#wind storm insurance

[istormgroupohio]

Istorm Group - Risk Management Solution

iStorm Group is dedicated to assisting multi-family property Owners with resolving claims quickly, accurately, and equitably. iStorm has extensive experience in large loss consulting, estimating, construction consulting and project monitoring / Quality Assurance services across the U.S.

[legacymindset]

[benitopaul1996]

Benito paul is providing storm damage insurance claim service consulting. So many have been displaced out of food and even worse over 80 people have loss there lives in hurricane Ian. Benito paul are blessed to see another day let’s all put their best foot forward to help those that our need. Let’s not take today for granted, let’s make it count. 

[love-note-musings]

˙✧˖°📷 ⋆｡˚꩜ toby x reader // creepypasta oneshot

request: HelloI May i request a oneshot where toby pins the reader against a wall and maybe threatens her but she lowkey can't focus BC she's thinking how pretty he is? The reader has a love hate relationship with him. Sorry if it's confusing.

word count: 3.6k

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ──────

     As the last costumer of the day left, your shoulders dropped as the tension ebbed out of your body, dropping the “customer service smile” you had plastered on for the last couple of hours. A lengthy sigh left your mouth and you shook out the tired feeling from your muscles and with a swift lock of the doors, you began your nightly routine of cleaning for close. 

      Working the night shift wasn’t so bad, you had thought, it was generally pretty uninteresting, living in a small town and all, the clientele were the same, jobs were casual, it wasn’t that horrible. Having worked at this quaint restaurant for a couple of years, you knew the ins-and-outs pretty well and you operated most of the tasks you needed to on autopilot. However, the job was one thing, and daily living was another. Of course the pay was less than what you needed to live on realistically, what with housing, insurance, and feeding yourself. You still didn’t mind the nightshift, you found it rather relaxing.

    Wiping down tables, sweeping floors and mopping, cleaning out cappuccino machines, all of it went by as fewer cars passed on the road. You could hear the breeze start of as a small gust here and there until it picked up into a violent wind that rattled the building. Soon, you figured it would begin storming, with big raindrops pelting down and you surely wanted to be in your own home underneath thick blankets before then. 

     Unlocking the back entrance, you began dragging the heavy trash-bags out in the back of the parking lot, the last thing you’d need to complete before heading home for the day. You could feel how the cold nipped at your skin and willed your legs to go faster. 

     The city was always quiet, it was still except for the symphonies trees played nearby in the forest, clanging against each other from the wind. There were stories of course, about people going in and never coming back, but there were lots of people who did come back, more so than the latter, so the locals knew it as folktales. In reality, it was just another ordinary small town, with small-towned people, small-towned restaurants, and small-towned ideas. Forest or not, it was also another small-town ideal.

     Swinging the bag into the bin, you closed it with a sharp bang just as the back door to the restaurant flew with a clang. The weather was worsening overhead with dark clouds hiding the moon and the wind was threatening to take you away with it. Your feet carried you back inside as fast as they could, one pounding after another. //

//     He crashed into the back door with a thud as his legs gave out, one arm trying to hoist himself up and another trying to stop his wound from exuding any more blood. It wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle, but the exhaustion was creeping up his body, the lights had looked like crystallized diamonds hanging off of his eyelids, and he stumbled into them with reckless abandon before collapsing on tiled floor… somewhere. Vision swimming, legs crumpled underneath him, he sat there, body trembling and nauseated, trying to grasp onto his abdomen in an attempt to convince his body to let him back up, to keep moving. It wasn’t even that bad of a wound despite its length, it wasn’t anything he couldn’t  work with, but there he was, slipping on himself in the back of some beat-up building. The lights slightly flickered every few seconds, the buzzing of electrical appliances seemingly rang through his ears in tenfold, there was nothing in his stomach but his body forced him to empty it anyway, spilling out nothing onto the black and white tiles besides the gagging noises coming from him. He couldn’t stop the movement from racking his body once again as he dragged himself forward. 

     There was a scream, a crash maybe, all he saw was a figure with their arms raised high, ready to pounce on him, everything else was foggy besides the lights. Big, bright lights. Groggily, he looked up with lidded eyes, mouth slightly agape, nostrils flaring, trying to allow more oxygen into his lungs. He yelled at his brain to move faster and to process the situation, finding nothing once again but some static sound that filled it. Their mouth moved, and the sound flowed back into his ears, slowly, and then all at once.

     “I said—“ they cleared their throat “do you need me to call the authorities?” There was an umbrella raised threateningly in their hands, knuckles already turned white. It looked like their breath was caught in their throat and their body shaked. He slowly registered the information piece-by-piece, stringing together some semblance of thought. 

     Slowly, he forced his head to move side to side, shaking ‘no’. 

     “Are you hurt?” They asked authoritatively, despite the tremble in their knees.

      Again, another rather slow nod, another no. Hurt was subjective, after all. 

     Sighing, they lowered the umbrella just a little more to their side. “What do you need? Are you in trouble?”

     He ended up coughing violently, his head was spinning and he was mentally whacked. “b.. bath- can I use your b..athroom.”

     They stood off to the side and pointed towards it, watching his movements as he tried to force himself to stand upright. He managed to get up to his knees before crashing over again. 

     “I’m going to help move you there, okay?” they said as they set the umbrella down against the wall and moved closer towards him. He nodded once and they hooked an arm underneath his and guided him to the bathroom. 

     They turned on the light inside, indicated him to ‘be careful’ and that ‘there was a first aid kit under the sink’, before leaving him alone with a soft close of the door. 

     Toby gazed at himself in the mirror, bracing his weight against the sink before shakily turning the knob and splashing himself with cool water. How many days had it been since he had first left? He couldn’t even recall how long he’d been out, but it was long enough for his body to put the brake lights on his activities and start naming demands. And one of the demands was water. He earnestly started to drink the water from the faucet, cupping his hand and bringing it up to his lips over and over again.//

//     Meanwhile, an exasperated worker decided to flick back on the lights to the dining room and begin preparing a small meal to share with the guy who just stumbled into their restaurant. They didn’t really know what his deal was, nor did they care to know, they just wanted to give him something to eat before sending him back out into the storm. If he wouldn’t talk then maybe he’d eat and be able to go back home or something like that. Whatever the case was, it wasn’t your responsibility to know, but you’d also be damned for not trying to help him out just a little bit. 

     It took awhile, but the bathroom door finally clicked open and close again. Toby stumbled along the hallway and followed the light into the dining room. There were bandages wrapped around his abdomen and minor scratches on his legs and arms. His body was exhausted and his mind was more or less alert. 

     “Hey,” when you saw him feebly inch his way, you quickly went over and offered a hand, to which he shaked it off. Regardless, you told him where he could sit in the dining room,  a little booth by the kitchen door, and watched to make sure he settled himself well. You made a note of how determined he was despite his body practically shutting down, and he hadn’t tried to stop himself yet. Even as he fell into the booth, you watched as his body relaxed and his eyes stayed vigilant, always looking this way and that, carefully observing. It was fascinating. But again, it wasn’t your business. 

     You placed a plate in front of him with leftover food from the fridge and a pastry you had been saving to take home. “You have a drink preference? I can get you water.” He shook his head and you got him a glass of water anyway, of which he eyed a bit oddly, sipping little by little. When he saw the food, however, you noticed that he immediately went for the pastry.

     He was…strange, at the very least, that’s what you gathered as you watched him from the kitchen picking at his food and glancing around every couple minutes to double and triple check his surroundings. If you had to admit to yourself, you just wanted to go home, and by now it was raining, evident by the sound of raindrops pattering onto the rooftop. You were tired too, having worked all day, cleaning up and waiting on people, and now doing it all over again for a second time. Thankfully tomorrow you’d have a day off. 

     When he drank all of the water in the glass, you went over to refill it. “My name’s Y/n, what’s yours?” You asked with as much normalcy as possible, hand settling on your waist as you stepped back to watch his expression. 

     “Toby.” He muttered, before eating more and ignoring you. 

     “It’s nice to meet you, Toby.” 

     Sometime while you were re-cleaning the kitchen, you heard the bells on the door open with a clamor and close. Shrugging, you supposed he would have left, and you didn’t expect anything more from him. But now that you were thinking about it, it was kind of weird for someone to stumble in from the back of the building, but lots of things happened out in the forest. People go out with their friends, some people like hunting deer, who knows? Some kid could have just gotten mixed up with the wrong people and left out there. You don’t consider it much, but you sealed it away in the back of your mind as a little note for later as you left the restaurant and headed home. Personally, you had never experienced anything bad out there. //

//    It became more common for ‘Toby’ to show up after closing hours. Every few days or so, he’d show up looking tired and miserable, he’d ask to use your bathroom and then lug himself out to the dining room while you gave him the leftovers. You didn’t push him to talk about himself and settled for short conversations about the weather, or asking if he needed you to call anyone this week. Whenever you asked if he needed anything, he’d say no and continue eating solemnly, playing with his food and acting almost disinterested with it. 

     “What’s your favorite food?” You asked while chewing a piece of bread from the pantry. 

     Toby shrugged, “I don’t really have one.” 

     “There has to be something that you like at least? Can’t you think of something? I can try to make sure we keep some of it here.”

     He pondered for a moment, putting his fork down. You never questioned his sudden movements or verbal outbursts at all, figuring it’d be best not to pester him with questions since he obviously couldn’t control it, other people probably bothered him enough. Toby answered you quietly, “I liked that pastry you first gave me, I..I don’t remember when that was.”

     “Hmm.. okay. I can get it for you next time.”

     And the next time you did, and the time after that, until you were sure that he was sick of it every time you served it to him. But he never said anything and accepted it without a word.

    Perhaps you could say that the two of you had come to a mutual understanding, maybe a friendship, and you wouldn’t admit it to yourself that you looked forward to your short and awkward meetings. You didn’t know much about each other, but you felt comfortable despite his out-of-the-normal appearance and habits. It was non-judge mental, as far as anyone else was concerned, nothing happened here after-hours anyway.

     You found yourself tracing his facial features in your mind, promising them to memory and making mock-paintings in your mind. He had pretty eyelashes, his skin was pale and light, he had deep scarring on the side of his mouth, that’s why you assumed he wore the mask in public, you couldn’t be sure though, and you could be less sure about the googles attached to his jeans. The only thing is that you’d wish he’d eat more since it was obvious his health wasn’t the greatest. Whenever you saw him, he was almost always exhausted and almost ready to pass out. Although, besides the first time you met, you didn’t see him with any more wounds, so you supposed it was just some off-handed accident and nothing intentional. 

     Yeah, you politely admitted to yourself that you were quite fond of your new and odd friend. Perhaps attracted, whatever attraction meant. You found him nice to be around. And maybe, just maybe, you wanted him to feel the same. It had been a long time since you’ve had a proper friend. . . 

     Rock songs played from the radio atop the refrigerator, melodies soft and sweet, they played from collections of the classics and you loved it. During your shifts you’d lose yourself in the tune, pretending that you existed inside music videos and getting lost in a world where the waiters and waitresses were the main characters. You had asked Toby a while ago if he liked the station you left the radio on, hoping it was to his tastes. He had replied affirmatively, and you had kept the radio on that station every time he visited. 

     “Come on, get up.” you instructed, coming around the bar and onto the dining room floor. 

     “What?” He asked, nonetheless getting up from the barstool and following you along. 

     “You like this song, I like this song, let’s dance.”

     “But I don’t know how—“ Toby insisted as you took his hands anyway.

     You scoffed with a fool’s smile, “Neither do I.”

     At first you dragged him along around the dining room floor, navigating between the tables and chairs, tapping to the beat. He was awkward and didn’t know how to move his legs, flinging this way and that, but eventually he fell into your pattern and moved along. You both laughed, rocking your bodies to the beat hand in hand. Swaying left and right and once or twice trying spin each other. At one point, Toby almost toppled over into a couple of chairs, but you grabbed on tight to his hands and didn’t let go. A silly little smile spread across your faces and the two of you turned giggly as a new song started playing and the dance continued. 

     It was true—the two of you really didn’t know how to dance, and if anyone were to look into the windows they’d see two people who were wildly uncoordinated. You felt like you owned the world and that your body was perfectly aligned to the songs, you saw Toby and how he finally looked relaxed, mouthing along to the lyrics and shaking his arms around freely with his eyes closed. When you started screaming out the lyrics yourself, belting out notes pitches too high or low, he didn’t hesitate in joining you, resulting in one grand cacophonous harmony. 

     When Toby left later that night, it hit him in the face. Realization, fear, all of those types of things that crept up his back and settled into the crock of his neck before lodging itself into thought. That feeling, it settled inside of him and wouldn’t leave, it overwhelmed him and gnawed away at his stomach lining. Toby was never still, and it was more apparent now as the anxiety rose up his cheeks. He gulped, drank from the water bottle you had given him, slipped his hatchets into his belt loops and disappeared back into the forest. He always left his hatchets hidden behind your restaurant whenever he visited you. Just so you’d never see them with all the dents and stains that’d scare you away and leave him alone again. Toby really hated being alone sometimes.

     And Toby also knew who he was. It was evident by those same stains. It haunted him. He would never be able to sleep without seeing all of the things he’s witnessed, that he’s done. While knowing who you also were, he knew that you wouldn’t need him, that you’d need to help other people that got lost at night, who just need a helping hand. He’d hope you’d be able to help a lot more people than just him. You’d need to forget him, or at least you would, eventually. //

//     The night was quieter than normal. There was no radio playing, there were no cars passing by on the road, and there was no rain or wind, clear skies all day and all night. In short, it was boring. You were propped up by your elbow as you leaned over the bar countertop, idly skimming through the contents in some magazine left here by another customer. Only one customer remained, a pleasant old man who stopped by during the weekdays to watch the news on the television here. With a yawn and a tip, he left too, and you weren’t bothered to immediately lock the door after his departure. It had been a slow day.   

    He was behind the restaurant, hunched behind some garbage cans and waiting to hear the last car pull out from the parking lot. Everything was still and he was seeing the place for the first time with orange-tinted lenses.  He shook and shivered, bones rattling, and he couldn’t stop his arms from jerking even as he held himself together tighter. The last customer was gone. Now he just had to wait for you to come outside. Rocking back and forth to calm himself, he toyed with the fraying strings on the edge of his sleeves, occupying his mind and trying to distract himself from the bloodstains forming on his shirt and pants, not to mention the uncleaned hatchets that hung by his side. It wasn’t until a rather loud clang that he was snapped out of his trance.

Shooting up from his hiding spot, he made his way over to you without even a trickle of a sound. 

     All of a sudden you were shoved back towards the building, the air was knocked out of your chest from the force and you stumbled back. Toby had one hand blocking your exit, and another raised high above your head with a hatchet threatening to crack your skull open. 

     He stared at you, questioning himself, looking at you and then the hatchet and then you - you were terrified, and trembling, and god he wanted to disappear right at that moment, to drop everything and cling onto you. And he knew it wasn’t going to happen, but still his arms wobbled and there was a hitch in his throat. One hand slowly went to his mouth to stop the whimperings from escaping and the other slowly lowered his weapon until it fell onto the pavement.

     How could he be so stupid? He caved for the niceties, any inking of kindness and he instantly folded his hand. It wasn’t the terror in your eyes that had stopped him, it was just you. The way it felt to be so close again, how his body responded by going weak, he wanted to stay like that for a long time, he wanted to stay by you for as long as you’d let him. But he couldn’t do that, could he? Trust is a delicate thing. He knew that lesson well.

     You stood there with your back pressed painfully against the wall, your heart was beating frantically against your chest, your muscles were tense, your eyes were glued on Toby as he lost his resolve and crumbled down onto the ground in a heap with his head in his hands. Sobs wracked his body up and down and he heaved. Kneeling down next to him, you grabbed the hatchet and threw it as far as you could, considering for a moment if you should comfort him or not before placing a hand tentatively on his back, rubbing circles once he responded to your touch. The goggles on his face were fogging up, and you carefully found the clasp underneath a topple of tangled brown hair, letting it fall onto the ground as you wiped the tears falling down his cheeks with your hand and slipped off his facial mask. 

     His eyes did not meet yours, leaning over and making himself seem small. He sobbed until there were no more tears left, and even then his chest just heaved wildly as he struggled to find an even breathing pace. Kneeling closer, you wrapped your arms tighter around him, embracing, whispering in a soothing voice. 

     Toby wrapped his arms around your waist, slowly at first before completely enveloping you, resting his head into your lap. You felt nice, and comfortable, safe. He hung onto you for dear life.

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ──────

originally posted on quotev/citrusyfruits, reposted with permission

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this story from the New York Times:

At first glance, Dave Langston’s predicament seems similar to headaches facing homeowners in coastal states vulnerable to catastrophic hurricanes: As disasters have become more frequent and severe, his insurance company has been losing money. Then, it canceled his coverage and left the state.

But Mr. Langston lives in Iowa.

Relatively consistent weather once made Iowa a good bet for insurance companies. But now, as a warming planet makes events like hail and wind storms worse, insurers are fleeing.

Mr. Langston spent months trying to find another company to insure the townhouses, on a quiet cul-de-sac at the edge of Cedar Rapids, that belong to members of his homeowners association. Without coverage, “if we were to have damage that hit all 17 units, we’re looking at bankruptcy for all of us,” he said.

The insurance turmoil caused by climate change — which had been concentrated in Florida, California and Louisiana — is fast becoming a contagion, spreading to states like Iowa, Arkansas, Ohio, Utah and Washington. Even in the Northeast, where homeowners insurance was still generally profitable last year, the trends are worsening.

In 2023, insurers lost money on homeowners coverage in 18 states, more than a third of the country, according to a New York Times analysis of newly available financial data. That’s up from 12 states five years ago, and eight states in 2013. The result is that insurance companies are raising premiums by as much as 50 percent or more, cutting back on coverage or leaving entire states altogether. Nationally, over the last decade, insurers paid out more in claims than they received in premiums, according to the ratings firm Moody’s, and those losses are increasing.

The growing tumult is affecting people whose homes have never been damaged and who have dutifully paid their premiums, year after year. Cancellation notices have left them scrambling to find coverage to protect what is often their single biggest investment. As a last resort, many are ending up in high-risk insurance pools created by states that are backed by the public and offer less coverage than standard policies. By and large, state regulators lack strategies to restore stability to the market.

Insurers are still turning a profit from other lines of business, like commercial and life insurance policies. But many are dropping homeowners coverage because of losses.

Tracking the shifting insurance market is complicated by the fact it is not regulated by the federal government; attempts by the Treasury Department to simply gather data have been rebuffed by some state regulators. 

The turmoil in insurance markets is a flashing red light for an American economy that is built on real property. Without insurance, banks won’t issue a mortgage; without a mortgage, most people can’t buy a home. With fewer buyers, real estate values are likely to decline, along with property tax revenues, leaving communities with less money for schools, police and other basic services.

And without sufficient insurance, people struggle to rebuild after disasters. Last year, storms, wildfires and other disasters pushed 2.5 million American adults out of their homes, according to census data, including at least 830,000 people who were displaced for six months or longer.

[happy74827]

The Perfect Gift of Appreciation

[Rudy Cooper (technically) x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Being severely injured with zero money to back up your bills, you decide to take an emergency visit to the only doctor you personally know.

WC: 2897

Category: Hurt/Comfort, Slight Fluff,

A lot of you actually liked my Brian fic (love y’all), so I wanted to make another for you guys. I’m sad that there’s still none 😔😔

『••✎••』

He was absolutely pissed. Granted, he didn’t actually tell you, but the way his face fell into utter disappointment when he finally answered his door was all the information you needed. You couldn’t help but frown, your hand moving to cover your poorly bandaged arm as you watched him.

It made sense; the man had just come home from his shift, and his outfit was still intact with his suit and lab coat, with exhaustion weighing on his eyes. The man looked downright miserable, and with you looking like a wet rat from the rain and the blood seeping from your wound, he couldn't imagine a less welcome sight.

You both just stood there staring at one another, the rain pounding against the umbrella over your head. The wind was picking up, and you knew it was going to storm harder. You really couldn’t stand the look he was giving you.

"Hey, Rudy," You managed out, swallowing hard as the pain began to seep into your voice. You endured quite a lot to get here, and you weren’t about to let your pride show now.

The man before you let out a tired sigh, leaning against the doorframe as he closed his eyes.

"You do realize what time it is, don't you?" He questioned the usual cheerfulness of his voice, which was replaced with annoyance. It hurt a bit to hear, but you didn't blame him. It’s quite rude to show up unannounced, and it was even worse considering you showed up after 2 am.

Your eyes averted downwards, feeling ashamed for even showing up here. The last thing you wanted was to bother him, especially at a time like this.

Yet, you couldn’t go anywhere else. Money wasn’t quite flowing well in your area, and it was bad enough to where you had no insurance. You were a simple college student, working odd jobs here and there while balancing school and the like.

The job you had recently obtained was a janitor position for a nearby grocery store, and things seemed pretty good for a bit. It was not enough to pay those outrageous health bills, but it was getting you by.

"I need a favor... I know it's not exactly the best time to be asking, but please, just listen—" You began, the words spilling out of your mouth just as you’ve rehearsed them a million times.

Before you could continue, Rudy opened his eyes and looked down at you with a small frown. He already noticed the way you held your arm and the way you kept glancing at it. He knew what this was about; he knew the moment he opened the door and saw the desperation in your eyes.

Your name fell from his lips, drained and tired as he rubbed his forehead. He was silent for a bit, just as you were, and when he finally looked back up, his frown grew deeper.

"You seriously can’t afford to get simple treatment? How do you even know if I have the right supplies to fix something like this up, huh?"

You didn’t reply, merely biting down on your lip as you looked away. It was true, you weren't sure. Yet, Rudy had always been so kind to you, always willing to offer his help and support when you needed it.

The man sighed, closing his eyes as he ran his fingers through his hair. He couldn’t believe he was doing this; he had to wake up in a few hours, and now he had to deal with this.

The only thing keeping him from saying no was the look you gave him.

You weren’t one to beg or ask for help. You usually dealt with things on your own, and when you couldn’t, you were willing to work it off. He admired that about you, how you weren't the type to depend on others.

The fact that you were even here, soaked to the bone and asking for his help, proved to him just how serious the situation was.

You had no other choice, and he knew that.

So, without a word, Rudy stepped aside and gestured for you to enter. The relief was immediate, and before he could blink, you were inside, the sound of the rain slowly fading behind you.

The warmth of his home was a great contrast from the outside, and you couldn’t help but sigh contently as he threw his coat off and led you down the hall.

His duffel was still beside the couch, a sign that he had just returned moments before. Somehow, it made you feel worse, knowing that you interrupted his much-needed rest.

You followed Rudy through the living room, landing in the kitchen where the door to his basement was. You were about to follow him downwards, side-stepping past him, but a hand slammed against the doorframe just before you could.

Startled, you looked up at Rudy, a brow raised at the sudden stop. He was staring at you, his expression unreadable, and it made you grow uncomfortable.

"Stay here. I’ll be up in a minute, okay?" His voice changed slightly, sounding far more awake than before.

"Can’t you just do it down there? I mean, that’s where all your stuff is, right?"

Why go through all the trouble of bringing everything upstairs?

He shook his head, his lips pulling into a tight line. It looked like he was thinking something over, and when he finally spoke, he seemed hesitant.

"Just trust me, okay? Just wait here. I promise I won't be long."

You frowned, wanting to question him, but Rudy was already moving down the stairs. The door shut behind him, and the next thing you knew, you were left alone in the kitchen.

Confused, you couldn't help but stare at the door.

Why didn’t he want you down there? That was pretty odd behavior for someone who loved to brag about his work. You couldn’t recall a time when Rudy wasn’t so open about what he did.

So why the sudden change?

You didn’t want to question it, and instead, you hummed and sat down in the chair. You could hear his footsteps echo downstairs, and you waited patiently for him to return.

The sound of the basement door opening was almost instant, and when Rudy entered, you noticed the big medical box in his arms. You couldn’t help but watch the man walk around his kitchen, his movements slow and calculated as he made his way over to you.

Rudy placed the box onto the table, popped it open, and began to pull out the gloves, rubbing alcohol, and gauze. The man grabbed a chair and pulled it across from you, and as he did, he glanced up at you and smiled.

Your mind, however, was still elsewhere.

"Hiding a body down there, or something? You were taking forever, know..." You mumbled, your gaze shifting from the box to Rudy.

He chortled at the comment, glancing up momentarily to give you a small smile before resuming his task of pulling out the medical supplies.

He didn’t say anything other than the comments about your wound. How’d you get it? If it hurt, how long ago did it happen…

You know, the typical doctor questions.

Rudy took your arm in his, his hold gentle as he carefully removed the cloth that was once your makeshift bandage. You winced, hissing as the material peeled away some of the dried blood, and it caused Rudy to glance up at you apologetically.

As the cloth finally came off, Rudy didn’t make any type of comment. He didn't react to the deep cut on your arm other than the occasional flicker of his eyes. To you, it was absolutely jarring. It looked so much worse than you expected, and you couldn’t help but glance away as the man poured the alcohol onto the gauze.

He must’ve been used to this kind of thing, considering he didn’t so much as bat an eye.

The alcohol felt cold against your skin, and you bit your tongue to prevent the pain from escaping. Rudy didn't say a word as he cleaned up the wound, and you took the time to glance at the man.

Rudy was focused, his eyes narrowed as he concentrated on your wound. He was careful but quick, and his actions were precise and methodical. The way he moved was almost fascinating, and before you knew it, he was done with that part.

Rudy tossed the now bloodied gauze into the trash can that was temporarily beside the table and then reached for the next item.

The numbing shot.

The man paused, his gaze lifting from the supplies and up to your face. Rudy, the sweet and caring guy, had a very different face whenever he worked. He had his usual soft and comforting smile, but the way he constantly looked at your arm was so… cold.

He almost looked bored.

You blinked, and suddenly, he was staring at you, his brows raised.

You stared, unable to find the words, but the moment he spoke, the spell was broken.

Rudy gave you a sheepish smile, gesturing the shot in his hands. He warned you about the small prickle, gesturing to the shot in his hands, the prickle that’s never just a prick of the skin. It’s always quite painful.

The needle was tiny, but the feeling of the sensation entering your body was enough to make you grit your teeth. You felt your face grow warm, the embarrassment washing over you as the pain became a dull ache.

It didn't last long, and soon Rudy was shaking it around, supposedly making the numbing effect act faster.

Then, the waiting game. He told you around five to ten minutes, depending on your tolerance, and that's how you both ended up sitting across from one another in silence.

Rudy was tapping his fingers against the table, the only sound filling the air. You couldn’t help but notice the dark circles under his eyes, the way his shoulders sagged, and the occasional yawn that escaped him.

"I’m sorry," You said, finally breaking the silence. His facial expression didn’t help you feel better, the frown on his lips growing deeper as he shook his head.

"Don’t be sorry." He mumbled, his eyes closing briefly as he inhaled sharply. "Truth be told, I actually despise apologies. And it's not like you did this to yourself on purpose, anyways…"

That was true, you supposed. Still, the guilt wouldn't leave you alone.

When the man didn’t receive a reply, Rudy looked at you with a tired smile. His hands moved over the medical box, and with a slight push, it was out of the way and no longer between you.

Rudy then leaned forward, placing his elbows against the table, and folded his hands beneath his chin.

"You know, I miss this."

You blinked, tilting your head at him as a soft smile formed on your lips. "Me being clumsy and annoying?"

He chuckled, a sound that brought warmth to your heart, and the exhaustion was temporarily forgotten.

Rudy shook his head, and as he did, his smile faded and was replaced with something a little more sad. "Skin. The human body. Blood. The life force. I just miss it, I guess... I love what I do, don't get me wrong, but it can be a little boring at times.. It gets repetitive. The smiles are nice, the gratitude of those I treat, but sometimes I can't help but think about other things. More exciting things, y'know?"

"Suturing my arm is exciting to you? That's pretty weird, Rudy, and that's coming from me…"

You were only half-joking, and Rudy was aware. The man was silent for a moment, his gaze averted as his smile slowly returned.

A soft chuckle left him, and he leaned back against the chair, crossing his arms against his chest.

His eyes closed, and the smile on his face grew.

It wasn’t a sad smile, nor was it happy. It was a smile that said many things but nothing at all.

When his eyes finally opened, they were different. The smile was gone, and so was the warmth in his expression.

The smile he wore now was a familiar one, and the glint in his eyes was one you knew too well.

The box was moved back in front of him, and with a swift movement, the scissors and tweezers were in his hands.

Then, the conversation was over, and so was the waiting period. He did check to see if it was numb, but the moment you confirmed that it was, he went right back to work.

It was silent for the most part; you felt no pain, and Rudy was careful as he did his job. It was going by rather quickly, and with the silence that fell between the two of you, you couldn’t help but look down at your arm.

He was already halfway done. The numbing was working like a charm, and with how quickly Rudy was going, it was almost like a superpower. For a man not in his element, he seemed like he was pretty damn well in his element.

Maybe he did have a body hidden downstairs. Give him some practice.

Rudy stopped for a moment, the sudden pause causing you to lift your gaze and look at him. He was holding a new needle in his hand, a black string-like material in the other.

He was staring at your arm, the concentration on his face strong as he held the items up. It was a rather odd sight, and you couldn't help but lean closer to get a better look.

Rudy blinked, his focus snapping up at you, and he gave you a lopsided grin.

You watched him for a moment, the man simply staring back at you with the same grin, and after a moment of silence, he put the tools down.

"And, presto." He said, his grin widening, and before you knew it, he was packing up the box.

Damn, that was fast.

He wrapped the wound in an actual bandage, moving at the speed of light, and before you could even comprehend what was happening, Rudy was already finished.

The man got up, stretching out his back as he did, and he glanced down at you with a soft smile.

"I don’t keep any antibiotics around here, but a simple store trip can fix that. You don’t need anything fancy, just a simple infection control, and you should be good to go. It doesn't seem to be too bad, and if it gets any worse, then we can look into that later... at the ER."

"Right." You mumbled, not having the energy to protest. The sarcasm, the jokes, the humor... everything was gone. You were drained, and now that the whole ordeal was over, you felt yourself slouching against the chair.

You looked up at Rudy, and before you could speak, he was already talking.

"Don’t worry about it. I’ll drop you home tomorrow morning before I go in. I’m seconds away from passing out, and you look like you're about to fall over."

You nodded, a silent thank you falling from your lips. Rudy gave you a nod in response and then gestured towards the hallway.

It wasn’t too long after that you found yourself walking down the hallway with a spare pillow and blanket. The guest bedroom was empty, and when you entered, the lights were off.

You didn’t question it, and instead, you set the pillow and blanket on the bed and made yourself comfortable. He said he used this room a lot, but somehow, it looked so untouched. It wasn’t dusty, but the way the room was set up proved that it wasn't often used.

Still, you were far too exhausted to give it a second thought.

Rudy walked past the doorway, a pair of keys in his hands as he waved them around. You heard him mention something about locking up and going to sleep, and after he left, the hall was silent.

And then, after a few minutes, the house was silent.

As you lay there, a wave of exhaustion washed over you. Your arm was still numb, and you felt nothing as you gently placed your hand against the bandage.

There was no pain, no nothing. It was just ugly, and yet you were grateful.

You didn’t even know Rudy for that long. A mutual friend introduced you to one another, and ever since then, it has been a whirlwind of events.

Especially due to your overbearing clumsiness.

But tonight? What a true blessing.

You couldn’t thank him enough. Maybe you could make him breakfast in the morning. That sounded like a decent enough gift.

Unless you happened to break his kitchen or yourself, you’d have to see how things played out.

And with that, you rolled over, your eyes slowly drifting shut.

You were out within a minute. And fortunately for Rudy, so were his neighbors.

It was a rather quiet night, after all, and with his soundproof walls, no one could hear a thing.

Even with the preparation for the next present for his precious Ken, the perfect gift of appreciation, no one could hear the sounds of his true work.

Well, no one except you.

[@ghostheartbeat, @numetalnerd2007] Here’s your tag, besties! Go wild! ☺️☺️

I hope you guys liked the "realistic" approach I took here lmao. I felt really devious about this plot 😈

[battlekilt]

Perception vs. Reality.

Obi-Wan comports himself as though he is a man of total self-control and dignity. Yet, we see how much of a feral fucking menace he really is.

Anakin comports himself as though he is entirely capricious to the will of the moment. Yet, we see how he agonizes with forethought before his actions; it is ecstasy for him when he lets go and falls into the Force's will, falling wherever it may let him land.

Do we really expect these men's flag units to be any different than they? Do we really expect the 501st not to be the Force's chosen instrument that brings order to chaos or the 212th to not be order proceeded by chaos?

We, the outside observer, call the 501st a Battalion of chaos, yet it pulls off missions with careful execution and the honed focus of a scalpel. They are the calm in the storm, no less dangerous than any other of nature's raw forces, made moreso because it was given direction and purpose, with a target to hone in on.

We discuss the 212th similarly to its senior officers. It is the "golden" battalion. Yet, it is the 212th that throws itself with full-entropic force against its enemy. "Let slip the dogs of war" was colored in blurs of white and gold.

Nah, the 501st is the disciplined bunch. They are the unit forged in fire from hardened durasteel, with an edge sharp enough to split the wind, kept under control by the light touch of General and Captain less powerful than their look.

The 212th is the battalion that has earned its moniker—attack battalion—without question. It is the men under General Kenobi and Commander Cody that fling themselves with total disregard, screaming at the top of their lungs and only inhaling after victory.

It is the 212th that makes Commander Fox's men girdle their lions and cantina keepers put their insurance companies on speed dial. All they have to do when they see boys in blue is remind the men that they know the names of their General and Captain; one word and let mercy be the only salvation without recompense.

However, the 212th is summed as such:

The Force is the fickle finger of fate.

[lieslab]

The depths between: Chapter one

Trigger warning: Brief mention of vomiting and alcohol consumption.

Prologue

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

It all started with a dare. Your whole life, you were never one to turn down dares. You were competitive and you’d do anything to win one. Those decisions were stupid and over the years, the dares grew more and more risky. 

You kept your streak for four years; four years of stupid and petty dares. One of your worst attributes was your greed. There was nothing that was off limits for you. You worked your ass off and then bought things you didn’t need. 

That fancy new plate set that just came out by a celebrity? You bought it for your apartment. The overpriced candles that smelled really good? You didn’t bat an eye as you put three in your cart. The new shirt that celebrities spent a pretty penny on? Desperate to fit into the trends, you bought it too.  

Spending money was a blessing and a curse. On one end, it was thrilling and it was fun. You loved the brief high you got off purchasing more and more items. The curse? You didn’t like spending your money on the things you actually needed. 

You learned it the hard way after your landlord suggested you get renter’s insurance for your new place. You? You waved her off and laughed. You didn’t need renter’s insurance to insure all your goods. 

That mistake came back around and bit you in the ass. One moment you were sitting in your office and writing an email to your manager. The next, you were being called by your landlord and being told your apartment was gone. 

Something in another complex sparked and that was the end of that. Your technology? Gone. Those new pans? Destroyed. The clothes? Turned into ashes and sprinkled somewhere between here and the next town over, due to strong winds. 

It destroyed you and then came the dare from your friend. Restart your life, take a breather and try something else. When they suggested a cruise ship, you laughed out loud. It seemed so dumb, considering you didn’t live anywhere near a cruise ship line, but they insisted. 

Eventually, you did some research and one website led down a rabbit hole. The next thing you knew, you were applying for the nearest cruise line near you. You heard back a week later and then it was decided. 

That was almost a year ago now. You thought it’d only be a temporary thing, but then one contract turned into a longer one. For the past eight months, the ocean was your home. Sure, your hours were long, but you enjoyed it. 

There were a variety of different types of people and conversations came easy to you. You were a little timid at first, but then everything seemed to work out bit by bit. You took it day-by-day. 

You traveled across gentle waves and rockier ones. You survived severe storms and the first week of sea sickness dissipated as you slowly got used to the boat rocking beneath you. Everything was perfect and you were an excellent worker. Not even there for a year yet, you managed to move up two ranks to higher paying jobs. 

Late at night, there was a single rule that staff and guests were supposed to follow. Ever since a worker went over the side of the boat, after getting drunk at his birthday party, the CEO made a new rule. Nobody was allowed to go on the upper deck after it got dark out unless you were part of the captain’s crew. 

If you needed fresh air, you’d have to wait until daybreak. From ten at night to six in the morning, the upper deck was silent, besides the occasional look around from the captain’s crew. 

Being a worker on the inside, you knew the schedules of the captain crew. You knew when they took their sweeps and went out and scanned for boats. Despite living on the ocean, enemies were still out there. 

Through training, you had to sit through videos about potential pirate attacks. It was something that you weren’t expecting. You thought pirates were fictional movie characters. It turns out there was quite a bit of ocean knowledge you were missing out on. 

It was two in the morning on top of the deck. You were standing just out of the way of a door that led outside. If anyone walked by the glass door, they wouldn’t be able to spot you and lecture you. The last thing you needed was to be gabbed at by some snotty coworker. 

Most of them were pretty decent people, but even in the middle of the ocean, there was a fair share of assholes. On the deck, you rocked your khakis and light blue polo shirt. Your golden name tag sat to the left of your sternum. 

The salt-brined air was refreshing for your lungs. After a long day of standing and rushing around, you just needed some time to unwind. Out here, you only existed with the ocean. 

Down below, the water gently lapped against the sides of the iron hull. There were a couple hundred people on this ship. Most of them were inside and probably asleep. A few others were taking advantage of the twenty-four hour bar that was open seven days a week. 

It was the one thing you absolutely hated. The bartender struggled to cut people off. People were loud as they went back to their cabins. You dealt with a fair share of complaints from other voyagers. 

One night, a mixture of multiple fruity cocktails and vodka shots spewed out and landed on your chest. Apparently, the perpetrator was a young girl, who just recently graduated college, and she booked a cruise to celebrate. You still weren’t over the lingering disgusting feeling of warm stomach-acid washing soaking into your cotton shirt and hitting your skin. 

You shivered at the memory and shut your eyes trying to get it to fade away. Outside, it was warmer than you expected it to be. Despite it being winter, the cruise ship traveled closer to the equator to discover and tread through warmer waters. 

You were used to snow and ice at the beginning of the year. Gray skies with a chance of a rare (if you were lucky) glimpse of sunshine. The sun felt like a mockery in the winter. It was out, but little warmth was supplied. 

A faint ghostly gleam was cast by the moon. It lit up just enough for you to catch a faint glimpse of the water below. The water was pitch black and there was nothing you could do if you fell in. Falling overboard in the darkness was a death sentence, you were sure of it. 

That’s why you stayed far away from the rails and back towards the stern. By doing this, you were out of sight at the front. The captain and his crew wouldn’t catch a glimpse of you. Before they made their rounds, you dipped back inside and relocked the glass door you came through. 

Your body fell back against the side of the wall. Naturally, your arms crossed over one another and you let yourself breathe. Today had been a pretty rough day due to being yelled at by a few different passengers. Things weren’t working out and somehow, that meant that it was your fault. 

Somehow, someone ended up plugging a toilet. The clog was apparently being fixed by one of the janitors. At least, it was until a pipe burst. The toilet started to spray water all over the women’s restroom. 

By sheer luck, you were passing by and on your way to go back to your original job from your break. Passengers panicked and screamed. Picking up on the terror, a few kids in the area began to cry and asked if everyone was going to die. When the older kids began to joke about a second Titanic, people began to lecture them for being insensitive. 

The entire time, you were clueless. This was one of the things that was out of your realm of knowledge. In a panic, you dashed away to get your boss. You left the janitor suffering and trying to get the water to stop spewing from the toilet. It was a total nightmare. 

To make it worse, the bathrooms weren’t too far from the gym. You were tasked to remove everyone from the gym to close it. People were pissed when you cleared your throat and politely asked them to leave. 

Your day ended with insults and then the incredulous task of helping the janitor mop up toilet water. What a day it had been, truly. You couldn’t wait to get back to your room, shower, and go to sleep. 

However, the salty air called to you. These trips out into the dark were like being baptized. It was otherworldly at this time. A dark void, the pale moonlight, and just your thoughts. It was refreshing and purifying. 

You knew you shouldn’t have started the habit, but you couldn’t help it. There were so many people on the cruise. There were only certain times when you felt that you were truly alone. This peaked up at number one. 

You walked further to the back of the boat. You weren’t sure if it was true or not, but you heard a passenger earlier discussing jellyfish. Apparently, jellyfish may follow the ship and light up the water due to their bioluminescence. 

It was one of the main reasons you took this job. You always had a fascination for the ocean. Your friend pointed it out to you before you brushed them off. This was a great way to be able to see marine life in person. 

Beneath you, you were surrounded by sharks and whales. Fish that were no larger than your pointer finger and fish that were large enough that you needed two hands to haul them aboard. 

Jellyfish, seals, octopus, dolphins, squids, eels, and isopods. You could go on and on about marine life. It was something that had captivated your attention since you were a kid. 

You were halfway to the stern when your feet went still. You didn’t know where it was coming from, but it had you hooked. The soft silky voice filled your ears and drowned everything else out. 

The once eager and excited thoughts about the jellyfish drifted away. Your feet moved automatically towards the stern. The hair on the back of your neck crept up, but you couldn’t stop. 

You wanted to figure out where the voice was coming from. You needed to figure out where it drifted from. All you could think about was how pleasant it was. It was so angelic. 

You moved further with your arms outstretched. Down below, the void was without the brightened illumination of bright colored jellyfish. The air was saltier as your fingers gripped the rails that wrapped around the boat. 

You couldn’t register what was happening. Your brain oozed into jello. You hoisted yourself up and lifted your foot up another rail. Down below, you’d be caught by the dark waters. Nobody aboard would realize what happened until it was too late. 

The voice continued to captivate you. The deadly lullaby came from quite a few feet away. Hyunjin’s head poked out of the water and watched your outline climb higher and higher. 

Amusement began to spark inside of him as you climbed further up. Once you fell into the water below, it’d be too late for you. Nobody to capture you and nobody to save you. You’d be his and his alone. 

Only about two rails from throwing yourself overboard, there was suddenly a loud splash. A garbled yelp was muted by the water. The singing was cut off and it ceased immediately. 

Your eyes found the water and the mask of haze was ripped off. You were up on the metal rails facing death. You screeched and jerked yourself backwards. Your body free fell until you slammed hard into the wooden deck. 

The air was ejected from your lungs and you couldn’t breathe for a few moments. Once you sucked in a mouthful of salted oxygen, you scrambled up and took off. Your sneakers pounded along the floor. 

You weren’t sure what just happened and it scared you. One moment, you were thinking about jellyfish. The next, you were nearly tossing yourself overboard. You didn’t remember walking across the ship and you certainly didn’t remember climbing up the rails. 

Rushing back to the safety of the interior, you stumbled inside. Behind you, you jerked the glass door shut and placed the key inside the knob. Once it was locked, you took shaky steps back and glanced outside. 

Nothing had changed and there was nobody there. You were all alone besides the sound of your own heavy breathing. Your eyes squeezed shut and you sucked in a deep breath. Only one thought could circle your brain over and over again. 

What the hell had just happened? 

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Next part: Chapter two

Taglist: @ilovetocas1 @vvislici0us @fr34k4c1dr41n @hamburgers101 @juskz @x-0ophelia0-x @viviworkshere

Masterlist

Requests, taglist, and inbox rules

[madds-is-ace-trash]

Ok hear me out!

So um I had a fic idea and the brain worms took over ima be posting it here and if all goes well to ao3 Chapter 1 of the fic is below

Summary: After an accident kills everyone the boy has ever known and injured the god of time, clockwork rushes to the only place he’s knows will take the now boy king. Gotham takes the now 6 year old Danny in to her arms, her child of the stars. And she’s going to ensure he gets the life he always deserved.

Mother of the storm and her star child

Chapter 1: In which a ward is gained

Clockwork clutches his side, the toxic green substance that makes up his being spilling on to his purple robes. As he flies over a city with a sky set dark over the horizon. Despite his very core feeling like it's about to split at the seams, he dare not falter. For in his arms is a bundle of blankets he holds his king. Much smaller than he was just an hour ago as his body rebuilds itself.

All he can do is pray that his old friend cand lend him a hand. That she’ll take in the only thing he has left to live for. The young boy has nowhere else to go and clock work has his own wounds to address. As he lands at last falling to his knees, wincing as his wound lets out another puff of its toxic excision. He sets the boy down in the alley and knows that she'll find him soon.

As thunder roles over the dark city, from the shadows a figure steps out into the dim light. Her skin is a dark purple, her hair seems to be made of the very storm that follows her wherever she gose. Her eyes a yellow like lighting breaking from the dark sky, dressed in black dress with a shawl made of stars. “ Gotham, you look well old friend,” CW manages to spit out threw pain with a weak smile on his face.

——————————————————

“Clockwork?” her voice booms as the thunder rolls, her eyes narrow at the bundle in his arms.

“Let me explain, Pleas old friend I need your help,” he begs weakly, his form shifting yet shaking. He takes his hand off his side to move the blanket, in his arms a child no older than six(6). He's skin and bones, he's so small, smaller than he has any right to be. His raven hair is messy and his clothes 5 sizes too big. “ Please old friend, he has nowhere left to go, no kin to return to,” clock work says as his form shifts to that of an old man sending another green stain against the pavement. “ I am all that remains yet i'm afraid I must lick my own wounds if I wish to live to see him threw”

Gothem eyes her old acquaintance barely holding himself together, then her eyes drift to the small boy that lay in his arms. Her expression softens, she leans down and takes the wad from the ghost. And then like a wave of ice that chills her to the bone she realizes what she is holding. “ The boy king? Who? WHY!” her eyes slit and the thunder grows stronger. The wind begins to wip as she eyes the small bae that lay in her arms.

“His parents they…… they found him,” he snarls, “ They Hurt him….. The lab is no more it…. It took everyone, all I could do was save him but” he takes a heaving breath,” I could only do so much.”

Gotham seemed to understand what he ment, she looked at the boy still asleep with sorrow in her eyes, “ Please dear friend” clockwork begged once more, “ give him the life he always deserved, I cant keep him, not like this.” His throat felt tight as his eye stung, he can't cry not now.

“With everything I am, the boy will be safe,” The thunder low and distant like a spring storm, “ go now heal and so you may return to him once more” She smiles as she sees a peak of the boy's eyes as he dreams, blue, a beautiful vibrant blue. “ I know someone who will love him as his own'' Clock work fades his form relaxing as he disappears into the night.

The sky begins to cry but not in sorrow but joy, the prince has a new home and Gotham will insure he’ll grow, to be the king that the realm deserves. As she turns him to shield him from the rain a ring of light washes over the boy, his hair is white as snow, freckles make the stars, and a crown rest upon his brow. “ Rest now, my child of the stars, here you'll find you belong.” With that they boy renters to his human state. Now she just has to figure out how to induce him to her other children.

If y’all like it I’ll keep going also thinking about sketching what I envision my version of Gotham looks like. I like the idea of her being a storm spirit and that’s why Gotham always rains.

I did it [part 2]

[azfellandco]

OOPS! All Goats!: azfellandco's Good Omens Mountain Goats Playlist (spotify link here)

This is a playlist that's all Mountain Goats songs that remind me of Good Omens, with explanations.

Rain In Soho (x): nothing sharper than a serpent's tooth / nothing harder than the gospel truth / though you repent and don sackcloth and try to make nice / you can't cross the same river twice

Soho, serpent's tooth, can't cross the same river... this song to me conjures up Crowley driving the Bentley through London at night.

Rat Queen (x): great warm throb of the undercity / at one with the purpose / i am a faceless nameless acolyte / here tonight at your service

Crowley & Crowley's Rat Army... Crowley is the rat queen. this song choice is so unserious but I love the use of the word "acolyte" in this song

Heretic Pride (x): well they come and pull me from my house / and they drag my body through the streets... transfiguration's gonna come for me at last / and i will burn hotter than the sun / i waited so long and now i taste jasmine on my tongue

I've been meaning to make a video or a gifset or something for Agnes Nutter using this song literally since before s1 came out. have i done it yet? no.

Heel Turn 2 (x): get stomped like a snake / lie down in the dirt / cling to my convictions / even when i get hurt... stay good under pressure / for years and years and years and years

Crowley song.

Stench of the Unburied (x): incoherent but functional / speeding like a dead comet... but when the blue lights flash / i know we're going to crash

A Crowley driving in the Bentley song.

Cry For Judas (x): some people crash two or three times / and then learn from their mistakes / but we are the ones who don't slow down at all / and there's nobody there to catch us when we fall

Also a Crowley driving in the Bentley song, with bonus biblical era trauma.

Insurance Fraud #2 (x): big plans, big plans, let me tell you something sister: you will never get away with it

This is on here because I will never get over how funny I find it that book!Aziraphale keeps getting investigated for possible tax fraud.

Mark On You (x): when this is over / when we leave it all behind us / deep in the moonless night / when the rescue team finds us / it's gonna get so dark for you / i'm gonna leave a mark on you

Crowley to Aziraphale.

Riches and Wonders (x): we live high, our loves gorges / on the alcohol we feed it / and it grows all fat and friendly / we have surplus if we need it

This is the Mountain Goats Good Omens song to me. Aziraphale and Crowley in the bookshop, their love for each other, and clinging to each other through the ages.

Mobile (x): and the plant grew but it withered / it shriveled up and turned brown / i'm on a balcony... waiting for the wind to throw me down / lord if you won't keep me safe and warm / then send down the storm, send down the storm

Loss of faith. Aziraphale song.

Elijah (x): set the table, those three extra places / one for me, one for your doubts, one for God

Aziraphale song.

Grendel's Mother (x): i look down on the world from the top of this lonesome hill / and you can run, run some more... but i will carry you home in my teeth

Aziraphale to Crowley.

Ending the Alphabet (x): we've got the brightest skylight / like a vision of heaven in the evening sky... and the late sunlight makes them all look like angels / what is there left in a city like this / when everyone you know is gone?

London, the bookshop, and the impossibility of permanence when you're a pair of immortals trying to make a home for each other.

Deuteronomy 2:10 (x): i have no fear of anyone, i'm dumb and wild and free / i am a flightless bird and they'll be no more after me

About extinct animals, titled after a biblical passage about an extinct race of people. This song has always resonated with that same impossibility of permanence and the contradiction between that and Aziraphale and Crowley's love for the world and being in it.

Never Quite Free (x): it's okay to find the faith to saunter forward / with no fear of shadows spreading where you stand

Saunter hehehe. But no this is about Crowley's trauma.

New Britain (x): i try to tell you secrets 'til my face turns blue / i am not getting through to you

Aziraphale and Crowley can't communicate openly.

So Desperate (x): we were parked in your car / in our neutral meeting place... i had things i'd been meaning to say

This goes with that passage in the book where, during the years they were observing Warlock, Aziraphale and Crowley met "on the tops of buses, in art galleries, and at concerts" to me. Them meeting covertly but this time they're parked in the Bentley somewhere and one of them just starts to cry. "Desperate" is an apt description of their reaching for each other after so many years of not being able to, to me.

In the Craters on the Moon (x): when the room fills with smoke / lie down on the floor / in the declining years / of the long war

The 6000 year long war, in fact. Crowley in the burning bookshop.

Have To Explode (x): the stage is set / someone's gonna do something someone else will regret / i speak in smoke signals and you answer in code / the fuse will have to run out sometime / something here will eventually have to explode, have to explode

Aziraphale and Crowley being unable to communicate openly, speaking in code, the anticipation of the apocalypse, and always, the knowledge that the coming end is inevitable. A song for those low moments when they feel it's pointless.

Training Montage (x): i'm doing this for revenge / i am doing this to try and stay true / i'm doing this for the ones they left to twist in the wind / i'm doing this for you

"twist in the wind" echoing back to "send down the storm" in the song Moblie. Aziraphale and Crowley wanting to save each other and save their shared world and the way that makes them brave.

Love, Love, Love (x): snakes in the grass beneath our feet / rain in the clouds above / some moments last forever / but some flare out with love, love, love

The other ultimate Mountain Goats Good Omens song. This is that first rain in Eden.

[grimogretricks]

The real wreck of the Demeter- the Dmitri

I had assumed Bram Stoker had holidayed in Whitby and looked it up today and found that not only had he done so, but that the fate of the Demeter was based upon a real Russian ship, the Dmitri, which survived a storm but ran aground in Whitby in 1885.

From the Leeds Mercury newspaper 26th October 1885: 'SEVERE GALE . . . WHITBY. A storm of great violence visited the north-east coast on Saturday, accompanied by torrents of rain . . . About an hour after the stranding of the MARY AND AGNES, another vessel was sighted a few miles out flying signals of distress. The gale was then at its height, and the sea even more dangerous than before. Another lifeboat, the HARRIOTT PORTEATH, was got out. A little excitement prevailed among the thousands of people on shore, for it seemed certain that if the vessel was cast upon the rocks she would be immediately dashed to pieces and the crew drowned. The craft, however, steered straight for the port, and by good seamanship got into the harbour safely. She proved to be the Russian brigantine DMIRTY [sic].' 

From the North-Eastern Daily Gazette 26th October 1885:

'The Russian which succeeded in getting into Whitby harbour so gallantly on Saturday afternoon afterwards, unfortunately, ran into Colliers' Hope. Efforts were made to get her off, without success, but it was hoped that she would rise with the next tide, and the crew remained on board. Yesterday morning, however, the sea beat savagely against the vessel. Her masts gave way and fell with a crash over her side, and the vessel herself began to break up. She will be sold as a wreck. This morning the wind had gone down considerably, and the sea was much less heavy.' "

From the Northern Echo 27th October 1885:

"'Yesterday, at Whitby, the storm had considerably abated, there being little wind and a comparatively smooth sea. The Russian vessel DIMITRI, which so gallantly entered the harbour on Saturday in spite of the terrible sea afterwards ran ashore in Collier's Hope. It was supposed that she would be safe here, but on the rise of the tide yesterday morning, the seas beat over her with great force. Her masts fell with a terrific crash, and the crew were obliged to abandon her. She is now a complete wreck. The vessel was bound from Antwerp to Newcastle, with silver sand as ballast. She was not insured."

From the Whitby Gazette 31st October(!) 1885, recounting the whole story:

"A little later in the afternoon a schooner was descried to the south of the harbour, outside the rocks. Her position was one of great danger; for being evidently unable to beat off, there seemed nothing for it but to be driven among the huge breakers on the scar. Her commander was apparently a man well acquainted with his profession, for with consummate skill he steered his trim little craft before the wind, crossing the rocks by what is known as the ‘sledway’ and bringing her in a good position for the harbour mouth. 'The piers and the cliffs were thronged with expectant people, and the lifeboat ‘HARRIOT FORTEATH’ was got ready for use in case the craft should miss the entrance to the harbour and be driven on shore. When a few hundred yards from the piers she was knocked about considerably by the heavy seas, but on crossing the bar the sea calmed a little and she sailed into smooth water. A cheer broke from the spectators on the pier when they saw her in safety. 'Two pilots were in waiting, and at once gave instruction to those on board, but meanwhile the captain not realising the necessity of keeping on her steerage, allowed her to fall off and lowered sail, thus causing the vessel to swing towards the sand on the east side of the harbour. On seeing this danger the anchor was dropped, but they found no hold and she drifted into Collier’s Hope and struck the ground. She purported to be the schooner ’DMITRY’ of Narva, Russia, Captain Sikki, with a crew of seven hands, ballasted with silver sand. During the night of Saturday the men worked incessantly upon her that her masts went by the board and on Sunday morning, she lay high and dry a broken and complete wreck, firmly embedded in the sand.' "

So here we have the ship here, making its way safe to the harbour in a difficult storm, only to still be wrecked upon the following day upon the sands.

There was a suggestion in the Guardian newspaper that the story had even been told at Whitby of a black dog being seen leaping from the ship and running up to the churchyard!

I thought it was interesting seeing how they reported on the real incident, and to imagine that the people of Whitby would have recognised the ship and its fate from the description. Thankfully, from what I can see nobody seems to have died in the real wreck of the Dmitri.

I found the information here:

[hillbillyoracle]

What To Do In Tornados

I’ve lived in tornado country pretty much my whole life and to be honest they still freak me out. I also remember how anxiety inducing it was when I first moved out and had to deal with them on my own. So like a message in a bottle to my former self, I wanted to compile what I’ve learned over the years in a skimmable format in case there’s anyone else out there today who could use it. 

Difference between a watch and a warning?

Tornado watch means you have time; think of a wrist watch. Tornado warning means one is incoming, no more time. This is the one I use to remember it.

Or if you prefer the Weather Channels very memeable explanation - tornado watch means you have taco (tornado) ingredients - picture a taco bar. Tornado warning means you have a fully assembled taco (tornado). This is what my partner uses. 

So there are possible tornados in the forecast: 

Make a plan about where you’ll go if you get a warning. It should be the most interior room in your house, well away from any windows. Here we have a walkout basement and I go to the most interior part of it. When I was in an apartment, the most interior room happened to be my bathroom and hallway. If you live in a dorm or other communal setting, they should have a plan in place so make sure to find out what it is.

Take pictures of your rooms and car in the event you need to file an insurance claim. Having pictures of what you own, it’s condition is helpful for filing insurance claims if you need to. Especially if you’re a renter. This is easiest to do when there’s no storms in your area so you aren’t nervous or pressed for time.

Make a power outage plan. A lot of the threat that comes with tornados is not from the tornados themselves but the damaging straight line winds around the tornado. Whenever there’s high winds, there’s a chance to lose power. Consider how you’d eat, drink, go to the bathroom, and stay warm in the event of a power outage. Less necessary but still helpful - consider how you’ll entertain yourself, especially if cell towers go down or you need to conserve your phone battery. Consider what chores - like laundry or dishes - would be good to have out of the way before hand. 

Grab snacks and food that doesn’t need refrigeration. If you’re able to make a grocery store run, grab some food you can eat that is shelf stable and doesn’t require cooking. A good rule of thumb in my experience is three days worth. Most power outages I’ve been through have been fixed in that time and you can more safely evacuate then if you need to go somewhere with power. If you’re like me and have a lot of food allergies (gluten, dairy, soy) - consider baking items ahead of time that can keep well at room temperature like cookies, scones, and breads. 

So you’ve been issued a Tornado Watch:

Check the forecast; you might have lots of time before the storms will be in your area or you might have very little.

Make a plan if you haven’t already. Or check your building’s plan if you live in a dorm or communal setting. 

Make sure everyone involved knows the plan. Don’t assume people you’re with know. I have made that mistake before. 

Charge your phone and electronics. If you don’t currently have a thunderstorm in your area, go ahead and charge your phone, power bank, flashlights, and anything else you’ll want to take with you your safe spot.

Gather supplies to take with you to your safe spot

Minimum: 

Shoes

Phone

Form of ID*

Leash/Harness/Cage for pets 

Explanation of minimum: 

Shoes are important because if you need to evacuate, there’s likely broken glass and other things on the floor that can injure you. If you can’t safely move through it, then people will have to come escort you out which means waiting longer + more risk. 

Phone is important for calling for help and receiving alerts. Also many can double as a flashlight in a pinch.

*ID is helpful accessing emergency housing and medical services if you have to leave your home. If your ID doesn’t list your residence or you don’t have/want to have ID documents on you for safety reasons, consider grabbing a copy of your lease or some mail addressed to you there. You can still access services without this, it just helps speed stuff up. 

Keeping pets on a leash or cage helps keep them safe in the event you need to evacuate with them. 

If you can:

Tote bag

Helmet

Flashlight

Power bank + cord

Weather radio

Water bottles

Some pet food + bowl

Snacks

I put all my supplies in a little tote bag. It’s my storm tote (conference bag I’m never gonna use for anything else).

Helmet is pretty self explanatory. One more way to keep your head safe in case anything falls on you. 

Flashlights help you move around your house if it’s safe to stay in if the power goes out. In the event your house is unsafe, it helps you safely evacuate. If you’re trapped, it helps you signal for help. 

Power bank + cord helps you recharge your phone if the power goes out. When you’re checking alerts and watching streams, the battery can deplete quickly. 

Weather radios of any kind is helpful. Cell service often goes out so the way you’ll get your information then will be primarily through radio. If you’re reading this not in a watch and want to get one, look for ones that will wake you up if there’s a warning in your area. Midland has several. I have a small Sony radio I take with me to my safe spot. 

Water bottles are helpful because they’re highly portable and in the unlikely event you get trapped in your house, you’ll have water to keep you hydrated while help gets to you. 

Pet food is so you can feed your animal without leaving your safe spot since warnings can last a long time. I’ve seen some areas be warned for 1-2 hours before if a storm is slow moving enough. But it’s also so you’ll have some food for them in the event you need to evacuate. 

Snacks are similar to pet food. It’s you food. Just helps you shelter in place. 

So you’ve been issued a Tornado Warning:

Put on your shoes

Put pets on harnesses and a leash or in a cage 

Go to your safe spot and don’t come out until the warning has expired

Especially if the warning is PDS or has some other enhanced tag, try to bring something to cover your head and body with - like a mattress. A thick blanket is better than nothing in a pinch.  

[accidentalslayer]

My twenties was a sea of symptoms without a rudder. I'd hold on to the mast of my ship, staring horrified at the waves as they'd come crashing down upon me, trying to sink me, and wonder where the storm came from. It was peaceful just a moment ago! Why had the ocean suddenly become so violent? I'm in my thirties now. I'm just starting to piece together the moon, the undercurrents, and the gravity that pulls those waves. The awful realization that the storm was always there, regardless of the serene posture of the surface. I've been sailing through a storm my whole life and the boat I was sold was faulty. Full of leaks and problems that the seller didn't warn me about. No, sir! The crack in the ceiling was there after you arrived. Your insurance won't cover it. You'll have to take out a loan. The terror of being thirty is recognizing that gravity in everything and everyone around you. You can see their bad moons rising. You sense the shifting of the winds. Feel that wicked undertow. When speaking to someone new, someone who hasn't identified the gravity of their storm, you soon begin to realize they aren't really talking to you. Not really. They're talking to the storm inside themselves. And you're just the telephone they're speaking to it through. Not so long ago, you did the same to others...didn't you?

You called it "friendship" and "relationship" and "situationship" but it was always you and the ship that was sinking. In the storm that was always there.

[burningspy]

Some massive storms tore through north Texas very early this morning.

Wind blowing at 80+ mph in many areas. Trees ripped apart. Heavy rain with flash flooding. Nearly 650,000 homes without power (mine included). Major damage all over the place.

This is one of the two driveways out of my apartment complex blocked by what used to be a tree. The other one is similar, but had just enough space to squeeze past if you pop the curb a tiny bit.

This other picture is the roof of my mother's house. Except the house in the picture that it is currently on is her next door neighbor.

There are also many other homes and businesses that are in much worse shape than this.

Needless to say, insurance agents and construction crews are going to be extremely busy.

[bloodanddiscoballs]

Alright I said I was gonna make a sappy post for my 30th birthday so here it goes!:

I never thought I would live to see 30. I know that many people say that, and I'm sure that sentiment isn't unique on here. Here's the thing; I'm disabled. I have almost died due to my health 3 times since 2011 and indeed did once before being brought back. My immune system is nonexistent, and my chronic pain has me at currently 6 reconstructive back surgeries and round the clock pain medication.

When I was 17 years old, I became a victim of medical malpractice and had my entire life changed in an instant. Didn't get to go off to college, didn't get to work normally, didn't get to move out - didn't, didn't, didn't. For years, I was told that I would heal. That I would be fine. I was young! Young people don't get sick. I'll bounce back. Just be patient. But I didn't get better, I got worse. And every year older was another year into my 20s where I wasn't able to do "the normal stuff." I never finished college, but I did get some classes done. I would work for a few months before needing to quit. I got married and then divorced. All "failures" due to my health.

At 27, I went to see my therapist and sat down and told her that I couldn't see into my future. I remember telling her, "Every day is hell. I can't do this for another 10 years. I've barely made it through this last 10. I don't even know if I can do it for another 3." I was at the end of my rope, convinced that I wouldn't make it. My back was crumbling underneath me again, and insurance was fighting me tooth and nail to be approved for another surgery. I was bedridden. I was on the highest medication load I've taken, and it wasn't even touching my pain. I wasn't connected to anything - not my art, not friends, not the world around me. I was looking very seriously at my options of what I thought was either suffering or dying.

So, she suggested a mindfulness program. It was a 6-week course at UCSD (University of California San Diego) that taught you how to. essentially, live in the moment. At first, I thought it was honestly the stupidest thing I'd ever heard. I'll admit that I was sour on it, but I said I would try it and I paid for the class so I did it. I sat through the meditations, wrote on the topics they gave, went through the exercises they instructed, and did the full day retreat. And at the end of those 6 weeks, I was alive again. I learned to savor every bite of my food. I learned how to pay attention to the sun on my skin. I learned to enjoy how it felt to have my air move in and out of my lungs. I learned how to look in the mirror and love what I saw and dress myself in what made me happy (this is when I started with the disco clothes). The warm feel of skin, the taste of my favorite soda, the beautiful way my cat purrs, the glorious smell of rain, the lovely way dust looks illuminated by the sun - I learned how to Live.

My life is still hard. My pain has not improved. I did get that surgery, so now my back is thankfully more stable than it's ever been. I know that I probably won't live a very long time compared to most, but none of that makes me sad anymore, not really. I have my bad days, and I have my good days, and no matter what, I live in the moment. I feel my emotions and let them have their space within me before letting them flow. And after over a decade of not touching my art because I felt like it was robbed from me, I paint now. I paint for myself, and I paint for others, and by God, I enjoy every second of it. I feed the little barn cats out in the back of where I live now, and I love them. I enjoy the sound of the wind through the oak trees, and I listen to my music, and I take pictures of the bugs. I watch the clouds race by when it's about to storm, and I talk to the flowers that grow outside my fence. I love my bed for holding me on my bad days and love that I have pretty artwork from friends hanging on my walls to comfort me when I can't leave my room. I dress up in my fun disco stuff whenever I can, and on the days I can't, I enjoy my soft, comfy pj's. I talk to my friends online every day and apologize for the days I can't when my pain makes it too hard to think. I play fun video games and watch good movies and enjoy fun podcasts. I Live.

Today, I am 30 years old. I have lived through what should have killed me many times over. And I am so, so happy I am here. And for however long I have, I will continue to live in the moment, enjoying the days and moments I can and allowing the bad to simply be bad. I plan for tomorrow because that is all I can plan for.

I live, and that is enough.

[scotianostra]

January 27th 1974 the Greek sugar-carrying merchant navy ship Captayannis dragged it’s anchor and capsized on the Firth of Clyde between Greenock and Helensburgh.

The 4,567-ton 'sugar boat’ got into trouble on the night of January 27, when a fierce storm hit.

The vessel had dropped anchor at the Tail of the Bank, with a cargo of sugar from Lourenco Marques in Portuguese East Africa, and waited for high tide to offload it at the James Watt Dock sugar terminal for processing at Tate & Lyle’s Westburn Refinery.

However, a severe gale hit the west coast, with winds of more than 60mph, and the Captayannis began to drag anchor.

Captain Theodorakis Ionnis ordered the engine to be started, intending to make for the more sheltered waters of the Gare Loch.

Also anchored at the Tail of the Bank, however, was the 36,754 ton BP tanker British Light, recently arrived from Elderslie dry dock.

Before the Captayannis could power-up, the gale blew her towards the tanker, and, although the two vessels didn’t touch, the tanker’s anchor chain ripped through the passing Captayannis’ hull.

Seawater immediately started pouring in, and the pumps couldn’t cope.

The captain made for the sandbank to try to ground his ship, but, when he reached it, the profile of the hull meant the vessel wasn’t stable and began to heel over to port.

This resulted in all power being lost, and the Captayannis eventually settled port side down on the sandbank.

The crew were rescued, without injury, by the tug Labrador and the MV Rover of Clyde Marine Services.

By 10am on January 28, wreckage from the ship had already been washed ashore at Helensburgh.

The vessel has lain in the same spot since the sinking and is not considered a hazard to navigation.

She remains unable to be removed due to a wrangle between her owners and insurers, and plans to have her blown up were shelved due to fears over damage to the nearby Ardmore Point bird sanctuary.

The locals don't seem to mind the wreck lying there as it became a popular attraction for young fishermen and even tourists, a Bistro on Colquhoun Square, Helensburgh even bears the name Sugarboat. Through time Captayannis has become 'home' to marine life and birds, the wreck is even visible on satellite and is tagged on Google Earth.

Clyde Charters are running trips from James Watt Dock Marina to MV Captayannis to mark 50 years since the ship. It's a small boat carrying 12 passengers and the trip, which lasts an hour costs £17.95 for adults and £12.95 for children.