#gotta get a 3 or higher on all 4 i have this week to go to my planned high school

[marvellous1917]

Icarus Falling Far From.

(Part 4)

Pairing: mob!bucky x tattoo artist!female!reader

Summary: Bucky comes face to face with the ones fucking his shit up, he’s all stressed and the reader just wants to make out.

Warnings: mentions of crime (guns,drugs,murder [he’s a monster babes]), swearing, guns, reader being threatened with a gun (oops), threat of violence, talking about feelings (ew), think that’s it-if I’m missing any let me know.

Word count: 3.9k ish

A/n: hey guys, hope you enjoy this shit lmao, I truly have absolutely no idea where I’m going with this.

(This is not beta’d we die like men.)

Part 3 : Icarus Falling Far

Masterlist

————

Bucky’s thoughts in italics

Readers thoughts in bold

————

Fuck.

Fuucckk.

“It’s you.” Bucky states, his voice steady, hiding the confusion running through his head.

“It’s us,” Frank responds, “gotta be honest, we’ve had a lot of fun fucking up your shit.”

Frank stood with a smug smirk on his face, while the man with the buzz cut, and with scars covering his face, the light outside casting a grim portrait, stands with a big grin - both completely unaffected by the gun being pointed at them.

“Does she know?” Bucky asks, years of being screwed by people he trusted rearing back and kicking his trust issues into his gear.

Please say no, please tell me she’s not a part of this.

No. Not her.

“Y/n? Bet it break your cold heart if we said yes, huh?” Billy quips, with that stupid grin now a permanent fixture on his face. “That sweet pretty girl you though actually liked you, was actually just getting us this in, see we have proposition for- ”

“DOES SHE KNOW?” Bucky lets his voice rise, tired of the games the other men were playing.

“No, and we are gonna keep it that way you hear me, don’t drag that kind girl into this cruel world.” Curtis states, stepping forward as if to cut Billy off from responding.

Shit, I can’t let you look down and see me waving a gun in your friends faces.

“She doesn’t need to know. She’s not made for this world, not like us. So how about you put the gun away before she starts looking out that window.” Frank says, eyes flicking to your window to make sure you’re not witnessing this tense conversation.

Bucky slowly lowers the gun into his pocket, but keeps his hand tight on the weapon, just as a precaution.

Please be true, to whatever bastard higher power up there, please be true.

“Not like us?” Bucky says, parroting the other man’s words, “in what world are we the same?”

“Well I mean you and Curtis probably share the most similar physicality,” Billy states, chuckling a little at his own joke.

Bucky’s eyes flit to the quiet man on the left, recalling his earlier thoughts.

“What Bill means to say is that I know what’s it’s like to loose a limb in combat-”

“I didn’t loose my arm in combat.” His voice was deep and unwavering, even while the horrid memories came to the front of his mind, “you have no idea what I went through.”

“We know some. Rumors fly in the military.” Franks states, “we were all Marines together, and after Curtis lost his leg, I became a Navy Seal and Bill here became a Scout Sniper for the Marine Corps Reconnaissance. We’ve had our fair share of being screwed over by those in authority.”

“Am I supposed to give a shit? All that crap is behind me, what I care about is my business now, the same business that you three have been fucking up for the past week. So what the fuck do you want and what the fuck does Y/n have to do with it?” Bucky growls out, his patience slipping.

“We mean no harm, not to you, and especially not to Y/n-”

“I’m supposed to believe that, you used her to get to me right? If you cared about her you wouldn’t have done that-” Bucky begins before he gets cut off.

“Don’t you dare say that we don’t care about her!” Billy almost shouts stepping forward before stopping when Bucky brings the gun out of his pocket and lets it rest by his side.

“Y/n is one of the few things in this world we care about, she’s family okay, and we would never hurt her-” Curtis says

“Really, then how would you say she’s gonna feel if I go back to her apartment and tell her all about this, huh?” Bucky calls back

“You’re not gonna do that though, are ya? Because you know if you did, it’d break her heart, and you don’t wanna do that do ya Buck? Not when ya like her so much?” The words come from Billy, the annoying grin back in his face.

“What make you think I care that much?” Bucky says, even though his thoughts state the opposite.

I do. I do care.

“If you didn’t you would have shot us already.” Frank responds with a very valid point.

That makes Bucky clench his jaw and tense his gun wielding hand.

“All we want is a business meeting okay, talk about a potential partnership.” Frank stars crossing his arms, staring unklinking at Bucky.

“A partnership? It’s gonna take more than you fucking up a few things for me to even think about considering that. And what the hell would I get out of a partnership with you three?” Brucky responds, seriously considering just shooting the three men dead on the street.

“Well that’s something we can talk about later, but just so you know we have our hands in some business ourselves and more than enough bodies to keep our shit going, but we’d all be a hell of a lot richer if we worked together” Curtis states, shifting his weight onto his good leg.

“Plus just think about how happy our girl will be if we all got on.” Billy chimes in with a quick wink.

Our girl. OUR girl? God I wanna shoot these assholes.

Bucky keeps his calm facade up, unwilling to show the man that his words affected him.

“Fine. Be at the Comandos bar at 8 pm tomorrow, just you three, no weapons.” Bucky responds, wanting this conversation to be over.

The three men share quick look’s between themselves, and then Frank steps forward with his hand out towards Bucky and says “We’ll be there.”

Bucky doesn’t even look at them before turning quickly and walking back into the building, pulling out his phone to call Steve.

Frank chuckles, puts his hand down and turns to get in the car.

“Think he’ll tell her?” Curtis asks.

“Nah. He likes her too much.” Billy replies, while opening the door and getting in.

—————

What the hell is taking him so long? God I hope the boys didn’t catch him and give the whole ‘if you hurt her we’ll kill you’ talk. The boys are scary but Bucky’s a damn mobster.

The heavy knock on the door stops your pacing, and cause you to run to the door and pull it open to see the aforementioned mobster.

He doesn’t even say anything before barging in, kicking the door closed behind him while his hands go straight to the sides of your face, pulling your lips to his. His grip is gentle, but his mouth is bruising, his teeth nipping your bottom lip.

You pull back to catch your breath, leaning your forehead on his and catching your breath.

“Not even a hello? You missed me that much?” You flirt quietly, whispering into his mouth, hand clutching his waist through his coat.

“More than you know darlin’ I needed to see you…and touch you,” Bucky responds, silently thinking I needed to make sure you were okay.

Oh please do.

“All I’m hearing is the big bad mobster saying he needs me” you tease, praying he didn’t take offence, yeah he’s sweet and lovely but I’ve only gotten a tiny glimpse at the other side of him.

“Is that how you see me?” He leans back to his full height, staring down into your eyes, dropping his hands to his sides.

Shit.

Bucky grips your wrists and takes your hands off his body, moving them into his metal hand, the surface cold on your skin. You scramble to respond, wanting to tell him you thought the opposite, but his flesh hand moves to his pocket before you can talk.

“Big bad mobster huh? Oh doll you have no idea,” he says with an indiscernible look on his face, pulling out his glock.

Oh fuck, I was only teasing.

“Wait Buck-“ you start before he cuts you off.

“Y/n…Are you scared of me?” He asks, his grip on your wrists loose enough that you could get out of his grip if you wanted to.

You didn’t move. Looking into his eyes, an overwhelming feeling of calm takes over, the blue of his eyes the same as the sky after a storm.

“…no. I’m not.” I probably should be but apparently I’m crazy.

“Do you think I’m bad?” He asks.

All the stories, all the rumours, the memory of your first meeting, and the call he took in the shop come flooding to the forefront of your mind. That he’s a man with no mercy, cares for nothing and no one - except money, sex, and violence.

“…not to me.” You answer.

He pulls his arm up, holding the glock in between your faces, showing it to you. The bottom of his tattoo- your tattoo- sticks out from under his sleeve.

A normal person without a broken brain would take this as a threat. Why am I attracted to this?

He makes eye contact with you over the barrel, turning his hand and resting the muzzle on your cheek, but there is no fear in you, you can see his trigger finger resting on the side of the barrel.

“Do you trust me Y/N?” Bucky asks, his eyes not moving from yours.

You take a second to think about it.

The man is a fucking mobster for Christs’ sake. He’s a criminal, a gun runner, a drug trafficker, and not to mention a killer. His kills have hit the news before, no evidence proving it was his organisation, but everyone knows. It doesn’t matter if it was Bucky that pulled the trigger, held the knife, planted the bomb, nothing happened that wasn’t on his order. Can I really trust a man like that?

Your hesitation to answer has an effect on Bucky. He moves the gun, dragging it down your neck and resting the muzzle in the dip of your collar bone. You look down at his hand, finger still nowhere near he trigger.

“Y/n.” He calls quietly. Your eyes jump back to his and he speaks again, “do you think I would ever hurt you?”

That question has an answer you don’t have to think about.

“Not unless I did something to deserve it.” Your attempt at humour was immediately seen to be the wrong answer.

He sticks the gun back in your face, muzzle pushing between you lips, scratching your teeth. The movement causes your eyes to go wide, fear slipping onto your face.

“Did you do something to deserve it? Have you fucked me over Y/n?” His voice is tense, deadly serious, an unstable look in his eyes, his metal hand tightening on your wrists.

You lean back a little to answer, “…no, no of course not Buck. What’s going on? You’re freaking me out.”

He stares at you for what feels like hours, his face perfectly still, not giving anything away.

She doesn’t know. She truly has no idea. Thank fuck.

He drops the gun and lets go of your wrists, taking a few steps back, giving you space.

“I’m sorry doll, I’ve just had very hard day, some new information was given to me and it’s fucked me up a bit. I’m sorry Y/n, truly I am, I didn’t mean to freak you out.” His hands run through his hair, pulling at it harshly. “Shit darlin’, what the hell was I doing?” He mumbles the last bit to himself.

“Buck..Bucky, hey calm down, it’s okay-” you start before he talks again.

“It’s not okay! I just put a fucking gun in your face.” He keeps rambling, seeming like a whole other person than he was a minute ago.

“Buck! Stop, stop jabbering,” you grab his wrists, taking his hands from his hair and pulling him towards you.

He stops talking, and stares at your hands in his, the metal of his prosthetic shining a stark contrast against your skin.

You take a second to look at him, eyes studying his face. He looks worried, and a little scared.

Huh, didn’t know a mobster could get scared. Is he’s scared of me and what I’m gonna say… or is he scared of himself?

“You don’t scare me Buck…you probably should, but you don’t. ‘Cos you’ve been nothing but good to me, even a minute ago when you were acting weird, I knew you weren’t gonna do anything-”

“How? How did you trust me to not hurt you, when I was waving my glock in your face?”

“You had your finger on the barrel”

He’s silent for a few seconds, thinking over what you said. He takes a deep breath, meeting your eyes.

“I don’t know what to say,” Bucky responds.

“Then don’t say anything.” You say, the imagine of him with a gun in his hand fresh in your mind.

That whole episode should not have been as hot as it was. Shit I’m fucked up.

Bucky stares at you (he does that a-lot), unsure of his next move.

“Kiss me, dumbass.”

He moves before you can blink, his hands gently grabbing your face and pulling you to him. His kiss takes your breath away, gentle but firm. Your hands grip his elbows, encouraging him to keep going.

He takes the hint (thank fuck) and splits your lips with his tongue, his nose pressed hard against your cheek. He moves his hands down to your hips, gripping hard. Your hands grip the back of his head, fingers playing with his hair, tugging at it slightly when he completely deepens the kiss, your tongues tangling together. He lets out a quiet groan at the feeling, taking his left hand off your hip and tensing it by his side. You break the kiss when you feel the loss of his touch.

You take a second to catch your breath, Bucky leaning his head against yours.

“Why did you take your hand off me?” You ask.

“What?” He responds, the small dazed look on his face making you chuckle a little.

“Your hand, I liked it where it was.”

“Oh..that. It’s uh..it’s pretty strong, I can’t tell how hard I’m holding something, I can’t feel it so I tend to hold things a bit too hard… I broke like 5 cups in the past week-” he answers, stuttering his way through the sentence.

“Stop talking Buck, and you say I ramble,” You say, putting your finger to his lips. He stops talking, and you continue, “I trust you Buck, I’ll tell you if you’re holding me too hard. Plus I like it a little rough.” You finish with a wink at him, pulling his hand back to your waist.

He drops his head back, eyes closed and takes a deep breath in. He mumbles under his breath something that sounds like ‘god you’re perfect’, then he crashes his lips back into yours, both hands tightening on your hips.

He moves faster now, more intense with his kiss, his teeth scraping yours slightly and he presses you backwards, walking with you until you bump into the wall, his flesh hand stopping your head from hitting it.

Aww how sweet. The thought is thrown from your head when Bucky drops his head and presses kisses to your jaw, his hand curling in your hair to pull your head back, exposing your neck to him.

“Oh shit,” you whisper, as he licks a long stripe up your neck, nipping at the pulse points he finds. Your hands drop to his hips and pull him flush to you, groaning when you feel how much you’ve affected him. He kisses his way back to your lips, his metal hand moving to rest on the side of your neck, thumb resting in the front of your neck. Bucky gives you a long hard kiss then pulls back breathing hard.

“God girl, you are gonna be the death of me,” he whispers, lips brushing against yours as he talks.

“Fuck I hope not,” you respond, pulling his hips tighter against yours making him choke back a groan at the feeling.

His phone starts to ring.

Fuck off.

You pull him to you again, lips trailing across his jaw.

“Shit doll, wait a second baby-” he starts before you cut him off.

“Wait? Wait for what Buck, you don’t want me?” You tease, brushing your nose along his.

He crashes his lips against yours, his ringtone fading as his kiss overtakes your mind. Bucky pulls back after a few seconds, growling softly before stepping back to pull his phone out of his pocket.

“Are you seriously gonna answer that?” You ask, incredulous to his action.

“I have to darlin, could be an emergency,” he answers, taping the screen to answer. He puts the phone to his ear and says, “talk to me.”

You ignore his conversation, grabbing his metal hand to inspect it. The plates shift as you turn it over to look at the palm.

What an incredible feat of engineering, I wonder how it works. And how it feels-

Your dirty thoughts are cut short as he pulls his hand out of your grip, turning and taking a few steps away from you. His voice is quiet, probably to keep you from hearing whatever illegal shit they were discussing.

You jump when he shouts.

“THE FUCK? Rogers you get them to find more information on those shitheads, or I swear to fuck I will rip their fucking hearts out. I don’t care anymore, this shit needs to stop right the fuck now!” He stops his tirade and listens to ‘Rogers’ on the other side for a few second before he starts up again, “I know that asshole…one of the fuckers is married, find the wife… I have no idea if she’s involved man, I doubt it but she’d be good leverage… and get me some more information on their business so I’m not going into this shit show unprepared.”

That gets your full attention. Find the wife? Leverage? And do what? Threaten her? Hurt her? …kill her?

A shiver rips its way down your spine at that thought.

Would he do that? If she’s not a part of the issue, would he still hurt her? He already proved he’d hurt anyone that fucked him over, proved that when he stuck his gun in my mouth.

“Yeah…I know, get Stark on it, send Talia and Barton out too, see if they can get any news on the street… tell Barton to keep his cool, I don’t need anymore shit right now” Bucky says, switching the phone to his metal hand, using his flesh one to pull at his hair again.

His back is still turned to you, his coat stretches over his shoulder, the back rising with his hand in his hair.

He has a gun in his waistband.

Your eyes flit to the glock he drop on the floor earlier, and back to the one tucked in his waistband.

Is two guns really necessary?

Your answer comes with his next sentence.

“Fuck Steve I know that…you think I got this far without any personal protection? I’m good if anything happens man but I don’t think it will, they seemed pretty insistent on the fact they meant no harm..”

He continues to talk for a minute until he ends the call with a quick “get it done Steve, or we’re all fucked.” He places the phone back in his pocket, takes a few deep breaths and turns back to you with a tense look on his face. He takes another deep breath and steps towards you. Without meaning to you take a step back, hitting the wall behind you. Bucky stops as soon as he sees your movement.

“Sorry about that sweetheart, didn’t mean to upset ya.” He says, his voice quiet and calm, as if he was talking to a injured dog.

You let the silence linger for a second, deciding whether or not to ask the question that was begging to be said.

Fuck it.

“What are you going to do to her?”

He tilts his head at the question, unsure of what you’re talking about.

You take pity on his confusion.

“The wife? What are you going to do when you find her?”

Something settles in his eyes, his mouth twisting into a grim line.

“Nothing…unless I have to.” Bucky responds.

His answer does nothing to calm your pounding heart.

“You mean you won’t do anything unless you find out she’s involved?”

“Yes.”

“So you won’t do anything if she’s not a part of …whatever it is?” You ask.

“That’s right.” He nods with his answer.

“Except use her as leverage?”

He’s silent for a moment, and sighs as he rolls his left shoulder. He doesn’t break eye contact, and he’s completely resigned to whatever his answer is about to be.

“If I have to.” There is no lie in his voice, no guilt or remorse in his eyes.

Holy fuck. There’s the soldier again, the man with no mercy, does whatever he needs to come out on top.

You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself.

He wouldn’t hurt me. Would he?

He answers like he heard your thought.

“It’s business doll, we do what we have to do. Sometimes it’s rough and bad and awful and yes, people get hurt. Sometimes even innocent people get hurt. But I will never apologise for being the one that does the hurting, me and mine have had our fair share of getting hurt, and I’d rather hurt and use some people I don’t care about, than watch my people, my family, get hurt. I will not allow that to happen, not when I can to something about it.” He stands straight, like a soldier. The conviction in his voice actually makes you feel calmer.

Assuming I’m someone he cares about, I should be fine, right?

It slips off your tongue before you can catch it.

“Do you care about me?” You shift your weight as you talk, unsure if you actually want to hear the answer.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.” He states, his tone steady.

“Say it properly,” you demand, crossing your arms over your chest, a subconscious way of protecting yourself, “I need you to say it properly Bucky.”

He shifts his weight now, seemingly uncomfortable.

“Yes… I do care about you,” he answers, clearing his throat in the middle of his statement, “do you care about me?”

You were unprepared for him to flip it back on you.

“I need you to answer truthfully Y/n. Do you care about me, as I am? The ‘big bad mobster’” he says, taking a step closer to you, and taking another when you don’t move away from him.

“The man who broke into your flat to threaten your roommate who owes me? The one who was going to shoot your friends dead on the street? The one who stuck a gun in your face? I’m a killer Y/n, a fucking mobster, and I’m not changing any time soon. Do you care about me as I am?” He asks, reminding you of the shit he’s done since you met him, not even counting the things you haven’t heard about.

You take a second to consider his questions.

I think I do, how fucked am I that I do?

You finally clock what he said.

“You were going to shoot who dead on the street?!”

————

hehehehe I feel like an evil mastermind.

If you are not tagged here- I either will tag you in a separate post- or I cannot tag you for some reason.

Tags:

@shuriri4life @calwitch @goodkittyspost @iateall-yourcookies @miss-i-ship-it @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @anawhitethorn @radiator-hands @tripletstephaniescp @yeahimcrying @shifting2places @1-800-bxrnes @fandomsfallnomore @bushtail @ghostofwinter @missdarlingsb @amiets2 @leabunny @justmarlen3 @bofadeezs @jehduxi @grey107th @king-of-spades-aroace @sebismyhubby @princezzjasmine @sebastianswhore @cluckityduck

@sleepyghostygirl @starlightaurorab @where-the-river-bends @imagines-of-the-fandom @bigenargy @uraverageatiny @squeezyvalkyrie @mylifeispainandiloveit @mrvlxgrl @bopbeepboopbopbeep @yvessaintmuerte @thecubanator2 @flubblubbb @teambarnes72 @ria132love @rivthejellyfish @mybakubaby @blue-chup @goatsmcgee @facinated-lemon @daddylorianisastateofmind @buckybarnesb-tch

#mob!bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky fic #mob!bucky x tattoo artist!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky x reader #mob!bucky #mob!bucky x female!reader

[valentine-writes]

Hello hello! Been downright dying over how much I love your AtSV work!! So I thought I would feed into it >:) If you're feeling up to it, whats been brewing in your mind about The Spot x reader? Take it platonic or romantic, either has so much potential for fun in my opinion and I guess I'm just interested in what ideas you might have?? Not a lot to work off of from what I'm asking but I hope you're able to have fun with it anyways ^^; Whether youre able to get to this request or not, thanks for reading! Love what you do :)

collision.

「 tws + notes: possibly ooc, unedited, he's kind of pathetic little meow meowified im sorry, first bit inspired by @//submurged-into-clouds !! <3 」

↳ ft. the spot

「 gn!reader, can be platonic or romantic <3 」

author's note: first, AUWJHEJSBS thank u so much!!!! im glad u like what i've written so far– and i am SUPER excited to write for the spot becuz im gon b real,,, there was a momentary lapse of insanity where i was scouring for any content of him at all. SO TY 4 UR REQ!!!! ( /)u(\ ) i hope this is ok!!! i got carried away and stuff so,, i hope this is at the Very Least coherent! leaned for platonic stuff with romantic undertones that intensify throughout so,, read it how u like ^_^

▸ we're going to start this by establishing that bro has literally No Friends anymore. you met him after the collider incident and by some miracle, some sort of mercy from a higher power in the multiverse– you ended up becoming friends with him

really, meeting him was an accident. wasn't supposed to be anything more– just him messing around with his new abilities and slipping into a random universe with no idea where he was.

and there was you.

just you. out, alone at night. just taking a walk– disrupted by someone falling out of a weird portal from the sky.

this is the day your paths crossed, the day your fates intertwined, the moment that your world collided into his.

to put more literally: the day he crashed into you very unceremoniously.

im now re-reading the title and remembering his backstory and giggling at my unintentional joke. he is not catching a break. even from me.

▸ after recovering from a random stranger from another universe tumbling into your own, you began to talk.

now– you don't remember how the conversation started, but you were glad to listen. the way which he rambled to you, words tumbling out of his mouth like they'd been on his mind for a while– you felt like he needed someone to hear him.

he's surprised. you're not bothered. not frightened. not even weirded out. but you're not indifferent. you nod along, you comment on things here and there– but you listen. you actually listen to him.

eventually, when he leaves, you're sat there for a moment. just frozen– processing whether that had really happened or not. you see the indent his body left in the grass where the two of you sat. it's evidence enough for you.

a few weeks pass and you're certain that you were just fated to meet once and never again. you were fine with this.

▸ until he randomly popped up in your living room one day.

yes, he had been actively trying to find your universe again– and as casually as he can be, is now peeking from out the portal he created, head leaning in to get a better look at you.

you're not sure how you can tell considering he has no face,,, but he's definitely smiling.

he waves to you, awkwardly, (noticing that you're just staring at him while not saying a word), "thought i would say hi, so– ...hi."

you blink at him tiredly. "dude, it's 6:30 in the morning–"

he's treating this like it's normal for people to just show up in your house. he missed you– and it's very evident.

▸ no matter what type of relationship you're in with him: you GOTTA set boundaries. being one of the only people who cares to hang around him anymore means that you're gonna be seeing a lot of him.

while he certainly hasn't completely lost grasp on the concept of privacy, it's definitely been altered by the fact he's got powers that allow him to pop up wherever he wants. he's just a teeny bit invasive.

"hello!" he'll greet, randomly poking his head through a portal he made to your bedroom.

on instinct, you throw the closest thing to you. he's just glad you reached for the pillow and not the alarm clock also at your arms reach on the bedside table.

definitely a good idea to remind him that if he wants to hang out, he should probably message you, and if he wants to show up at your house for whatever reason, he should give you a heads up.

he has nearly walked in on you changing. and has apologized a million times every time it's brought up. it fr keeps him up at night.

▸ everyone in his life leaving him def messed him up a bit. he can deny it all he wants, but he's terribly anxious that you're gonna grow tired of him and leave.

constantly like "oh my god what if they leave for someone who has a face" and itz like,,, boy,,,, stfu itz 3am

he needs reassurance, even if he never explicitly says. but you're kind to him. patient. you're pretty much an angel in his eyes.

which is why he feels comfortable texting u in the dead of night like:

(im gonna b real i dont even know why i have this image)

▸ he's dismissed by most people around him– but you've given him your time. you've shown him that you care. he's doing everything he can to be certain you'll still care for him.

the random waves of "oh no but what if they hate me" hit him HARD. especially if he hasn't seen you in a while, if you take longer to respond to his messages, if you haven't been answering his calls– bro will jump to a conclusion

"hypothesis: they dont love me anymore :("

☝️🤓 SORRY HAKJWOENDOEND he would NOT say that. im just clowning on him itz a part of my luv 4 him </3

needs to be needed. wants to be wanted.

eventually you have a long talk about this. he's got a bit of an ego after realizing how much power he truly possessed– but you gently encourage him to let it down. a simple heart to heart. and while you're certain these things aren't going to dissipate with a single conversation, you've let him know he doesn't have to deal with it alone.

▸ physical contact is a need for him. bro's touch starved. he likes linking his pinky with yours or just intertwining your fingers together. if you ever let him rest his head on your shoulder or hugged him he'd actually have to fight tears. he hasn't been given affection in a while :(

▸ he doesn't really feel like he has to hide anything around you. he really doesn't have much of a filter when you're talking to him which makes for some amusing conversation. he finds your laughter the sweetest sound in the world– he likes making you laugh :] it makes him feel like he's accomplished something

▸ the alterations to his body have caused some weird little changes that most people don't notice. one of them most noticeably to you– he'd cold. not frigid or like icy, but a lot colder than normal people tend to be.

you first notice this when you're hanging out in your bedroom. you're sitting on your bed, while he paces back and forth, rambling about another failed villainous act

(you haven't questioned his whole obsession with villainy considering that he seems pretty harmless with what he's been attempting– no matter how much he tries)

"and then– ohh, and tHEN THEY JUST—" you notice how he's gesturing frantically, exasperated, annoyed– and out of instinct to provide some sort of comfort (or at least calm him down) your hand grasps his wrist

there's a moment of silence.

his voice dwindles into a more soft, subdued tone, watching as your fingers wrap around his wrist. "wh– if you wanted me to stop talking, you could've just... just said or...."

his mind is going blank, trailing off at your touch. he doesn't remember the last time someone has held his hand or even brushed up against him without freaking out.

"you're cold." you comment, now taking his hand between both of yours, as if you were trying to heat him back up. you don't meet his eyes, simply staring at his hand.

"oh– yeah, yeah, it's just– a thing with now. came with the holes–"

the sensation of your hands gently squeezing his shuts him up. you raise his hand to your lips and gently blow hot air onto it.

your brow furrows, nose scrunching up. "you're still cold..." you mutter, more to yourself than to him. quietly, your gaze returns to his face.

"does that bother you?" you ask him, after a beat of silence.

he shakes his head. your hands let go of his– but he quietly reaches back to hold it again.

"hold on a second. why don't you try again?" he suggests. you laugh softly, knowing it's obviously just an excuse. still, you humor him.

#the spot atsv #the spot #atsv x reader #the spot x reader #the spot x y/n #jonathan ohnn #jonathon ohnn #jonathan ohnn x reader #jonathon ohnn x reader #BRO ITZ SO HARD TO TAG FOR HIM IM GONNA ANWKJWEIJE?!!]^{>]*]% #ok im normal again

[avissapiens]

Jockbull Summer Final Week Set C (1/1/24-7/1/24)

Model used is Onome Egger

1.

Part of the reason I am discontinuing this project is because a lot of the tasks just aren’t relevant to me anymore. This is one of them.  Overall I feel more balanced without fast days. With them and while i was cutting more generally it was a wider swathe of feelings. Higher highs but also lower more exhausted states where I was running on fumes. Dieting and restricted eating is something a lot of people struggle with. There’s a cultural emphasis on it. Lots of people hawk it as a cureall and grift tons of fucking money from it. I don’t think this is that. I had a plan. I stuck to it. I achieved the goal. I ended it. When i need it again i will pick it up and maintain it in as healthy a way as possible.

2. 

I could have really used this this week. But one thing about meditative practice that folks don’t really tell you is that it is a Prophylactic. It is not a cure and a balm. It builds your defenses and strengthens your mindset for hardship and stress. But when that stress manages to penetrate you aren’t always capable of mustering up the headspace for meditation. Meditation is prevention so you don’t get to that point. And sometimes that point comes before your immunity is built. So you’ve gotta start building again.

3.

Generally unhorny week. New years malaise and all. Half considered redownloading Grindr but good god, i’m not that desperate. 

4.

Does it occur to me that I could have probably put out a lot more creative works if i didn’t lower my writing battery with all these diary entries? Of course not why would you ever suggest such a silly thing…

5.

I think the skincare routine is 100% showing changes in my face and I’m loving it I’ll go more in depth about this in next weeks retrospective.

#jockbull summer #jbs #Jock #Bull

[legacyshenanigans]

I was bored and I found a

"Questions nobody asks"

Thing on the Internet, and I wanna do it 🤣 could consider it as a "get to know me" thing, I guess, haha. Gonna undercut though, because its kinda long. 🤍

1. DO YOU SLEEP WITH YOUR CLOSET DOORS OPEN OR CLOSED?

Who the fuck goes to sleep with their closet doors open?! 🤣

2. DO YOU TAKE THE SHAMPOOS AND CONDITIONER BOTTLES FROM HOTELS?

Ew no haha, because they tend to be shitty shampoos and conditioners. I'm very particular with what I put on my hair.

3. DO YOU SLEEP WITH YOUR SHEETS TUCKED IN OR OUT?

Out, I would feel EXTREMELY uncomfortable if my sheets were tucked in, I move around a lot in bed hahaha.

4. HAVE YOU STOLEN A STREET SIGN BEFORE?

Not a street sign no, I stole one of those big umbrellas from outside a pub once though🤣

5. DO YOU LIKE TO USE POST-IT NOTES?

Not really. No reason to.

6. DO YOU CUT OUT COUPONS BUT THEN NEVER USE THEM?

Nope.

7. WOULD YOU RATHER BE ATTACKED BY A BIG BEAR OR A SWARM OF BEES?

I'm terrified of bees and wasps and shit like that hahaha, but I reckon my chance of survival would be higher with a swarm of bees?

8. DO YOU HAVE FRECKLES?

I do, under my makeup haha.

9. DO YOU ALWAYS SMILE FOR PICTURES?

Nope. 🤣

10. WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST PET PEEVE?

People trying to talk to me when I have earphones in. A VERY quick way to get on my fuckin nerves.

11. DO YOU EVER COUNT YOUR STEPS WHEN YOU WALK?

No? 🤣

12. HAVE YOU PEED IN THE WOODS?

Yes. 🤣

13. HAVE YOU EVER POOPED IN THE WOODS?

.....Yes. 😅 (while camping in the middle of nowhere, when ya gotta go, ya gotta go)

14. DO YOU EVER DANCE EVEN IF THERE’S NO MUSIC PLAYING?

All the time. 🤣

15. DO YOU CHEW YOUR PENS AND PENCILS?

I used to. Not so much these days.

16. HOW MANY PEOPLE HAVE YOU SLEPT WITH THIS WEEK?

Well, I'm in a monogamous relationship, sooooo. One, lol.

17. WHAT SIZE IS YOUR BED?

King.

18. WHAT IS YOUR SONG OF THE WEEK?

Helicopter Girl - Satan's Seventh Bride.

19. IS IT OK FOR GUYS TO WEAR PINK?

Yeah? Sure? Why not?

20. DO YOU STILL WATCH CARTOONS?

Yesssss.

21. WHAT IS YOUR LEAST FAVORITE MOVIE?

I can't even remember the name of it! Me and my mum are big horror fans, and we hunt for horror films together, and it was your standard, stereotypical folk move into a house. House is spooky. Spooky things happen ect. ect. ect. But it was FUCKING SHITE! 🤣 So THAT hahaha.

22. WHERE WOULD YOU BURY HIDDEN TREASURE, IF YOU HAD SOME?

Near a tree in a woods, then I'd leave a vague note just saying "Its under a tree in *name of woods* " 🤣 That's ALOT of ground to search, hahaha.

23. WHAT DO YOU DRINK WITH DINNER?

Depends on what I'm eating.

24. WHAT DO YOU DIP A CHICKEN NUGGET IN?

I'm a Tommy K gal. 🤣

25. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE FOOD?

I fucking LOVE Kinder Buenos.

26. WHAT MOVIES COULD YOU WATCH OVER AND OVER AGAIN AND STILL LOVE?

The HP films.

27. LAST PERSON YOU KISSED/KISSED YOU?

My fella.

28. WERE YOU EVER A BOY/GIRL SCOUT?

I went to Rainbows when I was a little kid, then I went to Brownies (similar kinda thing as Scouts) but I ended up leaving brownies after only going twice because I HATED one of the brownie leader women 🤣

29. WOULD YOU EVER STRIP OR POSE NUDE IN A MAGAZINE?

Sure, why not? Haha.

30. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU WROTE A LETTER TO SOMEONE ON PAPER?

It's been a lonnnnng time since I've written a letter to someone. Phones exist now, haha.

31. CAN YOU CHANGE THE OIL ON A CAR?

Yeah.

32. EVER GOTTEN A SPEEDING TICKET?

Nope.

33. EVER RAN OUT OF GAS?

Nope.

34. WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE KIND OF SANDWICH?

Sandwiches in general are top tier scran, but I like meaty big ones 🤣

35. BEST THING TO EAT FOR BREAKFAST?

A can of redbull and a cigarette. 🤣

36. WHAT IS YOUR USUAL BEDTIME?

Depends on my sleeping pattern, sometimes a good 10/11pm sometimes 5/6am. 🤣🤣

37. ARE YOU LAZY?

Yes. Ain't even gonna lie lmao.

38. WHEN YOU WERE A KID, WHAT DID YOU DRESS UP AS FOR HALLOWEEN?

I mentioned above that my mum likes horror, so she would dress me as things like Vampires, Werewolves, The Devil, general monsters haha, which is funny to me because we'd usually all go trick or treating together with my friends and their mums, and my friends would always be things like princess's lmao.

39. WHAT IS YOUR CHINESE ASTROLOGICAL SIGN?

Is that the same as Zodiac? I believe I'm the Rooster.

40. HOW MANY LANGUAGES CAN YOU SPEAK?

Two.

41. DO YOU HAVE ANY MAGAZINE SUBSCRIPTIONS?

In 2023? No lol.

42. WHICH ARE BETTER: LEGOS OR LINCOLN LOGS?

Wtf are lincoln logs?! Hahaha. Legos.

43. ARE YOU STUBBORN?

Absolutely.

44. WHO IS BETTER: KIMMEL OR FALLON?

Who?

45. EVER WATCH SOAP OPERAS?

Nah.

46. ARE YOU AFRAID OF HEIGHTS?

Nah I'm pretty good with heights.

47. DO YOU SING IN THE CAR?

Every damn time. 🤣

48. DO YOU SING IN THE SHOWER?

I don't actually haha, hum maybe, but not sing.

49. DO YOU DANCE IN THE CAR?

As a passenger, yeah, sometimes.

50. EVER USED A GUN?

Yeah.

51. LAST TIME YOU GOT A PORTRAIT TAKEN BY A PHOTOGRAPHER?

At my last day of HS party (Prom basically)

52. DO YOU THINK MUSICALS ARE CHEESY?

I just HATE musicals tbh. 🤣

53. IS CHRISTMAS STRESSFUL?

Not really.

54. EVER EAT A PIEROGI?

What? 🤣

55. FAVORITE TYPE OF FRUIT PIE?

Cherry!

56. OCCUPATIONS YOU WANTED TO BE WHEN YOU WERE A KID?

Honestly, I can't remember 😅

57. DO YOU BELIEVE IN GHOSTS?

100%, I've seen one, don't expect people to believe me, but I know what I saw.

58. EVER HAVE A DEJA-VU FEELING?

All the time!!

59. DO YOU TAKE A VITAMIN DAILY?

No, but I probably should lmao.

60. DO YOU WEAR SLIPPERS?

Fuckin love a good pair of slippers.

61. DO YOU WEAR A BATHROBE?

Yeah.

62. WHAT DO YOU WEAR TO BED?

Depends on the weather.

63. WHAT WAS YOUR FIRST CONCERT?

Nickelback 😅 (DON'T JUDGE ME!)

64. WALMART, TARGET, OR AMAZON?

Well, can't lie, 2 outta 3 of those we don't have in my country haha.

65. NIKE OR ADIDAS?

Adidas.

66. CHEETOS OR FRITOS?

Cheetos because I dunno wtf Fritos are haha.

67. PEANUTS OR SUNFLOWER SEEDS?

Peanuts!

68. EVER HEAR OF THE GROUP BLACK PINK?

Nope.

69. EVER TAKE DANCE LESSONS?

Nope.

70. IS THERE A PROFESSION YOU PICTURE YOUR FUTURE SPOUSE DOING?

It was never something I thought about, infact when I first met my fella I had no idea what he did for work, and never asked because it wasn't important to me 🤣 turned out he had a very good job and I was just like "Oh OK cool" haha.

71. CAN YOU CURL YOUR TONGUE?

Yeah.

72. EVER WON A SPELLING BEE?

I've never competed in one.

73. HAVE YOU EVER CRIED BECAUSE YOU WERE SO HAPPY?

Yessss 🤣

74. OWN ANY RECORD ALBUMS?

Like Vinyl? I do actually haha, some Iron Maiden ones.

75. OWN A RECORD PLAYER?

My mum and Dad did. I don't.

76. DO YOU REGULARLY DIFFUSE OILS?

Yeah, daily, I love that shit haha.

77. EVER BEEN IN LOVE?

Yeah :)

78. WHO WOULD YOU LIKE TO SEE IN CONCERT?

Honestly, I don't really know, too many haha.

79. WHAT WAS THE LAST CONCERT YOU SAW?

It's been a while, but I went to a rock and blues weekend festival thing last year.

80. HOT TEA OR COLD TEA?

Neither.

81. TEA OR COFFEE?

Neither.

82. SUGAR COOKIES OR SNICKERDOODLES?

Don't know what either of those are 🤣 but Snickerdoodles sound DELICIOUS haha.

83. CAN YOU SWIM WELL?

Yeah I'm pretty decent.

84. CAN YOU HOLD YOUR BREATH WITHOUT HOLDING YOUR NOSE?

Yeah.

85. ARE YOU PATIENT?

NOOOOO 🤣

86. DJ OR BAND AT A WEDDING?

Band.

87. EVER WON A CONTEST?

Yeah a few in my time haha.

88. HAVE YOU EVER HAD PLASTIC SURGERY?

Define plastic surgery haha. I've had lip fillers a few times? Nothing crazy. Is that classed as PS though?

89. WHICH ARE BETTER: BLACK OR GREEN OLIVES?

NEITHER 🤮🤮 URGH.

90. CAN YOU KNIT OR CROCHET?

I used to be able to, been a long time since I have.

91. BEST ROOM FOR A FIREPLACE?

The living room.

92. DO YOU WANT TO GET MARRIED?

Yeeeeah one day, but we're chill. I'm engaged.

93. IF MARRIED, HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN MARRIED?

I'm not, yet.

94. WHO WAS YOUR HIGH SCHOOL CRUSH?

Oh my god, there was this lad called Jordan in my HS...He would like, tease me all the time though, I would call it "Soft bullying" 🤣 and I LOVED him LMFAO! 😅 I think thats why I like guys who can be abit of a bastard haha.

95. DO YOU CRY AND THROW A FIT UNTIL YOU GET YOUR OWN WAY?

Not really. But I'm a very "Babyyyyyyy? Can I get this?" Kinda gal, to get what I want 😅😅

96. DO YOU HAVE KIDS?

Not yet.

97. DO YOU WANT KIDS?

I'd like to yeah.

98. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE COLOR?

Purple.

99. DO YOU MISS ANYONE RIGHT NOW?

Not really.

~

[queenvidal]

The Girl Who Never Cries

Negan x Reader (Rick's Daughter)

(Not my gif - found it on pinterest. If it's urs, contact me for proper credit)

Chapter 4: The Favorite

Chapter Summary: Faced with a soon starving Alexandria, your team choses to head out for a most dangerous run, much to the dismay of your worried father, because your condition is only getting worse.

Wordcount: 3715

Notes: I'm sorry for any grammar mistakes or wrong spellings, English isn't my first language.

- Part 1 of the The One And Only Series - Takes place during the beginning of season 7.

Chapter Index: Chapter 1 /Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 (End)

Masterlist / Negan x Rick's Daughter Series

“You’re not going, Y/N!” Your father calls after you when you step out of the house, covering your face with a scarf. “Did you hear me?”

You curse under your breath, speeding up your steps towards the pantry to grab something to eat for your run. “Yeah”, you yell back, not turning around. “And I decided to ignore it.” 

The garage door is already open, so you hurry inside and quickly grab a can of beans. Upon turning around and leaving, you stumble against your father but you catch yourself quickly.

“Dad, I don’t have time for this.” Annoyed, you roll your eyes. It’s still early in the morning, but if you had your way, you would have been on the road already. Rick has been arguing with you for days now, drawing out your departure. 

Quickly you round him, but he grabs your jacket, effectively hindering you from going away. With a sigh on your lips you stop struggling and let your backpack fall from your shoulders to the ground, Rick clearly wants to argue again.

“You are sick, Y/N-” He starts but you interrupt him right away.

“And that's why I am going, I need meds asap and can’t wait two weeks. We’ve been through this already.” You adjust the scarf that is covering your face, sitting just below your eyes and you accidently touch the sensitive flesh of your cheek, resulting in you hissing out.

Rick rests his hands on his hips, looking over to the parking lot where your team, consisting of Daryl, Sasha and Carl are waiting for you. “You’re not fit enough for that, Y/N. We’re not talking about your usual trips here.”

You dismiss him with a wave of your hand and cross your arms afterwards. "It’s just a cold-”

“It’s not and we both know that.” 

Your eyes roll again, “Whatever, I’ve gotta go. One blind Grimes should be enough, don't you think?”

Rick is about to retort something, but whatever he’s about to say remains unvoiced, because of noises at the gate that's disturbing the two of you. You turn from the pantry to the street, looking at what's happening.

“Ah, for fuck sake”, you curse under your breath when you see familiar trucks enter Alexandria. You hoped you wouldn’t be home for the next pick up.

Interacting with Negan has already been strange as it was. Now with the incident with Michael and all, you fear it would get even more awkward. And weirdly enough, you just couldn't get the worried eyes of his out of your mind. You still wonder, if you just imagined it, the slight frown, his hazel eyes scanning your injury-

“We don’t have much to offer this week”, your father whispers, tearing your mind away from the memory. Your eyes blink a few times before you sigh a tired yeah in response. Tara and Aaron went out to search for more gas and keep an eye out for anything edible for the saviors but they haven’t returned yet and you and your teams could not move out without more gas.

Oliva and you had to move some of the hidden stuff back to the surface, leaving you with enough food for about approximately two more weeks. It’s one of the reasons you have to move out, despite your current condition.

You feel your mouth getting dry when you watch Negan jumping out of his truck. Of course he has to lead the pick up again. He and one of his higher ranked, the woman called Arat, are making their way through the town, followed by their men and heading your way. You turn around towards Rick, he is glaring daggers towards Negan's direction.

“Dad,” You urge, knowing the Saviors love to punish threatening looks. “He saved me”, you remind him. “Try to be at least civilised. You’ve gotta thank him.”

He only scoofs at that. Of course he is grateful that you are okay, considering. But he despises the fact that it is because of Negan. He was beyond mad when he learned about the incident with Michael, that no one of your own people paid enough attention to prevent the assault. 

The whole situation is obviously not easy for him, so you advice in a soft voice. “I already did and when I can swallow my pride you can, too.”

Again you cross your arms, while waiting impatiently for Negan to reach you two. Your posture is unnecessarily dismissive, but you don’t feel like dealing with neither him, nor your dad today. 

Rick adverts his eyes back to the ground, when Negan gets closer. The head of the saviors notices it, his smile growing wider in response. His voice carries a teasing undertone. “Good morning, Rick.” Once he reaches you two he turns his attention to you, his eyebrows raising in question. “Y/N.”

“Good morning”, you respond, ignoring his questioning look.

A few saviors walk past you into the pantry to pack up this week's goods. Rick lets them pass before speaking up,“We didn’t find much this week, but-”

“My doc gave me a list.” Negan interrupts your father, handing you a folded piece of paper. “I’m sure, you still have some of that in stock.”

You’re about  to unfold the paper when your father tears it out of your hand. With a scowl on your face you take a deep breath, letting his eyes skim over the text. One word in particular is making Rick look up at Negan again. “We can’t hand them over, we need them ourselves.”

“Dad,” you warn but to no avail, Rick just keeps glaring at Negan, whose subtle smile changes into a stern mien. He takes one step closer towards your father.

“It’s not a request, Rick.”

In hopes of defusing the situation, you take the list back again, looking over it. No wonder Rick protested, the saviors want the meds you need yourself. Luckily your scarf is hiding the majority of your face, that way no one can see your defeated expression. After a quiet sigh you look back at Negan.

“One sec,” you tell him, before turning on your heels. There is no point in arguing with the saviors and you are neither in the mood, nor in the condition to do so.

Negan nods at Arat, commanding her to help you. When you and the other woman are out of ear-shot, the leader of the Saviors turns back to your father. “Now, Rick. Isn’t there something you wanna tell me?” He asks with a shit-eating grin on his face. 

Rick keeps watching you and Arat walking down the street, not saying a word. After a moment Negan slams Lucille against the wall between the two, causing Rick to flinch. “I’m talking to you, prick!”

“What do you want me to say?” Your father growls, meeting Negan's eyes.

Negan enters his personal space, towering him. “How about a fucking thank you for saving your own daghter, while none of this sorry shits here did anyting. How about showing some graditute, or is that too much to fucking ask?”

Rick takes a step back, looking back at his own feet. Quietly he whispers, “Thank you.”

“What was that?” Negan puts one hand up to his ear. “I didn’t catch that.”

“Thank you.” Rick repeats, louder this time.

“See, Rick? Was it that hard?” The teasing tone returns together with Negan's grin. “Now, while we’re at it, what happened to the fucker that slashed her face open?”

“That’s not your business.” Rick retorts, crossing his arms, while keeping his eyes on the floor.

Negan narrows his eyes at him, “It is my goddamn business, if someone is after the only useful scavenger of this community. Our second visit was a fucking waste of gas, because while she tore her own leg into pieces, trying to gather shit for me, you assholes were twiddling your thumbs.”

That's not entirely true. While you’ve been to the mall, the others were scavenging as well, but everything they found went to the hidden stash. But obviously Rick can’t correct Negan on that matter, even if he dared to. After a deep breath, Rick finally tells the head of the Saviors that Michael is still locked up in a cell.

It’s earning a huffing laugh from Negan. “That's a joke, right?”  Rick just shakes his head and Negan's grin vanishes again. He looks at Rick in absolute disbelief. “You wanna tell me you seriously let the guy live who almost killed her?”

Not voluntary. Rick wanted Michael dead and he tried to talk you into demanding exile but you meant it, when you told Negan you didn’t seek revenge and exile was as good as a death sentence. As dissatisfied as Rick was with your decision, he still respected it. But Daryl on the other hand did not even listen to the whole story. When he heard about you being hurt and when he saw your face, rage wasn’t even close to describe his outburst. Before someone could hold him off he went to the cells and jumped at Michael. Daryl strangled him almost to death, only your pleading and the crawling on his arms made him finally let go. It was scary to see Daryl losing it like that and you wondered, if you looked like that, when you killed people in fury.

 It only reaffirmed your position - no more killing.

Your dad's eyes stay on the ground, not daring to meet Negans. “It’s been her choice, not mine.”

And just on cue you return with a plastic bag in your hand. “Here, that's all we have left,” you tell Negan before giving him the bag. After a quick glance at the contents he hands it over to Arat.

“I’ve made a copy of your list,” you inform him while also handing him his own back. “I put checkmarks on everything that’s in the bag. We’re heading out today, I’ll see what else I can get you from the list. Oh, almost forgot,” with a sigh on your lips, you open your fanny pack to get your pill bottle.

But before you can hand it over, Rick places his hand on yours, “Y/N, you need those.”

“I’ll find new ones.” You mumble while holding the bottle out to Negan, who takes it from you.

"Thank you, sunshine," He casts a warm smile at you. "You never disappoint."

Sasha suddenly appears behind you, carrying her own backpack. Her eyes wander between you and your father briefly before asking, "Can we go, are you ready?”

You nod at her, “Yeah.” And walk out of the pantry to get your backpack. Once it’s resting on your shoulders again, you hug your father hastily. “Bye-bye.”

You look at Negan one final time before Sasha and you move to the cars together in silence. After a few steps you bump your shoulder against hers lightly. “Thanks for the rescue, I’d never gotten away from there.”

She winks at you before patting your shoulder. “No problem.”

When you guys finally reach the cars, you find some of your people who came to say goodbye. Olivia waves at Daryl while hurrying towards you. “Here,” she beams at you, holding out a thermos bottle.

You take it with a smile of your own, even though she can’t really see it besides the squinting of your eyes. “Thanks, Olivia. What is it?”

“Soup.” She exclaims with excitement. “Well, broth actually. But I hope it will make you feel better, boosting your immune system a little bit.”

You reach out to hug her tightly. “Thank you so much.” It’s heartwarming how much some Alexandrians actually care about you. It’s something you still can’t wrap your head around. Especially considering all the difficulties regarding you and your history, when your group first came into town.

Rosita and Michonne are next, hugging you briefly and wishing you good luck. When everyone had their turn, you check on Daryl and Carl, both telling you they are ready to move out. Daryl and you go for the truck, while Sasha and Carl go for one of the cars. When you’re about to hop in, you hear your name.

“Y/N!” Negan calls you, standing a few feet away from you. “One word before you go.”

You suppress the urge to roll your eyes. What does he want now? Slightly irritated, you throw your backpack on the passenger seat, before making your way towards Negan. “Yeah?”

“I’m not particularly pleased by how you’ve handled the asshole that attacked you.” He states with an unreadable expression. 

“Huh?” Is all you manage to respond, looking at him in confusion.

“If he had attacked your brother, would you have done the same thing?” He questions you.

You shrug your shoulders. “Well, he didn’t and we don't sentence people based on what ifs and maybes.”

“And what are you trying to achieve?“ He interrogates further.

“Rehabilitation.” You state, making Negan's brows raise. “He’s locked up in a cell with just enough rations not to starve. He wouldn’t have the energy to pull something, even if he wanted to, so he's not a threat anymore. In a few months he can apply for parole.”

He shakes his head dismissively. “You know, doll? If you don’t want to get your hands dirty, which so far never bothered you, as far as I can tell, I’d be more than happy to lend a hand. That fucker needs to know his place - right off the bat.” You can’t help but snort. “You’ve made that joke already.” And it wasn’t funny the first time, with your life and the ones of your loved ones on the line. Strangely you are still kind of amused now, maybe you're not as fit as you thought, if you can laugh at something like that.

Negan grins in return, but before he can say anything, you continue, “I appreciate your offer, but his blood would still be on my hands, whether I kill him myself or tell someone to do it for me.”

“Suit yourself, sunshine.” Negan sighs in annoyance. “But the offer still stands, just let me know.” Why is he so adamant about killing Michael? You get why Rick and Darly are, you guys are family, but Negan? But before you can dwell on that, his voice sounds again.

“What's up with the scarf?” He asks in a calm voice.

“I’m sick,” You explain. “It’s contagious and I don’t want to infect others.”

He chuckles, guestering at the worn shorts that you're still wearing. “No wonder. It’s what, maybe 50° degrees and you’re still dressed for summer?”

“If I had weather-appropriate clothing, I’d be wearing something else,” You defend yourself, closing your jacket tightly in response. Funny enough, you didn't even notice the cold until he pointed it out. 

He considers you for a moment before he takes a step closer towards you. “And your face?”

“Not so good,” you tell him, though it's a big understatement. Your leg was not good, your face is fucking bad.

“Can I take a look?”

Even though you actually don't want to show him, you remove your scarf regardless, carefully pulling it down.

Once your face is exposed, Negans expression changes slightly. As he’s taking in the wound, he looks almost compassionate. “Well, shit.”

While Michael missed your eye, it’s been only by an inch. The cut runs from just below your eye down your entire face to your jaw. Due to your lack of equipment and supplies you could not treat the wound efficiently. The cut itself is angry red in colour and the skin around is swollen. It’s throbbing at times and feeling hot.

“Does it hurt?” He asks, though he can figure it does just by the looks of it.

You affirm in a tired voice, “Like a bitch.”

He nods at you, signaling you can cover up again and you do so immediately. “Is it infected?”

You shake your head, “Not yet. Until now it's just an inflammation, but…”

He estimates, “It will get infected eventually.”

“Yeah,” You confirm, “And if I get really lucky I’ll go blind. While the cut isn’t connected with my eye directly, it’s still close enough to make contamination very likely. So far I’ve been able to keep the inflammation in check with high doses of ibuprofen but I’ll need either antibiotics or disinfectant creams soon.”

“Goddamn,” He curses under his breath. His eyes wander from yours to the ground for a moment before he looks back at you, scratching his beard. Suddenly he reaches for something in his pocket, it’s the container you gave him at the pantry.

He hands it over to you. “Take ten.”

Surprised, you knit your eyebrows together. “I… are you sure?”

He nods. “Can’t risk the only useful Alexandrian going blind on me, now can I?”

A small smile tugs on the edges of your lips and you take the container from him. It’s nice to hear a word of validation, even if it’s from the enemy. After you took ten tablets, you give the container back to him. “Thanks, Negan.”

You put them in the pockets of your jacket while you ask, “How long can you wait for the drugs? Most likely not that long, considering the sick kids.”

He frowns at you in response. “How the hell do you know about the kids?”

You wave with the list you’ve copied. “I assume it’s the common cold? Adults usually don’t take paracetamol in liquid form.”

Negan can’t suppress a surprised smile from forming on his face. “You never cease to amaze me, sunshine.”

You can’t tell whether you’re blushing or a fever is finally showing itself. Lucky the scarf is covering the change of color regardless of the reason. After you’ve cleared your throat awkwardly, you try to ask him again. “Well, I’m gonna be on the road for a while, so.”

“We’re not out yet, next week should work.”

“Alright,” You sigh, “Then I’m gonna pass the list to team A. My team won’t return within the next two weeks.”

Another frown. “Where the fuck are you guys going?”

“Cities”, you explain. “Gonna grab whatever we can get our hands on. Medicine, food but also bodycare stuff, stationeries, clothing-”

“Cities?” He repeats with eyebrows raised in question. “What the hell, you have a death wish or something?”

“Not really, but we are running low on pretty much everything. We don’t have enough gas for me to scout ahead, so we have to make sure our next run is a guaranteed success. No one risks scavenging in overrun places, so we’re counting on at least one full truck load.”

He asks bewildered, “How do you wanna pull that off?”

“We’ll be walking among the dead. They don’t recognize you, when you’re covered in their blood and guts.” You explain almost nonchalantly. “Won’t be our first time doing it.”

Negan looks at you, as if you were insane. “Why the hell would you risk that, Y/N?”

You look at him with an raised eyebrow, isn’t it obvious? “You.”

It takes Negan a moment to understand what you mean. He narrows his eyes at you, “You do realize that there are plenty of places that are not filled with a shit ton of dead?”

“So far the living have always posed the biggest threats.” You blurt out and regret your words immediately. Quickly you try to back paddle. “But there won't be many around presumably, so we'll be fine considering.”

Negan considers you for a moment, his expression turning stern again. “Pass the list to your other team. My people can’t wait that long. Would hate to kill the kids in their sleep, not that you know about that.”

That hurt and was absolutely uncalled for. You know what he is reffering to and it’s very unsetteling how much he knows about you due to Deannas stupid interview.

When she asked whether you’d consider yourself a murderer, you answered with a yes and of course she wanted you to elaborate.

You told her about Otis. That Shane was injured and you decided in a split second to sacrifice the man who shot your brother, to escape the horde that was coming after you.

And you told her about Gina and her son Max. Both got the flu back in the prison. You knew they wouldn’t make it to the next day and decided to kill them when they were asleep. Partly to end their suffering, but primarily to prevent them from turning unnoticed, if they suddenly died.

And then there was Lizzy, though you did not pull the trigger, her death was still your responsibility. What she did to her own sister and was about to do to yours put you into furry. You left no room for a discussion about Lizzy's fate, one of your knives was already in your hands, when Carol volunteered to put Lizzy down.

In the end your pharmaceutical background was the only thing that saved you from exile back then, even though many disagreed with Deanna’s decision. They assumed you to be an unpredictable psycho and Rachel's death almost rekindled that old perception you’ve worked so hard on losing.

“Fine.” You finally say, forcing yourself not to show how much that comment actually affected you. “Anything else I should be looking for, anything you need?”

Negan turns on his heels with a sour expression, “Just don’t get yourself killed. Would be a waste of ibuprofen.” 

For a moment you look after him until he disappears behind one of the Saviors trucks. Never talk back to Negan and what did you dumbass do? While shaking your head, you turn to make your way to your people. If you could, you’d kick yourself for so stupidly crossing a line.

You wave at Rosita to come over to you, while meeting her halfway. After you gave her the list and a few instructions, you two hug one final time. 

Eventually you finally find yourself sitting in the truck, a blanket over your legs and the still hot thermos bottle in your hand. Daryl looks at you from the driver's seat with concern in his eyes. “You good?”

“Yeah, let’s just go.”

Chapter Index: Chapter 1 /Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 (End)

Masterlist / Negan x Rick's Daughter Series

#The Walking Dead #negan smith #negan x oc #twd negan #negan #negan x reader #negan / reader #rick grimes #carl grimes #michonne #daryl #daryl dixon #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 #twd

[mybrainismelted]

Office AU part 6! Previous parts found here (part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5) or view the whole thing on A03

The rest of the day was filled with bashful smiles, flirty text messages, and blatant attempts to distract each other from the work they were supposed to be doing.  Mickey seemingly getting clumsy all of a sudden kept "accidentally" knocking things off his desk that he would have to walk over to bend down and pick up.  And if he just so happened to wiggle his ass a bit excessively in the process, well it was a perfectly normal thing to do, right?  Not his fault if Gallagher couldn't keep his eyes to himself.

And maybe Ian made a bit of a show of rolling up his sleeves over his muscular forearms, and stretched a bit too agressively so his shirt pulled tight across his chest and shoulders.  People do that at the office every day! And if Mickey responded by blatantly checking him out, and slowly running his tongue over his lips, that was totally normal office behaviour too. 

After one such silent exchange, Mickey's phone vibrated.  He smirked, and picked it up to check..

Ian: Like what you see Milkovich?

Mickey:  Hmm, too many clothes on to be sure

Ian: You looking for a sneak peek over there?

Mickey: You gonna strip for me Gallagher?

Ian: has sent an attachment

Mickey's eyes flicked over to the redhead, who was watching him, one eyebrow cocked.  He clicked on the image, and felt his mouth go dry at the sight of a shirtless Ian, skin damp from what looked like sweat, his hair darkened from dampness.

Mickey:  holy shit.  This day must be over soon, right?

Ian just chuckled, and said "Soon", before going back to his work.

Unfortunately, the universe really seemed to have it in for them.  Less than an hour before the end of the day, the boss called an emergency meeting.  They found themselves in a room with Jess and a few other co-workers, nobody really sure why they were here.  When the boss finally arrived, the news was not what they wanted to hear at all.  Mandatory overtime for everyone in the room - for the next 2 weeks.  Well fuck.  So much for their plans.  Dinner was being ordered in, mandatory check-ins every hour to report on their progress, and insane goals for each and every day.  They were gonna be here all night.

They walked back into their office, both feeling a bit dejected at the loss of their plans for the night.  "Well..." started Mickey.  "Guess we gotta put that date on hold again.  At least you've got your pillow if you need a nap."  he tried to hide his disappointment with a smirk and a wink.  Ian wasn't fooled, and gave him a slightly sad smile.  "Sure, Mick.  But hey, at least we get to spend it together.  Can't imagine being stuck here all night with anyone else."

Mickey shook his head a bit, "soft bitch" he muttered, before closing the distance between them and pulling Ian in for a kiss.  It started to turn heated, and they reluctantly pulled away, remembering where they were.  "Back to work."  Mickey said, patting Ian's cheek softly. They worked in companionable silence until pizza arrived, and then took a break to eat with the other poor saps still stuck here. 

"Mick, Ian, come sit with me!"  Jess called out when they walked into the room.  Exchanging glances, they shrugged and moved to join her, sitting side by side on the other side of the table.  "So I guess you guys are on speaking terms again?"  she asked with a smile.  "Yeah, yeah.... all good"  Mickey returned her smile.  He turned his attention to eating while Ian and Jess talked about this crazy job they were all working on.

Finished eating before the other two because they were yakking so much, Mickey turned his attention to something a bit more fun.  Keeping his expression carefully neutral, he reached under the table and just barely brushed his fingers up the inside of Ian's thigh.  The redhead jerked slightly, but kept his eyes on Jess, trying to ignore him.  Mickey let his hand wander, moving higher and higher with each pass.  Eventually Jess got up to leave, while Ian was still finishing his pizza.  Realizing that they were suddenly alone in the room, he got bolder, and moved his hand to cup Ian's crotch, rubbing softly.

Ian let out a gasp, eyes, closing, but reached down and stopped Mickey's hand.  "Mick... please.  I'm not going to be able to stop myself again if you keep doing that"

Mickey smirked and pulled his hand back, leaning in to kiss his Gallagher again.  "Alright, I'll be good.  See ya back in the office."

As the rest of the evening went by, they found themselves working together at Ian's desk, neither of them wanting to be too far from the other.  It was almost 11pm when they finally managed to get the required work for the day done.  Both of them were exhausted, eyes blurring, hardly able to walk.  "Man, I'm beat."  Ian muttered as they gathered their belongings.  He rubbed at his eyes, clearly struggling to stay awake.

"Hey, you're too tired to take the L alone right now.  You should just crash at my place"  Mickey offered.  "Not looking for anything but sleep tonight, man, but my place is close, and you need sleep as much as I do."  Ian looked at him blearily, and nodded once. "Yeah, that sounds amazing, thank you. Not sure I would have made it home."

They headed out side by side, Ian throwing his arm around Mickey's shoulders as they walked down the street, not talking, just enjoying being together.  They stumbled together into Mickey's apartment, gratefully pulling off their work clothes, tossing them aside with relief.  Mickey found an extra toothbrush, and they quietly shared the bathroom while they got ready.  Heading back to the bedroom, both men collapsed on the bed, too worn out for any more words.  Ian lifted Mickey's hand to his mouth and pressed a soft kiss to his knuckles, before rolling on his side and falling instantly asleep.  Mickey turned to face him, and spent the next few minutes studying the face of the beautiful man in his bed, not able to think about much except that he was already in this deeper than he could ever have imagined, before sleep claimed him too.

#office au #fanfic #gallavich

[drafthorsemath]

I gotta rant about the state of math education for a minute. I say this as a math educator with a math PhD who currently works to create digital math content and assessments (primarily for high school and college level). We have to do better for students and the way we're attempting to do that is mostly garbage because of publishing companies.

I currently work for two educational publishers who will remain unnamed. They're competitors and I think it's funny that I and one other person I know work for both of them.

Anyway, company M, who I primarily work for, is finding that students are using fewer of their tools and appear to just guess when they don't know an answer instead of attempting and getting feedback. Instead of figuring out what would actually help students, this company is taking a more bare bones approach to authoring math assessment tools going forward, firing authors (the team I was on used to have over 20 people at any given time and now there are 4 of us), and then complaining how we can't keep up with authoring new content. The problem is that they are not offering a wider variety of content for different types of learners, but they don't want to hear that. They write a textbook, make online homework and study guides for it, and call it good. That's not nearly enough, but they don't want to invest in getting better.

This week I started training for a new part time job at company C to try to make a little more money and they are trying to do a better job. They want higher student engagement, fewer assessments, and for students to explore a topic instead of traditional lectures. Great. Research supports a more interactive approach to learning. Except their idea of student engagement and interaction solely focuses on extroversion: reading, writing, conversing, analyzing, actively listening, group work, sharing with the class, and more. And none of it has the options of being done alone. On top of this, they do not address disabilities and are only just starting to realize they need different content for multilingual learners.

Some students can actually read and learn and do not need to interact. Some students are anxious to interact. I've seen it. I've had a student stuttering just trying to talk in class to ask a question, and making her come to the board? Why? For what purpose? Said student was already doing well in class and she simply wrote everything out. I had multiple students who were combat veterans; one in particular who had a brain injury and needed a lot of repetition. Having a lot of approaches in a 50 minute class would have been overwhelming for him since he needed clear examples and lots of independent practice. He thrived in my office hours. Forcing this model will not help these students. While I think there are some good things about this versus just using a digital textbook, I take issue with the approach because it is still forcing students to all learn the same way. It's a different way of learning than using a textbook, but there is no room for flexibility.

Look, I know that it's impossible to teach a classroom of students in a way that gives each enough time and resources to perfectly meet their needs. I taught at a university for 8 years. I've tutored students in grades 3-12 for over a decade. This is not me bashing teachers, lecturers, or professors. I know they are simply limited to what math ed materials are on the market and what they write themselves. (Thinking of Dr. Bell who wrote his own book for Modern Algebra because he hated every book on the market.) I just get frustrated when everyone (publishers) tries to push new teaching styles and tools, saying "there are multiple approaches to suit multiple learners." If each student must go through and master each approach, how is that any better than saying they must all master this one approach?

I'm just a frustrated math lady. Also, this has reminded me of the time many years ago when I had an anon who would ask for math homework help in my inbox because they had no where else to go. That was also before we had DMing on tumblr. Thinking of you today, Stats Anon.

#math #math education #about me #math publishing #so many educators out there trying their best and the materials they have to work with are just not enough #the answer to this is probably increase funding for education

[incarnateirony]

Ok, I have to ask, cuz I am seeing many different takes. First of all, I loved last night's episode of TW. It got 471K views, but 0 demo? Last week it had fewer views but higher demo, so is that accurate? I am still with you that I think this show can still move forward to S2, but do you think with CW or HBOMax? At JIB, all of the actors said that they simply don't know, but they hope for TW, Walker, Windy and GK? None of J2M sounded super confident at all. Some stupid online site wrote a crap story saying that Ruth was a desperate but failed attempt at saving TW. BS I say. The K coven are back to talking smack too, but no one takes their drama seriously anymore. What is your take on all four of those shows, and Kung Fu too? Run on question, but we also haven't heard about Big Sky? If you added the 3+ and 7+ up for Big Sky, it has 4.8M viewers per week and a .4 demo? Is it possible that that will renew? And will Dean be in E13 of TW? Sorry for so many questions.

[picks up a few base assumptions in this post and moves it to the trash]

The reason sites are reporting like this is the same reason I tell people to be patient every week. Some sites are reporting just the Live audience, others are reporting Live+SD as appropros, the initial demo is not only prelims likely to adjust with the SD but are rounding down, as happens in prelims, because... they get rounded, and when the Live minus SD comes in at 0.05, which is also about normal, then if it lands on the wrong side of the dot it rounds down.

It's literally preliminary reporting that triggered the ask and all following apprehension, so I need you to understand first, I am addressing your anxiety as anxiety, not as something that actually needs concerned about.

It's fine.

We're already fine.

my last ask I literally talked about the importance of the digitals via the app as well as CW's active DVR campaign and all of it. The Numbers You Are Worrying About Literally Do Not Matter The Way Fandom Has Monkey Trained You Into Reflex Worrying About Them Vaguely. I Fucking. Promise.

Kung Fu, Big Sky I consider done, but I could be surprised. KF I'm pretty sure is buried, I just am not confident in Big Sky's position. Especially with 10P ABC closing by 2024, they're resisting it this year.

Big Sky we can say "we add all the numbers and then number big", but then you have to give that in context to the other shows on the network, and figure out what that network's expectations are. Because if we add all the number shows on the other ABC shows, then number much bigger. See how that balances out when you aren't trying to forage out the answer you're hoping for? Reality sucks but we gotta face it. I've told everyone that for years and the episode last night, much like I have told everyone, is that it is literally the plot.

TPTB are begging people to start applying context and stop applying projection and trauma reaction. It is literally the metanarrative but the fandom still isn't doing the hard work to actually look at themselves and figure out how they've been doing that as a collective, because man that sucks, and then how do you act big and confident online and stuff

Who cares what K says. Literally who cares. If you're looking, it better be to fucking laugh at the wonkadoodle shit that comes out of there. They do not matter. You are, weirdly, for some bizarre reason, obsessed with the same dozen idiots idioting the way they've idioted for the last however many years. It's very clear who's won, what's happening, and what the take overhead is on whom, so why bother? You're basically going "well if I check the Original Star Trek Incel Boys page, THEY have opinions and say bad things are happening." Who the fuck cares. They're idiots. Stop caring what long proven idiots say and pretending it has weight in the conversation. It never has and never will and that's why we have ended up where we are.

When you remove reacting to Proven Idiots like that, you don't care about their takes. You know the base reality of how the system works, what the marketing is, and what pieces are constructed in what angle and fashion, rather than it all being arguable in the randomness of the internet.

First, wait for finals. Then, realize nobody gives a shit about flat finals in 2023, and wait for digitals in app and +3 results. Then, realize we're taking a steamroller to everything around us, and then it really gets silly to realize you're worrywart asking this on prelims I warn about every week because some weirdo that faps to child incest porn has an opinion on twitter.

[tryskomys]

Wet Sand

Stone Gossard x OC

Chapter 4 - Watermelon In Easter Hay

Summary: you get me. that’s why.

masterlist

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

notes: chapter foooour! disclaimer: this one is quite tough, so be careful about the tw’s and look out for each other, guys <3 tough times always end and we come out the other way stronger than ever before.

tw: a lot of hurt. mentions of the thing that rhymes with kegs, brief mentions of drug abuse, addiction, brief hint at s*1c1de, description of panic attacks/trauma dissociation. comfort.

i promise that the next one will be so agressively fluffy you’ll drown in it.

songs:

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

Somehow, time suddenly started to pass quicker than usual, especially in the context of prolonged winter nights.

The number of oat milk lattes pressed was slowly rising into the low hundreds over the next three weeks, the lunch feasts weren’t as flashy as the first time - it was more of a lunch snack split between three people.

But Kiki didn’t mind.

I could get used to this.

The mantra played on a loop in her head when she got up each morning, the entire bike ride to the parking lot, the whole walk from there to the café.

She was so excited about getting used to this that despite her crippling insomnia, she began to arrive to work about half an hour before Jeff, who was a self-proclaimed morning bird.

She just couldn’t wait.

To get there and wipe the tables. To scribble the dailies on the menu blackboard. To hear Jeff’s adorable righteous fury when he started yapping about yesterday’s ball game - in fact, she was looking forward to learning all the details.

Most of all, though, to catch a flash of wild ruddy hair through the window and hear a knock on the door. See Stone shaking a paper bag in the air with a wide smile as she let him in, receiving a delightfully warm croissant and an even warmer hug.

“That, sir, is illegal. Do the higher-ups know that you’re nicking under their noses every day?”

“You said I’m a punk, I gotta protect my reputation.”

Still, the Christmas holidays couldn’t come fast enough. So, right after her last shift of the year, Kiki beelined to the laundromat to pick up her clothes as quickly as she could.

She stuffed the few pieces she had into her backpack and headed straight home. She was already running late to a meet-up with Stone back at Pioneer Square. It was the day of a long awaited holiday night-out.

When she got back to her apartment, she grinned as she rummaged a t-shirt out of the bag. It had a big Nets logo on the front. Jeff brought it to her yesterday, it still had a pleasant soapy scent.

“Don’t worry, it’s fresh from the laundry basket. It’s a bit big but it’ll do. Now that you’re starting to warm up to it, I have to sway you to the right team.”

“Jesus, Ames, you’re tasteless. Always with the propaganda. Let her form her own opinion.”

“You’re just mad that you didn’t get one.”

Kiki was giddy when she caught herself calling the unlikely duo ‘friends’ in her head.

I could get used to this.

She was whistling an Aerosmith song - another consequence of daily hanging out with Jeff - while she cuffed the baggy sleeves of her newly acquired NBA apparel.

Tightening the shoelaces of her combat boots, she softly cursed when she bent down - she felt a stab in her stomach. No lunch today.

It was the beginning of a holiday break, meaning all money goes to cheap beer and 3 a.m. Doghouse fries to-go.

And the rent was due.

No, asking him for another help-out isn’t an option. Not again. You won’t die if you only eat once a day for a week.

And besides, she was planning to return everyone’s hospitality by buying at least one round tonight.

The two of them had a rendezvous at the Off Ramp with Chris, Jeff and a couple of guys. A cherub-looking jester called Andy, who occasionally washed the dishes at the café, and Stone and Jeff’s sweet gangly bandmate, Bruce.

One thing she’d learned over her multiple visits to the Off Ramp - it was probably the worst excuse for a bar she’d ever seen.

The upside was that the music was impeccable and the alcohol was ID-free.

That was about it.

First of all, it was Stone’s money laundering headquarters. He lured in unassuming patrons to make bizarre bets with him while knowing the payoff like the back of his hand.

His favourite was guessing how many dead cockroaches there were next to the vodka shelf - it was usually between five and eight.

One of the most successful schemes so far was when he got a group of French girls to each bet a shot that Matt from Soundgarden would break a stick within the first song.

He broke two in the first thirty seconds.

Stone won four shots and Kiki mocked him for missing out on an ‘authentic French kiss’ when he turned his cheek as one of the girls went in for a passionate bonus prize.

Plus, only she knew that he’d sneaked backstage before the show to file a weak spot in four of Matt’s flimsy drumsticks - she was the one guarding the back room so no one would walk in on him.

Jeff, meanwhile, was an angel. Carefully watching everyone’s drinks so they wouldn’t get spiked, something that was sadly a common occurrence in the sweaty dim hell hole. Always ready to light anyone’s stick of choice. Rocking out to every song with identical enthusiasm, even if he’d heard it thirty times over.

But even the most joyous of companies couldn’t deny the fact that a certain degree of thick skin was needed to snake through the narrow corridors.

All the vomit stains and broken bottles on the carpeted floors sometimes called for nearly athletic skills.

There seemed to be a different kind of bodily fluid for every inch of the dancefloor. On top of that, it was all lousily enlightened by a disco ball that was threatening to fall apart at any moment.

If you wandered too close to the supposed kitchen, the stench was so pungent it must’ve caused at least one nosebleed over the years in service.

The women’s restrooms were desolate. There was more piss on the floor than in the actual toilet bowls, powder sprinkles of questionable origin were scattered around the sinks and the mirrors were broken, barely functional and always covered in lipstick stains and sweaty handprints.

And the guys that had - for obvious reasons - visited both, swore that the men’s room was far, far worse.

In other bars around Seattle, it wouldn’t be shocking to accidentally stumble upon some couple enjoying their date in a bathroom stall. Here, it was less common.

You were more likely to bump into them right in front of the restrooms, blocking the way in.

To spend a night out at the Ramp was a truly authentic pagan experience.

I could get used to this.

Kiki opted for leaving her bike at home and took in a deep breath of the frosty air as she strolled through the busy streets of Chinatown.

The sun was long gone and a fog settled over the roads, so she clutched her crochet bag closer and tried to warm up by folding her arms.

Andy, who was fronting another domestic band, had an enchanting voice and Bruce was already a solid third cog in a well-synergized string faction of Green River.

So the five of them were planning to jam as soon as possible.

But something always came up. Christmas was around the corner and everybody took more shifts at work to afford the luxuries of holidays.

That was twice as true for musicians - none of them simply had time to focus on music, hence her lack of session gigs. Her excitement was immeasurable, though.

To play with like-minded people, finally able to express herself however she wanted.

Unable to sustain a minute of peace, though, her brain always came up with pointless arguments.

Can I express myself, though? ‘Myself’ is not nearly good enough to keep up with them.

With him.

I wonder how he feels music. Does he hunch? Bop his head? Jump around or just sway?

Are his eyes closed? He seems like someone who would mouth along with his riffs. Nerd.

Can't really imagine how he touches the strings, though. Maybe he does a lot of slides.

Heavy and slow. Teasing.

That sounds like him.

“Look what the cat dragged in. Baby, do you own a watch? I’ve been waiting here for like fifteen minutes,” Stone muttered through chattering teeth when she finally arrived at their meeting spot, startling her out of her thoughts. “I’m pretty sure this is frozen solid, along with my balls.”

Kiki already recognized the paper bag he was clutching.

Her eyebrows knitted in confusion when he waved his wrist in front of her face to show her the time and then gave her a bone-crushing hug.

“God dammit, I forgot to wind it. Sorry,” she mumbled into his chest, a flaming blush prickling her icy ears.

The scent of fresh pastries and cinnamon still lingered on his sweatshirt.

“What’s the ruckus?” she let him go and immediately checked her watch to twist the little winding wheel.

“Huh? Oh, I was running late in the morning so I couldn’t stop by. I grabbed it on my way home at least, don’t wanna lose my stealing streak,” he shrugged as she took the bag from him and they both set off.

“Ah, you’re a saint, Stoney. I’m so hungry I could eat a fucking horse,” she breathed out puffs of fog.

“Ames and I were wondering where you got lost. Thought you had slipped on ice and fallen into a ditch,” she huffed. She struggled to keep up with his brisk tempo and munch on her cold cinnamon roll at the same time. “I had a cake in mind, you know, to bring to the hospital.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmpf. All pink with big chocolate letters on top,” she mumbled through a mouthful of food, waving her hand in the air to mime handwriting. “'Good riddance.'”

He scoffed, reluctantly chomping down when she offered him a bite.

“Slow down or you’ll choke. I don’t wanna spend the night with my hand down your throat,” he chuckled, slightly concerned by the sheer speed of her eating.

“You said you had a first-aid course, no? Time to put your money where your mouth is,” she muttered again and gulped down the last bite.

The Ramp was packed to the brim, but it wasn’t hard to find the colourful cast of friends, even in the dim orange light.

Chris and Bruce towered over the sea of people like long-haired maypoles, passing a joint to Jeff. He was wearing a bright purple hat with an orange bow - an extravagant wizard. And as they got closer, Andy, who was a lot shorter than the three of them, surprisingly stood out even more. Unmistakable with his furry white coat and bright red lipstick.

Stone, in his kaleidoscope vest, was holding her hand so he wouldn’t lose her in the crowd. Her fingers were still cold as ice, but somehow they warmed him down to the marrow of his bones.

Unbeknownst to her, his mind worked in similar patterns to hers.

I could get used to this.

● ● ● ● ● ●

“…they’ve been away for a month, so, obviously, I was salivating for all the details, shivering like a fucking Chihuahua. And then he just stepped out of his ugly station wagon, stinking like rotten eggs and with a bloody scratch on his cheek, like, this big,” Andy colourfully explained, raised his little finger to illustrate and continued.

“Gave me that fucking blank stare of his and asked me if I knew that Crüe dumped Nikki Sixx in a dumpster last week.”

Kiki rolled her eyes and puffed out a laugh. Somehow, her conversation with Andy derailed to the story of Green River’s disasterous DIY tour.

“Jeez…what a sweet talker,” she scoffed, her grin growing wider when Andy’s baby blue eyes popped open as he vehemently nodded.

“And I was like…no?” he raised his knitted eyebrows and shook his head. “And he shrugged and went: ‘Well, Crüe dumped Nikki Sixx in a dumpster last week.’ And didn’t say a word for the rest of the day.”

“Pfft, he just wanted to be mysterious,” Kiki snorted, taking a swig of her beer.

There seemed to be a pattern, though.

Observing him for the past month, she’d noticed that Stone sometimes switched into a completely different person. Especially when getting into specific topics.

Usually hard drugs, relationships and politics.

The sarcasm suddenly became borderline cruel, not playful. And his cool punky attitude felt stoic and alien.

“Had to question Ames afterwards, because Stoney just. wouldn’t. talk. about it. He just does that sometimes. Nomen est omen, I guess,” Andy chuckled, confirming her suspicion.

“Unresolved childhood trauma, maybe?” she shrugged and took a swig of her beer.

I recognize that one from a mile away.

“Nah, the Gossards are the sweetest sweethearts of all the sweethearts ever,” Andy shook his head. His chubby cheeks were flushed from the shots of tequila Stone had been supplying all night.

A bunch of tourists were in the house, which meant a fruitful playground.

“I think he was just born that way.”

“Heartless?” Kiki scoffed, her smile widening when she caught Stone giving her subtle thumbs up from the bar.

The bartender was already pouring another round. Stone grinned when she returned the gesture and then started wiping off a lipstick stain on his cheek with a slightly disgusted expression. Andy smirked.

“Composed,” he shrugged.

“Weeeell, a little detached.”

“…practical,” he added, biting his cheek to contain laughter. Kiki squinted at him and shook her head.

“Yeah, bullshit. I still smell trauma,” she mumbled, gulping down another sip.

A question was playing around her head for some time. And now seemed to be the perfect moment to ask.

Because if Stone was the resourceful little shit of the group, Andy was the all-knowing chatterbox.

“Did that guy ever manage to keep a girlfriend?”

“Yeah, once,” Andy replied, playing around with the squeezed slice of lime in his empty shot glass.

“There we fucking go! The enigma of Stone Gossard solved! Good job, my dear Watson,” Kiki slapped her thighs, raising her bottle to clink Andy’s empty glass. He giggled like a child. Different people had different reactions to her dry English attitude.

Jeff seemed to have an open mind despite clearly not getting it.

Chris usually gave her disarming smiles, probably taking it for a cute younger-sister quirk.

Stone was…well, Stone about it. Never missing a beat to shoot back at her like he had been deprived of an arguing partner for his whole life.

And Andy always rewarded her with the most angelic giggles she’d ever heard.

“…well? Spill the beans!” Kiki nudged him, leaning a bit closer on the bar table. Andy dismissively waved her off.

“Oh, I don’t like to gossip…” he nonchalantly shook his head.

They stared at each other with wide eyes before bursting into wild cackles, getting a few confused looks from people around them.

When Andy was done with his adorable snorts, he cleared his throat.

“Okay, so, way back in…’84 methinks. Her name was Tara, she was from Utah or Alabama or…whatever, who gives a shit. Anyway, very religious family, Mormons I think, you know how they do it down there,” he theatrically shivered with disgust and continued.

“However. Stoney’s brash mouth could seduce a fucking saint. I’ve heard it rumoured that she screamed for Jesus the first time he -“

“Woah, okay, okay, no, thanks. I get it, please spare me,” she scowled and plugged her ears.

She hoped that Andy wouldn’t notice the raging blush that rapidly filled her entire face, but he was very hard to fool.

“I know you wanna hear all of it -” he smirked, “- but very well. Anyway, he was completely smitten. Treated her so right, didn’t give her any of that shithead attitude.”

That sounds terrifying.

“All of a sudden like a lamb. It was terrifying.”

“Bet,” Kiki snorted and bit into the rim of her bottle to tame the growing smirk on her face. “And how was she?”

“Apparently, not bad,” he mused, giggling again when her eyes widened and she threateningly lunged forward.

“Sorry, sorry,” he raised his arm in defence and took a few seconds to compose himself. “Well, once he helped her out of her redneck shell, she was, uh, how do I put it…”

“A cool girl?” Kiki shrugged and took a swig.

“An insufferable bitch,” he deadpanned and the beer flew out of her nose. He gave her some time to wipe her mouth and continued in a slightly sombre tone.

“She cheated a whole lot, probably wanted to try out as much as she could, now that she’d realized that God can’t make her cum,” he explained, making her snort again.

Fucking hell. This clown. I love him.

The way the story was going, though, her enjoyment slowly faded.

“You know that he’s a tease. And sometimes girls mistake his sarcasm for flirting.”

Yeah, tell me about it.

"So she used to make out with people right in front of him just to make him jealous,” Andy scowled and she mirrored his expression.

“Oof. How long did that go on?” Kiki asked, not even sure if she wanted to hear the rest of the story.

Her gaze trailed off to Stone’s grin as he was handing a shot to Bruce a few feet away from them. Now, there was something behind his smile that she hadn’t noticed before.

“About a year and a half or something, on and off,” Andy’s voice snapped her back to the conversation. “Then she broke up with him and went back home. I bet she married her cousin or something.”

Kiki scoffed and shook her head. She wasn’t sure how to comment on it, so she let Andy finish his story, even though she regretted even asking for it.

“He was devastated after all that, barely talked for weeks. I think he secretly used to be a romantic, but she kinda sobered him up from that whole ‘soulmate’ thing. I don’t think he’s dated anyone else since,” he ended with a shrug, mindlessly biting into the lime he fished out of the shot glass.

It seemed like he was trying to lighten the mood, his face twisting into a scrunched grimace.

“A Greek tragedy, really,” she followed his suit, letting out a bleak chuckle.

Andy waved his hand and swallowed a few times to push the sourness down before continuing in a slightly slurry voice.

“No, seriously. It kinda makes me sad. Actually, I think I haven’t seen him kiss a girl since then, you know?”

And you dare to laugh at me, beanpole?

“Yeah, he flirts and sleeps around, but he never kisses anyone on the lips,” Andy added, shrugging. “Maybe it’s some kind of a self-defence mechanism, I don’t know. I have no idea what’s going on behind that huge forehead of his.”

Oh.

“Like, he enjoys the one-night-stand-thrill or whatever but also doesn’t like it when girls touch him. And I mean touch as in this -” he reached out, patted Kiki’s shoulder and then rubbed her back. “-right?”

…yeah. But…

“Cringes at hugs and stuff, but once he’s enough inches away and certain that they're into it, he doesn’t have a problem with straight up telling them he wants to fuck their brains out,” Andy shook his head. “And somehow, it works. Sometimes I wonder if he’s even from the same planet.”

“I mean, that makes two of us, the hugging thing. But he does it whenever we meet anyway, so there’s a scoop for you,” Kiki tried to sound as careless as possible, kicking back the rest of her beer in one swell swoop.

“It’s different with you, you’re like his little Pooky bear,” Andy smirked, lacing his fingers under his chin. She snorted and raised her eyebrows.

“A what?”

“Pooky. You know Garfield, right? The comics?”

When Kiki shook her head with a curious smile, Andy gasped.

“What?! Sarcastic little shit of a cat who hates everyone but his teddy bear Pooky? And Pooky always pretends that he’s just a toy and then suddenly moves and rearranges stuff just to fuck with Garfield’s head?” he babbled, wildly gesturing.

“That sounds deranged. I love it,” she giggled, still unconvinced about the metaphor.

“Oh man, I grew up on that. I still have a stack of ‘em at home, I’ll borrow you some!” he enthusiastically grabbed her hand. “Then you’ll see why you’re Pooky.”

“I’d love that. And I truly admire that you make everything sound like a compliment,” Kiki grinned.

“It is,” Andy shot back, raising his eyebrows with a smirk. She scoffed.

“Pretty sure that just means he doesn’t view me as a potential fuck.”

He squinted and tipped his head to the side like a puppy.

“Yeeeeah, I wouldn’t exactly say that.”

“Just between us,” she interrupted him, “I’d admit that it hurts my ego, but I’m too vain. Guess I’m not his type.”

“Does he have a type? I haven’t noticed, maybe I’ve been around him for too long,” he chuckled, taking another pointless bite of the lime as if he was trying to suck out the last drops of tequila.

“Well, from what I’ve seen, they’re usually tall, sporty and sweet,” she counted on her fingers and then shrugged. “Then again, who’s type isn’t tall, sporty and sweet?”

Andy's toothy grin widened.

“Seems like your type is lanky, malnourished and sardonic.”

No.

“Yeah, no. I don’t - nope. Let’s cut this conversation before it starts, please,” she wiggled her finger at him, eyebrows knitted. His smile got even brighter.

“Why not, Pooky?” he pressed, grabbing her hand again. “You’re the only person I know who clicked with him without wanting to knock his teeth out first. And he’s into it.”

It sounds so easy when you say it.

“Because I don’t want to. And neither does he. I’m certain that we both like it just the way it is, trust me.”

Shit, he doesn’t trust me.

“You think I don’t know that you’re fucking on the side?” he exclaimed so loud Kiki had to bang her forehead against the bar table to hide her face from the people turning their heads.

“Jesus Christ, Andy! You’re disgusting,” she hissed when looked up, scowling.

His smile was omnipresent, though.

If Stone was the Roman statue, Andy was the Harlequin.

“Well, are you?”

“NO!”

“Not yet, you mean,” he raised his eyebrows, trying to contain another brewing giggle.

“Not yet, not tomorrow, not ever. Okay? I’m done with this topic, you clown, let’s move on,” Kiki reached out and softly pushed him.

Andy didn’t seem too keen on moving on, though, as his shoulders shook with a cackle.

“Have you ever stopped to think why he stares at your lips when you’re babbling? ‘Cause I have, Pooky,” he raised his index finger and tapped on her forehead to make the wrinkles between her eyebrows disappear.

All the other guys were on their way back to them, their laughs nearing Kiki’s ears as Andy whispered with a sly grin.

“It’s because you’re not his type.”

● ● ● ● ● ●

“I think I need a shot of bleach,” Kiki’s raspy voice appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

She left the group to get a beer, but before she could push her way back through the crowd, everyone except Stone had already scattered around the bar again.

He was startled when she walked straight up to him and slammed her forehead against his chest.

Unprovoked touching? This is new. I could get used to this.

“What’s up?” Stone chuckled, hoping that the sound of his heartbeat would get drowned in the loud buzz around them.

Kiki just slammed her head into his ribcage again and took a moment to shiver off some sort of disgust.

She raised her hand without a word and stuck a jumbo shot of vodka in his face. Snickering, he reluctantly took it and she finally looked up.

Her fae-like features were twisted in a comical grimace, mixing both amusement and repulsion.

“I just walked past Mike from Alice. Nailing a chick, that blonde exchange student -“

“Shocking! Your first time seeing a cock?” he interrupted with a brash grin, but his expression froze when she finished her sentence.

“- against the kitchen door.”

“Wh-what?! The kitchen?” he stuttered out, slowly breaking into a scowl identical to hers. Kiki vehemently nodded.

“Fuck. That’s rancid,” Stone choked out and fiercely kicked back the vodka. His nose wrinkled in a signature scrunch.

“I was trying to run past it as fast as I could, but I was so perplexed by them that I stopped by and kinda gave him a -“

She took a step back from Stone and demonstrated her best judgemental glare, raising her eyebrows as far as they could go.

“And I shit you not, he stared me dead in the eye for like ten seconds and then just turned around -” she mimed holding someone’s ass in her arms and spun around, “- and continued like I wasn’t there.”

Stone’s cheeks puffed with a laugh and he nonchalantly shook his head, but his ears started to burn red because of her vivid description. And he couldn’t stop his intoxicated mind from wandering.

Get it together, asshole. Not her. She made that very clear.

“I mean, maybe he wanted to give her a proper Ramp experience...” he shrugged, trying to focus on anything else than the glistening sweat on her flushed cheeks.

Kiki scoffed and took a swig of her beer before folding her arms.

“Yeah, but the kitchen?! I mean, you wouldn’t do that. You’re an A-grade slut, but at least you’re a gentleman, too.”

Just let her have the last word. It’s so easy. For once in your life, just shut the fu-

“Depends on the company. You, I’d even take inside the kitchen if I had to.”

But instead of scolding himself, Stone’s mind filled up with confidence as the vodka spilt through his brain cells and his lips curled into a triumphant smirk.

Stop lying to yourself, Gossard. Don’t act like you don’t get off on this shit.

Kiki raised an eyebrow and seemed to genuinely ponder if he was being serious, but she quickly brushed off her momentary lapse of judgement with a sharp scoff.

“Fine, from now on I officially don’t believe anything that comes out of this filthy cakehole,” she shook her head and reached up to poke his mouth.

Surprised by her own audacity, she tapped her finger on the small dimple in the middle of his bottom lip. “Don’t slip on the cum-stained floor when you go wash it out with soap.”

She held it there, basking in the crackling sensation that pulsed from his soft skin through her calloused fingertip.

When Stone took a tiny step back, darting across her face with an unreadable expression, she froze. Her hand hung in the air as his eyebrows twitched into a minuscule frown.

After a moment far too long for her comfort, she jumped when he lunged forward and bit her finger, cursing under her breath.

He was cackling as he ruffled her hair, Kiki slapped his hand away and rubbed on the bite mark on her knuckle.

Even though Stone’s shoulders were shaking with giggles, there was a clear shift in his demeanour. He firmly folded his arms and took another step back, clearing his throat.

He knew she’d noticed.

Yeah, right, big guy. So much for ‘put my money where my mouth is’. Idiot.

“Fuck, great, now I have rabies,” Kiki muttered, studying her finger in the dim light as she gave him a side-eye, trying to hide a smirk.

Stone chuckled and scratched his forehead.

What the fuck is wrong with you, dude? A girl has touched you before. A lot of them did. She’s just another one. Just a girl. Just…

“What’s wrong? Am I foaming at the mouth already?” Kiki gasped, staring him down with a quizzical brow.

Why does she...strange. So, so strange.

All he managed to do was shake his head and try to put on an unbothered grin.

Snap out of it, you dumb fuck.

“Cat got your tongue?” she quipped, scoffing when he didn’t answer.

“Silent treatment, that’s new. And weird. I already miss your yapping,” Kiki shook her head and watched Stone’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. He took a breath to speak, swiftly easing back into his smart-ass mode.

“Woah, woah, okay. Spoke too soon. Tell you what, I’ll go powder my nose and in the meantime, you can try to think of something funny to say,” she handed him her beer and patted his warm cheek. “You can do it, pretty boy, I believe in you.”

And with that, she disappeared, the crowd swallowing her small stature like an ocean wave. Stone luckily found an empty spot in the hoard of people next to the wall.

He leaned on it and banged his head against the uneven bricks.

You’re in deep shit, friend.

● ● ● ● ● ●

Five minutes passed. Then ten. After twenty, Stone’s impatient foot tapping caused a cramp to shoot through his calf, so he cursed and kicked the air a few times to shake it off.

Jesus, did she get flushed down the drain?

He wasn’t paying any attention to the shaggy-haired surfer dude in front of him. Stone somehow found himself in a conversation with him - he just appeared out of nowhere and started yapping on and on about how the bars are worse around Sunset Boulevard.

Ever the businessman, Stone took the opportunity to bet a shot that they would see at least a trio of cockroaches throughout the night.

Of course, he knew that even three was an outstandingly small number.

I’ll go check on her.

He excused himself and assured the guy that he would be back to collect his prize. He snaked through the entire bar, looking for her in every dark corner of the place.

He even tried knocking on the women’s room and calling after her, peeking in when a chirping group of girls allowed him to do so ‘if he really is Stoney’.

But she was nowhere to be found. The last place he didn’t check was a small patio behind the back door, usually a spot one went to when they wanted to fuck a stranger.

Nah, she just needed a breather alone. Or with the discount Steven Tyler that’s been eyeing her from the barstool all night.

Fuck, what do I care?

He liked to think that he had the talent to stomach anything with a straight face, but an unfamiliar burn settled in his lungs as he made his way through a narrow corridor leading to the door.

This is a bad idea. Turn around and leave. Go count cockroaches or something.

He passed a couple that was shamelessly slamming against the wall with dull thuds, but it didn’t phase him at all.

He was too busy fighting his hazy brain, trying to coax his limbs to beeline back inside.

But he couldn’t stop himself as he took the shabby door handle and pushed the metal door open with a loud creak.

Maybe he’d take the scene of her pinned against the dirty bricks by someone else than him over whatever he just walked into.

Kiki was lying on the filthy concrete, curled up in a fetal position and shaking. She was holding a fading cigarette between her cramped fingers, hot ash falling on her red knuckles with every sob she let out.

Stone didn’t think twice about dropping down to his knees and hovering above her, little rocks and rubble stabbed his skin through the holes in his jeans.

“Jesus fucking Christ. What - what’s wrong, Baby?” he stuttered as he pulled to sit her up and shuffle to the wall to rest her back against it. She immediately hugged her knees, avoiding his eyes like a plague.

She was hyperventilating, tears streamed out of her puffy eyes and fell on the snot-stained Nets t-shirt.

He crouched in front of her and tried to take the cigarette away so it wouldn’t burn her. But her hand twitched and the cramp intensified, so he put his hands on her knees instead, cautiously caressing her.

“It’s f-fine, let m-me be. I’ll c-come inside i-in a sec,” she hiccuped, shuffling away when he moved to sit down next to her.

He carefully hugged her around the shoulders and pressed her to his chest. She was still shaking with rapid breaths, but her body slowly collapsed closer to him.

Stone felt his limbs tingle with an alien sensation, almost as if he’d never touched a woman before. Like an eerie fever dream.

“What’s wrong? What happened?”

“No, I’m…I’m okay, t-this h-happens sometimes…s-sorry,” she mumbled again, resting her forehead on her knees. His heart dropped.

“Did someone hurt you?” he questioned, trying to lift her chin to see if her face was in one piece.

“No, no, it’s nothing, I just…just l-leave me here, okay? I’ll be right back,” she choked out and let him take a look. After sparing him a brief glance, Kiki shook his hand off and hid behind her hair again.

She didn’t have any bruises, only cracked lips from all the salty tears.

“What happened? Who hurt you? Tell me, please,” he pressed, reaching up to stroke her hair.

“No one, I’m n-not hurt…it’s fine. Just go,” she repeated like a broken record, but he noticed that she began to melt into his arms and finally dropped the cigarette butt on the ground.

“I’m not leaving you.”

That brought a new wave of shivers and he desperately clutched her closer to make her warm.

Neither of them was wearing a jacket or a sweater, so he didn’t have much to work with. It still seemed to help, though, as her breathing slowly calmed down.

“What’s up, Baby?” Stone whispered after a long moment of silence, disturbed only by her fading sobs.

“I-it’s just…it’s me, I’m sorry. I’m just a sissy.”

She took a long pause to breathe in and cleared her hoarse throat.

“I, uh…I just saw some girls shooting up in the bathroom, that’s all. They offered me some, too, just as a cherry on top.”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Oh. Did…did you -” he carefully started, still whispering. The implication brought a bit of fuel into her exhausted body, so she immediately cut him off.

“Fuck no. Christ, of course not."

Kiki sounded almost offended, so he quickly regretted even thinking about that option.

“I’m sorry. Sorry, I just…it’s not uncommon here…” Stone muttered with a bitter undertone in his voice. She took a big breath again.

“I know, it’s f-fucking everywhere. I don’t know what I was thinking…as if you could run away from drugs,” she lamented under her breath like she was scolding herself. “I guess I p-probably chose the wrong career. It j-just hit me more than it should’ve. Like I said, sissy.”

He wasn’t sure of what to say, so he just stared at the dirty ground in front of them. He realized there were multiple fresh-looking cigarette butts, she must’ve smoked a lot more before he arrived.

Kiki sniffed and wiped her wet nose with the back of her hand.

“It’s, uh…my dad, he…”

She took a moment to inhale a shaky breath.

“He was a smack addict, OD’d this spring. I didn’t know him that well, but, uh…I’ve seen that shit when he crashed at our place, you know…mom and I had this tiny little flat.”

She suddenly sounded clear and lucid, almost detached.

“I ran off as often as I could, slept at whatever place I worked at or in the school gym…I was probably the only kid that enjoyed going to school, ‘cause it meant I wouldn’t have to be at home. They both had a lot of friends over,” she scoffed. “Well, friends - dodgy old men and strung-out buddies with a pocketful of crack.”

She started picking on her cuticles and tore a hangnail, so Stone mindlessly reached out to stop her and started playing with the battered old ring on her middle finger.

“And mom was…she was ill. Real ill. You know, here,” she tapped her temple. “Got some of it from her, I think. Family heirloom.”

A few moments of tense silence and she continued.

“I guess they did love each other, in some ugly twisted way. In the end, she couldn’t bear to live without him,” Kiki mumbled the last part like she was talking to herself.

“So, uh…I kinda found myself alone in a dirty hole in the middle of East End with about fifty quid to my name…mom left me that,” she scoffed again, this time even sharper. “No note or anything, just that one fucking piece of worthless green paper.”

She sighed and watched his bony fingers slowly wiggle the ring left and right, slightly concerned that he didn’t speak yet.

Or move, for that matter.

“Dad’s cousin, Toby, moved here a long time ago. The only family I knew, so when it all happened, he tracked me down and said he’d take care of me. Got me a one-way plane ticket. A guitar case and these stupid dungarees,” she swabbed her nose again and wiped it on her pants to make a point. “That’s all I had on me.”

“What about him?” Stone suddenly asked, his voice eerily monotone.

“He recently moved to Aberdeen, but he still helps me with rent, even when I don’t ask. I try not to, obviously…I gotta look for something cheaper, ‘cause he’s already done enough, you know?“ Kiki waved her hand to try and loosen her shaking fingers. “Too much.”

She took a deep breath and fiercely shook her head.

“Fuck, sorry. I didn’t mean to just…shit, that was like an infodump from a bad movie,” she added and cleared her throat.

“Take it as a roundabout way of saying ‘run while you still can’,” she chuckled and tried to shuffle away, but Stone squeezed her closer.

A warm tear tickled her pale wrist, but it wasn’t one of her own. His breathing didn’t change, neither did his heartbeat or his stance.

Only the dull sound of teardrops falling on her skin as they dropped from the tip of his nose.

A Roman statue, weeping.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

His voice didn’t indicate any sort of emotion, but it soothed her in a way she’d never felt before. She raised her eyebrows.

“Like, ever?” she huffed, trying to loosen the mood, but he stayed still.

“If that’s what you want,” he said and patiently waited for her reaction. When she didn’t give him one, he cleared his throat and finally moved to rest his head on top of hers.

“Didn’t know you smoked.”

She scoffed.

“Only when I’m really riled up. News flash, it’s a nasty habit with zero benefits. Makes me even more poor, stinky and unhealthy.”

“A woman after my own heart," Stone nudged her shoulder, savouring the sound of her silent chuckle. "Just realized…I never asked you where you live.”

“At the corner of South Main and 17th Ave, next to Chinatown. A hovel, but there’s a bed and a bathroom and only I have the key. So I can’t complain,” she shrugged and continued. There wasn’t a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

“Still costs an arm and a leg, though, so it’s only temporary. Too small to get a roommate. I mean, I prefer solitude anyway, but you can’t always get what you want.”

“You could live with me, you know. I mean, if you want. At my place,” Stone said after a long minute of silence, still fiddling with her ring. "Be alone together."

A breath hitched in Kiki’s throat and she furiously shook her head.

“No. No, no, thanks…thanks so much, Stoney, but no. That’s - that’s too much to ask for,” she began stuttering again.

Stone moved to look at her, but she was firmly fixated on the trashcan on the other side of the patio.

“You didn’t even ask for that,” he shot back, raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah, but you’re already more hospitable than I deserve,” she replied and shook her head again. “And I doubt your parents would be chuffed about a sudden stray raccoon occupying their house.”

He briskly sat up straight and pushed away from the wall to face her.

"No, I’m serious. There’s a little brick shed behind the house, that’s where I live. I re-made it into a proper living space, isolated the walls and put electricity there. A bathroom with a tiny shower, a kitchen corner and a small electric cooker. Got my own door, my own key, it’s detached from the house,” he spewed out, suddenly more animated than she’d ever seen him.

“I pay my parents some rent, but once we split it, we'll have more money for music. Or you can pay a smaller half and cook dinner from time to time to make up for the rest.”

Stone didn’t even let her take a breath.

“There’s an attic above the room, like a little loft. I already put a permanent ladder there, but it just collects dust ‘cause I don’t have enough stuff to fill it up,” he continued and finally let go of her fingers, waving his hands around as if he were using an invisible broom. “We can clean it up and put up a bed for you, or I can move up there and you can sleep downstairs, whatever you like better.”

Kiki stopped him, more firmly than before.

“Stoney, I can’t accept that.”

“Why not? Like I said, if you want, there’s an unused space and I was looking for someone to take in anyway, to split the rent. It’s a little neighbourhood in Capitol Hill, ten-minute bike ride from Pioneer. Volunteer Park right under your nose,” he continued, like a dedicated salesman.

“I know all the nooks and crannies, there’s tons of cool bars and cheap food spots. When the mountain’s out, you can see the Needle.”

He paused and when she didn’t immediately shoot him down, he started pushing again.

“If you insist on paying rent,” he shrugged and she finally looked up at him, slightly frowning. Red eyes and a patchy blush, smudged eyeliner and parched lips.

And yet, she was the most breathtaking human he’d ever seen.

“…and I wouldn’t dare to try and stop you, we’ll split, fair share. More dough for guitar strings and beer for both.”

“It’s just…I’m not…” she stuttered but Stone didn’t let her finish.

“If you’re concerned about the size, it’s about 175 square feet, I can shrink my stuff as much as you need -“

“No, it’s not that, that’s bigger than my flat. I just…”

“I rarely bring girls there. And if I happened to do that, by any chance, I’d tell you before -"

“You’re too good to me.”

Silence fell between them once again. This time, though, it was different. His big, strange gaze swallowed Kiki whole as if she was seeing him for the first time again.

Stone darted across her face and stopped at a fresh tear forming in the corner of her eye. He reached up and wiped it away with his thumb, touch as light as a feather.

“It’s about time someone is.”

“Stoney, I want to be alone,” she barely whispered, studying his firm expression.

“So do I.”

She finally ran out of pointless arguments and, after a moment, slowly nodded in agreement. He mirrored her nod, peridot twinkling under the milky moonlit sky.

How could I say no to them?

“I’ll pick you up at your place tomorrow morning, show you around and you can decide if you like the look of it, okay?”

“Why?” she let the all-encompassing question hang in the air.

He sighed and rested his head on top of hers again.

“You get me. That’s why.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫

#90s music #grunge fanfiction #mother love bone #pearl jam #pearl jam fanfic #pearl jam fanfiction #pearl jam imagine #stone gossard fanfic #stone gossard fanfiction #stone gossard x oc #stone gossard #band fic

[waywardmillennial]

Watcher TV Thoughts

my brain won't be quiet about this

first thought: WHAT?! HOW?! WHY?! followed by lots of screaming and clawing at the walls gifs. basically this:

have some of my initial thoughts and feelings (behind a read more bc idk how long this will get)

spoilers for watcher 4/12 announcement under the cut

the leading fandom theory is that Watcher is going to be building some kind of new subscription service --THEORY ONLY! we gotta wait a week, folks -- that will be like Dropout

on one hand - hooray!! something new that they're excited about! they've always been a production studio, first and foremost, making content on a higher tier that some other yt channels already, so this makes sense

and honestly, with the yt algorithm being a messy binch I can see the impetus to want to make their own thing (shoutout to that one time Steven Lim posted from VidCon 2022 how the whole room was packed for the yt algorithm explanation panel)

obviously I'm already committed to pretty much everything Watcher makes and I'll always try to support them as much as I can. love their whole crew <3

then - bc my brain is Anxietyville and there are so many unknowns in this situation - I start having little worries

I worry if they're launching something this big, on presumably a new platform, is it going to pan out for them? I've already seen how many views and subscribers BFU & WI had, and all those people didn't directly follow the boys over to Watcher (sure, GF and MF took a little longer to get off the ground, and we're still waiting on news of Steven and Andrew's new show) but people like things to be easy. if they're going to try to move all their subscribers somewhere new, how is that going to work?

I feel like so many people watch on apple tv, or roku at home so your new thing should be an app to reach the most people. please don't make me get out my laptop to watch all the shows - or god forbid - my phone

some are thinking it might be Steven's new show to be the one to usher in a new platform, and while I know I love Steven Lim, I worry about how little views his shows on Watcher have had (when compared to GF or PH) so much so that it was decided he could step back and not be on camera so much. I would love to be wrong, but I don't know if a Steven show - even one with Andrew and Adam - would be enough to kickstart a new streaming setup.

also I enjoy being a fangirl and getting to shout with all of you about the shows as they come out and share our memes and gifs. but if the new shows are going to be behind a paywall (again just a theory at this point) how will I feel sharing what happens? I already feel about 20% less excited to share things they post in their patreon. I don't want to break their trust giving away what's behind a paywall. but Watcher is also smart and knows people talking about their shows is akin to free advertising - so how much do they want us to share to generate excitement??

I know most of these are unconfirmed worries and we'll know more next week. overall I am more excited than nervous, and I know they're all smart and have thought this through. I mainly needed to vent because most of this has been looping through my brain for 6+ hours now

thanks for reading my long winded rant! please comment below and let me know what you agree or disagree with <3

#not including any of the main tags #watcherinas #lmk what you think #shoutout to me finding that Dan gif in my memes and using it #even though I still haven't watched their new vid despite my dash yelling about it for hours lolll #vi rants

[novel-sugar]

So it’s been roughly a week since I finished all the currently available chapters of Dark Deception, and I felt like leaving my thoughts! Gonna be going in chronological order so let’s begin with:

Monkey Business

This level was definitely a strong start for the game. I remember back when the original demo in 2014 came out, so it felt really cool to see the hotel and the Murder Monkeys now in a higher quality. It serves as a good introduction to the main gist of the gameplay: you collect shards and avoid monsters. The difficulty isn’t too bad even without the insane powers you’ll get later on, but it certainly isn’t easy neither. Overall great way to begin this twisted tale!

Elementary Evil

Coupled with Monkey Business, this level also serves as a great introduction, but this time to the gimmick of powers and Malak as an active threat. This level was definitely a lot easier than the first, probably since Agatha is the only real threat for most of it. Fuck that semifinal chase though. Agatha as a whole is adorable in a weird way, found her gremlin shenanigans very fun. Really gotta give props to Kat Cressida for such an energetic performance!

Deadly Decadence

Fuck this level. Plain and simple. Another “tutorial level” (and one of my least favorites). This one introduces stage hazards and hoo boy they couldn’t have picked a more annoying scenario to place them in. The hedge maze in Zone 1 isn’t the worst and can be done easily as long as you’re not careless, but Zone 2 is just frustrating to say the least and Teleportation just didn’t feel like the right power up to introduce here. All in all not impossible, but it took me forever first time I played. The difficulty spike was like slamming into a brick wall during a joyride.

Stranger Sewers

Fuck this level but to a much lesser degree than Deadly Decadence. The last of the “tutorials”, here we’re introduced to enemies that can stun with the Dread Duckies. Needless to say, teleportation really showed it’s worth here due to the sewer water slowing you down in certain areas. Still had my fair share of deaths (many of which were frustrating) but compared to the previous level not nearly as infuriating. The final chase sequence with Doom Ducky was definitely the highlight of this level and really cool, overall this level was ok just wish it was more interesting aesthetically.

Crazy Carnevil

This is where the game really picked up for me, I was already enjoying myself for the most part but the introduction of the Primal Fear ability was a godsend. On top of that, the areas introduced in this level were much more colorful and diverse than in Stranger Sewers so it felt super refreshing. The Clown Gremlins weren’t the hardest enemy to deal with but still not to be underestimated, especially once you get to the Funhouse.  All in all a good level, not my favorite but a nice breath of fresh air from the chaos of Levels 3 and 4.

Torment Therapy

This level was pretty short and to compensate, they had a LOT of shards to collect. Telepathy and Primal Fear really had their work cut out for them whenever the Reaper Nurses were cloaked. The Reaper Nurses themselves have cool designs and it felt surreal hearing Tara Strong in an indie horror game (something I’d get use to for the rest of the game) Overall this level was alright but it could get a little grating at times, the overall map design was alright but nothing too special but I did love the foreshadowing for certain details we learn in the next level. The Matron boss fight was pretty cool but felt very slow paced compared to the previous bosses, a lot of waiting around for the Reaper Nurses to climb up and stun. If there’s one major gripe I’ve had while trying to S rank this level, the beginning goes on for way too long and after several attempts it just gets annoying. Really hope they can add a way to skip ahead to the actual gameplay in a future patch.

Mascot Mayhem

This level was actually the reason I got interested in the game in the first place. Ever since I began, I had been anticipating this level right from the get go, biding my time waiting until I could play it and by God did it deliver. The Joy Joy Gang were such fun characters (especially Penny) and could be a real bitch to deal with at certain points. I only wish that the other zones just had us unlocking different areas of the park instead of just going inside an office building and a factory, felt like a big missed opportunity. Zone 2 was definitely annoying with 2 of Hangry roaming around, especially when Vanish didn’t feel like working. Joykill was pretty alright, not the most interesting design wise but a tough boss nonetheless. The true highlights of this level for me were Best Girl ™️ Penny, Tara Strong must’ve had a field day voicing her, so hyperactive sweet and bloodthirsty all at the same time! Also the story revelations at the end of the level (after a delightful beating from the JJG).

Bearly Buried

Holy hell this level is good. Absolutely one of my favorites for a multitude of reasons: 1) The first area mixing it up by taking our powers away after getting so used to having them by this point. 2) The general vibe and area design are all so good especially Zones 1 & 3. 3) EVERYTHING ABOUT MAMA BEAR. She’s so cute yet so menacing! Once again Tara Strong brings some impeccable VO work, giving her this nice balance of monotone and motherly. Also her themes are honestly some of if not the absolute creepiest in the entire soundtrack so far. Abso-fucking-lutely on par with Penny for being my favorite character. Like with Joy Joy Land, I kinda wish they got a little more creative with the later zones but that’s just a nitpick. Out of all the boss encounters, I actually think the final confrontation with Mama was the most difficult for me, but trial and error is an effective teacher. All in all a fun time that leaves me thirsty for more.

Closing Thoughts: Overall a good game! It’s definitely not for everyone but I feel like a lot of people can get some enjoyment out of it. One thing I haven’t mentioned that I feel should be addressed is the amount of bugs that are currently present in this game (especially in the last 3 levels), but that’s a whole other conversation and I still managed to have fun regardless. If you have $20, a weekend without plans and the slightest interest, I’d say give this game a go! As for me? Now begins the agonizing wait for Chapter 5 and the epic conclusion it’ll bring.

#dark deception #Ramblin' about vidya games

[steveisagay]

How to fix the damage

Disabled Munver

I physically "aw"ed at the end so loud. Also I am so excited for the next part cause there's something pretty big for my boy J.C. No warnings, just fluff Taglist: @shieldofiron @ebbiemunson (if you wanna be added lemme know!)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 6.5 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

After the two boys had their little talk about a week ago where the two apologized they figured out how to make it so if Eddie woke him up by screaming he'd be able to comfort him. The problem the last time was that his wheelchair wasn't in the right place for Jason to get on it properly by himself. When their times for lunch overlapped they tested out how he would be able to get on his wheelchair without falling to the ground. They explained what they were doing to the nurse and Jason ended up only falling once. Now it was only time to put it in practice.

That night Jason barely could sleep, mainly from anticipation. He'd finally be able to help out Eddie, and also get sleep. He did manage to sleep but it was probably close to midnight when he woke up. Before Eddie went to bed he put Jason's wheelchair between their beds, but he made sure to try to stay up a little later so Jason would be able to sleep a little longer. When Jason woke up he took a second to wake up so he wouldn't "end up cracking his skull on the tiles", Eddie's words, not his. After he could fully see the darkness he shuffled himself over to his wheelchair. This time he made sure to be more careful.

Eddie's crying and screaming filled his ears as he turned in his wheelchair and went forward about a foot so he was right up against his bed. "Psst, Eddie," He moved a hand to his arm, which was tucked under his pillow, "Hey, Eddie,"

Eddie's only answers where a few whimpers and a faint "No-". Then he started to shake his arm, first slow and gentle, then becoming faster as he started to grow more desperate. The brunette showing no signs of waking made his own anxiety shoot higher than before. He had to be able to wake him up, he had to help him, it was the least he could do.

"Hey, psst, Eddiee," His small whisper got louder and louder, "Eddie you have to wake up, it's just a nightmare it's not real." He felt him twitch as Jason moved his hand up from his arm to his cheek, because maybe that would work instead nothing else. "Eddie, you're fine, it's only a nightmare, you're not there." His thumb gently caressed his face to either comfort him or wake him. He moved his other hand to his arm, "C'mon, wake up, you're not there. It's all over and everything's gonna be okay. Everything's fine you just gotta wake up, come on Eddie, come on."

Eddie stirred as his noises went down, "yeah, that's it." Jason cooed, "You're not there, you're 100% fine" He moved his hand a tad bit farther up his cheek. Eddie's eyes began to flutter, not in the way they normally shoot open from his nightmares. "There you go, see, you're fine." Eddie let his head rest fully in Jason's hand as he let out a sigh.

"It worked," he had to have the biggest smile on, "It actually worked!" A laugh erupted from his chest. Meanwhile Jason's cheeks were probably tinted with a pink, although neither of them would be able to see it.

Eddie could've died at that moment, except there had to be just one more thing to top it off. "So..." Jason started slowly, "It would probably just be better if I stay right here. Cause- cause I'm not sure how easily I'd be able to get back in bed and if you end up having another nightmare we don't wanna take the risk of me falling onto my wheelchair again."

"Oh, oh yeah of course, no problem." Eddie swore that he fucking giggled, "Yeah I could never forgive myself if something like that happened to you again."

There was a small "mhm" from the blonde, then before Eddie knew it Jason was fucking snoring. A pang of guilt hit Eddie as he realized how tired he must've been. That was something to worry about tomorrow, but tonight, now, Eddie truly found a fucking angel.

#eddie munson #jason carver #disabled munver #munver #tigerfreak

[jadedrrose]

OHH tbh i always thought he was just going for a higher pitch (the dr. heart stealer song) and he's just really getting into it?? i agree though some songs are o o f,, but i never heard the aot ones so idk the comparison how he sings as levi

and oh no its not ur fault i totally forgot about specifying since im so used to the abbreviated version,, sorry about that! but it stands for shin megami tensei, idk if you know persona like persona 5 etc. but yeah persona is smt's spin off!! it's more popular than the original lol. but yeah it's a great game!! if u ever feel like trying it do tell i love that game yayayay talking about them how's it going with age of calamity? did u finish it? i never played that game is it like botw orrr older zelda games? actually is it old. i should search it up but im too lazy 🥰🥰 i 9nly played botw so i know nothing ‐ actually im just gonna search this sooga guy out of curiosity i imagine him with a tribal mask and idk height that rivals corazon so like gigantic (u. described him in a post i think but i forgor)

+ coming back after vacation with 2 of ur fics... m'lady i'm blessed i gotta read em later,, i actually have something for u the timing is impeccable

also i wanted to ask which timezone are u in?? cause like. when u post something its usually like. at 6 am or earlier for me lmao (also do u prefer these like. divided or is the long ask better? or is it the same — lol)

1- I forgot where but I saw somewhere that Law’s VA just doesn’t ever “voice act” when singing so I assumed they were right 😭 so maybe you’re right abt the just getting really into it lol. Either way he’s got a good voice tho!!

2- I do know persona! I’ve just never played it or watched anybody play it. But I’ll look into smt whenever I finish up this Zelda phase (which who knows how long that’s gonna take lol) which brings me to…

Age of Calamity is the “prequel” to breath of the wild kind of ?? If you know the older Hyrule Warriors games from the Wii U it’s that game setting just better imo. I did like the other HW’s when they came out but they never interested me as much as the “real” Zelda games. But AOC is set 100 years before botw when the champions are still alive. It’s got a bunch of cute cut scenes that show the champions/Zelda/Link all interacting together and it makes me so happy lol. Anyway: I still haven’t finished it, I’m putting it off lol. I have 1 main mission left and 1 mission from the DLC left. I’ve been playing a bunch of side missions on apocalyptic mode as Sooga for the past like… 3 weeks now ? And speaking of him… yeah he’s just like a super fancy Yiga blademaster from botw. But he’s got the hottest voice I’ve ever heard (rivals with Law’s voice… I go back and forth between who’s I find more attractive lol). But I just. Am so in love with him 💀 even tho idk what his face looks like, but I don’t even care that much bc he’s so hot as is. (Also the height thing- my stupid theory is that he’s not actually as tall as they show him to be in the game bc of the fact he’s just a random Hylian who was “adopted” by the Yiga as a kid, PLUS there’s that guy in Kakariko Village who used to be a blademaster and he’s not 1000 feet tall lol. I think they just make him look giant to make him scarier lol. Also Link is super short so… using him to compare doesn’t help lmao)

3- I hope you enjoy the fics!!! I have so many more ideas for cute Law stuff but I can never find the time to write anymore lol

4- I’m in the US eastern time zone!! I always end up posting super late into the night/early in the morning bc my brain is just…. More active during those times?? Idk why, I’ve always been that way tho lol. And I don’t really have a preference to how the asks are sent! Whatever you want works :)

#ask things lol

[whentherewerebicycles]

weight talk under the cut

I got really out of my food and exercise routines during the months of the job hunt + big move + adjusting to new bleh work stuff (understandable) and my weight swung up quite a bit higher than it’s been in a while. but I did a pretty focused reset of my eating habits maybe six-ish weeks ago and I am starting to slowly see some of that stress weight come off. to be clear I like my body as is and while I have vague targets for where I’d like my ‘resting’ weight to be eventually I don’t diet or calorie count and I don’t stress too much about hitting certain ~milestones or whatever the way I used to in my lightly disordered eating youth. that said I think I do want to prioritize steadily and sustainably losing weight this year, for the following reasons:

health reasons (mostly my PCOS + family risk factors for diabetes and heart issues etc)

fertility reasons (moderate weight loss is supposed to increase chances)

🤰reasons (I’ve been reading about this a lot and if it’s within my control I’d like to make a concerted effort to not put on a lot more weight than I need to sustain a healthy pregnancy, especially since PCOS makes it really difficult for me to lose excess weight once I’ve put it on)

emotional reasons (this isn’t weight specific but: I feel a LOT better and sleep better when I’m eating well and getting a good amount of exercise. since I will have to go off most/all of my meds if I get pregnant I want to make sure I’m doing everything I can to take care of myself in other ways!)

I don’t know how long the IUIs will take, but I have budgeted for up to 6 cycles and I think I’d like to focus my food/exercise habit-building plans on a 3-6 month timeline. gonna return to this later today to do some more journaling and planning I think! but for now I want to stop & recognize that I’ve made huge progress towards the goals I set back in the spring 2020, when I realized I needed to change everything about my relationship to food/exercise. I eat SO many more kinds of vegetables than I used to and have learned to prepare healthy delicious meals. I’ve virtually eliminated processed foods + refined carbs and sugars from my everyday diet and have figured out ways to make that feel positive rather than restrictive or punitive. I’m curious about food and interested in new foods in a way I never was before like, age 27 lol. and I’ve experienced a couple stress-related setbacks (where I relapse into old eating habits) and been able to gently reset/get myself back on track. I consistently get 5-7 hours of moderate intensity exercise every week and I’m going to work on gradually building up to an additional 2-4 hours of higher intensity exercise at the gym each week. and while the scale isn’t everything, I’ve lost between 25-30 lbs (it’s fluctuated a bit with stress) in a little under 3 years. which probably isn’t as much as I could lose with crash dieting or whatever but my goal isn’t to lose fast but to lose sustainably in a way that gradually lowers my ‘resting’ weight aka the weight my body seems to kinda settle into. that feels really good to me!!! an average of 10 lbs per year seems doable and sane and not punishing.

it doesn’t make a ton of sense to set weight loss goals given the uncertainty of babymaking lol but if it does take me a while, I’d love to try to use careful food management + more exercise to slowly shed 5-7 lbs in the next six months, just to get myself comfortably into the 160s. the periods in my life where I’ve been the most physically fit my resting weight was between 145-150 and that 150 range has always felt like a good weight on my frame. soooo just gotta keep doing what I’m doing! working on building those good habits! tuning out the noise of weight loss pressure etc! focusing on what feels good for my body and self!

#i think what’s nice about long-term things like this is just like #it helps you see that you can change your life #it just unfolds over a longer timeline than I might like but #slow and steady etc

[evanvanness]

Aranet4 review: I love it

When the world first began to open up post-pandemic, lots of friends at conferences brought along the Aranet4, which is a CO2 monitor.

This is it, for scale, it's about as big as a table coaster:

The idea was that a CO2 monitor is a good proxy for whether you're at risk of Covid contagion. If there's lots of CO2 in the air, it means you're likely in a poorly ventilated place and your risk of infection goes up exponentially.

I was never particularly COVID19 paranoid (but never got it either!), so I didn't buy the CO2 sensor until a few weeks ago.

Now I'd probably say that the aranet4 is my best purchase for $150 in awhile.

What if CO2 makes you dumber, not just at risk for sickness?

Aranet points to a 2015 study by academics at Harvard, SUNY-Upstate, and Syracuse University showing significant cognitive decline with elevated CO2 levels.

This graphic is from Aranet:

Digging into the details: the methodology is that they took 24 workers over a 6 day period and tracked how they did using standardized computer tests. 3 of those days were at ~500 ppm, 2 days were at ~1000ppm, and one day was at ~1400ppm.

Here is a screenshot in the study of the visualization of those days (Green+=500, Green=1000, Conventional=1400)

Or if you want more detail:

Interesting to see the raw data and note how higher CO2 affects specific things more than others.

Having read through the study, I think Aranet's description of "1000-1400 ppm brain cognitive function decreases by 15%" is not particularly well supported in terms of science, but in terms of a marketing claim it is...well, reasonable. Sometimes you gotta extrapolate.

===

C02 levels are roughly determined by amount of space, number of people and ventilation.

So what have I learned and why do I like the aranet4?

Open a window in the car.

Our family vehicle is a fullsize SUV, so it's a bit bigger than a compact car or a sedan. It doesn't matter, you could drive a Suburban and you still need to circulate air if the whole family is in the car.

I'm convinced that much of the kids arguments can be traced to high CO2 levels, because it only takes 5 minutes until you're at ~1400 if you have the windows closed. If you're on a long drive, you can get up to quite high levels.

How many times do you remember someone saying "it's time for some fresh air" and opening a window when you were a kid? And then usually the situation calmed down?

CO2 levels even get elevated after 15 minutes with just 2 people.

Open a window now and then. Refresh the air. It doesn't take much to change your air quality.

2. Gas range on = high CO2 in the whole house

As I'm writing this, the monitor spiked from below 1000 to 1350. My wife turned the gas range on, and my monitor picked it up even though I wasn't particularly close to the kitchen.

3. Lots of people = over 1000. Lots of people and poor ventilation = 3000.

As the graphic above indicates, outside you're generally in the 450-500 range. As soon as you go inside in most modern buildings, you're talking 800-1000, even if you're more or less by yourself.

If there's lots of people and indoors, you're over 1000, even if it's a massive meeting hall with huge vaulted ceilings.

This was ~40 minutes into a ~40 person meeting in a ~1000 sq ft room.

4. It takes a long time for all the rooms in my house take to reach an equilibrium measurement after I leave a window open.

I don't know anything about fluid dynamics apparently, but I figured it would happen relatively quickly. It doesn't. The room with the open window changes quite fast, but other rooms take a long time.

I've had a lot of fun in my few weeks with this CO2 monitor, running small-scale experiments (hey, what if I turn the bathroom fan on and leave the CO2 monitor two rooms away?). I feel like I've learned some important lessons and awareness that will stick with me, even if I lost the monitor tomorrow.

Easily worth the $150 for me, if I make better decisions as a result of having fresher air, then it will be an incredible return on investment.

[sonic-spirit]

Arts and Stuff and Events

Man, it's so easy to freeze up. Or maybe, it's so hard to keep from freezing. But fuck. It's hard. I've been doing good about making art the past couple weeks, but I've been hesitant to post it, for some reason? IDK. Part of it is definitely me putting pressure on it again. Like, "If this is what I want to do with myself, I gotta make it work," and all that. Then just...not super loving what I'm making. Which could also just be from pressuring myself, because I could not point to what I'm not liking about the things.

I finally started painting again, for the first time since college, and for the first time for myself since probably middle school. It's nice. It's weird, familiar and really strange at once, nerve wracking and relaxing, giving me a really cool experience and feeling like I'm still falling short, but it's good. One of the things I really like about physical media is that it helps push me towards keeping moving...at least as long as I can get through my initial block of anxiety and start. And I've been good about not letting it get in my way, not letting myself tense up over "ruining" my supplies. The fact that I'm making sure to not spend a lot at a time, and that I'm also making sure to only get supplies I want to use is definitely helping. Springing for a small range of a higher reputation set of acrylic paints, instead of the Liquitex Basics I had the last couple times (and HATED) is def paying off. The fact that the set was both a more expansive palette than I wanted, and is missing some colors I consider essential (like a nice, dark purple. You gave me 3 dark blues, two of which that are nearly identical, and no dark purple...though I am getting WAAAY too much use out of that light violet!), is also nice for encouraging me to pick and choose what I replace and what I expand to and don't (ultramarine, my love, you are already nearly gone...!)

And then, like. I want to do events. I know I want to do events. Which events? Obviously furcons. And then I really like the picture in my head of vending at Ren Faires, and the like. And I really want to do the regular, local shows, especially as I get my legs under me for booth setup. All of those seem to have fairly broadly different, if intersecting enough, niches.

My current plan is to expand my Printify and Etsy, utilizing Printify's print on demand services for stickers, wearables, and any other kinds of merch that seems cool (I've been needing a new full zip sweatshirt, why not make a cool design for it myself?). I intend to continue making my Astral Deer series of paintings to keep working with the medium and getting myself comfortable, and to have a good place to experiment, and also branch into pet portraits and the like. I also want to make stall plaques for horses--their names and portraits painted on them, and also a slot to slide in a 3x5 index card for feeding instructions and such. And if that weren't enough I also want to start getting into leatherwork, making some kink items, like wrist and ankle cuffs, ponyplay things like bridles and halters, even harnesses and stuff, as I grow in skill and confidence. I want to make things.

I also still really love my job as horseback riding instructor, and I think my current mad plots synergize really well...well. Except for one thing: I'm down to working only weekends and Mondays...the same days of any events I'd want to plan to play in. So that sucks.

I'm pretty sure things will change with my schedule again soon enough. But also, it doesn't feel like something I have as much control over. It's frustrating.

Anyway. Current stage is to utilize the 4 days a week I'm not going out and busting my ass working with the horses and kids to make arts.

#sonic sez #arts writing