#in terms of number as well as who they are

[drdemonprince]

Any chance you'd expand on the hank hill trans guy post? (Sorry, best indicator I could come up with.) The concept interests me as I decidedly know my maleness, yet don't feel impeded by for the most part, any male gendered norms/boxes. I am fairly masculine, though I rarely use those kinds terms to describe myself. I have found I often do stray outside of what society pushed for me when I transitioned, yet I again do not feel it has taken from my right to maleness whatsoever. I am just me, who happens to be male. I have had friends try and suggest I am NB adjacent but I do not feel this way whatsoever. I feel more people are outliers to gender expectation than we care to admit and it's disappointing the way cis-people deny that. Hope this wasn't too long winded, I value your writing and perspective, and wanted to hear more of your thoughts on this.

Yeah, well so many things all get conflated by gender labels, and it's all so personal, you know? Masculinity does not have to mean maleness, and a person's gender identity might be a reflection of some innate quality they experience themselves as having, or a general summary of their tendencies, or their desired presentation, or their sense of affinity with other people, or an interpersonal tool, or something they just go along with because it was given to them by society, or any other number of things.

I think my recent substack piece on detransition goes into this pretty well, and I have an upcoming piece of what @pastimperfection calls "bilateral dysphoria" that comes out next week that delves into it too.

I think I mostly saw taking on a male identity as a means to an end more than any kind of innate reflection of who I was, though I did feel an affinity with effeminate men for a lot of reasons. I think I also discounted how much I have in common with my fellow nonbinary people of all stripes, because that identity became so strongly associated with being an annoying type of queer person that everybody else just wrote off as ultimately being their assigned gender at birth anyway no matter how much they protested. it doesn't help that 'nonbinary' is a catchall term for literally thousands if not millions of very distinct experiences and desires.

transitioning gave me control over how i was perceived, finally, but hormones are a throttle that only go in one very specific direction, and you don't really have all that much control over which changes kick in at which times and what people will make of you once you do start registering to them as some identity other than what you were first saddled with. it's an incredible gift to be able to toggle that throttle. but it's limited, not because medical transition isn't incredible and needed for so many, but because there is no escaping the goddamned binary cissexist logic that influences everything about how people treat you, how you navigate institutions, who finds you desirable and what they want out of you, and so much else.

if you're able to cast a lot of the external societal bullshit aside and feel strong in your maleness, maybe you're stronger than me or maybe our orientation to these things is just different, i don't know. i was never all that sensitive to feedback that i was doing the whole being-a-woman-thing all that wrong. i reveled in violating those rules to an extent. succeeding at being a woman despite my best attempts was what felt super dysphoric. and now i guess im succeeding at being a man, insofar as im always read as one, and it feels just as uncomfortable and objectifying and false. i thought that with manhood i could probably just grit my teeth and deal with it, but i'm finding that i can't.

ive always been very open that for me, gender is a thing I Do, and i guess to those who know me well it wouldnt be surprising to hear that i have gotten tired of Doing Being a Man and dont feel like playing that particular gendered game anymore. I tend to get bored of things! and find the flaws in things. and find my comfort in being fault-finding and contrarian and not being a joiner. and thats okay. i learned a lot along the way. not having to try any more is a huge relief. i can just do whatever. and know actively that people will more often than not be wrong in what they make of me.

maybe it was natural feeling for you to decidely 'know' your maleness without a care for masculine standards because that is the right identity for you! and maybe i only feel secure in the "not knowing" realm and in letting go of what people think of me or finding any kind of tidy categorization for it because that's the right spot for me. for now. until i find a new interesting way to be unhappy and striving for more and different again. :) that's just part of being alive, for me.

[petalruesimblr]

Blüdhaven Police Department

Download Link: Sim File Share |

Description:

Welcome to the Blüdhaven Police Department, where safety and security are our top priorities. Our dedicated team of officers work tirelessly to uphold the law and protect the citizens of our tight-knit community. From patrolling the quiet streets to responding swiftly to emergencies, we're here to serve and protect. With a modest facility and limited staff, you can trust us to keep our town safe for all who call it home.

Details:

Price: 90,594 Lot Size: 30X20 Lot Type: No Visitors Allowed Minimum Required Game Version: 1.42 Store Content: None CC Used: Click me Packs Needed: The Sims 3, World Adventures, Ambitions (Trees, Arch), Pets, Generations, Late Night (Elevator, Floor Tiles)

Hi everyone! I was just about to share one of my old custom rabbit hole builds but when I took another look, I realized it contains around 200 CC's which may not be suitable for gameplay for some players. So, I went ahead and rebuilt it on a smaller lot with fewer CC's.

This was only for the police department and I'm dreading the day I have to check my custom hospital lot because I totally remembered I had a morgue with dead bodies in it.🤭

Click on the ’Keep Reading’ below for more information and pictures on this lot.

For this lot, I've reduced the number of CC to 30! Now that I'm slowly introducing CC to my lots, I've decided to create a new WCIF Navigation page to make each post neater and to help others check CC more easily for every lot, as well as crediting the amazing TS3 creators.

To respect the terms of use (TOU) of all creators, I won't include the custom contents (CCs) in my download file. Instead, I will always provide their direct links so that you all have the option to download them separately. I have followed this practice since the beginning as a creator and will continue to do so in the future.

📣 Please note that I've offered alternative links for the rabbit hole doors/rugs because I have an older version of the game so I'm currently using an older version of the rabbit hole as well. I've placed the rabbit hole room on the first floor and used a door for a "Chief/Boss showroom" but you can remove the objects if you plan to use a rug instead.

I updated my details above, particularly the 'Minimum Required Game Version' because it seems that some may not understand that this lot can still be played with new versions/patches. :)

This lot has been play-tested, including the RH door, which works fine. The décor inside the room won't affect it so you can keep it as is. As for the rug, it fits inside the room but you may need to remove the objects inside to ensure there are no obstacles when Sims enter it. Let me know if you experience any problems on your end!

#petalruesimblr #community lot #the sims 3 #the sims 3 police department #lots #ts3 #sims 3 #sims 3 lots #ts3 police department #ts3 simblr #ts3 simmer #ts3 download #ts3 screenshots #ts3 community #sims 3 download #sims 3 screenshots

[lucawrites11]

we're back at it because barça stressing me out man so...

my optimal barça line-up and game plan (v ch*lsea)

warning: controversial BUT i justify all my choices

yeah i forgot to change keira's number and made a typo in paralluelo sorry

My Game Plan:

Okay, first of all, if Graham Hansen is not fully healed. I want and need this instead and because I cannot have a conversation with medical staff, I will be justifying both of these line-ups.

The Wings:

Left: Ona Batlle and Salma Paralleulo

I think one of Jona's big mistakes last weekend was not having these two on the same wing. It has been deadly all season down that left-hand side for both Spain and Barcelona. It is better on the left but I also will take it on the right-hand side, especially, if Graham Hansen is injured and Rolfö is playing in place of Bronze.

The combo of both their speed is almost impossible any defender to handle and if you think about the Ch*lsea back four that H*yes is likely to put it, their speed combination will be difficult for Charles or Carter to handle as their speed historically has not been able to match the speed of Paralleulo and Batlle. Ultimately, Barcelona's best chances on the weekend came from fast counter attacks and speed getting into the box and, from the past, we know that is something that Paralluelo and Batlle can reliably combine to do either down the left or the right (down the right if Rolfö and Pina are playing)

Right: Lucy Bronze and Caroline Graham Hansen (if fit) / Fridolina Rolfö and Claudia Pina

Honestly, the primary motivation for picking Bronze and Graham Hansen as the preferred starting players is because I would prefer to see Batlle and Paralleulo on the left, however, I am pretty flexible on this wing and would like the fittest players to play and it's obvious that Graham Hansen has been dealing with some sort of injury. If Bronze and Graham Hansen start, I want to see them subbed off for Rolfö and Pina and vice versa.

Ultimately, Rolfö and Graham Hansen did not link up well on the wing last weekend and due to injuries they haven't had much time to gel. The better partnerships and pairings in my opinion are Rolfö and Pina and Bronze and Graham Hansen. Bronze was one of the best players as a sub on the weekend and has a lot of experience in these situations and against Chelsea, I think it would be good to use her.

The Defence:

Goalkeeper: Cata Coll

The obvious choice, clearly, the stronger Barcelona goalkeeper at the moment. Confident with her ball at her feet and a good ball-playing keeper with the ability to come out of her goal and act as an eleventh outfield player to overload a Ch*lsea midfield and progress play down the pitch.

Centrebacks: Irene Parades and Ingrid Engen

Taking Ingrid Engen off the pitch at the weekend was a crime, she was the best player and I think if she plays like that again, the only way she is coming off the pitch is surrounded by a medical team. I am serious, she is so fucking good and underrated. Her and Parades are also the strongest centreback pairing that Barcelona has put out all season, there is no doubt in my mind about this and judging my who Jona is resting and playing, there is no doubt in his mind either.

The Midfield/Forwards:

Defensive Midfielder: Keira Walsh

Solid for club and for country in every match. Most underrated player on the pitch and one of, if not, the best defensive midfielder in the world in terms of her ball recovery and blocking the passes. It was clear that Ch*lsea's tactic was too partially mark her out of the game and she needs to be brought into the game more likely by Engen overloading the midfield as an extra player with some forward movement out of the backline.

Central: Alexia Putellas, Aitana Bonmatí and Mariona Caldentey

Alexia and Bonmatí were two of the best players on the pitch on the weekend. They have so much combined experience and talent and are a deadly midfield pairing in the centre of the park. Alexia should've started on the weekend, she changed the game when she came on but there is only so much one player can do. Both she and Aitana have a bad match and come back better and fighting. They live and breathe Blaugrana and seemingly contrary to popular belief play really well together. Their combined fluidity allows each other to have a lot of freedom in the midfield.

Mariona is the strongest choice in that central position. She is best placed as a nine or false nine other than the wing that Jona had her play on the weekend. That position can also be fluid with her ability to drop into the midfield and Alexia's talent or playing that false nine position. She is better at being in the box and finishing chances than anyone else on the team and has a talent for creating space.

I would like to see Patri, Brugts and Vicky come on into the forward/midfield line as subsitutes but given the match could be 90 or 120 minutes, I don't want to apply exact timing as to when those substitutes should be made as that would depend on how the game is going and how it needs to managed.

Due to the fact, I will be in the stadium (in the home end (undercover and still firmly hating Ch*lsea)), I will not provide updates about the subs I think should be made. Only the friends who will likely regret going with me will hear my wonderful commentary and yapping on a level that has the ability to compete with Mapi Leon. But I am taking my camera so you will be all be blessed with some pics (if they are any good).

#luca commentates #fcb femeni #barcelona femeni #fc barcelona #barcelona women #alexia putellas #ingrid engen #lucy bronze #ona batlle #keira walsh #aitana bonmati #claudia pina #fridolina rolfö #cata coll #mariona caldentey #woso #caroline graham hansen #salma paralleulo

[atthebell]

i think one thing that's always been interesting to me is that people really believe/take for granted that the federation's goal is the islanders' happiness, when we really don't have any way of knowing if that's the truth. cucurucho says it a lot, claiming to care about islanders' happiness above all else, and it's been scattered throughout some federation lore (as well as being hinted at with the reset cinematics), but that doesn't mean it's actually true-- it could still be a smokescreen of what they really want. which, imo, is not happiness.

if it's all one big experiment, supposedly one of many, the idea that this one is the one that involves seeing what happens when islanders are happy is not a provable thing still, nor is it clear what that actually means to the federation. does happiness mean the islanders are content to remain on the island? does happiness mean building relationships and connecting with others? does happiness mean self-fulfillment (something deeply immeasurable)? it's not clear what it means to the federation, nor if that is their true goal. it could be that that has nothing to do with their goal, and is a complete misdirect. it could be that cucurucho's prime directive is the islanders' happiness (not that it's very good at that), but that's meant as a tactic to stymie islander curiosity/resistance. it could be any number of things.

and i think viewing it from a more meta lens of "we cannot tell what is or is not the truth; not only are all character povs biased but so is the larger narrative presented to us." i think comparing this framework to something like the good place is helpful, in that when you assume that what you're presented with is the truth and don't look at the setting critically, you will miss the fact that things presented to you as fact by any kind of source (including the framework of the medium itself or the established setting) are suspect and should be examined further.

i can even put it in a smaller way; there are ways within a limited character pov to present things as directly happening when they are not, and these are ways that mcrp creators have utilized. playing out an event that did not actually happen, canonical hallucinations, dream sequences that are not explained as such, physical representations of metaphorical experiences, etc. etc. are ALL things that mcrp creators of done. tricking your audience is an incredibly interesting and at times vital part of mcrp. so if just one creator within their own pov can do it, why can't the whole narrative? why can't you be convinced you're in a different genre, why can't you be convinced that the physical location your characters are placed in is someplace that isn't?

all this to say, i think a major issue in terms of analyzing media like this is allowing yourself to go along with assumptions without thinking about why you're falling so easily into them as truth. making all of your lore assumptions based off the notion that it is objective fact that the federation cares about and has the goal of islanders' happiness means you are going to miss details and fixate on others without looking at the full scope of possibilities. which i think was a serious issue during the height of investigation/mystery stuff-- people fell into the trap of "i KNOW this to be true" without considering the man behind the curtain. sure, cellbit found documents indicating that the federation was founded on isla quesadilla-- considering who sent him on the trail of said documents, who's to say that that's the truth?

i think bagi is a particularly interesting investigator when it comes to this kind of thing-- she's VERY good at holding onto a lot of different possibilites in her mind, even going so far as to act on a lot of them at once, and that means she doesn't take anything for granted. having all of the data in front of you, without attempting to skew it to a theory you already have in mind (which i admit is very difficult to do! humans are biased and are geared towards pattern recognition), is an important skill when it comes to any kind of data analysis or investigation.

anyway idk where i was going with this i just started thinking about like. what is involved in good theorizing and how focusing on something you believe to be fact can lead you in the wrong direction, and i think the idea of the islander's happiness as the federation's main goal is one of those very fraught assumptions people get caught up in.

#bell.txt #qsmp analysis

[itsawhumpsideblog]

BBU Community Days 2024, Day 13

April 26 / Writing Prompt: "MADE FOR IT" / Write a BBU story based on the prompt and share it!

CW: for institutionalized slavery, whipping, foot injury, blood, emotional abuse

Most boxboys were transported to their new owners after purchase in the boxes that inspired the term- long, narrow crates into which they were packed and shipped- but not KV1946. On the day he was sent to his Master, KV1946 was washed and dressed in slacks and a sport coat and ordered into the back seat of a car. He was careful not to wrinkle the clothing when he fastened the seat belt and he folded his hands carefully in front of him and sat very still during the ride.

He would have liked to spend more time looking out the window, but he had been instructed to sit properly, which meant straightening his spine and looking directly ahead. KV1946 tried not to feel nervous and instead focused on remembering his training. There would be cleaning to do, household management, serving at meals... he could do those things. He had been trained. Perhaps he would be able to please his Master.

It was slightly more than an hour before KV1946 saw a large house come into view. It was situated in the middle of extensive, beautifully manicured grounds and the car pulled up in a circular drive out front. KV1946 sat very still until the WRU employee who was driving ordered him to get out and stood to greet her client.

Someone had opened the door and his Master was coming down the wide front steps, smiling broadly. He was in middle age, dressed in a fine suit and adjusting his cuffs in a way that suggested he didn't need to adjust them but wanted the WRU lady to know he was the kind of man who wore cufflinks on a Tuesday morning.

"Welcome, welcome," he said, spreading his hands wide as if showing the WRU lady that the grounds were hers to enjoy, for the minutes she would be present on them. "Is this my young man, then?" He strode over to KV1946 and peered closely at him with a smile that was as much a show as the cufflinks.

KV1946 stood quietly, as he had been trained, with his hands clasped loosely in front of him; his new Master circled him very slowly, examining the merchandise.

"I'm told you did very well in your training," he said. "I was pleased to hear it. We hold very high standards, here." He looked KV1946 in the eye in a way that seemed to require a response. KV1946 lowered his eyes deferentially and said quietly, "Yes, Master."

The man gave a delighted little laugh. "Very good! Very good, indeed." Then he ignored KV1946 to speak briefly to the WRU employee and hand her an envelope with a discreet but substantial tip.

When KV1946's Master had finished speaking, even though the WRU lady was still right there, standing outside her car, he turned away from her and shifted his attention to the Pet as thoroughly as if she had never existed.

"Come inside," he ordered his newest purchase. "I will show you the house and acquaint you with your tasks. Referring to you by serial number is vulgar; you will be called Francis." And off he swept with KV1946- now Francis- following as quickly as he could.

The next hour was a whirlwind tour of the home and, to an extent, the grounds. Francis' responsibilities lay entirely inside, but Master wanted him to know where things were around the property, in case of some need. Francis hoped desperately that he could remember all of it and when he was told to go begin fixing lunch, was relieved to find that he knew the way to the kitchen.

Lunch was served without any particular difficulty and then Francis cleaned the kitchen until it sparkled. Afterwards, he retrieved Master's laundry and spent some time treating stains and loading the washing machine. After that, there was dusting in the office.

All the while, Master sat on the porch in the sunshine with a long-stemmed glass in hand. When he saw Francis, he looked very satisfied and said, "I don't know why I didn't get one of you a long time ago."

The satisfaction made Francis' heart leap. Master's happiness was his own sense of security and he found that he desperately wanted to hear another approving word. He would be perfect for Master. Master would like him and keep him and he would never be sent back to the WRU, like bad Pets were. Even the thought made Francis shiver. He had seen, at least enough to have an idea, what happened to Pets who were sent back.

Late that evening, Francis began to feel overwhelmed. It was hard to remember the long list of chores and the order in which they were to be completed. He wracked his brain, ignoring a slight headache, to remember whether he was to do the ironing before setting out Master's clothes for the following day, or after.

He guessed incorrectly and Master, now dressed in a smoking jacket, entered his room and frowned. "Where are my clothes?" he demanded of Francis, who froze and tried not to look as nervous as he felt.

"Master?"

"No, no 'Master'. You were to lay out a suit and then begin the ironing. I want to have my room all to myself, not spend my evening waiting on your pleasure to have clean clothes." He shook his head. "This is not what I was led to expect when I purchased you."

"This Pet is very sorry, Master." Francis hung his head. He could hear the rough, nervous edge in his voice.

"Finish the ironing and then go to the basement," Master said in a very firm tone.

Francis' hands were shaking as he finished the last few items and although he wasn't sure what would happen in the basement, he did know that he wasn't looking forward to finding out.

When he got there, Master was already standing at the bottom of the stairs, his arms crossed, with a small switch in his hand. There was a chair in the center of the room, away from the walls and the bit of bedding Francis was allowed- or would have been allowed, he thought. He would have to see if Master took it away for his infraction.

"I am going to be lenient on you, because it's your first day here," Master explained. "Sit in that chair and hold up one foot."

For a moment, Francis was mystified, and then he realized what Master planned to do. He sat and gripped the sides of the chair so that Master wouldn't see his hands trembling. Master took Francis' heel in one hand and raised the small whip, bringing it down on the sole of Francis' right foot with surprising force.

Francis let out a soft cry and then clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle the noise. Master looked at him with something like disgust.

"What are you crying for already?" he asked. "It can't possibly hurt that badly. You were made for this, after all." He didn't seem to want a reply, which was as well. Francis kept his hand over his mouth as the whip connected again with the sole of his foot.

On the third blow, Master let out a small cry of his own and jumped back suddenly, letting Francis' foot fall to the floor.

"I've cut myself," Master exclaimed. He was holding up his left hand, which was bleeding from a single laceration across the backs of his fingers. Master made a noise of frustration and pain and then said through gritted teeth, "Wait here, I don't want you making a mess."

He disappeared for a moment and returned with a plastic box, which he thrust towards Francis. "It's a first aid kit. Bandage my hand for me."

The absurdity of the situation never occurred to Francis; he simply opened the kit, found an individually wrapped wipe to clean the wound and then the gauze and medical tape. While he dabbed away the blood, Master hissed and swore under his breath and when Francis had taped on the bandage, he shook his hand as if it smarted.

Francis almost dared to hope he would give up on the rest of the punishment, but there was no such luck. "Hold your foot out," Master said. Francis did so, holding his leg up with both hands under his knee. Using only one hand, Master continued the flogging, ignoring the drops of blood that fell to the floor. Francis pressed his lips tightly together to prevent another upsetting display of emotion that would only make this worse and waited for it to be over. When he thought he might not be able to stand any more, Master finally straightened up and nodded once.

"Clean that up," he said, gesturing to the blood spatters on the floor. "And I expect you on duty as I told you in the morning." Then he stalked up the stairs, taking the whip with him.

In the basement, Francis sat in the chair and tried to collect himself. His breath coming in shuddering sighs but he squeezed his eyes shut and fought to stay quiet and controlled. When he rose to clean the floor, he walked gingerly on the outside of his foot. His vision closed to a pinprick of light as he worked, shutting him off from the pain, pushing it away so that it felt almost like another entity. But when he finally lowered himself carefully to his cot, the agony washed up over Francis and he hugged his knee to his chest and cried himself to sleep.

In the morning, Francis was woken early by the pain. He was still clutching his knee and his foot still stung so badly that he was almost afraid to look at it. When he worked up the courage, the news was not good. The foot and ankle were badly swollen and the sole of his foot was covered in dried blood.

When he dressed, slowly and painfully, Francis found that his sock fit, though tightly, but he couldn't get his shoe on over it. He pulled at the shoe, tugging at the tongue and trying to force the heel, until he was crying again and was about to risk being late for his duties. At last, Francis gave up and ascended the stairs, fully dressed except for his wounded foot in its soft, white sock.

Master wasn't downstairs yet and Francis began the first chores of the day, limping badly as he made the rounds of the house to water the plants and then headed back to the kitchen to begin breakfast. He cooked eggs, toast and sausage and fried some tomatoes and arranged it all on a large plate. He brewed coffee and set a place at the dining room table with understated-but-elegant china and a crystal glass for orange juice. He placed a newspaper above Master's place and kept the food warm until Master seated himself at the table and rang for it.

Francis brought out the plate and went back for a mug of coffee and then for the orange juice, ready in a clear carafe to be poured fresh for Master. It was on the third trip that Master, nearing the end of the page he was reading, caught sight of Francis out of the corner of his eye and looked up in displeasure.

"What is that?" He asked, gesturing dismissively at Francis' feet.

"This Pet was unable to get his shoe on," Francis said in a very small voice. He found that his mouth had gone dry and it was hard to speak.

"This Pet has orders not to appear above stairs in less than immaculate condition," Master corrected him coldly. "I took care that you would be fit to serve. Go below stairs at once and fix the issue. Do not appear above stairs under-dressed again. My guests will be here for a morning garden party in one hour. I expect the porch swept and mimosas staged on the table. There will be finger sandwiches for lunch and you will stay outside to serve." He turned back to his newspaper, which meant that Francis was dismissed.

Shaking in the aftermath of his fear, Francis limped back down the stairs and almost fell onto his pallet, where the odd shoe sat. He eyed it with distaste for a moment, but there was no time to waste. It was going to be a busy morning and he would need to use all of the time to prepare. Francis tried again to put the shoe on, but still without success.

He took a moment for a deep breath and a sigh and then began to unlace the shoe completely. With the laces off, he was able to place his foot inside it and lace the shoe up, after a fashion. His foot was already beginning to throb and when he stood, it took all his training to keep him on his feet and headed up the stairs.

Francis was driven nearly to distraction by the pain, but he was somehow still upright and had even managed to put out a clean, white tablecloth and a vase of flowers to display the mimosas before Master's guests arrived. As ordered, Francis stationed himself next to the table with a tray to collect empty glasses and to keep the table supplied with drinks and light canapes.

Master greeted the guests and showed them to the back porch, handing each a drink as they passed through the door to mill about on the flagstones of the porch. The hand he had injured while punishing Francis remained bandaged and Master had placed it in a narrow black sling to go with his morning coat.

"You poor thing!" one of his guests cooed. "Whatever have you done to your hand?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing," Master said, clearly pleased at the attention. "Just a little cut, the doctor says everything ought to be fine before many weeks have passed." He waved the other hand languidly, dismissing the opinions of doctors who, he implied, fussed too much.

"You bear it very bravely, I'm sure," the woman assured him, patting his shoulder sympathetically. She finished her drink and held it out, secure in the knowledge that the help would be by to collect it immediately.

Francis moved away from the safety of the table to take the glass. He tried not to shuffle, which would probably make Master angry, but his foot was throbbing so badly that he could hardly think of anything else. He hoped he could go back and stand behind the table, in the shade, and put all his weight on his left foot for just a few minutes.

"Doesn't your pet mind just standing there like that?" another woman asked his Master. "Won't he get bored?" Master looked over as if he had only just noticed Francis standing there, as if he was so used to Francis that he was no more noticeable than the trees.

"I can't imagine so," Master said in a musing voice. "After all, isn't that what they're made for?"

The party lasted for a few hours and by the time he brought out the finger sandwiches, Francis was shaking and sick with pain. At each step, he wondered whether his leg would give way and drop him- and, more importantly, the sandwiches- to the ground, right there in front of all of Master's guests.

Somehow, he got through the rest of the morning and then the afternoon as well; luckily, Master seemed to be tired out by the effort of hosting and went to take a nap. Francis could limp as much as he needed and stand on his left foot only while he cooked and cleaned. The day went by very slowly, but in a strange haze. The foot went numb after several hours and Francis was a little relieved, although the numbness made it hard to balance when he walked.

At last, Master turned in for the night and Francis went back to the basement. He sat down on the top step and eased himself down with his right foot held in the air. At the bottom, he very carefully untied and unlaced the shoe and drew it off, his heart pounding uncomfortably as feeling came back into the swollen flesh. With feeling came terrible pain and Francis could feel the small supper he had been allowed turn over in his stomach. He hopped desperately to the toilet in the corner of the room, but nothing came up and after a few long moments, he finally collapsed onto his cot.

Later, Francis barely remembered that day. It was not so different from many of the ones that came after it and working while he was in pain became the most ordinary thing in the world for him. But it was one late night, in a different house entirely, that Master's words came back to him.

It had been a long day; Francis was still expending more energy than he knew in trying to understand his new home. Sir and Ma'am were kind, but could be confusing sometimes. Francis was always waiting for them to change, to become angry, to begin ordering him about. He did not expect to live without fear, but the relentless struggle to make sense of his new life was taking its toll.

That night, Sir carried Francis up to bed while Mikey and Nathan stayed downstairs with Ma'am. It was not so late, really, and the sun had only just dipped below the horizon, but Francis had been running hot all day and the pain in his feet was making him restless.

"I'm so sorry you aren't feeling better yet," Sir said, sounding like he meant it.

"Francis will be in working order soon," Francis replied. He hoped it was true.

"Don't worry about working," Sir said, for some reason, but it was in a cheerful tone that might almost have been a joke and Francis was more confused than frightened by the words. He wasn't sure how to respond, and so he didn't. Instead, he lay still and watched Sir bustle about.

Sir straightened his blankets so they laid across his shins, not over his bandaged feet where they would feel heavy and hurt Francis. Then Sir put a thermometer in his mouth and waited patiently for the result. After three minutes, he removed it, peered at it, and shook his head.

"It's about what I expected," he said and then placed a cool water bottle on Francis' head. It was soothing to his hot skin and racing mind and almost made Francis feel like he might be able to fall asleep.

Maybe it was the high fever that made him so bold, but Francis looked up at Sir, sitting there quietly, watching him with such worry on his face and he dared to ask a question.

"Sir- if Francis might be permitted- er- why are you and Ma'am doing all of this?"

"What, taking care of you guys?" Francis nodded and worried that maybe he shouldn't have spoken, in case Sir thought he was ungrateful.

Instead, Sir smiled and shrugged a little. "Humans take care of each other- it's just what we do. I guess we were made for it."

Master List

Notes: Some backstory for Francis!

Tag list: @pigeonwhumps, @cepheusgalaxy, @i-eat-worlds, @honeycollectswhump @taterswhump,

@starfields08000 @whumpsday, @fruitypinapple00, @currentlyinthesprial

#bbu #bbucommunity #box boy universe #box boy whump #whump #the safehouse #pet whump

[theresattrpgforthat]

Thanks so much for doing all this, I love what you do for enjoyers of ttrpgs!!

What I'm looking for is epistolary or long-distance, asynchronous games for multiple players. I know you've done lists of 2-player games that people can play in their own time (writing letters or journal entries back and forth, stating your actions in a message then waiting for the other player, etc) but I was wondering if there were any I could play with 3 or more players with different timezones & schedules at once.

Genre and playstyle are flexible, we love trying new mechanics! I've struggled to find games to fit this myself, so I hope you can have a little more luck. You're awesome for taking these requests and finding so many different games for people!

THEME: Asynch & Epistolary for 3 or More.

Hello friend! First of all, I’m going to send you to my Epistolary (Part 3) post because that was specifically for 3 or more players, as well as my first epistolary post because there were a number there that could also be played with a number of people.

But don't worry, there's more!

Angels of the Railway Stations, by Speak the Sky.

There’s only so much you can do alone, but you’re not alone. There’s only so much that can be done with any one meeting, but life is more than one meeting. As you go through the stages of Arrival, Stopover, and Departure, take notes of everything in the form of a letter to be sent on with the train when it leaves the station. These letters should give your fellow angels more context to help the traveller in need along the way. They’re also your only way to communicate with your colleagues and comrades.

Angels of the Railway Stations is an epistolary game for 2+ players in which you play a liminal community of lonely angels. Help lonely travellers in a world undergoing a great upheaval, then write about what you see and do to pass it on to the next angel down the line.

All of the rules for this game can fit on one page, and require you to rely on other players to determine what each of your passengers need and help them get to where they need to go - on time. Angels of the Railway Station references a game called Black Engines, which does not actually exist, which means that many parts of this game will require your play group to fill in the blanks. That being said, I think Angels of the Railway Station has plenty of potential when it comes to telling emotional stories.

Intersecting Orbits, by Ell Schulman.

For as long as there have been Orbiters, there has been the Interference. Spikes in data that have no business being there, garbled words, ghosts in the machinery. Few people believe truly in the existence of the Interference as an entity.The Interference does not care what they believe.

The planet below is alive. There are deep oceans and high mountains and biomes we do not have names for. There are plants and animals that do not conform to systems we know.

There are people who look up at the stars and wonder who else is out there.There is so much to explore. 

Intersecting Orbits is a game for three players, two of whom play Orbiters sending messages back and forth and one of whom plays the Interference who intercepts those messages and removes words from them. 

Using a deck of cards, the two Orbiters will try to communicate to each-other about something that is going on. Meanwhile, the Interference uses 2d6 to determine how many words of the message they can remove. You can probably use this method either by sending letters to each-other, or by writing e-mails or sending texts, so I think this game is definitely flexible in terms of how quickly you want to send messages to each-other, and how long you want the game to run.

Chronicle, by a.fell.

The world is coming to an end. It has been foretold, and so it shall be. We cannot stop it; we only wait, and observe, and recall.

This is a game to create a chronicle of a world, and to find the world again in the last seconds of its life. The game is different depending on which path you choose to take.

You will not play together. You might not play at the same time, or in the same place. You might not even know each other before you play this game.

When you play The Chronicler, you will play alone, across time, across worlds. There is foretelling that an end is coming. You are here to ensure that your life, your people, and your world, survive. The Witnesses will find your artifacts an unknowable amount of time later. They will observe, they will wonder, they will remember their own lives, and they will know you. The world they know is empty, and soon they, too, will be gone. But they will carry these moments with them.

Chronicle uses a tarot deck (or something similar) as an oracle, and requires some form of map for the Chronicler to add to. The Chronicler will draw from this deck to create the events, artifacts and messages from this world. Most of the Chronicler’s work is done by the time the Witnesses come into play, who will travel across the map, pick up artifacts left behind by the Chronicler, and use their own oracle decks to recall personal memories. Eventually, a cataclysm will fall, and the game will end.

Leaving Cambridge, by Nora Katz.

You were together once, a lifetime ago, in a place called Cambridge. It was a place you held dear—a place that you called home, even if just for a moment. But something strange or sinister happened, and now you are all gone, dispersed across countries, continents, and maybe even worlds. There are stories untold and things unsaid. This is your chance to say them. 

“Leaving Cambridge” is an intimate, asynchronous storytelling game that takes place through letters exchanged between a group of people who have parted ways. Over the course of a real-life calendar year, a group of players write letters to each other, piecing together what happened to them, trying to reconcile their checkered pasts with their current realities. As the letters arrive, this group of people will come to understand each other, and themselves, with more clarity—and, most likely, more questions. 

Leaving Cambridge is a setting-agnostic game, so you can set it at any time period and any technology level, as long as it is possible that all of the players at some point went to Cambridge together.. What remains true is that you were once friends, but you have since grown apart. You will draw from a deck of cards, with red cards reflecting memories you share and black cards representing your emotions. Writing will happen over four seasons, with an inciting reason for you to get back in touch with each-other, and generative prompts that encourage your characters to reveal pieces of themselves the longer that they write.

I’d Also Recommend…

When I Lived Here, by a grumpy little critter.

#tabletop games #indie ttrpgs #game recommendations #dnd #asks #epistolary games #indie ttrpg

[t1gerlilly]

I’ve seen a number of posts dismissing discussions of racism in the new storyline out of hand. To the point where I have no idea what the original criticisms were. And I think that’s really unfortunate. Partly because it feels like there’s a part of our community we’re not listening to and partly because I have some questions on the subject and would really like to hear what people are saying about it, but I’m clearly not following the right people.

I think folks forget how important Eddie is as Hispanic rep. Although 25% of the US population is Hispanic, only 3.3% of lead roles in TV are played by Hispanic actors (source) They’re also only 1.6% of showrunners and 1.9% of directors. And they are also under 5% of executive or management roles in media (source). So there is clearly a systemic problem.

But how does that apply to 911? Well - Carlos on lone star is notorious for having the least screen time of any character, despite the fact that his character is the closest to Athena in terms of role. And Eddie? Well, the latest I could find was season five totals - and Eddie and Chim, the non-white or black men, were bottom of the barrel. To really establish a pattern, you’d want more than two shows, but at least across half a decade of shows, the pattern is pretty consistent. I’m not making an argument about the reasons for that, but those are just the numbers. If I were to speculate, I’d assume it was a combination of who the network exec, showrunner, and executive producer was, since they have the power to make decisions. Just coincidentally, their racial identities mirror the screen time of the characters? Hmmmm

So then let’s look at who does press for the show - making themselves more visible…yeah, that’s largely Oliver. And you can say that’s because he’s a POV character- but you might be surprised to learn that in many seasons either Hen or Athena had more screen time than Buck. Yeah. Really. But you NEVER see Aisha put out to do press the way that Oliver is.

Why is that? Is it because she’s a black woman? Because she plays a queer character? And who is making that decision and why? Because that lack of visibility impacts her personal career. Same thing with Ryan Guzman and Kenneth Choi, who both have less screen time AND less press.

But in particular- and this is the rub - Ryan has CLEARLY been making intentional acting choices FOR YEARS to shape his character and his dynamic with Buck as queer. Oliver played into them, thinking of them as natural chemistry- but it’s clear that other creators on the show - notably the directors and writers, picked up on Ryan’s choices and fan reactions to reframe the dynamics and the characters.

And it’s really clear that Tim originally intended to have Eddie come out, but the poor reaction to Natalia and the fact that the actress was unavailable led him to switch the storyline to Buck. All of which is perfectly understandable.

But if there’s one person most responsible for the reason we ultimately got bi!Buck, it’s Ryan Guzman - for the bravery and perseverance of his choices as an artist. It’s amazing to me that in all the praise for Oliver saying that he “would have” leaned into Buck as queer even without the go ahead…no one has thought to praise the actor who actually DID THAT - for YEARS- when he was in a much more precarious position as a character and an actor. Like really take a minute to look at what that took…he was risking his livelihood with that choice.

And then, when the show DOES finally make it canon…who gets the praise? The buzz? The support? The white guy who was mostly oblivious for the past five years. Like…how is THAT fair?

And OK, the original plan was for the helicopter pilot to be Lucy, and that fell through so they reached out to Lou, because Tommy was a former character- but also quite likely because he looks a good deal like Buck - and the SL was supposed to have that character be a stand-in for the other half of Buddie. When they switched to Buck, they had to make Tommy have similar hobbies to Eddie to establish the similarities, since they couldn’t rely on looks.

But that meant they totally whitewashed the story line. And if you want to talk about firsts - when has a Hispanic lead come out as gay or bi? And how many of them were men? And how many were over 21? And on a mainstream show?

And no, it wasn’t intentional (just a function of having so many more white characters than Hispanic characters), but it was unfortunate. Not to mention the intersectionality of it all.

So…I honestly think there’s a decent basis for critique there. Not a “these people are terrible” critique, but a “not paying attention to diversity systemically” in a way that lets unconscious bias have the same impact as deliberate bias.

And I really wonder at the people who just dismissed the entire discussion - how hard did you listen? How willing were you to hear what people were saying? Because this is an issue that has to do with real people, their careers, their hopes, dreams, and identities. And you should be willing to listen.

#911 abc #eddie diaz #ryan guzman #911 discourse #911

[the-midnight-blooms]

Drunken Monologue

pairing: kim hongjoong x reader

AU: modern

word count: 3.7k

ATEEZ as angst tropes series:

Hongjoong | Seonghwa | Yunho | Yeosang | San | Mingi | Wooyoung | Jongho

masterlist

Trope: Friends to Lovers to Strangers

She watches as they walk out of their place with another woman slung around his arm. The woman he left for, she's so perfect she cannot help but agree with him when he declared he did not love her anymore. How could he? She was everything his first love was not- no more, no less. Yet, the place she once held in his heart? Gone, not even deserving of the title 'friend', displaced like the weakest metal in a chemical reaction.

She didn't mean to cross Hongjoong on the street anyway, on her way home from taxing day at work her feet took her to the one place that brought her more comfort than home. Second to bookshop, it was his arms. She was entitled to none of it now. Nights of endless scrolling over the internet for the next best cheapest place to buy novels but nothing came close to the bookshop she’d gone to in the duration of her childhood, the same bookshop that supported her through her academia.

The distant memory of them both scribbling away in books, endlessly typing on their computers for hours on end into the night gnawed at her. At times she felt like giving up, why, oh, why had she chosen such an academically challenging degree? For her parents’ validation of course, despite this Hongjoong supported her-pushed her to continue.

“I can’t be bothered anymore Joong.” She whined into her pillow, letting out a loud groan that made him scoff as he twirled the pencil between his fingers.

“Let’s make a deal, you get over 80 on that exam and I’ll buy you that plain vanilla ice cream you like.” Her eyes perked up at ‘vanilla ice cream’ she shook her head vigorously and then got to work sifting through pages of her notes and exam questions she had yet to. Peering her eyes over the top of her screen, she gazed at her best friend hunched over in his seat punching numbers into a calculator, with furrowed brows, the concentrated look on his face making her heart melt. While they had been best friends for a long time, she had harboured feelings for the boy since college and even through their transgression into university, the feelings just never seemed to dissipate.

“Oh, and Hongjoong-nah? Vanilla ice cream is not plain.”

“Whatever you say, love.” The term of endearment making her heart flutter, she had yet to convince herself that he called everyone ‘love’, hence it was never really special when he said it to her. A week had passed and before she knew it, she sprinted down the university halls, clusters of students who were once engrossed in their own conversations turning to look at her. With a panting breath, she skidded at the end of the corridor shoving her sheet of paper in Hongjoong’s face, he himself was once invested in his conversation with Jongho.

“Look” she urged, and he took the paper from her hands his eyes scanning over it, fixating on the mark. 90.

“That’s amazing! Didn’t you say this was the hardest module too?” Shaking her head eagerly, she threw her head back in triumph. Hongjoong sought the way her hair fell down her shoulders, the sound of laughter like a melody he wanted to capture in a tune and play on repeat. “Well, I guess I owe you ice cream now.” Picking up his canvas bag from the floor, he bid Jongho goodbye and made his way to the exit.

“Do you want to come with us Jongho?” She offered, to which the younger boy declined sending Hongjoong a knowing smirk from across the corridor. Shaking his head, Hongjoong waited until she made her way to him then hand in hand, they ran to the ice cream parlour before it closed.

She didn’t like vanilla ice cream anymore. It wasn’t the plainness of it, like Hongjoong had always suggested. It was the memory of it, the association of it with him. Every book they read, song they listened to, food they ate, place they went to-she’d grown to have a distaste for. It seemed pathetic, and it was but every time their song played on the radio a pang settled into deepest pits of her heart.

Drunken men push past her on the same street, where now Hongjoong and her stand two metres apart. He senses familiarity in the air around him, head whipping around scouring his surroundings. He knows them. They shift around slowly, as if they are moving without conscience towards him. He wants to stumble to them, inebriated by their intimacy as he once was when he sauntered through his hallways, years ago heavily drunk from a work celebration party. Hongjoong's dragged away by his girlfriend, every nook and cranny of his heart filled with adoration for her yet long ago he was being dragged away by someone else.

With a heavy puff, she pushed Hongjoong onto his sofa a long groan released from his lips as he lazily outstretched his legs before him. So drawn by her beauty, he lifts his arm to caress her cheek. With a smile she gently brushes it away, moving his leg to sit on the remnants of the seat that is not covered by his body.

"The things I do for you." she muttered under his breath, he caught the whispers of it, a weary smile forms across his perfect features.

"And I love you for it. I love you more than sea loves the moon." A laugh escaped from her lips, could he get any more drunk?

"Just say thank you, Hongjoong. This isn't a poetry reading." shaking her head, she pats his head before getting up. The words strike a nerve, he grabs at her wrist to gnaw at her attention. Suddenly, he looks more attentive and alive as if he wasn't drinking to his hearts content to fill up the hole of solitude that swallowed him.

"I'm being serious." resting her hand his chest to feel the racing of his heart, "This only beats for you. I feel so lonely without you, incomplete." he breathed out, latching onto her hand as if she would disappear if he let her go.

"Hongjoong, you're drunk. You don't know what you're saying." A sharp prick of her throat throbbed, a tickle arising in her nose. Love was just a game to him, right?

"They say a drunk man's words are a sober man's thoughts."

"I wouldn't believe you, even if you were sober."

"Why not?" he inquired, he sat up this time not letting go of her hand her body gravitating towards him.

"Because- you know what, no you're too drunk for this conversation right now."

"No, I wanna know. Why don't you believe me?"

"Hongjoong, you've never wanted a relationship. You've never wanted to be someone else's. I always have, I want to belong to someone. I want to get married and have children, bicker with my husband, listen to my teenagers' tantrums. I want it all. You don't." She recounted from all the times he had dismissed notions of settling down and having a married life. He'd fraternised with many women, much to her dismay, but those relationships had held no true meaning. They were in his bed one hour and gone the next, replaced by another. Truthfully, Hongjoong never felt content with the 'relationships' he had but the slow sinking feeling he felt when he was devoid of completeness ate at him. He wanted to feel whole and he felt whole with her.

"What if it's because I've never wanted it with anyone but you?" Silence rooted in the warm air; she'd open his window before she left. Nothing but staring into each other’s eyes for minutes on end. Hongjoong awaited her response, it was all the alcohol that had riled so much energy within to confess his feelings to her. Those which he had felt since they were children, teasing each other in the playground to adults fixated over creating contented lives for themselves.

"Then tell me when you wake up. Tell me how much you've wanted me. Once I'm yours, I'm yours forever."

It seemed like it would be forever. Nights spent under the cover of the twinkling stars: talking until they were too sleep deprived to go to work, running through the park tearing out handfuls of grass whilst chucking them at each other. Just all the things they did as friends, but the moments much more intimate when they'd fall on top of each other faces barely inches away feeling their heated breath tickling their noses.

“I hope our kids aren’t that naughty.” She almost spat out the drink in her mouth, craning to give Hongjoong a shocked look paired with a sort of shy smile forming on her lips. They sat on the vast lush green field, sun beaming down on their figures- his figure illuminated like it was it was carved out of the sun itself.

“Our kids?” Hongjoong tore his gaze away from the children shooting their parents with water guns to her, nodding ever so casually.

“Four kids-,”

“Four? Mr Kim, will you be giving birth to these children? Will you be walking up in the middle of the night to change their nappies?” She interrupted, holding back a laugh.

“Yes, I’ll change all of their nappies. I’ll wake up in the middle of the night to rock them back to sleep. Take them to school anymore, brush our daughters’ hair. Oh! We have to have matching family outfits…” and so Hongjoong often rambled about the perfect family life, his lover staring at him as if he was an angel descended from the highest heavens. If he was an angel, how did wound himself on earth no less how did he wound up as hers? To have that thought again, to stare into his eyes and get intoxicated by the profundity of his sweet soul. His love so addicting she woke up with cold sweats, hands outstretched as if he would come to her in the cold dead of the night, encircling her into his arms again as if he never left.

“What should we name our daughter?” Hongjoong piped up one day, out of sheer curiosity. His head stuck through the doorway of the living room, watching his lover sat in front of the television but her attention attached to the book in her hands.

“Hmm, Kim…” she trailed off, thinking of all the girl names her friends had already taken up. “Kim Dahye.” She settled on, he slumped onto the seat next to her resting his head on her shoulder. "Because she'll be the kindest soul to exist. And if we have a boy, we'll name him Kim Suho, our guardian angel."

"Sounds like a plan Mrs Kim." A blush crept on her cheeks, her cheek resting on his head hands entwined as the hum of the machine bled into the comfortable silence of the room.

She couldn’t remember how it had happened. What great sin she had she committed that Hongjoong felt so repulsed by the sight of her? As if staying would have killed him. Despite the busy hours of both of their working days, the tiresome repetitive life of their schedules, for a while they found comfort in each other- they were each other’s escape from the dreaded conformity to society. How had it gone unnoticed the way he cancelled on her a number of times. Ignoring her calls, leaving her messages on read? The distance between them whenever they were together. Holding her hands but not looking at her. Looking at her as she spoke about her day but not listening to her. It was tolerance, really, she’d put up with all of his ignorance as long as she could say ‘he’s mine.’

“We need to talk.” His reticent voice drifting into her bedroom, she sat up from her slumped position. A soft smile painted on her lips, how long had it been since she had been the listener and he was the talker? He slumped down on the foot of her bed, gradually meeting her gaze. A breath hitched in his throat. He loved her once. He could not breath without her. Got drunk on her presence. Then he had met her, the other woman. She was a drug so addicting. Suddenly, his childhood love was a weak narcotic incapable of exhilarating him as she once did. "I don't love you anymore." He went straight for the punchline.

"I-what happened? Why?" she questioned, there was so much more to ask but the words clogged up her throat as her brain scrambled for traction trying to process the sudden declaration. His eyes shut close for a few moments, plucking up the courage to tell her.

"I found someone else. I thought it unfair to keep you here, next to me while I'm hooked to someone else." Tears blurred her vision, limbs shivering. Pressing her back up against her headboard, she hugged her legs, face dug between her knees.

"What happened to feeling incomplete without me? What happened to wanting to be married? What happened to having children?" she questioned, anger prescient. Fury overtook the despair that momentarily possessed her, was it all a fever dream? Was any part of their relationship sincere?

"Believe me when I say I wanted it all with you, but now I can't feel a thing between us. The bridge to you has collapsed-" He reached for hands to console her; she yanked them towards her gripping onto skin too reluctant to let go. Any moment now if she did let go, he would leave.

"So then find another way to me. Fight for us. Don't tell me this relationship was just a drunken mistake, or I was just used to fill that sorry hole in your heart." Perhaps I really was lonely and you were there for me, mistaking my gratitude for love. But Hongjoong was misinterpreting his emotions. It was love. He did love her. He had just been allured by someone else's physicality that her had forgotten that the one woman who loved him endlessly, flaws and all, was sat in front of him.

"Don't make this harder for me. You deserve someone else, someone who wants you as equally as you want them." Biting down on her lip, a tear slipped from her eyes snapping her head away from him as his hands left her weakened hold. Soundlessly, he left from the room. The soft shutting of the door had triggered her, she bawled as a part of her soul crippled away trailing after Hongjoong who ambled down the street to his next love.

Her body thudded against another on that busy street as the sun dipped beneath the sky, streetlights flickering every now and then. So lost in her yearning for the past, her spatial awareness had been decapitated.

"Oh God, I'm sorry." Her phone flung out of her grasp, clattering to the floor. Both figures reached down for the phone, fingers meeting as they did. Grabbing at her phone, she rose so did the other figure in sync. "I'm really sorry, I should have watched where I was going-" He called out her name, their eyes instantaneously meeting.

It was Wooyoung, a fellow classmate from her time at university. He did not look any different from the charismatic soul that had cheered her up after every difficult lecture that seemed incomprehensible. A dimpled smile manifested across his pink lips, the familiar excitement of seeing an old friend filling him.

"I haven't seen you in ages! How are you?" He began to bombard her with questions. Within seconds she was, too, dragged away by another in the opposite direction the strings between the old lovers, thinning as they transcended deeper into the own lives.

A high-pitched squeal infiltrated the park, a small body dashing through the familiar fields.

“I’m gonna get you.” She cooed, in an infantile like manner as the child attempted to sprint as fast as his little legs could carry him. At last, she swooped him up by the legs, twirling him around the cool wind assisting her. They shared a laugh before she attacked his face with kisses. His father approached behind, wide smile complacent slipping an arm around his son, cocooning him in his embrace. The boy squirmed in his father’s arms, begging to be let go. He let him go, the couple dawdling after his child as he ran to the slides accompanying the other children inhabiting it.

“The sentence, from Mrs Jung?” She contested. She recalled the horror in her friend’s voice on learning that both her husband and son were indulging in eating sweet delicacies every night before bed-not even bothering to brush their teeth at that.

“Death.” He joked back, they shared a comfortable laugh. “Joae’s coming back from Japan on Sunday. Thank you for helping take care of Gohyun.” She waved him off declaring it was the most she could do for a friend that was there when she needed someone the most.

At the other end of the park, two old friends walked down a cobbled path on their way to the play area where Hongjoong’s daughter persisted. Cups of warm coffee encased within their hands, conversations of the past enticing them. They both paused as they found his daughter, Kim Dayhe, playing with another boy around a similar age to her. The sight brought back a nostalgic memory of the girl he used to run around parks with as a child.

“Jung Gohyun!” A feminine voice called, a figure moved closer to the children, she sent a soft smile to the girl before kneeling down to tighten her loosening pigtails. Hongjoong moved forward, despite the woman’s pure intentions his protective instincts broke through-Jongho following hastily behind eyes widening as he recognised the woman.

“Thank you, Unnie-,”

“Dahye,” her head snapped up from the children, the acquaintance of the voice tearing the boundaries she’d built between them for years on end. The memories flooding back to her, she almost stumbled back at the sight of him; she clutched onto her Gohyun’s shoulder for strength. Her lips formed his name, but no sound came out. Hongjoong’s own eyes widened. His childhood love.

“I haven’t seen you in years! How are you?” He questioned, as if the last time he spoke to her wasn’t in her bedroom, telling her he didn’t love her anymore. That his heart was tied down to another woman, who he felt more complete with then he had ever felt with her.

“I’m great! Is she your daughter?” Hongjoong nodded proudly.

“This is your son?” She froze, unable to speak. Eventually, she shook her head no.

“No, he's Wooyoung’s son actually. He’s here, somewhere...” Tearing her gaze away from Hongjoong, who was somewhat surprised at the revelation, she trailed off scanning the park for her companion, who was jogging over to the reunion-two tiny bodies respectively hiding behind their close adults.

“Long time no see.” Jongho quipped from behind Hongjoong. With a gasp, she rushed to Jongho embracing him into a warm hug whilst terrorising him with questions all the same- Hongjoong slightly gaping at them with, a brief unsettling feeling in his heart.

“Jung Wooyoung, you bastard! It’s been ages!" Her hands flung to her nephew's ears, as did Hongjoong’s, as the profanity shamelessly sprung out of Jongho’s mouth.

“I love you too!” The university friends reunited, Wooyoung encompassing both Hongjoong and Jongho. Sneakily, the children had taken the opportunity to crawl back to the slides. While Jongho and Wooyoung conversed with each other, Hongjoong sought his old childhood friend, looking down at her feet in contemplation.

"You named her Dahye." she exhaled; a whiff of distress reminiscent in her tone. He nodded, slowly.

"So, no children, no husband?" As always Hongjoong went straight for the punchline but there wasn't really any other way about it. If Gohyun was not her child, nor Wooyoung her husband then who did she have waiting for her at home?

"No. We're not all entitled to that kind of life."

"But it's all you've ever wanted." he pondered, the words blurting from his mouth before he could stop them. He was met with a hard stare but she returned her gaze back to her feet. "I mean, no one at all?" When the one I wanted left me, how could I seek another? It wasn't that she had not tried at all, she'd been on many dates with many men. Lots of Wooyoung's friends, Johae's friends, some guys on dating apps she'd installed for the thrill of it but none had the compassion that she desired or none had wanted to date for marriage. She'd be lying if she said she didn't at least look for the smallest trace of Hongjoong in them all.

“Just Dahye or?”

“A three-month year-old boy, Kim Suho.” Perhaps that was enough to break all the progress she had made over the years, the bridge of her nose tingled but she refused to be vulnerable in front of him again. The tight threads that had lazily sewed her heart together ripping, the misery she had once been suffering from breaking through again. The universe really had no remorse left for her.

“I’m proud of you, Hongjoong. You finally settled down and I’m sure you’re a great father.” She retorted. What else could she say? As much as she wanted to, she could not scream or cry. Or shout and swear. Tell him how much he had broken her and when he left her home, mercilessly on that solemn evening many years ago she had not been the same. She could not tell him how cruel it was that he named his children the same names that she had planned. How much it hurt her that she wasn’t the mother of his children, like he used to claim he wanted her to be. Or rather that she was mother of any child since no man could love her in the ways she wanted to be loved. She called for Gohyun, the little boy tottering over to her. Clutching his small hand within hers, she brushed past Hongjoong to bid Jongho goodbye. Finally, across the park, she arched her neck to take a last look at Hongjoong. They marvelled at each other, before the universe could separate them once and for all.

I knew you once. I loved you once, held you in my arms and you promised you wouldn’t let me go. The memory of me so faint like there wasn’t a day that went by when you promised me that you would make me yours.

•••

A/N: ahhh the second fic in the angst series! I’m a bit iffy on the ending but let me know what you guys think? good? bad? ugly? May edit later. thank you to my love @n0v4t33z for helping me decide regardless! The cold persists unfortunately, but so do I. I'll try to squeeze in another fic before I lock into exam mode but I think it's just best to let the ideas marinate at this point. Still gonna be active on tumblr so reach out to me!! Hope you enjoyed this fic!

#kim hongjoong #hongjoong #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong x you #hongjoong x y/n #ateez angst #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #kpop #ateez x reader #ateez

[tiredfox64]

Hello, I hope you are feeling very well ^^

I really liked your fic "Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder"

Can I request a sequel with the reaction of the others in the clan when Tomas and the reader officially become a couple? Can I request something from nsfw too? The others are surprised to notice some marks on the necks of Tomás and the reader 👀

If you don't like this or it bothers you, ignore it, you have every right ;)

Beauty Never Ends Even In Bed

Prior notes: I love this man. I need this man. My head hurts just thinking about him. That could be the heat as well.

Pairing: Tomas x Afab Reader

Warnings ‼️: NSFW, biting, hickeys (that’s the freaking point)

The girls in the clan were quite shocked to see your return. Not only did you save the Shirai Ryu lots of time by nabbing yourself a Lin Kuei assassin but you came back with a boyfriend. The looks on their face when they saw you and Tomas going into your room was priceless. It was like looking at a bunch of fish in an aquarium.

You and Tomas talking about what happened before. Why you shut him out and isolated yourself from everyone. He was sad and disappointed at the fact that there were people in the clan who showed cruelness. He would kick them out if he could but that wasn’t his call to make plus they really needed the numbers. He made a promise to you that they won’t bother you anymore.

Ever heard the term show don’t tell? Well y’all showed everyone that you guys were in a relationship.

Blotches of dark red that blends in with a faded purple are scattered on his and yours neck. A sign of a good time from the night prior. The hickeys of Tomas’ neck really stand out compared to his pale skin. He was the first to get noticed and teased for them. All the men were cheering him on. Boys will be boys.

And the ladies, oh they were jealous. They saw those same beautiful marks not just on your neck but on your chest as well. And just look at that beautiful bruise Tomas left on your shoulder from biting you. He really wanted to show everyone you were his. He made that clear while you guys were at it.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

A heated make out session was going on in your room. One full of passion and heavy breathing. Tomas’ tongue swirled around yours. He held your face in a loving manner as the excitement grew. The only barrier between you two are your clothes. Take it off!

Tomas was about to start taking his uniform off because you stopped him. You hesitated because your confidence still wasn’t fully back.

“Are you sure you want to do this with me?” You asked.

Tomas looked at you with a bit of sadness. He wished you didn’t need to question his decision but he understood you were still dealing with those harsh words from before. He took your hand and squeezed it tight.

“I’m positive. There is not other girl out there who I would trust to be vulnerable with. I only want you. I can promise you that.” His tone didn’t fail him. He spoke the truth and you felt it in your soul.

You nodded your head before taking your hand back to start stripping. Tomas did the same but he would sneak glances at you. Soon you stood before him with nothing on. All your features were on display for him as you sat pretty on your bed. You were looking away all shy. You were missing how Tomas looked at you as if you were a goddess that he was blessed to see.

“Beautiful…” he whispered before taking you into his arms.

He peppered kisses all over you. First on your face and then down to your neck. His kisses on your neck caused you to shiver in pleasure. You were practically melting in his arms. Suddenly Tomas had an idea. A brilliant one. You felt his start to suck on a your neck.

“Wait—that’s gonna leave a hickey.” You warned him.

“That’s exactly the point.”

You got it now. You let him continue, embracing the pleasure that came from it. His hands wandered all over you, grabbing and squeezing wherever he could. The feeling of your soft skin drove him crazy.

More and more hickeys were made. They were scattered on your neck in different sizes. Tomas pushed you down onto your back while his lips traveled down to your breasts. He started sucking at your flesh, causing more hickeys to appear. As he focused on one of your breasts his hand reached up to massage the other. His fingers gently pinched your nipple causing you to whimper at the sensation. That noise you made excited him enough to make his cock twitch. He did the same thing to your other breast to make sure it was all even. Once he was done he looked down at his masterpiece. The hickeys looked so pretty on you. He should do this more often.

“Are you still okay with going forward with this?” He asked softly.

You nodded you head frantically. You were definitely ready. Your legs were spread for him and he saw how you were practically dripping wet. Tomas can’t deny that he felt some sense of pride in him. Seeing that he made you this excited would make any man’s ego rise. He angled himself correctly before slowly pushing in. There was little resistance which just proves how ready you were.

Once Tomas was fully in you both let out a satisfied whimper. The pleasure was euphoric. He was incredibly thick and it stretched you out nicely. You felt so warm and plush inside. He couldn’t hold himself back and he started thrusting into you.

You had your arms wrapped around his neck. Your eyes were closed due to the pleasure. But his eyes stayed on you as he thrusted away. He wanted to look into those beautiful eyes of yours as you two made love.

“Please look at me, beautiful. Would you mind doing that for me?” He spoke so softly and lovingly how could you resist.

Your eyes slowly opened to look up at him. Gosh he looked so handsome. You loved watching his eyes roll back sometimes as he bit his lip. That’s what good pussy does to a man.

A symphony of groans, pants, whimpers, and soft moans bounced off the walls. Tomas started to go rougher and faster to the point the bed frame started to creak. You held each other close. Skin to skin, heartbeat matching heartbeat. You decided to return the favor from before since Tomas was close to you. Your lips latched onto his neck where you proceeded to give him a hickey. He was surprised by how sensitive he was to it. Your lips on his neck made the whole experience ten times better. His hands started to grip the bedsheets as he focused on not cumming inside you yet.

You left your love marks on his neck. The heat of the moment caused you to go a little crazy. They were scattered all over. Tomas won’t mind it just shows how much you love him. You sure do love him a whole lot.

His thrusts started to grow sloppy and your moans grew louder. You both were close. What better way to bond than cumming together.

“I don’t think I can last any longer. Please, please, please let me cum in you, my dearest.” He sounded so desperate it was so cute.

Your heart fluttered at the nickname and caused you clench around his cock. That’s enough evidence to show you were just as close as well.

“Please cum in me. I need you. Please keep going, Tomas.” You begged and he delivered.

After a few thrusts you two were on cloud nine. He slammed into you before biting down on your shoulder. It was natural instincts. He groaned while biting down. The pleasure from your orgasm and pain from the bite was a delicious combination that made you let out the prettiest moans he’s ever heard. The feeling of his cock twitching inside of you while it spilled cum inside of you was unforgettable. Your pussy was milking him just to get every last drop. The best part was hearing him mumble something as it all happened.

“Mine, mine, all mine, my pretty girl, so pretty, fuck, you’re all mine…”

Well your confidence surely came back with that one. Oh Tomas couldn’t help himself. He just loves you so much.

You two stayed there for a good bit, trying to catch your breaths after that wonderful experience. Eventually he pulled out and laid next to you. He pulled you in for a cuddle, rubbing your back gently as he placed kisses on your forehead. You snuggled up against him with little to no worried in your head. All you could think about was Tomas and the love you have for him. Before you passed out you heard him whisper something in your ear.

“I love you. I love everything about you…”

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

How was your trip down memory lane? Was it a good one? Good, wonderful, now get back to the present. You have important matters to get to.

But before you could move on those group of girls who used to bully you came walking up. They looked like they were determined to do something but what.

“I don’t know who you are fooling but I can tell those hickeys are just makeup.” One girl said as she pointed to your neck.

“Yeah, why don’t you stop acting like you and Tomas are a thing and get over it.” Another one added on.

Before the others could add their own nasty words, Tomas came up behind you and wrapped his strong arms around your waist.

“My dearest, what’s the matter? These girls seem to be upset by something.” He acted clueless but knew what these girls were up to. That’s why he placed a kiss on your neck which shocked the girls.

“Oh nothing, they are just confused. They just can’t seem to take the hint.” You answered back.

Tomas picked you up as you giggled and carried you away. The girls were too stunned to speak. They were hella wrong. They were in fact the background characters on this story. You were the main character who got her happy ending with her love interest. That is evident to everyone.

Have I told you that you are beautiful and loved? Well imma remind you again.

After notes: The heat is causing me to get sick and get cramps. Tomorrow will be worse and I have to go to campus where the sun beats down on us. I’m gonna kombat the sun. Adiós!

#mortal kombat #mk1 #mortal kombat 1 #mortal kombat1 #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat x you #mk x reader #mk x you #mk fanfic #tomas vrbada x reader #tomas vrbada x you #tomas x you #tomas x reader #tomas vrbada smoke #tomas vrbada #smoke x you #smoke x reader #mk1 smoke #mk smoke #smoke mk #mk smut

[quotidian-oblivion]

🎶I am filled with so much anxietyyy🎶

#quotidian convos #have a public speaking thing tomorrow #but the crowd isnt like my usual crowd #these are... actual professionals #accomplished people and leaders and people who are some of the best in their fields and jobs #and even though i'm only holding a 3-5 min activity (with a partner) #still doesnt change that this is my biggest audience yet #in terms of number as well as who they are #and also that every single person in the room are adults except me and my group #well its good to be in a group #i have a friend and we meet each other every other public speaking event #and she's so cool yall you dont even know #she's like one of THE coolest people i know #and her outfits are SMASHING #so cant wait to see her again!! #but yeah still filled with anxiety and nerves and stuff #*takes deep breath* it will be fine tho. it will be fine! #because as sprite said #public speaking is *my* bitch #(thanks sprite ^^)

[sameteeth]

something that i think is really interesting about billy's view of flint in s3 is that he thinks flint's death (if it's in a self-sacrificial way) will not absolve him of his sins in life but that it will make up for the hurt he's caused. or at least that billy wants it to. he pushes flint to take the maroon queen hostage so that flint will die, but flint will die for the crew. billy says in s3e6 "with all the shit that he's done, the things he's gotten away with, [flint dying to free them from the maroons] would have been fair. that would have been right" and that he wants to see "the moment the world finally catches up to [flint]" if/when he dies dueling teach. billy has a very simple idea of justice - he wants flint to die for the death and destruction he has caused, no matter how. that will make the world right, that the narrative will be balanced again.

but what billy doesn't know, and what makes me INSANE about this show is that the full quote from billy is is "I think part of the reason I've been able to stand by his [flint's] side is that I wanted to make sure I've got a good view of the moment the world finally catches up to him... and this story starts to make sense again." but to flint, what he has done is in service of his own justice. justice for the deaths of thomas and miranda and james mcgraw, for the theft of his home in london and again his home in nassau. but to billy, HIS narrative identifies flint as the villain. as the monster. for billy to get justice, flint must die. but it's SUCH a good line, because it also prompts the viewer to think - in OUR narrative, which follows flint and silver mostly, flint must succeed. we want him to beat teach and take the fleet back and overthrow the british empire. flint is shown to be a murderer but he is also shown to be deeply deeply human and we are set up to sympathize him. but it makes you consider what other voices we aren't hearing. who else has been hurt by flint's actions? what narratives have flint as the villain ? none of the characters in black sails are the heroes in every story - but to who are they the villains?

#idk this SHOW MAN. the rewatch is going quite well. makes me INSANE #'yes yes flint is billys england weve all seen it' IT JUST MAKES ME SO RABID !!!!!!!!! #the flint billy parallels make me climb walls bro #like. flint wants freedom from a colonial monarchist rule and becomes a pirate. which were famously democratic. and yeah sure hes not NOT #elected for his position - but black sails goes out of its way to show in s1 the kinds of subterfuge going on about the voting. #flint does NOT keep his position as captain fairly until silver. and even then we arent shown the voting but silver clearly keeps his #constituents happy somehow. idk the ship politics are soooo interesting to me!!!!! #i also think theres something deeper in black sails in general about leaders/followers. in terms of like. flint proposing his plato-based #philsopher-king bullshit. and his disregard for 'the men' as people beneath him... but ALL the captains do this. there's not a single #instance of a crew member whos given much agency or who makes a bid for leadership and isnt punished (singleton dusfrene billy even) #there is only the Leaders - flint silver charles vane rackham teach - and the Followers - the variable number of walrusmen that changes #based on the ship theyre on lol - the men on the ranger and the colonial dawn #granted some of this is just due to narrative reasons i think. but in a show thats so deliberate. its worth considering. #black sails #canis watches black sails

[illir]

oh right i talk abt this sometimes on twitter but never here so

if you want to repost my art, please ask me first. i will most likely say yes, but PLEASE ask! not only for my art but anyone's art, really. it doesn't matter if you're going to give credits or not. some artists don't want their art reposted at all, not even with credits. make sure to ASK FIRST.

same way if you're going to use someone else's art for personal use (icon, header, etc). DON'T DO IT UNLESS: 1) the artist has stated that it's okay to use their art for personal use (check their twitter bio, about page, carrd, etc), or 2) you personally ask them and they say it's fine. if they don't answer, it means NO.

don't treat someone's art as a free drawing you can use however you want!! is all.

#the thing with reposts is a general problem within the art community itself but #in yuumori fandom we've had 'fights' with several reposts account especially on instagram LMFAOOO #it was tiring every time... since they were all being defensive instead of just deleting their posts #there was even one time where a japanese yuumori fanartist made a callout post and asked everyone to report this one acc on ig #and they only deleted the tweets once the reposter took down all their posts #it was... an experience 💀 i didn't expect them to do that lol #fortunately our fandom isn't that big in terms of number of ppl who are constantly active #plus the intl and jpn fans generally get along pretty well too i'd say #so these things are resolved quickly bc words tend to spread fast #it's just sad that this keeps happening #i feel like the only people who get defensive about reposts are people who don't draw #like i hurt my back and arm while drawing this shit's not easy #it can be super draining #people who say “artists are so whiny” piss me the fuck off because it's not like we're whiny for no reason #oh my god that was long jhfjdsk #anyways

[curiosity-killed]

we do not need to engage with all posts. sometimes people can be stupid on the internet and it's fine, actually. we do not need to correct people for making grandiose statements based on knowledge they acquired at age 11 and haven't updated since <- said through gritted teeth

#normally i'm not that peeved by like minor dumb shit on the internet #but this post about how ballet and american football are equivalent in terms of injury/shouldn't be allowed/etc #is rubbing me the wrong way #and the number of people being like well ACTCHUALLY i danced till i was ELEVEN and it should be BANNED #is. much more annoying as it turns out #this is not to say that ballet doesn't have many many many problems #including the harm that can happen in terms of injury and body image #and the classism racism sexism etc etc we can go on for a while here #but the way it's framed in this post and the way ppl are responding to it is making me remarkably annoyed #which is why i'm grumbling on my blog instead of responding to the post itself #bc we do NOT need to respond #hnnnnn #also. will freely admit that i'm probably a lil extra testy about it after 5 hr of class/rehearsal today #and killing my freeds after 2 hr :') #WHY shoes #anyway to the person who said pointe should be banned until they come up with specialized shoes to reduce the damage #GUESS WHAT #that's why they have pointe shoe fitting specialists #and yes! access to and equitable/fair treatment in those environments is troubled #but we are not running headfirst at each other until we all have super duper brain damage #okay. it's fine. it's fine. #upon further reflection i think a solid 75% of my irritation comes from calling ballet a sport. this is a hill i have been angrily guarding #since i was like 12 #and am actually right about it. anyway. again. It's Fine. I'm letting it go

[britneyshakespeare]

i have to be honest. when ppl bring up how old jason earles was when he played jackson in hannah montana. i do agree it's a little weird but it's strange when ppl adopt the language of it being, like, somehow creepy. he played a high schooler in his late 20s-early 30s. it's not like ppl don't do that on the cw.

#i remember when i found out how old jason earles is. it mustve been 2010 #bc thats when i made facebook #he was also really young-looking in the early seasons?? not like he ACTUALLY looks like a teen #also no it's not CREEPY like it would be for someone to pretend to be a teen at that age irl #to my knowledge most of the actresses cast to be his love interest (at least from the top of my head? im not doing a survey) #were not like... teen starlets like miley and emily osment's age #well hmmm i guess there is that episode where he was into his friend cooper's little sister in s1 #i dont know how old that actress was. that was a weird episode regardless #but before his serious girlfriend arc (sienna 🖤) he never had a long-term serious love interest anyway #they were always one-off dates who got sick of his bullshit by the end of the episode like drake parker #text post #me the number one defender of hannah montana (2006-2011) created by michael poryes #that show WAS everything to me #it wasn't necessarily high art but it did have a big influence on me and my interests and dreams and blah blah #i dont think i would be the same person if it werent for hannah montana and later on miley cyrus #miley. one of my favs forever. love her always xoxox

[baishouqijia]

i am desperately trying to be more active but i'm experiencing mental burnout. just want to say thank you for the interactions even when i'm only checking in here now and again - i'll respond when i'm feeling better! <3

#nothing really happened - work and the house just got on top of me. #for context i was promoted to a management position in october and i hit my stride so i have a lot of responsibilities and i'm hhh. #having to play catch up in terms of skillset. i'm good at my job but i'm not the best - therefore ? i must keep pushing :y #as for home... Man (horse.jpg) #we bought a house a year ago. i envy people who renovate days after moving in. we're a year in and i'm only just redoing the kitchen floor #after a leak that happened in JUNE 2022. it's expensive as fuck and takes so much time. #i'm so fortunate to be able to afford a house but like. i won't lie. it's really hard having to be responsible for everything that goes #wrong with it. my kitchen has been subfloor for months. we destroyed our kitchen island trying to make room for the floor to be done #so we're down storage and stuff is just piling up. eh i know this is like. first world problem and really not a big deal. #but when your house is in disrepair because you don't have the money to fix it quickly or time to do it yourself. shit's hard. #anyway this is a rant. don't want a wrench or a tissue- just wanna get it out. #[puts on pantalone hat] i have money anxiety too #like i earn the most i've ever earned. i won't really get much higher than this atm. i'm due a bonus and i can cash out my shares #but fixing up the house is so expensive. i'm worried i'm gonna lose it all somehow. idfk why. when things are going well i worry i'm gonna #lose it all somehow. growing up poor does a number on your resource guarding. if i spend a penny I Will Lose It All. #' dima why do you like pantalone so much ' HE JUST LIKE ME FRRRR #sry this is a ramble . i treat tumblr tags like my diary but i hope you enjoyed the read xoxox #anyways! point is! i'm alive! i'm itching to come back but i dont have the mental space for fun rn. #can't have fun until i feel safe enough to have fun if that makes sense. #aight byeee

[serkonans]

the way we handle medical leave in the states even for people with good benefits is cruel

#the number of hoops i have to jump through. the way that my requirements for one surgery are apparently different from another surgery #even though there's nothing in the paperwork to indicate any need for that and the surgeries don't differ all that much #the way that they lost my initial letter and now i'm up against my deadline next week and they haven't even told me what day next week #so i'm worried that it's literally tomorrow #the way i am not receiving ANY pay for an entire month because of all the delays so i'm having to live off my savings #the way that every single person i've talked to has said something different about what is and isn't required #the way that for a lot of this i had to be navigating it while high on painkillers immediately post-surgery #the way that the group my employer contracts through has two different emails and names and flips between them constantly #the way that my healthcare provider does it differently than every other healthcare provider so i need special forms from them #instead of the leave group but then the leave group doesn't seem to accept the forms that they send #the way that the doctors office has seemed incredibly confused by my requests #the way that the ROI office told me they'd send over a completed form and never did #the way i literally don't even know who to call next to try and sort this out or if it's possible TO sort out #like i guess i'll call the leave group tomorrow and cry and beg for an extension. i guess i'll grovel bc it's the difference #of getting a few thousand dollars or not and i can't just be like oh well guess i won't get my short term disability pay #especially bc none of the hospitals have billed me yet and i'm getting scared bc i don't know what my ER bill is going to look like #bc they did xrays and a CT scan and they gave me a splint and a sling and a lot of drugs #so i do need the money. just sitting here like. idek what to do lmfao. #not tagging this bc i'm on desktop and i can't do the accent mark easily and idk where my phone is rn sorry