My first year of college was an exercise in humility. I arrived with my type A personality and perfectionism in tow, a living high school overachiever stereotype, eager to sign up for the most difficult classes available. And, despite the warnings of my adviser, I did just that. By the time third week–and with it, exams–rolled around, I was falling apart. I was constantly behind, staying up till 3 a. World Civilizations Ap Edition Glossary Of Nautical Terms. m. To finish an assignment then sleeping for 12 hours the next day. I didn’t eat well.

I cried every two or three days. I was miserable: physically, emotionally, and academically. This collapse persisted for the duration of the year. While my schedule and habits improved somewhat, the year concluded with rather abysmal grades–the kind that result in your adviser telling you you’re not going straight from undergrad to med school. When I saw the B- in Gen Chem, my second of the year, I went for an hour-long drive.

Nov 24, 2016. >Black Flag >Sleep >High On Fire >High On Fire >Husker Du >Sleaford Mods and many, many more link: yadi(dot)sk(slash)d(slash)LJL6ca9Bou6q4. >>Anonymous. >brand new album from Norwegian atmospheric prog rock band, recommended for fans of Pink Floyd, Porcupine Tree and Gazpacho. Sep 12, 2015. Praises efforts of dedicated teachers, bus drivers, and other employees.

I thought about transferring. I thought about dropping the bio major. I thought about letting go of medicine.

Over the summer, I decided to do whatever it took to continue with medicine. I changed my habits (pro tip: make sleep a priority) in studying, socializing, and taking care of myself. I promised to work harder.

However, I was sure that OChem would destroy me. With my background in chemistry, I believed OChem was something to be survived, not something in which to succeed. So when I got a 43 on my first midterm, over two standard deviations below average, it just confirmed my conclusions: I wasn’t that smart, but I would suffer through.

I was committed to that suffering: I took my exam to my TA’s office hours, desperate to scrape a passing grade. Sheepishly, I flipped through the pages, expecting the furrowed-brow frown that read “how could you not understand this?” to appear on my TA’s face at any moment. But it didn’t.

“This was a difficult exam,” he said. “It was more difficult for me than most.” I mumbled. “I didn’t do so well in Gen Chem either.” “That’s okay. How you did in Gen Chem doesn’t mean you’ll do the same in OChem.” I was shocked to not be treated as the stupid student. I had regained my motivation over the summer, and now I was regaining my confidence.

I threw myself into studying for my next midterm. Just below average.

Every insecurity returned: how could I study this hard and still barely brush average? If this is how hard I have to work for this grade, maybe I’m just not good enough. Maybe I just can’t cut it. Still, I wasn’t ready to give up. When the final came around, I studied for a full week beforehand. I got an 85 on that final, two standard deviations above average.

I didn’t think it was possible for me to do that well in OChem. I couldn’t believe it–but I began to.

After that, my grades rose across the board. Soon, I didn’t need a week to study, because I had worked so hard and continuously that I developed an instinct for the subject.

I began to love OChem–I even tutor in it now. My last midterm of the year I received a 95, moving from a bottom scorer to top five in my class. My second year GPA was 0.63 higher than my first year GPA.

I had done what seemed impossible. For any struggling student who’s reading this, I hope I can do for you what my TA did for me: believe in yourself. You can overcome bad grades.

You are smart enough, and you are hardworking enough. Intelligence is elastic: you can make yourself smarter. There is no point at which you are doomed to fail. So keep trying: you may discover you’re capable of more than you ever dreamed. So I’ve been noticing that lately we’re making fun of adults who live in their parents’ basements again Guess where I live!

My parents’ basement! I’m mentally ill and autistic and not capable of living independently. I can’t go grocery shopping alone, I can’t drive, I can’t make transfers on public transportation, and if I’m left alone I forget to do things like eat, drink, shower, take my meds, and do laundry. Even if I were capable of independent living, I don’t make enough on disability to afford an apartment. If y’all are actually committed to intersectionality, you’d best find a better insult for misogynists than living in their parents’ basement, because honestly I already get down on myself for feeling useless enough without this stuff.

Also this is totally ok for abled people to reblog and signal boost if you don’t mind?:) Thanks! Pairing: Bucky x reader Warning: drinking, mentions of sex You were gorgeous. Stunningly so and everyone knew. Everyone took note. The media covered it, strangers commented it to you daily and every one of the Avengers knew it. It was after the Accords, things were rough and you had begun rising to fame as a model.

Your name could be heard, floating through the air like a whisper. Someone who seemed to grow famous overnight. And it seemed everyone adored you. Yet, there was an air of mystery to you that no one could quite decipher. If only they knew.

They knew the secrets that kept you up late into the night. The secrets that were locked far below the surface, you were determined to keep them there. Yet, you knew it was a false hope. With superheroes everywhere, with the Accords hanging over everyone’s heads, you knew it was only a matter of time before they found out. Before your powers were discovered.

So the day an agent showed up at your house, you couldn’t say you weren’t shocked. You figured they were there, informing you that you had to sign the Accords. Though, to your total surprise, they were there to recruit you. With the Avengers still just getting back together, they were fragile. And they had a critical mission that needed someone like you to help with. Someone no one expected that could get the information they needed.

You had been more than willing to help and as you arrived at the party that you had to go undercover at, you were even more striking. An elegant, fitted red dress and hair curled in waves that flowed down your back. Eyes focused on you, some watching your every movement while others merely glanced.

But there wasn’t a person who didn’t look at you. And across the room, you met eyes with a striking blue pair. Long hair yet it didn’t look wild, no it was perfectly styled and done in a low bun. Scruff just beginning and the suit he wore hugged him perfectly and you could see the muscles that lay just beneath the surface of his shit. Blue tie accenting his eyes and you were taken back.

He was gorgeous and you wanted to know every part of him. That’s when you remembered where you were and what you were there for. You looked away, making your way to the bar, you ordered a martini before glancing around the room. You could feel the striking blue eyes, watching you carefully. Avoiding them, you tried to find the best way to the study that lay just beyond the doors in the back of the room.

The file you were after lay in there and the flash drive in your handbag was cleared and ready to transfer the data over. You needed a distraction and as your eyes met back with the blue ones, the idea came to you. Walking over, you smiled dashingly. “You know, it’s rude to stare.” The man before you paused before chuckling. “Sorry, just you’re stunning and I couldn’t help myself.” “Well, if you’re going to stare, the least you can do is tell me your name.” “James Barnes. But you doll can call me Bucky.” “It’s a pleasure to meet you Bucky.

I’m Y/N.” “Y/N. Gorgeous name for a gorgeous girl. What brings you to a party like this?” “Boredom. Hoping to find something to do.” Leaning up, evening on heels you were shorter than him, and whispering low in his ear, you murmured, “Or someone.” Bucky raised an eyebrow, smirking at you. Walking away, you headed toward the back. Without glancing back, you knew he was following after you.

And slipping into the study, you made your way to the computer. Bucky shut the door behind him and before he could do anything, you raised a hand to stop him. “Watch the door for me, will you darling?” “Wait, what?” He asked, giving you an incredulous look. “Sorry, not here for a fuck. I needed an excuse.” You turned on the computer.

Frowning at the password, you began typing in the various passwords you were given. When you finally got in, you plugged in the flash drive. Transferring everything you needed too, you shut it off and threw the flash drive back in your bag. You’re the girl we recruited aren’t you?” “That’s me solider. Sorry, maybe next time.” You let your hand drag across this chest lightly as you passed.

A smirk on your delicate lips as you left the party with a successful mission. Jin “Did I or did I not tell you to control your alcohol intake” he scolded you, early ing the morning, carefully placing his freshly made soup on the nightstand next to the bed. You were covered in wet towels as the heat became even more unbearable for you when you woke up. You groan remembering how you rolled your eyes at the warning Jin made yesterday morning. One drink turned to 3 and those doubled and so on.

Your friend, and also designated driver for the night, drove you home after calling Jin over so he could carry you to your apartment. Jin played along with your antics yesterday night - endlessly dragging you back into bed, insisting that you sleep before you could hurt yourself. He comes over to lean against the bed frame beside you and puts his arm over your shoulder. You slowly sink into his arms and begin to fall asleep when Jin shakes you a little. “You know the lady that sells Bungeo-ppang?” You open one eye to peer at him, “yeah, did you bring me one?” “No” He smiles and points at the bowl, “drink your soup.” You groan again, but this time in refusal; rolling away from him, but his hand keeps you beside him. “I ran into her while shopping and she gave me some medicine for you,” he sees your eyebrow raise and his laugh begins to form. “Apparently you went to her shop last night and asked her to set all her fish free.” You push your head back in annoyance with yourself as Jin rubs your shoulder in comfort.

Suga He looks over at you still sleeping; you were 5 drinks in when he offered to be your black knight (drink in your place). Fortunately you didn’t put up much of a fight. Unfortunately, 5 drinks was enough to make you a sleeping mess. His alcohol tolerance was fairly good, but after carrying you all the way back home in the cold weather, his memory began to fade. You shuffle in your sleep and he instantly reaches out to push your hair out of your face.

The action makes you open your eyes slowly to look up at him, “how’re you feeling?” he asks rubbing your cheek. “Like I’ve been dragged through the streets“ “I may have hit your head in the corners a couple of times.” Your eyes widen at him and he smiles down at you. “I told you when you bought this apartment that the corners needed to be child proof.“ “I’m not a child“ you whine, “How is it that you’re in one piece?“ Before he can answer your question his phone beeps with a text, he takes his hand off of your cheek to get his phone. He looks down at the text really quick before looking up and giving a sympathetic smile. “Hungover cure is waiting for you on the kitchen counter, babe. I have practice now - call me if you don’t feel okay.“ he gets up to grab his leather jacket and halts to lean over to feel your lips on his.

“Nasty morning breath“ he playfully teases before going in for another peck, “I’ll let myself in tonight so don’t stay up and rest.“ J Hope “Hyung I think she might be dead” you open your eyes slowly at the sound of Hoseoks voice, “She’s not even mumbling things in here sleep, just dead” You’ve becomes a black rose since hoseoks tolerance and taste didn’t suit alcohol. You slowly sit up in your bed, putting your hands on your face, not wanting him to see you like this.

Your cheeks feel hotter than usual and your throat dry. “Never mind she’s alive, i’ll call you later then, bye.“ He comes over the bed with a glass of water and some pills “Here you had me worried, i was about to call a doctor over? Do you know how much you drank? You could have gotten alcohol poisoning!” his mouth turns downwards as you sit up slowly and take the pill and raise the glass to your lips.

“Hobi, I’m just tired - I feel like crap“ “I know, I’m sorry. Maybe we shouldn’t have” You finally see his tired face as well, he must have stayed up the whole night worrying. A sudden guilt hits you seeing him like this. “Come here,“ you extend your arms towards him and he goes towards you resting his head on your chest and his hands wrap around your waist. “It’s just a slight hangover, i’ll get over it soon. I’m sorry for making you worry, I don’t think going out for drinks is us.” “Staying at home is nicer.“ Rap Monster You shuffle around uncomfortably for a few moments before realizing you’re not on your mattress, rather you have your bed sheets wrapped around you tightly inside your bathtub.

“Yah!” you call out, knowing full well your boyfriend promised to stay the weekend with you. A loud bang followed by smaller bangs assure you that he’s somewhere in the kitchen making his way towards you. He appears before you in only his loose boxers and messy hair, and it takes you a good minute to remember the position you are currently stuck in, “You awake?” He laughs as he leans in the door frame. You narrow your eyes at him “Why do you have me here? Why am i tied up?” “Do you know how stubborn you get when you’re drunk?” he goes over to you, “You kept assaulting me both sexually and physically” he jokes pulling the ties he made with the bed sheet.

“I literally had to wrestle the whole way here” You finish the knots and free yourself with his help from the sheets, “Why the bathtub?” you take his outstretched hand, sheets still wrapped around you, pulling yourself up and out of the tub. “Babe, you made yourself heavier when i tried to carry you - the farthest i could make it was here.” he takes the remains sheets out of the tub and turns to you. You see his tongue pass over his lips, your eyes travel towards his face and become immediately trapped by his eyes as you become aware that your are naked under the sheets. “Let’s take a shower, last night was enough self control to last me a lifetime,“ he jokes. Jimin You whine into your sheets as an alarm clock goes off early in the morning, you completely forgot you had a job last night as you drank beer like water. You shove your head in your pillow and kick off the bed sheet to only cover your torso. You hear footsteps and the alarm shuts off.

You wait a few seconds and feel the bed dip down under someones weight, looking up you see your boyfriend leaning down to kiss the top of your head. “I called your coworker to cover the first hours of your shift. *cracks knuckles* HOLD MY BEER, I GOT THIS ONE!

I am literally a transport medic. I move people between hospitals for a living. So there are definitely reasons for transporting someone between hospitals. Most transports are fairly local, typically within 15 miles but almost* always within 100 miles.

Typical reasons for transport are: need for tests or procedures unavailable at the sending hospital (for example, a character who’s had a heart attack may be transferred emergently to a hospital that has a cardiac catheterization lab); transfer to a higher level of care (someone being admitted to a specialty ICU from a smaller hospital; for example, a character with a brain injury might need a Neuro ICU, which might not be available at the sending hospital). Most hospitals that do transfers have some sort of an agreement or standing guidelines for when, and what, they transfer, but the decision is always made by the character’s attending physician and the attending at the receiving hospital. Without the consent of both docs, the transfer doesn’t happen. Characters may also be transferred between facilities by request. It’s less common, mostly because the bill won’t be paid by insurance/Medicare/Medicaid. That’s because these are considered “voluntary” transfers, not “necessary” ones. The character, their family, or employer will have to pay for this out of pocket.

But Of course, there’s that almost. Long-distance transfers do happen. I’ve picked up transfers from the airport from across an ocean who were coming to my hospital for specialty care they can’t get where they’re from. There are entire companies who do nothing but long-distance, fixed-wing medical flights from Point A to Point B. This can be extremely expensive, though.

I’ve heard of this being covered if the specialty services really aren’t available nearby – for example, flying a patient across the country for a specialty burn unit – but typically this is paid for out of pocket. This can run into the tens of thousands of dollars for a simple transfer. How Does That Work? 1) Someone agrees to pay for this.

2) The sending and receiving docs agree to well, send and receive. 3) A ground transport EMS team picks the flight team up at the airport, drives them to the hospital. They evaluate the patient, package them for transport, load them into the ambulance, drive to the airport, transfer them into the plane. The flight team continues on, and the process is reversed at the receiving airport: there’s a second ambulance with its own team, and they get the patient from the airport to the receiving hospital. Depending on the distance, this can also be done by a single crew by ground. I’ve heard of jobs running into several hundred miles, though I can’t say I’ve ever done more than maybe a 75-mile-each-way trip. But there are transport companies who can, will, and do arrange these kinds of drives; they’ll arrange a crew to come in, likely on overtime for super long distance jobs, and they’ll just get in and drive.

Stops for rest (driver), food (everyone), and bathroom (crew) will happen maybe every 50-100 miles, plus the stops for gas; ambulances are notoriously fuel-hungry despite standard 30-50 gallon tanks. (My old service averaged about 3 miles per gallon with their trucks; that said, they did a lot of short trips and idling in park because the units had to “post,” not sit in a station.) The Real Question is Why Why is your character being moved? Is it for better care, or to be closer to their family,?

I don’t know how the Secret Service handles their line-of-duty injuries; it could be that they transfer them all back to the home base, but given the penny-pinching that is a government administration, I highly doubt it. Is this guy a Super Duper Special Agent Man who must be in DC or People Will Die? The simplest way to justify this might simply be to say that he has a Very Rich Relative who decides they want him back “home” to be with his (parent, spouse, cat, neighbor’s lawn mower,.) Either way, unless there are extreme extenuating circumstances, I highly doubt Uncle Sam will foot the bill.

I hope this helped!! Xoxo, Aunt Scripty [] [] []. Pairings: Bucky Barnes X Reader Summary: After you break your computer, you barrow Bucky’s and break his. You accept your fate and tell him. Only his reaction isn’t what you expected.

Warnings: Swearing??? Word Count: 1200+ You fiddled with your pocket knife, flicking it open, then shutting it. “Do you mind?” You looked over at Tony. “Sorry” You then began turning the knife around in your hand, watching as Tony looked over the computer. You bit the inside of your cheek as Tony screwed the bolts back onto the laptop. “Yeah, you broke it.” You groaned loudly.

“No!” Tony nodded his head. “Afraid so.” You slumped into the seat.

“Bucky is going to kill me!” Tony slid the computer back over to you. Nothing more I can do for you. Download Business Process Reengineering Text And Cases Pdf Editor. ” “What if I went and bought a new one. Could you transfer the drive thingy over?” Tony shook his head. I can’t transfer the hard drive over. You spilled mountain dew all in it. It’s ruined.” You slipped from the chair and slid to the floor. “It was nice knowing you, Tony.

I always liked you. Say nice things about me at my funeral.” Tony stood over you. “Let Steve know you’re going to die. He’ll be upset if he doesn’t get a goodbye.” You held Bucky’s laptop in your hand as you walked your way to his room. Every time you said goodbye to someone they would look at you confusedly. But none the less, hug you back. You stood outside of Bucky’s door and knocked.

*Knock, knock-knock-knock, knock-knock.* “Come in!” You slowly opened the door and stepped into Bucky’s dark bedroom. “We’re you sleeping? I can come back another time.” Bucky sat up, running his metal hand through his hair. I was just laying awake.

You’re fine.” Bucky reaches over and flicked his bedside lamp on. “You here to bring my laptop back?” You nodded your head. “You get your homework done?” You nodded your head.

You did get your homework done, you just thought since you had his laptop overnight you could watch some Netflix, drink some mountain dew and chill for the rest of the night. Which is exactly what he told you not to do with his laptop. You have to get a new one because of all of your tomfooleries you did with your old one.” “What are you doing all the way over there? Come here.” Bucky said, patting the space next to him. You just leaned against the closed door. “What’s going on?” You bit your lip.

“I have to tell you something.” Bucky titled his head. “What?” You took a deep breath. “You have to promise not to get mad.” Bucky raised a brow, waiting. “I might have, possibly, could have spilled mountain dew all over your computer and broke it.

I’m so sorry please don’t kill me.” Bucky just stared at you for a long moment. “Was while you were doing your homework?” You shook your head. “Were you watching Netflix?” You nodded your head.

Bucky slowly got up and walked over to you. If you could’ve pressed yourself any further into the door, you would’ve. Bucky grabbed his laptop from your hand and opened it. He pressed the button.

The stupid thing powered up. Bucky looked over at you, raising his eyebrows. You stared at the loading screen, shocked. How was it booting up? You looked up at Bucky with a sheepish smile. “Just kidding?” Bucky shook his head, closed the top and tossed it on his bed. Placing his hands on either side of your head, he leaned forward.

“So did you or did you not spill soda on my computer?” You gulped. But Tony told me he couldn’t fix it or put your drive thingy into a new one! I don’t know why it’s working now!” Bucky smiled.

“I had Tony back my stuff up on a new computer.” You looked at him dumbfounded. “W-What?” “I knew the chances of you dropping it or spilling something on it were high, so I asked him to make a backup computer. Hopefully, this taught you to be more careful with other people’s stuff.” You just stared at him and crossed your arms. “SO both of you knew and let me think I was going to die at the hands of boyfriend all to teach me a lesson?!” Bucky nodded his head. “Yes.” You shoved Bucky, well tried to shove Bucky away from you. “Will you move!? I want to leave!” You said, placing your hands on his chest and shoving, kinda, again.

Bucky smirked at you. “You’re mad at me? I should be the one mad at you! You ruin my perfectly good computer!” You folded your arms again and looked away from him. “What am I getting the silent treatment now?” You refused to look at him. Bucky leaned further in.

Don’t be mad at me. I’m not mad at you.” He nuzzled his nose against your jaw. You still didn’t budge. Light kisses were feathered up your face. Still nothing. Bucky gently gripped your chin in his mental hand, turning your face towards him.

You closed your eyes and refused to look at him. “Come on, Doll” He peppered your face in kisses. His other hand moved to your hip, pulled your flush against him.

“Doll, you can’t be mad at me for teaching you a lesson.It just isn’t right.” You scoffed. He kissed your neck, his metal hand moved down to your hip, tightening just enough to make you yelp. Suddenly the door jumped behind you, Bucky instantly leaned away from the door and you. Your new device is here!” You smiled and threw open the door, nearly hitting Bucky in the face. Thor was standing there, holding a large brown box.

You took it from him and squealed. You were laying on Bucky’s bed while you finished setting your new computer up. Bucky was sitting next to you, still trying to get your attention. “You’re really not going to talk to me? You do realize that I should be the one doing this?” You connected your laptop to the wifi and smiled hugely, ignoring his words. Bucky leaned back and grabbed your hips, pulling you up and into his lap.

You squirmed around, arms reaching for your laptop. “Stop moving and look at me.” He grabbed your chin and made you look at him.

Is that what you wanted to hear?” You smiled. “Yes, it is.” Bucky leaned forward and kissed you. “I am sorry too. I didn’t mean to spill soda on it.” You said, frowning.

“I got you something for that.” Bucky leaned down and opened his nightstand drawer. He handed you a small gift bag. You looked at him questionably. Open it.” You opened that bag and laughed. “A cup with a top?” Bucky nodded his head.

“It said it won’t spill. So you can drink your mountain dew and watch Netflix.” You kissed him. “Thanks.” He kept his arms wrapped around your waist as you set the gift aside and grabbed your computer. You snuggled into his chest and typed in Netflix. “What do you want to watch?”.

Happy Time Travel Tuesday, guys! 8D It wasn’t often that Rex found himself confused enough to think he was back in the war. One of the rare moments was when they ended up working with the droids, and he’d called out for Cody, rather than Kanan.

It had been a real low point, for him, after they got back to base. Kanan offered to talk about it, but Rex had shut down. Zeb had suggested calling someone, and they had called Wolffe and Gregor, in the end. He’d talked to Wolffe until he’d fallen asleep, well past their planet’s midnight. Kanan merely asked ‘you okay?’ the next morning, and getting a 'yes’ set them back to the status quo. He knew Kanan, Hera, and Zeb kept watching him, though, after that. “With a transfer to the hospice booked for 7am on Friday, Connie and Chris had less than 24 hours to say goodbye to their son.

‘We pushed another bed against his bed and Chris and I lay either side of him,’ says Connie. ‘We didn’t want to sleep because we wanted to savour every moment with him.

‘We cuddled him and told him how much we loved him. We took photos of his hands, feet, fingers and toes. Every second with him was precious. We never wanted to forget how beautiful he was.’ In the early hours of Friday morning and panic-stricken that Charlie had just hours to live, Connie emailed the judge. ‘I begged for more time — even a little.

I cannot begin to describe the feelings you have as a mother knowing your child is about to die. I hoped for some compassion, but he emailed back saying it simply wasn’t possible because GOSH didn’t agree.’ At 6.35am, hospice staff arrived to take Charlie away.

‘Leaving the intensive care unit where we’d lived for nine-and-a-half months felt surreal,’ says Connie. ‘The photos of Charlie, the days and nights we’d spent there at his bedside, the rushing back to see him from the hearings. It held so many memories.

On the one hand, I longed to leave the hospital: we didn’t want Charlie to die there. And yet, a huge part of our lives was coming to an end in such a tragic way. ‘We longed to be in the ambulance with Charlie but, instead, flanked by security guards, we had to follow in a car. ‘We were so broken — too upset in our own individual world of grief — to protest or even speak to each other.’ After a 45-minute drive, Charlie was transferred to a room at the hospice. The couple had five hours before he had to die. Chris says: ‘We took Charlie out for a walk in a pushchair in the hospice park.

We had little plaster of Paris moulds taken of his feet and hands with ours.’ Connie recalls: ‘We dressed him in a Babygro with stars on it. He looked so beautiful and innocent. The hospice staff popped in. Those last five hours had flashed.

A woman said the moment we dreaded would happen in the next five minutes. ‘Chris and I were both crying. We laid on the bed with Charlie between us, each of us holding a hand. We were both telling him we were there, we loved him, how proud we were of him. ‘A staff member disconnected the ventilator so that the tube was still in Charlie’s nose, but it wasn’t working. ‘Charlie opened his eyes and looked at us one last time and closed them before he passed away. We were warned it might take five or six minutes for him to die.

But it took 12 minutes until his heart stopped beating.’ Chris, who had laid his head on his son’s chest so he could hear his very last heartbeats, adds: ‘It was typical of our little fighter, our warrior, to keep fighting until the very end.’ A nurse removed the tube and sticky tapes that had kept it in his nose. ‘I held him in my arms.

It was amazing to see him without the ventilator. Through sobs, Chris and I marvelled at how beautiful our son was.’ A member of staff asked if they would like to take Charlie home in a temperature assisted ‘cuddle cot’, which would allow them to have their son home with them for a few days. ‘Before, I’d always thought maybe taking your child home in such a cot would be rather odd. ‘But ultimately, it felt perfectly natural to leave the hospice with Charlie and take him with us.’ The last time they’d seen their flat was in October last year when he became ill and Connie had rushed him to hospital. Once their son was transferred to GOSH, they never went home. Relatives picked up clothes and they stayed in special accommodation close to the hospital. ‘Charlie was still warm as we carried him through our front door,’ recalls Connie.

‘The moment was very emotional. ‘We had got our last wish to bring him home, but Charlie was no longer alive.’ While relatives had tidied up hastily abandoned coffee cups, everything else in their flat remained as it had been since last October. ‘The “Congratulations On Your Baby Boy” cards still lining the front room made us weep,’ says Chris. ‘Everywhere we looked were remnants of those happy times with a newborn Charlie. His clothes, toys, bottles ‘Although it was so upsetting, at least he was home — finally back where he belonged. It felt like he was ours again.’ For a few days, Charlie laid in a cot next to their bed with three monkeys — Chris, Connie and Charlie each have one — and his tiny bear, called Norbert.

‘Soon, it will be time for Charlie to make his final journey,’ says Connie, explaining that she and Chris are still finalising funeral arrangements for his burial. First Details on the Porsche Mission E Concept Porsche is introducing the first all-electrically powered four-seat sports car in the brand’s history. The concept car combines the unmistakable design of a Porsche with excellent performance and the forward-thinking practicality of the first 800-volt drive system. Key specification data of this fascinating sports car: four doors and four single seats, over 600 hp (440 kW) system power and over 500 km driving range. All-wheel drive and all-wheel steering, zero to 100 km/h acceleration in under 3.5 seconds and a charging time of around 15 minutes to reach an 80 per cent charge of electrical energy. Instruments are intuitively operated by eye-tracking and gesture control, some even via holograms – highly oriented toward the driver by automatically adjusting the displays to the driver’s position.

Length: Long – In Asian culture, we believe in a different kind of spirit from what you may be used to in the west. When objects/animals act on their own, we don’t always say they are possessed. Our ghosts aim higher. They tend to possess people more. When things move on their own, we say they’ve developed or evolved their own soul. And among them, we have the objects who have ‘mastered the Force’, so to speak.

They can actually assume different forms - often a human form. Chinese mythology is full of ‘jing’ (which I can assure you is not linguistically related to the djinn, or else I’d say so.) So I’ve had my fair share of encounters with, well, people who I believe to be, well, not people, and often with good reason. I’ll start you off with this one.

This took place quite some time back, perhaps about 2 years ago. It happened around Bedok South. Eastern Singapore again (west-siders, don’t for a moment think you have a monopoly on Singapore ghost stories).

I was at a bus stop, waiting for a bus. I’d been visiting a friend in Marine Parade and had to transfer buses at the stop. I can’t remember what were the routes of the buses involved.

I just remember behind me was a factory and opposite me was a large condominium of sorts. There was an overhead bridge connecting my stop to the corresponding stop on the opposite side of the road.

So anyway, I was there at the stop alone at about 4pm, waiting for my bus to come, looking right. Then behind me came this lady. “Excuse me, mister.” I turned around, expecting a fellow passenger who was, in turn, expecting some help from me. I’m certainly the type to help stranded commuters. On a good day, when I’m not driving but instead transferring between buses at the Tanah Merah subway station’s bus stop, you’ll find me giving directions to clueless ferry-bound tourists who were just instructed to take the train to T.M.

And grab a bus to the ferry terminal. They have no idea that from that bus stop, there are two buses to two different terminals. Seriously, LTA, just put up some simple-English signage for the tourists already. But I digress. I was at the bus stop, turning around, meeting the lady.

She was slightly older than middle-aged (for the Singaporeans among you, long story short, like auntie that age lah.) The first things I noticed was her short stature and dark skin. She looked like she was from somewhere in Southeast Asia, perhaps Cambodia or Myanmar, but her accent was one I couldn’t place at all (and I have plenty of experience with the SEA accents. I have friends from all over the region, and I’ll share some tales from them when I have the time to write.) The only thing that I remembered, aside from the intonation that did not match any accent I knew, was that she pronounced all letter ‘T’s as the ‘ch’ sound. She asked me some mundane question, like how to get to Bedok or something.

I don’t exactly remember it now; I only remember answering her to the effect that it was sufficiently near that all the buses at that stop would take her there. I did try to ask her some questions, like what she was doing, to try and place her accent, but she gave me a bunch of non-answers, and I still couldn’t figure out where she was from. But the more I waited with her at the bus stop, the more I noticed her clothes.

She was wearing an incredibly smooth thin jacket, silk-like, which was silver in colour, over a black blouse, and a silver skirt matching the jacket. And the sleeves of the jacket were so loose that they hung loosely when she lifted her arms, and the inside of the jacket was lined with deep blue. Pay attention to that. It gets important later. And there was something about her finger.

At some point in our exchange, she pointed at the info-board or something, and I recall noticing that her nail looked off. Like it was the same dark colour as her skin. Basically I couldn’t tell where the nail ended and the skin began, and I did get a good look at that finger.

It was just weird. At that point, the only thing I was thinking was that discoloured nails usually signified some disease, and I hoped she was okay. But still, I’d never seen nails discoloured till they looked like skin. Anyway, shortly after I answered her questions, she just disappeared. I know no bus came which she boarded, and she didn’t get on a taxi or any vehicle, since I was waiting for a bus myself, and I would have noticed.

I looked up and down the street, and she wasn’t there. The only place she could have gone in the 25 seconds it took me to notice her disappearance was up the overhead bridge, and she wasn’t there either.

I did, though, hear a sound like a zip being zipped up behind me. I turned around - of course nothing - and went round to the back of the bus-stop to investigate. There’s a drain behind the bus-stop, between the stop and the factory, and as you know, Singapore drains are all fenced off with green fencing so nobody falls in and ends up in some reservoir.

And hanging off the green fence was an umbrella. You already know where this is heading. The umbrella was just hanging there, not strapped. And from where I was, I could see it. The outer surface of the umbrella was silver. The inner surface, visible, was deep blue, as if the umbrella was made of the same fabric as the woman’s jacket and presumably skirt. The spokes of the umbrella were black.

I looked at the handle and nearly screamed. It was made of wood, smooth wood, the colour of the woman’s skin, and it looked as though someone hard carved it into the shape of a bent finger, with a nail. Now, I do not know what would have happened if I had picked up the umbrella. I left it there, which I believe was the best thing to do.

Better not disturb these things, you see. Of course, as per standard practice, I went to a temple to pray when I could. But there was one thing that makes me sure this whole thing was what I thought it was. When I boarded the bus, which finally came, I tapped my ez-link card and I heard a female voice behind me.

“Chank you.” – Credits to: nightwind0332. *Request* Sam is bored and keeps toying with you, and it’s driving you nuts. Transfer from my old site. Sam Winchester x (very short) Reader “ God damn it, Sam.” You swore under your breath. You stood in the kitchen, hands on your hips, looking up at the top of the refrigerator. You’d been looking for your boots all morning, and had just found them, sitting there on top of the tall kitchen appliance.

You knew you hadn’t put them there. You were 5 feet tall and couldn’t possibly reach, and seriously, who keeps their shoes on the fridge? “SAM!” You hollered, seriously pissed now. You huffed over to the cabinet, and were just about to climb up onto it to retrieve the wayward boots when you saw his tall frame fill the doorway. “Lose something?” A deep voice asked, obviously amused.

THICC Edition. Previous Thread: 2D Hentai games (Hentai RPG, Violated Heroine, H-Action Games) General /hgg2d/ For searching purposes: /vhg/ Please check the catalog first to see if your game has a general already existing before posting about it. UNLESS EXPLICITLY STATED ASSUME THERE'S NO TRANSLATION AND PLEASE READ THE PASTEBINS BEFORE ASKING QUESTIONS >NEWCOMERS GUIDE:(PLEASE READ BEFORE POSTING) >Recommended Games: >/hgg2d/ Gotw Catalog: >/hgg2d/ Game Archive IF YOU'RE PLANNING TO PLAY RPGMAKER GAMES, MAKE SURE YOU HAVE THE RIGHT RTP FOR THEM DON'T BOTHER THE THREAD WITH RGSSWHATEVER.dll ERRORS RGSS DECRYPTER FOR APPLYING PATCHES RJ CODE QUICKLINK SCRIPT VH Specific >latest VH translation Installation: FAQ. For flash games like this where hooking isn't really an option, the only thing EOPs can do is wait for a machine translation patch. Without even being able to get the gist of the story, the game is probably very dull, you just click a few buttons for a while, watch meters go up, and then see the same animation that's in all the JSK games again. The fun of these games for me is in exploring the dialogue branches, in this case you find out that she was trying to steal something for a guy who she likes, and then you wind up doing the whole cliche NTR videotape deal.