Center areas of Seattle, there's an opportunity to have a good chunk or even all of the cost of having a heat pump installed at your residence through this program! Very worthwhile as we continue to see an uptick in swealtering days each summer in a city that was never built for it.

Improve your home’s heating and cooling system and save money on your energy bills with a heat pump! King County’s Energize! program is offering heat pump installations in Skyway & White Center with up to 100% cost-coverage for income-qualified households.

The program includes free educational workshops, connection to a local installer, and hands-on consultation in your preferred language. Sign up to learn more at https://www.energizekingcounty.org/

[concertclown]

Large Venues [updated as of 06/09/2024]

While Concert Clown specifically covers smaller to medium sized venues for specific genres, we still wanted to lend a little extra assistance to those attending larger venues in the PNW. So, here’s a post covering frequently asked questions for the larger venues! This includes the publicly available information on onsite parking, bag policies, and prohibited items. (If you have further questions, the official site resources will be linked at the end of each section.) We gather as much publicly available information as possible, but unfortunately, some venues will not list some of what they prohibit and it has led to countless misunderstandings, antagonistic behavior, and clear bias against concert attendees.

We think it is important that we disclose this at the beginning of this post, as we have seen people being actively targeted by staff for larger shows based on the fact they are wearing all black, only to be refused entry when the staff find something (not listed anywhere) to bar them over.

!! Important: Please note that, as of 2020, most if not all of these venues will only accept contactless payment methods, such as debit cards, credit cards, and mobile wallets. This means you likely won’t get use out of physical payments like cash unlike at smaller venues. !!

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Moda Center (previously Rose Quarter) |+|  Veterans Memorial Coliseum 

Address: 1 N Center Ct St, Portland, OR 97227 |+| 300 N Ramsay Wy, Portland, OR 97227 Onsite Parking: YES |NOT FREE| (Prices range from $10 to $35 for events. You can pre-purchase parking through their site.) Bag Policy: Bags larger than 14" x 14" x 6" and backpacks are not permitted with exceptions for medical and childcare needs. Prohibited Items: Aerosol cans  Bags larger than 14” X 14” x 6” and backpacks  Bats and clubs  Beach balls  Car seats or strollers  Drones  Face masks that cover the entire face  Fireworks  Flags, banners, signs, or other items that are connected to a pole or stick made of wood, metal, plastic or other hard materials  Frisbees  Food or beverage  Glass items  Hard-sided bags  Hockey sticks  Helium balloons Illegal substances Knitting needles and other sewing equipment  Laptops, iPads, tablets Laser pointers (and other similar devices)  Mace or pepper spray  “Optical illusions” (Items intended to interfere with the ability of the eye to perceive depth or distance, such as pinwheels or umbrellas.) [tbh, we’re not 100% sure what counts under this]  Poles, selfies-sticks, “missile-like objects” that can be thrown Noisemakers of any kind (whistles, foghorns/air horns, plastic horns, vuvuzelas, didgeridoos, etc.)  Weapons (firearms and knives) 

Moda and VMC “Know Before You Go”/Policies + Parking pages

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Keller Auditorium

Address: 222 SW Clay St, Portland, OR 97201 Onsite Parking: NO | (However, there are nearby paid parking garages: Crown Plaza Parking, KOIN Tower Parking, and Auditorium Garage) Bag Policy: Small clutches up to 4.5” x 6.5” and clear bags will get through security faster. Large bags are not allowed, but opaque handbags/purses are allowed. (All will be searched.) Prohibited Items: 

Professional photo/video/audio equipment (including cameras, detachable lenses, etc) GoPros  Laptops  Selfie Sticks  Wrapped Gifts  Balloons  Signs  Strollers  Weapons (self defense or otherwise all are banned)  Chains or spikes  Fireworks  Laser pointers  Air horns, Vuvuzelas and other noisemakers  Food  Previously purchased souvenir cups  Non-prescription drugs  Animals (except certified service animals)  “Any other item management may deem dangerous to public safety”

Keller Auditorium Rules (policies) + Parking pages

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RV Inn Style Resorts Amphitheater 

Address: 17200 NE Delfel Rd, Ridgefield, WA 98642 Onsite Parking: YES |FREE| (Parking upgrades available between $50 - $100 + fees) Bag Policy: Small clutches or fanny packs (maximum size 6”x 9”) OR clear plastic bags (maximum size 12” x 6” x 12”) Prohibited Items: Weapons (self defense or otherwise)  Alcohol  Illegal drugs or substances  Lawn chairs  Stadium seats  Glass  Cans  Hard-sided/large coolers  Medium-sized bags/backpacks  Large or oversized bags/backpacks (including luggage and camping backpacks)  Laser pointers  Pets (except service animals) Fireworks  Professional photo/recording equiptment

RV Inn Style Resorts Amphitheater Rules & Policies + FAQ + Parking Upgrade pages

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White River Amphitheatre 

Address: 40601 Auburn Enumclaw Rd SE, Auburn, WA 98092 Onsite Parking: Yes |FREE| (general admission parking is free with your ticket, but upgrades available upwards of around $75 + any fees) Bag Policy: Only small clutches, wristlets, or fanny packs no bigger than 6”x 9” OR clear plastic bags no bigger than 12"x12"x6” Prohibited Items: Lawn Chairs & Stadium Seats Weapons (including self defense)  Alcohol  Illegal drugs/substances  Glass containers  Cans  Hard-sided/large coolers  Bags outside bag policy dimensions  Large or oversized bags (luggage, duffel bags, backpacks, etc.)  Laser pointers  Animals (except service animals)  Fireworks 

White River Amphitheatre “Know Before You Go” + FAQ + Parking Upgrade pages

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Climate Pledge Arena 

Address: 334 1st Ave N, Seattle, WA 98109 Onsite Parking: Yes |NOT FREE| (You’ll want to pre-purchase your parking spot, but be aware sometimes these fees are up near $75 + any fees) Bag Policy: Only small clutches/purses/wallets no bigger than 4”w x 6”h x 1.5”d OR one clear plastic bag no bigger than 14”w x 14”h x 6”d Prohibited Items:  Professional cameras, detachable lenses or external flash units, or recording equipment for audio, image, or video purposes. (This doesn’t apply to smartphones.) Weapons (firearms, knives, stun guns/taser, bats/poles, martial arts weapons, night sticks, nunchucks, billy clubs, and self-defense items like mace, pepper spray, etc.)  Noise making devices (including, but not limited to; whistles, air horns, vuvuzelas, and cowbells)  Laptops and tablets  Poster tubes  Light devices (laser pointers, flashlights, etc.) Glass water bottles or bottles larger than 32oz (if you bring a bottle following guidelines, it must be empty upon entry of anything, including ice.) Any item that the arena decides is dangerous. *note: This includes studs, spikes, and chains which are not listed on their site, but we have seen them turn people away for this. (Yes, even if the chains literally cannot come off of your clothes, they will still count it as some sort of projectile weapon and refuse you entrance.) They also don’t allow full face masks and may take issue with some forms of makeup due to this. Climate Pledge FAQ + Parking pages

[jockoppressor]

None of them are gonna be physically violent

The Reddit users are going to judge you if you express any religious or “unscientific” sentiment

The Catholics run the gamut from “hardcore pro-lifer” to “Nun who invented communism”

The Protestants have brought lots of food but are going to proselytize the entire time you eat

The crystalists are split 60/40 on whether or not vaccines cause autism, and you don’t know who has the majority until you’ve been there an hour

The Anglophiles have good pastries, but 1/3 of them are in Sherlock cosplay

The girlbosses are all within 10° to the left of the center of the political spectrum and will try very hard to get you to invest in their MLM

The vegans brought food but will turn hostile if you let slip that you’ve used animal products in the last year

The reenactors have booze, but your phone is dead and they’re giving a very pro-America history lecture

The influencers have a pool, a jacuzzi, and lots of drugs, but they have a combined net worth that teaches seven digits and won’t let you forget it

The retirees have great weed but they’re gonna ask you a lot of invasive questions and give you a lot of unsolicited advice.

[nocadenas]

[warping-realities]

Beautiful Things

Hey, everyone! This story is part of the Viral Transformation funfarre proposed by the one and only @occamstfs, in celebration of hitting 2K followers! Congrats, bro, you totally deserve it. He’s one of our top authors and never fails to bring the best stories.

Before I dive in, I gotta give you a heads-up that this is a story about corruption, where good people turn into the worst kind of folks. If that’s a sensitive topic for you, I’d recommend not moving forward. Trust me, in the original project, things were way worse, but after chatting with the MAN himself, who helped me with some edits, I softened the tone of the story a bit. If you’re interested in the original version, I can post it later, but this is the final cut.

That said, I hope you all enjoy it and join me in celebrating this awesome author!"

Alois was strolling mindlessly in the morning towards the student exchange center in Seattle, where a bunch of fresh-off-the-boat students from all over the world were gathering for the adaptation phase of their exchange semester. The eighteen-year-old Austrian was loving the experience of taking a gap year before diving back into his studies in Vienna, where he planned to become a doctor. As he walked down the busy street, on what should be the only sunny day of the year, he spotted one of those types he had seen around the city. They were all buff and tall, with wavy, well-groomed hair, and the big ol' mustache that defined them, giving off the vibe of some douchebag brotherhood or whatever. This one in particular was jamming out to music on headphones that looked straight outta the nineties, just like his outfit, which consisted of Levi’s jeans, a white tee, a dark jacket, and combat boots. The whole look cranked the douche factor up to eleven, making Alois's heart race a bit as a shiver of attraction ran through him. When the guy passed by Alois, he shot a look at the smaller red-headed man, dripped with arrogance while a smirk played at the corners of his lips, like he knew some secret that Alois was clueless about. To make things worse, the music blaring from his headphones was so loud that Alois couldn’t help but catch a snippet.

“Please, staaaayyyy…”

That stupid song again. At first, Alois thought it was kinda interesting, despite all the religious preaching in it, which rubbed the young atheist the wrong way. What he didn’t realize was that the singer was all about filming a lot of TikTok videos to promote his work, videos that inevitably flooded the social media feeds of a gay dude with an unfounded attraction to that type of guy. A type that seemed to be multiplying on the streets of Seattle every damn day. Sure, Benson Boone was from Monroe, just a few miles away, but still… Maybe he was looking at things from the wrong angle, maybe it was the singer who was cashing in on the style of the group he and his fellow exchange students had dubbed the Mustache Gang.

The fact is, after several months, the hype around the song should’ve died but apparently that was still far from happening. Trying to leave the discomfort aside Alois headed to the coffee shop that had quickly become his favorite spot during his short stay in the city. As he walked along, head down like most introverts do, he got lost in thought about what kind of work the exchange agency would hook him up with, until his daydreaming was interrupted when those familiar chords hit his ears again.

“I want you, I need you, oh God…”

But this time, someone had slapped a cheerful electronic beat onto the song, which not only butchered it but also made it even more annoying. Looking for the source of that cacophony, he lifted his head and glanced to the side. He could’ve sworn he saw a chubby dude coming his way, but now there was no sign of him, just another one of those big-mustached douchebags strutting around with the swag all of them seemed to have, along with the usual cocky grin. Dressed in a white tank that showed off his defined arms and hairy chest. There was no one else close to Alois on the street at that moment, which was a blessing, since his dick was starting to stir at that sight. But that also freaked him out. Where the hell did that damn music come from? Was he seriously imagining things now?

Distracted and worried about his sanity, he stepped into the coffee shop. At that moment, the place was almost empty; there was just an old dude, well past his prime, fiddling with his phone, looking like he was in a bad mood while he seemed to be listening to something that deeply disgusted him through the giant headphones he was wearing. Apparently, the use of those things was a trend around there.

Passing by the old guy, Alois headed to the counter and ordered his usual coffee with cream and sugar. As he made his way back to the exit, still freaking out about his mental state, disaster struck. Clumsy as ever, he tripped and faceplanted on the floor, coffee spilling everywhere and staining a good chunk of his clothes.

“Alois, du bist dumm…”

He said stunned in embarrassment, as he turned to the side, starting to get up. His view landed on black combat boots that ended in large calves covered in denim, leading up to thighs as thick as they come. But the old man was wearing a suit, no? Clearly not, since the Levi’s pants had been replaced by a black hoodie that concealed a massive chest, which the sleeves were stretched to the limit by powerful biceps. The grand torso gave way to a handsome face framed by wavy brown hair, and right in the center, the ever-present slick mustache that even the guy’s prescription glasses couldn’t diminish the douchebag effect. With his eyes closed and a focused expression, he didn’t even seem to notice what just happened right next to him.

But Alois couldn’t help but wonder, where the hell did that old guy go? While trying to figure out when the old dude left the shop and the Mustache Gang member took his spot at the table, the man seemed to wake up. Smiling and fixing his hair, he finally noticed that a kid was trying to get up from a puddle of coffee right next to him.

“Need a hand, little bro?” he asked, though not with a genuinely empathetic expression; on the contrary, the grin he shot at Alois did little to hide how much he found the situation hilarious.

“No, I’m good, thanks!” Alois replied, finishing getting up and bolting out of the shop as the guy burst into loud laughter behind him. Apparently, this dude wasn’t just rocking the look of a douchebag. Rushing to wipe the coffee off his hoodie, Alois continued his march to his destination. Luckily, no other mortifying events unfolded along the way. Upon entering the classroom, he passed by Charles, a French dude with long blonde hair and delicate features, who was checking something on his iPad while also rocking a pair of those old-school headphones. Not wanting to disturb his classmate, he didn’t say hi and headed further back in the room, where bis friends Arjun and Qian, hailing from India and Taiwan respectively, were hanging out. As he passed Charles, he heard that stylized version of Benson Boone’s song again.

“I found my mind, I'm feelin' sane

It's been a while, but I'm finding my faith…”

Apparently, he wasn’t going crazy after all. He quickly turned towards the source of the music only to find one of those big-mustached douchebags and no music font at all. But he could’ve sworn that… wasn’t there another person there? A kid with long, well-kept blonde hair? Well, his hair was definitely blonde and well-kept, just like the his mustache. Wearing a tank top that showed off his arms and staring at everyone in the room with an air of immense superiority that made Alois feel torn between attraction and disgust.

Resuming his path back to his friends, he discreetly adjusted his boner in his sweatpants while sitting down and trying to forget about that damn song.

“So, who’s the jerk sitting at the front of the class like he owns the place?”

“We’ve been wondering that too, man,” Arjun, the skinny Indian boy with long limbs replied.

“I guess we’ll find out soon enough,” continued Qian, who was more compact, as their teacher, Mr. Sizemore, spoke to the class.

“Guys, today I brought the manager of one of the establishments where you might work. Chuck works at a pub called Shooters; it’s an opportunity we typically offer to our students over twenty one. However, the place has expanded and now also has a Hookah Lounge, the Puff Palace. Although I must say the best option would be for no one here to inhale anything, this is still a decent job opportunity. Without further ado, here’s Mr. Chuck Morris.”

The guy smiled arrogantly before stretching and scratching his neck, causing the lightweight, almost see-through fabric of his tank top to expose his nipples, which didn’t seem to bother him at all. He took his sweet time getting up, like he was in some kind of private show.

But in Alois’s opinion, it would’ve been better if he had stayed seated and shut up, because the first words that came out of his mouth to the class raised a wave of utter dissatisfaction.

“Hey there, guys! Happy to finally leave your miserable countries behind and be in the greatest nation in the world?” The conversation didn’t get any better after that, and Alois was sure that whatever happened, he’d never set foot in that bar called Shooters.

After class, he was chatting animatedly with Arjun as they headed back to their dorm.

“I’d love to know what that illiterate would do if he knew he was talking to future doctors, engineers, journalists… while he’s gonna spend the rest of his life working in a bar serving people like him,” Alois commented.

“Probably nothing would change. People like him always think they’re superior just because of how they look and because they were born here in the States. Doesn’t matter if they live in a trailer and rely on government assistance.”

“True, ahhh, I want a coffee; I spilled mine all over this morning. Do you want one too?” Alois asked as they passed by his favorite coffee shop again.

“No, I’m good. I’ll go ahead; we’ll catch up later,” Arjun replied, continuing on while Alois entered the coffee shop. After carefully getting his to-go coffee to avoid a repeat of that morning’s fiasco, he turned and headed to the exit when he heard the synthetic chords again, accompanied by that familiar lyric.

“Don't take these beautiful things that I've got…”

This time, he saw where the sound was coming from—a Latino guy a bit older than him was listening through those giant headphones. Feeling sure he wasn’t losing it, Alois allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief, only to get a major scare. In the blink of an eye, where the guy had been, now sat one of those big-mustached dudes, this one bigger and more muscular than the others, but with the same wavy hair and infamous mustache.

Alois was stunned, staring at the man, who in turn pointed a finger at him as if to assert something and gave him a smile that freaked the young guy out to his core.

Not knowing how to handle that situation, Alois bolted from the shop, trying to make sense of what he had seen. Still in shock, he entered the room he shared with Qian in the dorm, where his friend was sitting on his bed, fiddling with his phone, still dressed in the button-up shirt and khakis he wore to class.

“Dude, you won’t believe what just happened. You’re gonna think I’m crazy, but… I... I forgot... How bizarre, I'm sure it was important Qian! Qian? Is everything okay? Qian…? You good?” he asked, realizing his friend hadn’t heard a word he said, just to see his face contort and his eyes roll back as if he were convulsing, and then… puff. Right in front of him stood another member of the Mustache Gang, wavy hair, slick mustache, a chiseled face and a muscular body on display.

“You good??? Qian? Who the hell is Qian? I’m Ken, you foreigner dumbass.” Said the young man of Chinese descent, the irony of using that kind of comment not even crossing his arrogant and brutish mind. “You’re here only because I couldn’t score with an American ass. But a hole’s a hole…”

“I… what…?”

“You just accept a quick hookup on Grindr man, It's not that difficult. Gonna act all shy now? Here in America, that kind of behavior doesn’t fly. Either you do what you came to do or bounce, but then you'll miss out on all this,” the guy replied, flexing his powerful muscles while giving him an arrogant grin. Alois was thinking about where exactly he was and what he was doing there.

“So ginger, what's it gonna be?”

.....

When he got to the dorm for international students  after getting his ass wrecked by the massive schlong of his Grindr hookup, who he discovered was co-manager of Shooters and Puff Palace alongside Chuck —those two even shared an apartment above the pub—he hated himself for getting into that mess just for a quick lay. Yet, at the same time, it was the best fuck he’d ever had. As he stripped down and got ready to shower and wash off the sweat and sex smell from his body, the distinct ping of a Grindr message caught his attention. Opening the app, he found a new message from Ken Lee.

“Hey ginger I think you’re gonna like this.” Ignoring all common sense, thinking it might be a nude, he clicked the link the other guy sent along with the message. Strangely enough, it was a clip from a podcast where a young woman interviewed a flamboyant man, who was wearing a bright and flashy suit, both chatting animatedly. Everything about them screamed obnoxious  starting with their shrill voices that didn’t stop talking for a second. Losing interest and wondering why a guy like Ken would send that to him, Alois let the video play as he headed to the bathroom in the room he occupied alone in the dorm.

“… so, Benson Boone? He’s such a total hottie, girl!”

“Don’t even get me started, Yasmin! I melt for a guy like that! I’d do him in a heartbeat.”

“Me too, Nico! But with that whole Christian boy vibe, I’m not sure he’s got the moves.”

“Girl, it’s just marketing. A guy like that, with that body? And anyone rocking a mustache like that knows exactly what to do with a girl… or a man.”

“Nico you slut, I heard some rumors…”

“I know, girl! I wouldn’t doubt he’s hooked up with more than a few, after all, a man has his needs, and to a guy like him a hole’s a hole like my brother used to say”

“Oh, my brother always said the same thing. What’s going on that there aren’t any more men like him in America?”

“I’ll tell you, I don’t get it either. Everywhere I look, I only see snowflakes and wimps. They say they are our allies, but this talk about toxic masculinity has turned all of them into whiners. Of course I prefer not to be attacked in the street by a bunch of homophobes, but sometimes all we want is someone to fuck us senseless And no one does it like a good douchebag, and don't come to me with that talk that this is a white, cis man's thing, yada yada yada... all due respect to the cause, but we need more men like this hottie, not less. Real American men, who know what they want and make it happen, I don't care what they do with their lives as long as they fuck me right. So I vote for more douchebags, of all races, creeds and sexual orientations, sis!

“True, Nico! I wish I could make that happen…”

“Me too, girl, but how about we listen to his updated song while we wait for the real American men to come back?”

“Sure, girl, this version is way better and more danceable, perfect for a man to sweep me off my feet. Play it!”

Then, the chords that had been haunting Alois all day started playing, and he quickly turned on his way to the bathroom to stop the video—there’s no way he’d want to listen to that on his own.

“Mm. Please stay. I want you, I need you, oh God…”

As he turned towards the source of the sound, he froze, hearing it as a feeling of numbness invaded his head and took over his body, barely letting him take a step back before being flooded with memories and sensations that weren’t his. His childhood in Austria was being replaced by one  in Virginia, time spent studying swapped for sports practice, the memory of a skinny physique giving way to a powerful, muscular body, atheism giving way to worship at church every Sunday, even if he spent most of the time distracted, checking out the girls present. And speaking of girls, nights of sex, just banging them in the ass to keep his virginity intact, and when a girl refused, there was always a twink willing to step in. After all hole’s a hole. Then there was the end of school five years ago and the move to Seattle, working as a personal trainer during the day and a bartender at Shooters at night, the apartment shared with Chuck and Ken, and all the possible and imaginable orgies they had . He knew that, as a good Christian, he’d eventually have to give it all up, settle down, and start a family, but until then, the single life was too good to pass up, and he was gonna enjoy it. And even after he gets married if the desire arises, well a man has his needs and one thing he has learned is that no one is a better bottom than a slut boy desperate for a fuck.

“No… no… what the hell…. This can’t be real…” Alois grumbled as he tried to move towards the phone that he now knew had to be the source of this whole bizarre situation. However, with every step he took, his muscles expanded. His skinny chest exploded into slabs of meat that are now pecs, below his abs form into six brick-like blocks, and his arms and legs thicken to a considerable size. His hair grew longer in well-kept waves, and that infamous mustache sprouted and grew on a more masculine and angular face. At the same time, the room he was in transformed, and he found himself on the other side of the city, in the place he had just left a little over 40 minutes ago.

When he got to the phone, Allen adjusted it, fixing the camera angle. That video was gonna be perfect for his TikTok, especially with that new version of Benson Boone’s song, one he’d used in a bunch of other videos, but this remix version was fire.

Fixing his hair and flexing his powerful muscles, he smiled at the camera.

“Yo, what’s up, fam? Today’s heavy lifting day and a wild night at Shooters. If anyone’s interested in what I’m packing here, just swing by or hit up the link to my OnlyFans in the bio. Only for the grown folks, are you really gonna miss out on this?” he wrapped up, crossing his arms in front of his body and flashing one of those grins at the camera.

“Damn, that looks so good!” he said, posting the video on TikTok and heading towards the living room of the apartment he shared with Chuck and Ken, not even bothering to shower. He had a new client coming to the gym in the next hour, so why waste time on more than one shower? “Tonight’s gonna be lit for sure, guys,” he said, talking to his roommates.

“Are you talking about the Indian skinny boy who’s training with you?”

“Ugh, definitely not. Dudes like him are for when there are no other options. But it wouldn’t be a Friday night if Big Al didn’t get some real action.!” He said grabbing his cock and balls over his shorts, laughing. "I can't wait to get some ass." He concludes while shaking his huge cock out of his shorts and making everyone burst out laughing.

“We’re all gonna get some, man. Chuck’s been spreading the word in an exchange class; soon, it’ll be packed with foreign slutty chicks and twinks looking for an American dick, and we can bang them all we want, Red.” Said Ken with a mischievous grin.

"And God bless that! "Chuck added beside him with an identical smile, which was also mirrored on Allen's face.

...

Allen was sitting on a bench in front of the gym, waiting for his new student, a scrawny Indian dude from the exchange program named Arjun.

“You coming, bro?”

“Sorry, I’m on my way. Got held up.”

“So, meet me in the gym locker room so we don’t waste time. In the meantime, check this out,” Allen said, sending the link to Yas and Nico podcast, she was a hot babe even if she seems as dumb as a rock. Not that he cared much about that at all; she was hot, and that was good enough for him, and that Nico had a very fuckable butt. He didn’t even stop to think about why he was sending that video; it just felt like something he should do.

.....

While he was chilling on a bench in the gym locker room, mindlessly scrolling on his phone, he didn’t notice the transformation happening to his student right behind him. The skinny Arjun was rapidly inflating with muscles and attitude without Allen even realizing it. It was only when he looked up and saw a dude of Indian descent with silky hair and the infamous mustache, wearing nothing but gym shorts, casually scratching his powerful pecs.

“Art, you still haven’t finished getting dressed, you asshole? We gotta workout, take some pics of our pump for OnlyFans and hit the bar shift afterwards.”

“Chill, Al, I’m getting ready. It’s not like your muscles are gonna disappear because of a five minute delay in your workout.”

“Five minutes is already too much,” he replied, flexing his arms and smiling arrogantly. “Tonight, I want the max pump in these Beautiful Things I’ve got.”

[externalmemorycomic]

Image description: A black and white illustration, designed to look like a book cover. On a decorative ribbon, the title at the top reads “External Memory”. A scroll work border of leaves and flowers divides the illustration into three rounded panels. The largest panel is in the center and shows a caravan surrounded by greenery, puddles and potted plants. The two smaller panels beneath it show a cartoon cat and mouse respectively, facing each other. At the bottom is another decorative ribbon with the text “a diary comic by My Murphy”. After the cover follows an 8 page comic. The style is cartoonish and the colours are soft pastels. Page one: An orange cat waves and says “Hello! I’m My.” The cat holds up a white mouse and says “This is Mouse, my girlfriend.” Caption: My name is actually My, but Mouse is a nickname for comic and privacy purposes. Caption: When I started this project, me and Mouse lived on a little island off the Swedish coast. The panel shows a stylised, tiny island with a lighthouse, spruce and birch trees, leaning houses and a little dock with a row boat tied to it. The cat and mouse are standing on the cliffs and a swan floats on the water in the foreground. Page two: Caption: Now we’ve moved to Ireland where we live in a caravan in the middle of nowhere. A small caravan, surrounded by greenery, overgrown trees, rocks, puddles and potted plants. The caravan has two windows and the cat and the mouse are looking out of one window each. Caption: We lived on the island to be close to my family. A ribbon with writing on it separates and labels four characters: “mom”, an ermine, “dad”, a wolverine, “brother”, a marmot and “step mom”, a squirrel. The ribbon has been torn in between “mom” and “dad”. Caption: and we moved to Ireland to be close to Mouse’s family. Three characters are shown, each with their own ribbon label. “mother-in-law”, a deer, “sister-in-law”, a jack russell terrier and “brother-in-law”, a hedgehog. Page three: Caption: Me and the mouse are currently in our thirties. The cat lounges on an antique fainting couch and the mouse sleeps on a cushion on the floor. On the floor is an open bag of “let’s” crisps and a laptop. Caption: We’re both pretty decrepit in various ways, so for this comic I draw couches and beds as often as I draw people. Caption: Disability isn’t especially interesting to me, but if a fish made an autobiographical comic… A fish under water paints a four panel comic with a brush held in its mouth. The panels the fish has painted show bubbles, waves and splashing water. Caption: …it’d probably be partly about water, whether the fish cared about water or not. Page four: Caption: My memory has always been pretty crappy. If a friend asks me: “do you remember when...” The question is shown asked by a red robin Caption: I usually have to answer: “no, I don’t.” The panel shows the cat giving this answer while looking away and blushing. Caption: There are many things in my life I’d like to remember. Mom the ermine watches as the cat opens a Christmas gift in front of a Christmas tree. The cat is much smaller than usual, its tail is bushy with excitement and it holds up a big book, “Mort”, with a skull on the cover. Caption: This comic is my EXTERNAL MEMORY so I can capture some of those moments… The cat admires a butterfly hovering above its outstretched paw Caption: …great or small. Page five: Caption: I try to make one strip per day, give or take. Pages with dates written on them blow off of a daily wall calendar by a strong breeze. As they turn over, comic pages are revealed to be drawn on the back. One comic shows the mouse with long fangs, biting the face of the cat and then hissing behind a bat wing. One comic is a pastiche of Tim Buckley’s “Loss” comic and one features a portrait of Frasier Crane and the Seattle skyline. Caption: and on the days when nothing interesting happens A close up shows the cat’s paw drawing a comic panel. In this panel a smaller, rounder version of the cat runs happily in the sunshine carrying a backpack. Caption: I reach back and draw something from my past. Caption: If you read this comic and wonder: A coyote looks at the comic on its phone, strokes its chin suspiciously and asks “did that really happen?” Caption: the answer is always yes. Caption: If you read this comic and wonder: A monkey reads the comic in zine form and think “did they really say that?” Caption: the answer is usually yes. Page six: Caption: When a specific phrase is the point of the strip, it’s recorded verbatim. The mouse says “you’re marching to the beat of the potato drum.” Caption: is a direct quote. Caption: When the point is something else, I sometimes take small liberties to make the memory fit well inside four panels. The cat sits at its drawing table, holding a pair of scissors in one hand and a paper with two comic panels in the other. Caption: Usually that means I make myself or the mouse play the part of the straight man because it will improve a joke. The cat and the mouse, dressed as clowns, stand in a circus tent. The cat pulls the clown nose from the mouse’s face and holds up a pie, ready to strike. Caption: In reality, neither of us is much of a straight man, but all art demands some sacrifices. Caption: In every way that matters, this comic always tells the truth. The cat looks up at a large, glowing, winged sphinx statue version of itself. The statue and framing is a reference to the all knowing Southern Oracle from the film adaptation of “The Neverending Story”. Caption: I am doing this to aid my memory after all, so it wouldn’t be very helpful to make my life seem more funny, interesting or relatable than it really is. The cat draws a comic while watching paint dry on the wall. Caption: That would be a pretty cruel joke to play on my future, more confused self. The cat scratches its head at a drawing of themselves as the winner of a beauty contest, wearing a sash and crown, waving to the crowd and holding flowers. Caption: She’ll probably have enough to contend with… The cat looks suspiciously at its own reflection in the mirror, not recognising it. The drawing is a pastiche of a panel from the webcomic “Gunshow” by KC Green. Caption: Maybe some of my comics will be funny or interesting or relatable to you anyway. That would make me very happy. The cat smiles and presses its paws to its face in joy, seeing that a bear and a horse are reading the comic together and laughing. Cartoon hearts float over the cat. Caption: Some of the comics probably won’t do much for anybody but me, but that’s okay too. The cat presses a page of the comic to its chest, looking contented and protective. In the last panel, the cat and the mouse are floating on air with a blue sky and white clouds behind them. The cat is smiling and twirling around, holding a paint brush out like a wand. From the brush flows paint that swirls around the two figures and making shapes of green leaves and orange and yellow flowers. On two looping blue ribbons appear the last captions: This is a record of my silly little life. Good or bad, I’m glad I get to share it. End ID.

Here’s a little introduction to External Memory! It was fun to make a proper neat and full colour comic - it’s been a while ^^

(If you like this project, please reblog this post! You can also subscribe to my patreon where I post one comic every day ^^)

[metallicames]

Hi there! here is the second part. Hope you like it.

Translated by @nausicaamusiclover20 ❣️

Wild Things

Description: you and the guys from Metallica went to an afterparty in a pub in Seattle and James needs you, again...

WARNINGS: smut, explicit content, rough sex, dirty talking.

The energy inside the arena had been electric, but here at the Rocket, it was absolute chaos. Not a single person was sober—people were stumbling, dancing, shouting, and even vomiting. I spot my friend Matt making out with a girl against the bathroom wall, while some of his friends slump around a nearby table, two of them with their heads down, completely out from all the drinking.

In a quieter corner, the guys from the band look worn but happy, celebrating with yet another round of beer. I notice faint lines of white powder scattered on their table, but before I can think too much about it, Kirk is beside me, shouting to be heard over the noise, “Which song pumped you up the most?”

We start talking about the show, laughing over his solos and the way Lars seemed like he’d tear his arms off playing Battery. The memories pour out, reliving every song, every moment. Time blurs in the chaos, and everyone’s laughing, with James goofing around, throwing playful jabs at Lars and the others.

At some point, I slip away to the bathroom, and as I’m stepping back out, a hand grabs my wrist and pulls me into a dim room, lit only by a few soft blue lights. The walls are made of dark plexiglass, and a lone, abandoned pool table sits at the center.

It’s James. His eyes are dark, intense, and he pulls me close, kissing me with a sudden, fierce urgency. I feel a rush of surprise and thrill, a smirk on my lips as I kiss him back, slipping my hands around the collar of his leather jacket, pulling him even closer.

It doesn’t take long before he turns me around, pressing me forcibly forward so that my chest meets the cool, worn felt of the pool table. I feel his body close behind me, his hands guiding me as his breathing quickens. He leans down to murmur close to my ear, “I can’t stop fucking you!” and then slaps my buttock. A thrill runs down my spine, and I find myself whispering, almost pleading, “Please...fuck me, James. I need you to fill me completely...again.”

He exhales a low, almost primal sound, his hands tightening around my waist as he draws me close. His touch is both rough and tender, his fingers brushing along my hips. He lifts my skirt and moves my panties on the side. The sensation immediately makes me shiver. With a smirk on his face he spits on his hand and starts rubbing my clit and my already wet cunt . Then he entered me fully making me moan loudly. The sensations are overwhelming, and every nerve feels alive and the position increases friction which makes me feel even more pleasure. “Please Jamie... faster!” I sayed sighing “As you wish, baby” and he started thrusting even faster, resting his hands on my hips. The thrill of being in this moment, hidden away, the exhilaration of the music and chaos outside, that everyone can enter but I couldn’t care less because even if someone entered, I would never notice. Every breath, every heartbeat, feels like it belongs only to us.

I can’t see his face, but I feel his urgency in the way he holds me, the rhythm of his breaths, and the tension in his grip. It’s a shared, silent connection—an electric, irresistible pull that feels like it could last forever. “Fffuck James, you’re so deep...” I cried while I’m trying to claw my way onto the surface of the pool table. “Am I hurting you?” - “No, just fuck me, don’t stop please!” I encourage him, he takes my free wrist and brings it behind my back, squeezing it with his strong fingers, using it as further leverage to stabilize the movements and make them even deeper.

I feel completely lost in the moment, my eyes rolling back as pleasure overwhelms me. Soft moans escape my lips, intertwining with James's deep, breathy responses. I can feel the makeup I carefully applied earlier begin to run down my cheeks, a reminder of how intense this experience has become. 

A powerful wave of sensation builds inside me, threatening to sweep me away. “You’re so wet... I can feel you’re close" he whispers, his voice barely above a breath, sending shivers down my spine.

My body responds instinctively, tightening around him, as if trying to draw him in even deeper. Every movement sends ripples of electricity through me. “Fuck, you’re making me me cum!” he exclaims, each word punctuated by gasps that only heighten my own desire.

Suddenly, I’m overwhelmed by a wave of pleasure, crashing over me like a tidal wave. I let out a desperate, “Oh my goddd” as I reach my peak, trembling uncontrollably and squeezing my legs instinctively as I ride the waves of ecstasy that leave me breathless.

I turn my head slightly, catching a glimpse of James out of the corner of my eye. He looks dazed and filled with desire, his tousled hair falling across his face. When our eyes meet, he pauses for a heartbeat, breathless and intense. Then, with a deliberate movement, he wraps his hands around my neck, just enough to make me arch my back slightly, and resumes his frantic rhythm.

“I’m going to wreck you!! I want to fill you completely.." he gasps between breaths, his voice low and urgent, makes me lose my mind.

At this point, I feel utterly lost in the moment, my body overwhelmed by pleasure and the intensity of our connection. The way he drives into me, pressing me against the pool table, is exhilarating and surreal. I can hardly believe he still has this kind of energy after the wild night we’ve shared.

“Fill me up, James, I’m all yours” I manage to breathe out, surrendering to the powerful wave of sensation that washes over me.

With a deep, primal groan, he reaches his climax, and I can feel him pulsing inside me. It’s a rush of warmth that envelops me, and I instinctively tighten around him, savoring every last moment of our connection. He empties himself completely, and as he collapses against me, his head resting on my back, I can hear his heavy breaths, a testament to how spent he is.

In that moment, everything else fades away, leaving just the two of us, entwined and breathless, lost in the aftermath of what we’ve shared.

As I try to gather myself, I hear a tapping sound on the plexiglass behind us. I turn my head slightly and catch a glimpse of Lars, who initially pretends to make out with the wall before shifting to simulate being intimate with an imaginary girl. I don’t worry too much; I’m still covered by James's body, and I know that Lars, being James's best friend, has probably seen it all. James bursts into laughter and calls out, “You idiot!” Lars walks away, still chuckling, leaving a light atmosphere in the room.

James slowly pulls away from me, letting out a soft sigh. “Damn, I’m exhausted,” he says as he starts to get dressed.

I glance at the clock on the wall: it’s 5:30 am. I get dressed too, still a bit dazed by everything that has just happened.

“Are you going to sleep with me tonight?!” His question feels more like an affirmation, and there’s sincerity in his eyes.

“yes, sure. but I need to check where Matt went. He was pretty messed up when I last saw him,” I reply, trying to keep my tone light.

“Okay, don’t worry. We’ll call him a taxi later,” he reassures me with a casual wave of his hand.

As we step outside, I start looking for Matt and finally find him slumped on a bench in the pub, mumbling something incoherently. He’s completely drunk. We head out together and call a taxi. Before we let him go, I slip a note into Matt's jacket pocket: “I’m staying at James’s, don’t worry. What a crazy night!!! Kisses.”

We watch him stagger away, then climb into the band’s van. I sit across from Kirk, who looks at us with a mischievous, high grin. I’m sure James and I look like we’ve just had the best night of our lives. I can feel my cheeks flush as I turn to look at James. His hair is tousled, his cheeks are flushed, and there’s a light sheen of sweat on his skin. Next to Kirk, Jason is eagerly kissing a girl I’ve never seen before, while in the back, Lars is sprawled between two girls, resting his head on one of their shoulders.

James leans his head back, clearly spent, and at one point, he reaches for my hand. When he finds it, he gently squeezes it, running his thumb lightly across my knuckles. The ride lasts about ten minutes, and I thank the creator of elevators because if I had to climb four flights of stairs, I would probably be dead.

We enter James’s hotel room, which he usually shares with at least one other bandmate, often Lars, but tonight he has it all to himself. The place is a mess: beer bottles and various alcohol containers scattered everywhere, T-shirts strewn about, and the bed is in disarray. “So typical of James,” I think with an amused smile.

He quickly sheds his clothes, leaving only his boxers, and collapses onto the bed, utterly exhausted.

“Can I borrow one of your shirts to sleep in? I don’t have anything with me,” I ask, poking my head out of the bathroom.

“Sure, grab the one on the chair. It should be clean,” he replies, his voice drowsy.

I slip on the shirt I find, soft and smelling like him, then lie down beside him. He turns to face me, his eyes already half-closed. God, he’s so handsome. Unable to resist, I lean in and give him a soft kiss on the lips.

He responds immediately, sliding his hand between my thighs, creating a warm, enveloping sensation. I sink into a heavy sleep, feeling his body close to mine, a perfect refuge as the outside world fades away, leaving just the two of us, wrapped in a comforting haze of sensation and the promise of tomorrow.

Third part

𖥸

[gamergirl929]

Going Under the Knife (Emily Sonnett x Kelley O'Hara x Reader)

You knew surgery was a big deal, which is why you'd did your best to hide it from your teammates, particularly Emily Sonnett and Kelley O'Hara, two women who were currently dating and two women you were desperately in love with. However, a single phone call draws them to the hospital, and to your bedside, where everything changes.

Your heart clenched roughly in your chest, your anxiety spiking as the IV punctured your skin, resting within a vein that would be used to lull you to sleep so the surgery could begin.  

You knew your teammates would be livid when they realized you’d hidden your injury from them, but if there was one thing you didn’t like, it was to be fussed over.  

You’d assured them time and time again that the slight limp you developed after a rough tackle during the World Cup was nothing to worry about, that the grimace on your face when you walked was nothing, and that the groan when you pulled your cleat off was in relief and not excruciating pain.  

You stare at the white ceiling above you, glancing at the empty seat resting at your bedside.  

You knew you should’ve told someone, anyone, that you were about to face a four-hour surgery, but again, you didn’t want to be fretted over.  

Despite that, you knew you should’ve told THEM specifically, knowing that once they found out you were in the hospital and hadn’t told them, they would be far from happy.  

Kelley O’Hara and Emily Sonnett had been dating for well over a year and considering this had been the first actual holiday they had together, you didn’t want to intrude on that.  

Your heart again clenches in your chest, the surgery the furthest thing from your mind when you think about the couple.  

It didn’t take long for feelings to develop between you and the couple, the light caresses, and the flirty retorts making you fall harder and harder for the pair.  

No matter how hard you fell, you knew that they would never be interested in you, how could they when they already had each other? 

You’re pulled out of your thoughts by the sound of a clearing throat, your eyes widening when you see your doctor standing before you, the man wearing blue scrubs. 

“Are you ready Ms. Y/L/N?” He asks and you inhale deeply, your eyes fluttering shut as you nod reluctantly. 

“I’m ready.”  

************************************************************************

Alex Morgan rolled her eyes playfully as Servando chased her daughter around the living room, Charlie giggling wildly as he caught her, swinging her up into the air and kissing her face over and over again.  

Alex’s brows furrow when her phone, which was resting on the counter begins to ring, the woman making her way across the room to pick it up. 

She hums at the sight of the unknown number stretched across the screen, a number starting with, what she knew, was the area code for Seattle, Washington.  

She clears her throat before answering, ducking into the kitchen to escape the noisy living room.  

“Hello?” She asks.  

“Is this Alex Morgan?” The woman on the other end of the phone clearing her throat.  

“Ye-Yes, this is her.”  

“Hello Ms. Morgan, this is UV Medical Center, calling in regards to a patient of ours, Y/N...”  

***********************************************************************

Considering you spent your early years on the Orlando Pride alongside Alex Morgan, she almost immediately took you under her wing, the woman becoming not only a mentor to you, but something akin to an older sister.

It was soon after that, that she became your emergency contact, the woman the only one you trusted to handle an emergency.  

Thankfully for her, she had yet to receive a call concerning your health, unfortunately, this was the day everything changed.  

The second she’d hung up with the receptionist she immediately called the first woman who came to mind, her longtime friend and teammate Kelley O’Hara, who she knew was in Seattle with Emily Sonnett.  

“Hey Al, what’s--”  

“Did you know Y/N was in the hospital?” Alex cuts her off, noting the hitch in Kelley’s breath.  

“N-N-no, what happened?!” She asks anxiously, her voice quivering, her distress alerting the blonde who’d just made her way back from the bedroom and into the living room.  

“What’s wrong?” She asks, Kelley waving a dismissive hand in her direction, the defender listening intently to the woman on the other end of the phone.  

Without warning, Kelley leaps to her feet before rushing towards the door, stuffing her feet in her shoes before grabbing her jacket, the anchor holding her into place being Emily Sonnett, the woman’s hands resting on her back.  

“Kel, what’s wrong?” She asks nervously, the woman turning towards her, her brown orbs wide.  

“Y/N’s in the hospital, we have to go.”  

And with that Emily too begins rushing to grab her things, the pair slamming the apartment door shut behind them as they rush to UV Medical Center, and to your side. 

************************************************************************

Despite the fact that UV Medical Center was MASSIVE it didn’t take them long at all to find where you were, Kelley rattling off what Alex had relayed to her on the car ride to the hospital.  

You’d gone under the knife for ankle surgery over 5 hours ago, the extent of the injury you’d entered surgery for becoming much more prominent the deeper the doctor’s dug beneath your skin, which eventually resulted in a call to your emergency contact, that being, Alex Morgan.  

“While we’re here, we’re getting added to the Emergency Contact list.” Kelley had mumbled as they rushed through the hospital towards the waiting area outside of the surgery suite you were currently located in.  

Seemingly, the receptionist knew who they were, considering the second they spoke their names, she’d waved someone over, that someone leading them out of the waiting room towards a nearby elevator.  

“The surgery went on longer than we expected, there was more damage to the ankle than we anticipated.” He explains as the elevator doors slide shut.  

“Is she awake?” Emily asks, the man shaking his head.  

“We had to increase the amount of anesthesia we used, so we’re having a hard time getting her to wake up.”  

Kelley turns to Emily nervously; the nervousness Kelley is feeling conveyed right back at her from Emily’s hazel orbs.  

“Do you know how long it’ll take for her to wake up?” Kelley asks, her fingers tangling with Emily’s, the blonde giving her hand a squeeze.  

“We don’t know.”  

The second the elevator door opens the man is leading them down the hall and into a nearby room, that turns out to be a secluded waiting room, offering the pair privacy.  

“We’ll inform you immediately when she wakes up and leaves the recovery room.” He smiles softly, leaving the pair in the empty room, a TV hanging in the corner playing softly as the pair sit side by side on a small couch.  

"Do you think she’ll be okay?” Emily whispers, resting her head on Kelley’s shoulder, the woman taking her hand, giving it a squeeze.  

“She will be.” She whispers, unwilling to put her anxiety and worriedness into words, choosing to remain hopeful for the sake of the blonde beside her.  

************************************************************************

As the time ticked away, the anxiety and fear within both women began to grow, and after an hour had passed, that anxiety was near teeming over, that was until the door clicked open softly, the man from earlier giving them a small smile.  

“Ms. Y/L/N is in her room; I’ll take you to her.” He smiles, the pair jumping to their feet and rushing down the hall behind him.  

“She may be in and out, she’ll DEFINITELY be groggy thanks to her pain medication, but she’ll be back to herself in no time.”  

It doesn’t take long for the pair to be ushered into a room, the two immediately zeroing in on your ankle, which hangs well above you, your ankle wrapped tightly in bandages.  

Kelley glances at Emily, seeing her own concern written on her face, the two slowly making their way hand in hand to your bedside.  

A soft whine draws their attention to your face, your face which is currently scrunched up as you tiredly survey your surroundings before your eyes again flutter shut.  

Silently, the doctor makes his way out of the room, the door clicking shut softly behind him, the three of you now left in complete silence.  

You hum, turning towards the two, your eyes remaining shut before you peek between your eyelids. 

“They must’ve really given me the good shit if I’m hallucinating.” Your tired eyes darting from Kelley to Emily and back.  

“I’ll call and tell you guys later.” You whisper tiredly, your eyes fluttering back shut.  

“You don’t have to tell us anything Y/N, we’re right here.” Emily says, giving your hand a squeeze.  

“Alex called us.” Kelley says, shaking her head when you start to sit up.  

“Well, I better call her back then.” You grumble, glancing around the room, your eyes still shut as you search for your phone.  

“Sit still Y/N.” Kelley whispers, placing her hand on your shoulder to hold you in place.  

“But I have to call Alex, she called me.” You mumble, completely unaware that the woman had indeed NOT called you.  

“No Y/N, she called us.” Emily says, unable to bite back a smile when you turn to her in confusion.  

“She called me, she didn’t call you, you’re not real.” You slur, the older defender on the opposite side of the bed cupping your cheek.  

“But we are real.”  

You shake your head.  

“No, Kelley and Emily are on holiday together, because they love each other, not me, they wouldn’t come visit me.”  

Kelley and Emily share a glance, Emily tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.  

“What do you mean Y/N?” She asks softly and you growl.  

“Just what I said, they don’t love me, not like I love them.”  

The pair stiffen, hearts stalling in their chests as the stare at one another in not only shock, but elation.

“What do-- 

Kelley’s cut off by a loud snore, the pair turning their attention back to you, realizing you’re again fast asleep.  

Kelley gently caresses your cheek as Emily runs her fingers through your hair.  

“Looks like we have a lot to talk about when you wake up, huh?” She whispers, ducking down to kiss your temple, Emily following suit moments later.

The blonde reaches across the bed, covering Kelley’s hand with her own, the pair sharing soft smiles before turning back to your sleeping form.  

It didn’t take a genius to see that Kelley O’Hara and Emily Sonnett were absolutely smitten with Y/N Y/L/N, the moment they met.  

The pair had been fearful when it came to their feelings for you, fearful it may end their relationship, but when they came to the realization that they both felt the same way about you, both had attempted to pursue you, something you were unfortunately not aware of.  

However, with the sudden realization that you too felt the same, they knew everything was about to change.  

“Do you think she meant it?” Emily whispers and Kelley smiles, glancing across the room at your sleeping form.  

“I think she did, high mouths speak sober thoughts. I guess we’ll just have to ask her when she wakes up.” Kelley smiles, turning abruptly towards Emily when she sniffles.  

“What if she didn’t mean it?” She asks, voice barely above a whisper.  

Kelley cups her cheeks, resting for forehead against the younger woman’s before she presses a kiss to her lips.  

“We’ll just cross that bridge if we come to it, okay?” She whispers, and Emily nods, the blonde unable to bite back a smile when Kelley kisses the tip of her nose.  

“Okay.”  

************************************************************************

It’s well into the afternoon that you begin to stir, pulling Kelley and Emily’s attention away from one another and onto you, the two leaning forwards in their seats, which they’d taken residence in beside your bed.  

Your eyes crack open, your teeth clenching in pain, the overhead lights making your head throb.  

Despite that, you keep them open, Y/E/C orbs darting from Kelley, to Emily and back.  

“Wh-What are you guys doing here?” You ask, your voice rough and raw.  

Kelley grabs a nearby cup and holds in to your lips, letting you take a greedy sip before she speaks.  

“Alex called us.”  

Your brows furrow.  

“Alex?”  

Kelley nods.  

“The hospital called her, they found more damage to your ankle then they first thought, they wanted permission to continue the surgery.”  

You hum, glancing sadly at your ankle, which is still hanging high off the bed.  

“Looks like you’re going to have a lot of down time.” Emily smiles sadly, caressing the back of your hand, causing your cheeks to flush.  

“Yeahhhh...” You sigh, leaning back, your eyes fluttering shut as your head rests against the pillow behind you.  

“Why didn’t you tell us Y/N?” Kelley asks and you sigh.  

“I didn’t want you guys to worry, I knew you planned on spending the holidays together, and I didn’t want to ruin it.”  

Emily scoffs.  

“You could NEVER ruin our holiday, honestly, we were going to come see you anyway.”  

Kelley’s hand rests on top of yours and Emily’s.  

“We really wanted you to be a part of it.”  

Your eyes double in size, your heart skipping a beat in your chest as you glance down at your joined hands, your cheeks flushing.  

“You had some things to say when we got here...” Kelley starts, and your brows furrow.  

“I-I did?” You stammer and she nods.  

“You did.”  

You swallow roughly, your heart racing wildly in your chest, the thought you may have confessed your feelings making your palms go clammy.  

“Wh-Wh-What did I say?” You stutter, eyeing your blankets nervously.  

“Well, you didn’t think we were real.” Emily smiles and you chuckle, shaking your head.  

“What else did I do?” You ask Emily and Kelley sharing a glance, which goes unnoticed by you.  

Kelley clears her throat.  

“You said we didn’t love you.” She whispers, your head snapping upwards, your eyes locking with her dark brown orbs.  

“Wh-What...?” You stutter, sliding your hand out from beneath there’s only for Kelley to catch your hand before you can rest it in your lap.  

“You said we didn’t love you, like you loved us.”  

You mouth falls open, your eyes darting between the two women as your cheeks redden, the tips of your ears beginning to burn as your gaze falls to your lap, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes.  

“I-I-I'm so sorry... Y-You weren’t supposed to find out... I-I-I... I mean...” You mumble, unable to look at the two women.  

Unbeknownst to you, Kelley glances at Emily, who nods, the woman cupping your cheek before turning you towards her, your eyes glassy as they meet her brown orbs.  

“I don’t know where you got that idea.” She whispers, your eyes widening dramatically when Emily glances at Kelley.  

“What idea?” You ask, your voice quivering, Kelley tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.  

“The idea that we don’t love you like we love each other.” 

Your heart stalls in your chest, your eyes darting from brown orbs, to hazel orbs and back, your breath hitching when Kelley’s brown orbs drop to your lips, her tongue running along her lips before she begins leaning in.  

Your breath catches in your throat, the thought that this may still be a hallucination still prominent in your mind, that is until Kelley’s lips meet yours for the first time, her hands gently cupping your cheeks.  

All thoughts of this being a hallucination leave your mind as the woman kisses you softly, your bottom lip trapped between hers as the two of you kiss, parting with much reluctance.  

Kelley’s forehead rests against yours the woman smiling softly.  

Moments later she’s pulling away, her forehead being replaced by Emily’s her hazel orbs locking with yours as she leans in, her eyes fluttering shut as her lips too, meet yours.  

You cup her cheek boldly, your fingers tangling in her hair as you kiss, the woman sighing against your lips.  

Again, you part, the blonde pulling back, only to turn your head, kissing your temple softly, the older of the pair resting her head against your own as well.  

“So, what do you think now?” Kelley whispers and you chuckle.  

“I’m thinking I REALLY hope I’m not still hallucinating.”  

Kelley chuckles as Emily giggles, their laughter contagious despite the pain you’re currently feeling.  

"How can we convince you that this is real?” Kelley asks and you grin.  

“I mean, a few more kisses might help.” You shrug, unable to bite back a grin.  

Kelley and Emily share a glance, the two grinning before Kelley leans back in.  

“I think that can be arranged.”  

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserved on our archive

This is directly tied to covid for a number of reasons including weakened immune systems from frequent infection and vaccine hesitancy strengthened during the pandemic.

By Eilis O'Neill

Whooping cough is spreading nationwide at the highest levels since 2014. There have been more than 16,000 cases this year — more than four times as many compared to the same time last year — and two confirmed deaths. And experts are concerned that the outbreak could worsen in the fall and winter months.

“More children are going back to school now, [which leads to] greater exposure,” said Dr. Eric Chow, the chief of epidemiology and immunization at the Seattle and King County public health agency. “We’re coming up on the kind of winter season when people are spending more time indoors with other people.”

The disease is most dangerous to babies: 1 in 3 who get it require hospitalization.

Whooping cough cases are especially high right now on the West Coast.

King County, where Seattle is, has seen more this year than any year since 2015 — “and the year isn’t even over yet,” Chow said. He said the county is still seeing new cases of whooping cough every week.

Why the big outbreak now? Experts say there are a number of possible explanations for the size of the current outbreak.

Doctors are testing for whooping cough more, so they’re identifying more cases.

It’s possible that the bacterium that causes the disease has mutated.

Also, people got behind on their vaccines during the pandemic, and they haven’t caught up.

“One of the challenges that we have with [the vaccine that protects against whooping cough] is that it is a five-dose series over the course of the first six years of a child’s life, so it does require regular visits to the primary care,” Chow said.

And, Chow said, not everyone can get to the doctor regularly.

But access isn’t the only problem.

“There still is a lot of vaccine hesitancy and anti-vaxers out there that will not vaccinate their kids,” said Dr. Tina Tan, a pediatric infectious disease physician at Northwestern University and the president-elect of the Infectious Diseases Society of America.

For the first couple of weeks, whooping cough looks like a mild cold, but then the coughing fits start.

Babies who get it “are going to be whooping when they cough,” Tan said. “And they may cough, cough, cough, cough, cough, and then look like they're not breathing at all.”

Tan said those pauses in breathing are life-threatening, and a sign that it’s time to go to the hospital.

Whooping cough can also lead to pneumonia and other complications.

But babies can’t get their first dose of the vaccine that protects against whooping cough, also called pertussis, till they’re 2 months old.

“That’s why it’s important for pregnant women to get the pertussis vaccine when they’re pregnant,” Tan said, “so that you can protect your baby for the first two months of life until they’re old enough to be vaccinated themselves.”

Even before the pandemic, only about half of pregnant women got the pertussis vaccine. Now, that number is even lower.

In King County, of the 12 babies who have been seen with whooping cough this year, none of their mothers got the shot during pregnancy.

Vaccine fears, and confidence Dr. Chow, with Public Health-Seattle & King County, said that’s a missed opportunity.

“Sometimes you require a kind of sit-down conversation with the patient who may be a little bit more hesitant or may have encountered misinformation,” he said, “so it just requires a longer time to build trust and rapport.”

Also, not all obstetrician/gynecologists offer the vaccine in their offices, and some people don’t have the bandwidth to go to a pharmacy for a shot.

At a playground in Seattle’s White Center neighborhood, Kay said she has two kids, ages 12 and 4, and she’s always been hesitant about vaccines.

Kay declined to give her last name because she’s concerned about revealing private medical information.

“With COVID, it even made it even more scary, because everybody started coming out saying, ‘The COVID shot’s not actually good for you,’” Kay said. “So I was like, ‘Maybe the other vaccines are bad too.’ And then I went down the rabbit hole of looking up kids who have supposedly gotten vaccinations and passed away.”

Experts say vaccines are very safe and can prevent diseases that once killed or harmed many babies, children, and adults.

Kay eventually got her 4-year-old daughter the shots required for daycare but nothing else.

“It's hard for me to get childcare, and it's just easier for me to say, ‘OK, just give me whatever she needs, just to get her into school,’” Kay said.

So her daughter did get the required whooping cough vaccines — but not any COVID shots, which are not mandated.

Aaron Sittinghorse was at the same playground with his 3-year-old daughter. He said the pandemic had the opposite effect on his thoughts about vaccines.

“It opened up my eyes to how important they are,” he said, “and so now, I'm a believer in vaccines. It's important, even if it's not for yourself, but for everybody around you.”

Sittinghorse said he saw on the news that there’s a whooping-cough outbreak right now, and it worries him a little — but not too much, because he and his family are up to date on their vaccines.

[after-the-end-times]

Continued from here

Trent finally sits back from his laptop, stretching his hands out in front of him. He'd been writing and editing for hours, using the quiet time while the team and coaches were out training on the pitch.

He spins idly in his chair.

Ted's chair his brain helpfully reminds him. He thinks he should get up and check out what fruit they have stocked in the other room before the team comes back in.

It's only been a couple days since his gaffer- the gaffer left to go back to his family and Trent's been feeling off ever since. Maybe he's just hungry. He gets up to go in search of a snack, hopefully that'll quell the squirrely feeling in his belly.

Ten minutes later he walks back to the coach's office, tossing the two clementines he successfully found back and forth in the air pretending to juggle. He was doing pretty good, if he did think so himself, until he entered the office and dropped them both.

"Ted"

Ted, who's standing there by his their? desk, like he'd never left and looking at all of Trent's things scattered everywhere.

Trent had tried to limit his footprint on the desk, not wanting to look like he was moving in too fast. But now Trent sees what Ted sees and a blush spreads across cheeks.

His laptop sitting center stage with notebooks piled up to the side, white printed pages with too much red ink scattered and balled up, his bracelets, rainbow mug, and so many pens. And the single photo of his daughter he allowed himself to bring to work.

It looks like it's his desk. And now Ted's back. And will probably want his desk back.

With his blush deepening he rushes forward to start packing up his things. He just wishes Ted would move out of the way so this wasn't so awkward.

"What're you doing?" Ted asks with a quizzical smile. not moving away.

"Oh! I'll get this all moved. I wasn't- This isn't- Beard said I should sit here for the moment until- There wasn't enough- With Nate back-" He doesn't know what's wrong with him.

Part of his job for 20 years was to be able to eloquently put sentences together into thoughtful paragraphs and now here he is not able to finish a single thought.

All Trent knows is that he innocently went to get a clementine and now he's panicking because feels like he betrayed Ted...for the second time, his brain again helpfully adds

Ted is still standing in front of him, arms crossed, hip resting against the desk, not letting him snatch up all his stuff and run.

Trent finally looks at Ted, instead of looking everywhere but him.

Oh. He doesn't look mad, Trent realizes. He kinda looks- Great, now he can't even finish thoughts in his own head. He mentally gives himself a baleful side eye.

"I wanted it to be you", Ted says. He has a slow smile spreading across his face as he looks at Trent.

"And here I heard you preferred Sleepless in Seattle" Trent responds with a small smile, proud of himself for finally successfully bantering back.

"And while that is true, and I am still correct that it is the far superior Nora Ephron film," Ted glances over at Beard's desk as if continuing a on ongoing silent argument, before looking back and holding Trent's gaze, "Miss Kathleen Kelly and Joe Fox have the right scene for the job here"

Trent's breath catches in his chest, "Oh?" He can't seem to pull his eyes away from Ted's, heart on display for anyone looking.

Trent stands frozen as Ted reaches up, cups his cheek, and swipes his thumb under his eye as if dabbing away a tear that might be there if this were a movie.

"You're the only one I want to share a desk with", Ted's smile turns a little rueful, his hand slipping into Trent's hair, pushing it back from his face before pulling away. He pushes his hands into his pockets and sways toward Trent.

Trent's sure his eyes couldn't get any wider and he's horrified to realize they really do feel teary, "So you're staying? But what about-"

Ted sways back a bit, "Yeah, so I went home. Thought that was were the story was always leading me to. Turns out not so much. The moment I got off the flight in Kansas, ready to start my life over there, I-," He cuts himself off looking out to the locker room, collecting himself, "God, Trent I just about started bawling I missed you all so much."

He turns a crooked, slightly sad smile back to Trent. "Michelle and I are gonna work something new out. Not sure exactly what yet, but she agreed this wasn't working, that it wasn't fair to me or to Henry," He takes a deep breath. shoulders relaxing as his smile turns sweeter, less sad, "So yeah, I stayed a few days to catch up with some friends, family, and then got the next flight out."

"To come back for the team?"

Trent's trying really hard not to read too hard into all of this. He couldn't handle it if all of this, the quote, the thumb brush, the hair tuck, if it was all for the bit by a man so wholly obsessed with rom-com moments. He'd heard about Ted's Notting Hill moment with Roy.

Ted looks at him with a look that says he knows what he's doing.

"Sure, the team, Beard, Rebecca, heck, my whole street that sometimes feels like walking out into Cheers." Ted takes a half step forward, bringing him inches from Trent so he now has to look up slightly to meet Ted's eyes.

Ted's so very gentle as he slowly brings his hand back up to cup Trent's cheek again, his fingers tangling in his hair.

"And I came back for you. You have to know, Trent," he leans in those last few inches, lips almost meeting, "I came back to you."

And finally, finally Ted kisses him.

~Fin~