Today we took our little brother to the hospital because he suffers from an infection that affects his breathing and causes him pain. I hope that every living conscience will help us save our young son’s life and donate any amount you can.
Unfortunately, there is no treatment in the hospital for my little. Help us before it is too late.
god i hate how normalized diet culture and shit like bmi and calories are. bmi is based on eugenics. calories are a measurement of how much energy something gives u and not at all of how much weight or fat ull gain. diets have been proven to be harmful and ultimately unhelpful in actually losing weight. fatness has been largely proven to not be inherently unhealthy and doesnt inherently cause health issues.
if anyone has more good links to add on then please do and if anyone knows more on this stuff than me then dont hesitate to correct me!
The BMI was invented by Adolphe Quetelet, the 19th century statistician who invented phrenologist anthropometry. He wasn’t just a eugenicist, he was one of the founding fathers of racist pseudoscience. Please do not listen to anything he has to say about your body.
“And get this: While epidemiologists use BMI to calculate national obesity rates (nearly 35 percent for adults and 18 percent for kids), the distinctions can be arbitrary. In 1998, the National Institutes of Health lowered the overweight threshold from 27.8 to 25—branding roughly 29 million Americans as fat overnight—to match international guidelines. But critics noted that those guidelines were drafted in part by the International Obesity Task Force, whose two principal funders were companies making weight loss drugs.”
Characters: Mae Borowski, Redd Morris (Narinder)
Setting: Roof of Gregg and Angus' Apartment Building, Late Afternoon
Topic: The Dredge of Living and Dying, also Cult encounters
Words: 891
"So, do you like-" She pauses in thought- "mope on the roof a lot?"
"In a sense," says Morris.
"What does that even mean?" Mae Borowski asks, puzzled.
"…"
Two cats sit by the edge of an apartment building, gazing at nothing in particular. The sun had just set on Possum Springs, with the orange glow barely peeking from the hillside. Faint ghosts of stars coalesce in a dark fabric.
If they wait long enough, they could see the star sign of Mundy appear soon, Mae notes. Judging by how slow this conversation's going, it would be in no time at all.
"What are you doing here anyway?" she questions, "in Possum Springs I mean."
"Do you want a metaphorical answer, or literal?"
"Ok, can you like, stop with the vague shit you've got going on here?!" Her volume raises to the first floor. "Literal, I guess."
"Mhm. I came here because…" The pitch-black cat takes a while to answer. "Just because."
"Like, saving money and stuff?"
"Just because," he repeats, "or at least, Mallory had wanted to."
"The sheep?" She remembers Gregg mentioning that Morris had a partner who moved with him. She hasn't seen them yet, since they worked in mornings. Some short-stack like her, yeah.
"Yes, that pest of a lamb." Though monotone, it was spoken with an endearment she thought impossible from him. "They… had some work to do here in town. I was only along for the ride."
"Huh, I can't imagine moving just to work somewhere at all. Much less for someone else. The only places I've ever been were here and college. Also maybe that road trip with my parents that one time."
"Mmm." He breathes out a mist of cold. "And how is college faring for you?"
"Dropped out." She blurts out without thinking. Straight for the throat, goddamn it.
"I see."
God, this sucks.
Right now, all she wants is to leave this asshole be for the night, but this might be her ace-in-the-hole for her ghost investigation. Germ said he saw him lingering out by the chain-link fence every now and then, looking towards the trees. Just gazing for a few minutes before returning home.
Eyewitness. That's the word. She needs an eyewitness to confirm her encounter. She could prove that it wasn't some dream she had.
If only this fucker doesn't keep on refusing to answer her questions.
"So…" She taps rhythmically on the pavement. "You see any… ghosts?"
"I see them all the time." He takes out a cigarette and lighter from his pockets, filling the air with that cigar smell that Bea carries around with her all the time. He offers her a stick, which she refuses. "In life and in death."
"Uh." She waves away the smoke that's trying to enter her nose.
"Ghosts that have no business pestering the living world, always haunting some forgotten crevice of society. Never alive, nor really dead. Those kinds of ghosts."
He takes in the first breath of smoke. It dances, glittering in the dying sunlight.
"Um," she tries to interrupt.
"Though one dies, there's an imprint left in the dredges on the separating line. A true purgatory where the soul leaves, yet a body remains alive, operating as you would a machine. The world's grey area is dissolving, tainting the extremes with traces of one another."
His voice trembles slightly.
"It disgusts me, how they could never pass on with peace. Sure, they could return alive or dead, but it is in that middle ground, where agony could be your only drug for existence. Could you imagine that, living with a husk of your former self?"
He doesn't even notice her in his periphery, only looking towards the horizon where the stars faintly glow. His cigarette bends from his grip.
"Can I..?"
"Oh, sorry." He seems to snap out of his spiel, returning to the present. "What were you saying?"
"I mean, uh… I mean a literal ghost," she fiddles with her thumb before confirming, "like, 'phase through walls' type of ghost. Specters, or some shit."
He raises an eyebrow at that statement.
"What does that have to do with anything?"
"I mean, ghost!" She blurts out, "A, um, guy who can pass through walls, and kidnapped a kid or something?"
"Kidnapped?" His eyes open in alarm.
"Yeah, last Harfest."
"…" He takes a drag out of his stick. "So I was right."
"What do you mean, right?"
He lets the cigarette burn for a bit, before speaking once more.
"Thank you for telling me this, Miss Borowski." He snuffs the flame from under his boot. "But for your own safety, I suggest you sit this one out."
He turns to leave through the rooftop door.
"Wh- Hey!" She calls out from the edge, "At least give me an answer, asshole! Fuck you!"
He gives her the finger as he disappears into the apartment building, which she gives back in earnest. An old reliable insult.
She lies on the floor of the roof, despondent. Can't anyone tell her what the hell's going on?
"Raaagh!" She pulls her hair in frustration. "How does he even know my name!?"
The night sky looks cloudy and pale, with scattered rays of moonlight illuminating the sparsely populated streets. A handful of rats jump out of the window where Mallard P. Bloomingro rests in peace. A wonderful, not so scary night.
Black Goat, Red Lamb (7441 words) by ChronologicalFisherman
Chapters: 2/?
Fandom: Cult of the Lamb (Video Game), Night In The Woods (Video Game)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: The Lamb/The One Who Waits | Narinder, Mae Borowski/Bea Santello, Angus Delaney/Greggory Lee, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Characters: Mae Borowski, The Lamb (Cult of the Lamb), The One Who Waits | Narinder, Greggory Lee, Angus Delaney, Bea Santello, Other Character Tags to Be Added, Adina Astra
Additional Tags: Crossover, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Lamb in the Woods?, I'm Bad At Tagging, I believe in a universe that doesn't care, And people who do, hopefully nothing goes awry, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, two former gods rent an apartment
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Millennia after the defeat of The One Who Waits, the True Bearer of the Red Crown, Lambert, decides to forgo their godly connections and plunge the world into a new age of growth and prosperity; free of any godly interference and eternal miseries.
Starry eyes sleep, hunger recedes, birds fly towards greener lands. It seems that true peace had finally come for the world, aside from a few stragglers whom they must deal with every now and then.
Their new area of interest holds a straggler they've overlooked for a while. Possum Springs. A land drained of opportunities. It had been rotting for decades, but a new parasite had latched on. The job should be a piece of cake with their partner, Narinder, and a few tricks up their sleeve. However, the rules of the new world prevent any direct action, much to the Lamb's irritation.
Hopefully their cooperation with a woman by the name of Mae Borowski and her ragtag crew of friends should keep things plain and simple.
It does not.
