#and yes I know I can shop online but some brands run small

[inky-goddess]

I can't shop for pants or accessories with my mom because if I say that an xl/xxl fits me she'll just be like

"No you are not that fat, and if you were you would need to start exercising more and maybe even go on a diet like me"

and this isnt exactly her fault, it's the fault of media beauty standards and her doctors telling her she's overweight and an unhealthy weight (she's not, she's actually thinner than some of our other family members, but because she isnt a twig like my aunt she's considered "unhealthy" by her doctors and so am I) but it makes shopping so much worse with her because she projects what she's told on me and when i tell her im fine with how I look/my weight she says "Well it's still not healthy" because that's what her doctor tells her. And so to keep myself from being told I'm fat in public I go a size down, and then I have to deal with pants/a belt/etc that's too small and it physically hurts me.

And like- telling me I need to exercise more is fine because yeah I probably do I sit down a lot, but telling me "you need to go on a diet like me" is kinda shit to say in public. Especially because my mom's diet is like- really concerning. She barely eats and it concerns me to no end.

[sgiandubh]

News from Birmingham, part 3: verbatim

Verbatim means 'word for word' in Latin and it is often used in French to convey the idea something is being reported exactly as it actually happened.

Absolutely not sorry for the length, nor for the lost night spent on it.

So, here go the juiciest parts using the recording I am (for those joining in later) NOT allowed to post as is. Selection is mine and mine solely - editorial line and all the rest. Once I am done, I shall add my comments. It was hard for the girls to focus on what was being said on stage and write to me in DMs, at the same time. Recording everything was a risk, but also genius. The bits I am going to post are taken exactly as I heard them:

✔️on Blonde Bambino (yes, she elaborated and I had no idea when reporting live by proxy): '(...) and it's just amazing, he's the sweetest, sweetest thing and he looooves music. And, I feel like I succeeded being a mother purely because the other day he asked me if he could invite Kate Bush to his birthday'.

✔️on borrowed things from set: she regrets not having taken some things she liked from previous seasons. 'It's been a long time since I've borrowed anything (...). Terry gave me two nightgowns made in Season 1, she gave me one that was never used. And then she promised me a lot of things (...).' Wanted to 'borrow' something from her own surgery.

✔️on her involvement with the Blankfaces fashion label-cum- homeless charity in GLA: 'oh, that is Gerry who runs that, he is a friend of my husband's and he is just this amazing person who does grassroots organizing, you know, Blankfaces he's been doing for a long time. And I just met Gerry, you know, socially, and then I thought what he was doing was amazing, and I also found the clothes amazing and so I just bought them.' Further explains what Blankfaces does, the shop, the stories, including the food kitchen, but denies a more active involvement with the project/brand. 'I was just the other day at Hozier (...),he is amazing [cooing, booing] and I'm just paraphrasing from Andrew, and Andrew said this amazing thing, which was how we all want to be part of big things, right, you know to be a part of those things that would change the world, and all of that, but it's actually the small little things you do every single day, in your community, that have the biggest impact. (...) But you can buy their stuff online.'

✔️on producing a future movie based on Book Ten: 'I would not be in those competitions with Starz.'

✔️on her resemblance with Claire (oh dear God, not that question again!): 'As a kid, I was definitely not obedient, definitely not quiet and definitely not tidy, but as an adult, I ended up being more organized than I've ever thought I would be in my life (...) shocking (...). The world has changed crazy, (...) I used to talk to people and have opinions on things, but now it feels like a cesspool (...). I miss that space for conversation.'

✔️on 'Erself and the end of Outlander: 'well Diana came to visit, I actually don't know when it was, not that long ago, she came on set, sheeee... ugh, you'd have to forgive me, it was last season, it was so long ago, I can't remember what is what and I have to remember if she wrote something last season (...). Diana, she's created this world (...), she watches everything (...). But she's also allowed us to sort of make her characters our own and she's given us her blessing to do that, which has been amazing. And she still won't tell us the ending. [Voice in public: Sam knows!] Sammy... Sam THINKS he knows.'

✔️on the public impact of OL's Season 1 and sudden fame: 'I got this job so last minute, I was living in the US and I knew it was a US series that we're gonna be filming in the UK. And I read the first book so I was like, OMG sounds like an amazing show to film. But then I went from being cast to being in Scotland in one week. And then you're just like, you're working for 85, 90 hours a week. I didn't know who I was, where I was, what was going on. (...) and we went to Comic Con (...), I mean that whole year was a blur, an amazing blur, but a blur.' Had no expectations about what the show would become, it's now broadcast in 87 countries, 'it's insane, it's amazing'. Being able to be successful after 10 years is 'amazing'.

✔️on what she will miss most about Scotland or is she planning to stay in Scotland after OL is over: 'that's the million dollars question, I don't know. I mean, I think I'll... my husband is Scottish, so I think we'll always have something there, his parents both live there, so you know, we're not never going to be there at some point, but I don't know what is gonna happen after, but I am very, I feel, yeah, I feel like it's gonna be so sad not to... you know for 11 years, no matter like if we're gonna back in the United States or to London for a while we've always known we'd be back to Scotland at some point and be there for 10 or 11 months and so now I don't know, I don't know what the future holds, so....'

✔️on her and Tony sharing the same musical tastes: ' do Sam and I share the same music [Steve immediately BARKS: 'no, Tony, your real husband!'] Tony? Yes. Sam - no.'

✔️Sam's whisky or Graham's bourbon? 'Sam's whisky. I haven't tasted the bourbon, but bourbon is too sweet'.

✔️speaking about Steve - 'he's so mean'. In jest (?).

✔️her favorite part of making her own gin: 'tasting (...), trusting your senses'. The distillery changed, from the first to the second batch - the product's taste changed, a learning curve. They wanted to make sure it's still the same product.

✔️on regretting she did not start acting ten years earlier - mentioned not being ready for the responsibility of shooting 14, 16 hours a day, no sick days, etc: 'it's like a beast'. She felt OL came at the right time, was 'prepared and ready to be there' and eager to be given 'a shot (...): whatever you throw at me, I'll do it'. 'And I think for Sam was the same.'

✔️on memorable OL sets/places: Craigh Na Dun stones. 'The new place where we are, really cool. (....) Amazing stately homes like Hopetoun'. It's 'amazing.'

✔️on another parts in movies - she looks forward for 'good writing' and 'the character to speak' to her, in a new project, the people she will work with... Cliche AF. The Cut and The Amateur roles are 'not huge', the last she clearly said it was a small role, 'it's not my film, it's someone else's film'. She 'did not want to be working all the time, obviously with a small child'. Defined The Cut's plot as 'bizarre', and The Amateur as 'funny'. Loves her job, is happy with it.

✔️last question was asked by a French woman with a very thick accent, about traveling and learning things out of it - C. considers herself very lucky to have been able to travel all around the world as a model. Traveling taught her empathy, how to get over our very Christian centric view of the world. Mentions growing up in 'a very small village in Ireland, that was pretty much, you know, one church, one tiny school and one shop'. Her parents 'instilled a love of reading and learning'. Then she left Ireland to live in France and Japan, and traveled to Nepal. Nepal :'the trip that changed me and changed my life, because I was like seeing a completely different culture that had no correlation to anything that I grew up with, but it was the most beautiful spiritual awakening I guess I've ever had. (...) By traveling and by eating different foods and trying to speak other languages, which I try to do and I apologize to everybody because I try and speak your language, too, because I think (...) it's important to try and connect, because we expect people to come here and do that and it's so rude we don't go and do the same [ applause].' Being able to travel allows us to see how different and how similar we are'.

Ended with a huge thank you to fans, it's been so long that I wasn't attending a convention, 'but it meant the world to me to meet you all again, seen so many familiar faces, it feels so weird to be at the end of this show, because it has meant so much to me (...). Will see you all again soon.'

***

And now, for my comments and findings. Almost point by point:

Kate Bush, LOL (we'll never agree, C and I, on this one; but I can almost imagine Blonde Bambino cooing this - awww):

So, she basically repeated the same anecdote as last year, during promo. From Sade to Kate Bush, and hey, what about that birthday - 'the other day'? But let's not be nitpicky.

'Gerry' actually is Gerard McKenzie Govan, one of the three Directors and the founder of The Blankfaces CIC, a Community Interest Company (regular company with an increased social responsibility twist and, as such, heavily subsidized by the local authorities, too). More on him, here, for those who really want to know about him: https://www.glasgowwestendtoday.scot/magazine/the-man-behind-the-blankfaces-1391/. But that is not the most juicy part, actually - some blatant inconsistencies are. Like 'Gerry' being a friend of Nameless Husband's, but still she met him socially (huh? I thought he was a friend of Nameless Husband, hence a family acquaintance?). Also, C doesn't know shite about The Blankfaces, but still bravely fills in those blanks, like when she tells us fans Gerry has been doing Blankfaces 'for a long time'. The UK competent public authority, Companies House, says something very different and I can prove that the CIC was registered in 2018. Which is not really a long time at all:

'March 6, 2018 - Incorporation of a Community Interest Company' - see above. It also doesn't seem to be very well managed, at all:

Both its yearly accounts and its confirmation statement are long overdue (since 2023, in fact). The CIC is, actually, subject of an 'active proposal to strike off', which means it will be closed/dissolved, and rather sooner than later:

In their case, I suspect a compulsory strike-off, issued by the Companies House register. Fits with the legal criteria:

In a nutshell: because The Blankfaces failed to file its annual accounts and confirmation statement AND because it did not answer to the Companies House's two kind reminder letters, it will be forcibly dissolved in less than two months from now and there is NO going back on that decision, according to UK law.

Wouldn't C know about her Nameless Husband's Friend huge problems? I mean, how more tone-deaf and disconnected can you be, promoting a clinically dead business and inviting people to buy their clothes from their online shop?

Unless... Yeah, unless - but oooh, stupid shippers, slap a shipper, etc.

[Source: Moore and Stoke, an insolvency practitioners' firm based in Stoke-on Trent, UK - simply because they had the simplest and most recent legal explanation, see here: https://www.moorestoke.co.uk/active-proposal-to-strike-off/].

Compared to that, the fact that Tracula was nowhere to be seen at the recent Andrew Hozier-Byrne's concert in GLA is really peanuts. This is serious, legal stuff and please don't give me the 'she's an artist, she doesn't know shit about business' lame excuse. She is also a businesswoman, with her own spirits brand and several other companies, at least in the UK, Ireland and the US. Give me a break, #IYKYK.

Can't wait to be done with OL. Even the thought of a future movie based on Book Ten makes her cringe. Felt it in her voice and it was enough.

World feels like a cesspool? Why on Earth? She is a beautiful, successful and accomplished woman, with her own family and free from want. A cesspool is a very strong and strange word, in this apparent context. Unless.. but yeah, stupid shipper, slap a shipper. Missing conversations, expressing her opinion.... Not even LOL. It made me feel sad. Everything that happened to them since 2016 must be such a burden.

Sammy. SAMMY? Whoa, girl! Merci beaucoup, vraiment. Term of endearment, anyone? Compare with the stiff dead 'my husband' - again, the difference between a teddy bear and a guillotine is transparent in her voice. Also, DG - a difficult topic for her. She doesn't like 'Erself much and I think we all know why.

You tell me about 87 countries, Ma'am. I experience it every day, from the sidelines, so I can easily imagine what the impact could be for you. OL, that blessing and that curse. Also, when she is fed up with prodding and unwilling to kiss arses, she'd quip something along the lines of 'amazing' and be done with it.

Bonnie Scotland and the Day After. Another great moment of 'what the hell ever, just say anything'. Also, Caitriona Mary is a terrible, terrible liar - just like Sam Roland, you know. Her answer came out as incoherent and borderline illogical. Look at this: ' I mean, I think I'll… my husband is Scottish' - the 'I'll' part was her spontaneous starting to answer, about herself, but then inhibition kicked in and shit, she remembered she is married and had to somehow insert Tracula and both his parents (alive, just to make sure). Also, excuse me, hellooo: 'I think we'll always have something there'. Sounds like a flat, more like a pied-à-terre, but lo and behold, she suggests life is going to be elsewhere. What about that pharaonic McMansion, we so passionately followed the painstaking refurbishment of, double glazing included and borderline scandalizing the local heritage protection NGOs in the process? That doesn't really sound like 'something there', does it? That Bear Grylls flat looked more like 'something there', so where's the catch-22, here? What if I was right about McMansion being a fixer-upper she never planned to live in (where, oh where does The Happy Couple live? ooooh, ROFLMAO)? What if I was right about some other thoughts I am not ready to discuss yet? Questions, questions. And yes, London. IYKYK and very different from the emotional, savant blur. Also, for a very organized grown-up woman (her own words, see above), not knowing what the future holds... I mean I get it, but how peculiar, isn't it? Drawing a line, that question unsettled her. She was not planning to answer. She ended with a joke on not being able to see 'that yellow thing in the sky for five months in a row'. Get me out of this question and quick.

The music tastes' question was very clearly audible, even from the back of the room and I had zero trouble to distinctly hear it - it was also asked in a posh & polite British accent, so that helped a LOT: ' do you and Tony share the same music tastes?' The Freudian slip is simply inexplicable. Also, she answered Tony, not 'my husband' : Tony+ my husband in the same phrase is something beyond her strength. But why answer about S at all, that was NOT the question? Why? There are limits to dumbfuckery, after all. Also, Steve is such a pain in the arse. Who, in your mind and heart, is the real husband, C?

Whisky vs. Bourbon, she mumbled her answer, very uneasy, had to listen three times to untangle it. The Soup Nazi had to step in and bark the answer, train station megaphone style, for everyone to hear and get the memo. Now I understand why. And you should, too.

'He's so mean'. Definitely not in jest. Steve, that is. Fire that dick. Plus, later on, she quipped to him: 'you have the reputation of being like a strict schoolmaster'. Answer: 'maybe I am'. A cara nem treme, like they say in Brazil.

In that gin question, the Stan dutifully mentioned Tony (arse kissers, ALL OF THEM) - she could have mentioned him openly, she had a boulevard in front of her. But nope, she came back to mainly mentioning her own experience and a very vague 'we'.

'And I think Sam was the same' - conversations were had early on. In Central Park, London. And then things went very fast, as it sometimes happens. Sharing takes things on a very different level. I think this is exactly what happened to them.

Memorable places: they both are very moved by Craigh Na Dun, and it's absolutely normal. And Hopetoun - LOL, hello, of course ('The Door Faces North', pun totally intended).

Next two movies: so long for her Stans' delusions she was given a main role. She wrapped deception with grace and hid behind being a mom. ALL THE ANTI BLOGS WERE EERILY SILENT ABOUT THIS. I wonder why. Actually no, I don't. But sure, shippers twist things, shippers hide things. No shame, those people.

The last question, on travel, was my favorite one. I think it was perhaps the only time she felt able to fully express what she meant and wanted to. Many will jump on that Nepal reference and it is correct, but to me, on a very personal level, it spoke in many, many other ways. This is the C I have managed to embrace, reluctantly at first (I admit) and like a LOT. This is the witty girl I thought I have lost forever in that sea of painful innuendos, stupid Stans ass-kissing and blurring everything in the process, plus a Nazi minder on top. Fire that dick. Seriously. He wanted to end on a 'funny' Kumbaya note - she subtly managed to break free. Thank you, C. Seriously. The wonder you are and completely unaware of it. And the things you can do with words, if only you'd dare play with them some more.

Her tone at the end was emotional. Very. It was the same tone as for that 'partner everyday' gala speech. Oh, the things she wanted to tell all of us. And if we only knew. But hey, she promised we will meet again, soon. Perhaps in Paris? I'll gladly speak to you. In French.

A HUGE thank you. Both of you. I love you, girls.

[softquietsteadylove]

We all know how buff Gil is build right? So how about Gil goes shopping for himself and Thena decides to go with him and he is struggling to find something fitting? Would be a funny story! You choose in wich AU it’s happening 😂

"Thena, thank fuck you're here!"

Thena laughs as Gil rushes over to her as soon as she steps foot into the department store. He called her at work, which had really freaked her out given they hadn't been back home for too long. And they had been keeping Gil in the flat as much as possible, careful about who might see him out and about if he roamed too freely.

But he likes running errands, like getting groceries and little household supplies. He keeps the flat immaculate and prepares beautiful meals for them, since what else is he supposed to do with his days, she supposes.

"Why are the sizes so complicated?" he frowns at her, holding a few different shirts of the same make in his hands. "I just thought I was stopping by to grab some clothes for around the house. But now I've been here for 45 minutes and I don't know what size I am anymore."

Thena laughs, taking the shirts from him to at least physically alleviate his burden. She flips through them, looking at the tags of each. "Did you really pick up one in every size?"

"Except small," he shrugs, joining her as she walks them back to the men's section.

"Does a medium fit you?" she asks, her eyes just starting to drift over him before she stops herself. That's not a good idea.

"Well, sometimes American sizes will fit me," Gil offers helplessly. "Korean shirts basically always had to be tailored for me."

Thena's eyes flicked down to his arms for just a second. Yes, she could see how that might be a problem for him. "Let's start with a regular old large for now."

Gil sighs, though. "That's the problem, though."

Thena raises her brows.

"Just," he takes the shirts from her hands again and leads her back to the changing room he had abandoned to go wait for her, "come with me."

Thena sets her purse down as she takes a seat outside of the stalls. She can see a mess of other articles of clothing in the room before he closes the door. She wonders if he's really only been here for 45 minutes.

"See?" Gil practically whines, holding his hands out in front of him in a helpless gesture. "They're too tight."

Thena blushes, although she tells herself not to. It's silly, really. She was so used to seeing Gilgamesh in business suits all throughout her time working for him. But just a t-shirt and jeans are working for him.

Gil pouts as she stands to examine the way the seams of the sleeves dig into his biceps. "It's kind of fine otherwise."

Actually, it's already a little looser everywhere else than he would like, she thinks. She tilts her head, "I don't know, Gil."

Gil slumps his shoulders again. "See?--this is exactly why I called you. I don't know what I was thinking trying to come here by myself."

Thena shakes her head; this is exactly the kind of thing that made her develop feelings for him in the first place. This man and his stupid sweetness. "Maybe this just isn't the type of shirt for you. Sometimes different brands will fit different, too."

"Why's it so difficult?" Gil bemoans as she sends him back into the changing room.

"I couldn't tell you, I'm afraid," she laments. She has her own troubles with clothes simply with a female body. "I did a lot of my clothes shopping online in Korea."

That and sometimes things wouldn't quite fit her in the bust, so she had to take up buying dresses and learning to live with a revealing neckline and just wearing a cardigan or sweater over them.

"Maybe I should just do that," Gil mutters as he emerges, all of his finds - and failures - piled up in his arms.

"We'll find you something," she assures him, taking his picks from him and leaving them in the bin to be sorted before returned to the shelves. She slips her hand into the crook of his elbow (just this once, she tells herself).

"What about you, Naekkeo?" he smiles at her.

This isn't the first time he's used some cute little pet name on her like it's nothing--like it's normal for them. She tells herself not to let it get to her every time. "What about me?"

"We're here," Gil states, gesturing to the store around them. "We should shop for stuff for you too."

"I don't need anything," Thena laughs at his eager face.

"But Thena," he pleads, as if he's asking for something for himself instead of trying to convince her to let him take her shopping.

"These might actually be a good choice for you," she muses as she feels the soft material of the thick-knit sweaters and cardigans. They'll stretch to accommodate those arms of his without them having to go two full sizes up from his usual.

"Huh," he notes as he takes one from her, slipping off his jacket and slipping the cardigan on in its place. "What do you think?"

Goddammit, it looks great on him. Despite the very mundane article of clothing, he makes it look borderline salacious with it unbuttoned around him, the sleeves pulled partially up his thick forearms.

Thena bites her tongue; he looks damn sexy, is what she thinks. "It looks nice."

Gil beams at her approval, proudly laying it over his arm as he continues to float next to her. "Maybe I should just be a cardigan guy."

Thena smiles, pawing through a few more stacks of sweaters and knits. "That's quite a shift from your usual attire."

"Well," Gil sneaks a look at her and slides their hands together. "I have to look the part if I'm gonna be a househusband here, right? Soft clothes and aprons and oven mitts?"

Thena just laughs, although she's already getting a little too use to thinking of Gil like that. She tries to tell herself not to, of course. They're not married--they're not together. She's protecting him by moving him here.

But whether they're together or not, his hand tightens around hers, and she lets it, smiling all through the rest of the store.

[prabhujipurefoods]

Eid-ul-Adha 2024: The Perfect Sweets from Prabhuji Sweets

Eid-ul-Adha, the festival of sacrifice, is a time of pleasure, reflection, and togetherness. Families come together to celebrate with prayers, feasts, and, of course, sweets. This year, add a hint of way of life and excellence to your celebrations with the appropriate goodies from Prabhuji Sweets. Known for their incredible craftsmanship and wealthy legacy, Prabhuji Sweets guarantees to make your Eid-ul-Adha 2024 genuinely unique.

History and Background of Prabhuji Sweets

Founded in 1950, Prabhuji Sweets has been a household name in India for over seven years. Originating in Kolkata, this esteemed sweet keep has grown from a small circle of relatives-run business to a famed brand celebrated nationally. Prabhuji Sweets has always been synonymous with quality and a way of life, supplying a wide array of goodies that capture the essence of Indian galas and celebrations. Their dedication to retaining conventional recipes while also embracing innovation has made them a cherished choice across generations.

The Craftsmanship Behind Their Sweets

The artisans at Prabhuji Sweets are the authentic magicians behind their delectable services. Every sweet is crafted with precision, care, and a deep know-how of flavours. The procedure starts with selecting the best substances: natural ghee, clean milk, and some excellent nuts and spices. The goodies are then prepared using time-venerated strategies, making sure that every piece is a masterpiece of taste and texture. From the intricate layers of their famous Lachha Sewai online to the flawlessly fashioned Laddus, every candy from Prabhuji Sweets reflects their willpower to excellence.

The Legacy of Prabhuji Sweets and Lachha

One of the standout services from Prabhuji Sweets is their Lachha Sewai, a conventional dessert that holds a special place in Eid-ul-Adha celebrations. Lachha Sewai, made from skinny vermicelli cooked in milk and flavored with cardamom and saffron, is a festive favorite. Prabhuji Sweets has perfected this dessert, making it a staple in many families during the festive season. Their Lachha Sewai is known for its rich, creamy texture and delicate flavors, making it the perfect candy to share with family and friends.

The Demand for Prabhuji Sweets on Eid-ul-Adha 2024

As Eid-ul-Adha 2024 approaches, the demand for Prabhuji sweets is expected to bounce. Families across the country are gearing up to have fun with grandeur, and Prabhuji Sweets is at the pinnacle of their shopping lists. The emblem's reputation for handing over great, delicious sweets makes them a desired desire for festive occasions. Whether it's their melt-in-the-mouth Pedas, the wealthy and nutty Kaju Katli, or the ever-popular Lachha Sewai, Prabhuji Sweets has plenty of options that cater to every palate. The ease of ordering online and their full-size availability in stores guarantee that everybody can revel in the beauty of Prabhuji Sweets this Eid.

Popular FAQs about Prabhuji Sweets

1. What makes Prabhuji Sweets unique? Prabhuji Sweets stands proud for its unwavering commitment to first-class, subculture, and innovation. Their use of top-rated ingredients and traditional recipes ensures that every sweet is a super combination of flavor and history.

2. Can I order Prabhuji Sweets online? Yes, Prabhuji Sweets offers the benefit of online ordering. You can browse their sizeable variety of candies on their authentic internet site and place orders for shipping right to your doorstep.

3. What are the first-class candies from Prabhuji Sweets for Eid-ul-Adha? While all their goodies are exceptional, the Lachha Sewai, Kaju Katli, and assorted Pedas are particularly famous throughout Eid-ul-Adha celebrations.

4. Are Prabhuji sweets to be had outdoors in Kolkata? Yes, Prabhuji Sweets has elevated its presence across India, and their products are available in more than one city. They also provide online shipping, making it easy to enjoy their goodies anywhere in the country.

5. How long do Prabhuji Sweets live sparkling? Prabhuji sweets are made with fresh elements and have a terrific shelf life. However, it is great to consume them within the first week of purchase to enjoy their most advantageous taste and texture.

This Eid-ul-Adha, allow Prabhuji Sweets to add a hint of sweetness and culture to your celebrations. With their wealthy legacy, notable craftsmanship, and mouth-watering goodies, Prabhuji Sweets is the suitable choice to make your festive moments even more memorable.

[watchmegetobsessed]

Crash Course - Bucky Barnes

a/n: this one? im in LOVE with this fic and im not even ashamed of it. there is just something about the MC helping him get used to living in the new century and im a sucker for it. so please enjoy this fluffy piece!

pairing: Bucky X Reader

word count: 3.6k

summary: Bucky is a regular at the café where you work at and seeing him struggling with technology, you offer to help him, teaching him the basics while you are both thinking about taking it a little further than just a crash course.

masterlist

The time between the morning rush and lunch time is always quiet, the café is almost completely empty, that’s why Bucky prefers to go out during that time, tuck himself away in the corner of the small but cozy place, a black coffee steaming on the wooden table in front of him, his laptop or a book or his phone reserving his attention, whatever he decides to put his energy into that day.

Today has been a rainy day, therefore the morning was a lot quieter than usually, not many likes to make an extra trip for a coffee in the pouring rain, so you’ve been enjoying the calmness, the soft jazz music playing through the speakers as you are putting away the freshly washed cups behind the counter. As if he has an appointment, Bucky walks into the café with a laptop under his arm, his cap hiding part of his face, but you can still see the shy smile on his lips as he closes the door behind him, the little bell chiming for a second time at his arrival.

“Welcome back, the usual?” you ask as he heads to his spot.

“Yes please,” he nods, shooting you a thankful smile.

You try to ignore the little butterflies in your stomach at the sight of the man, it’s almost ridiculous how you still get nervous when you see him, even though he has been showing up every day at the same time for the past about two months. You just can’t help it, there’s just something in those ocean eyes and perfect manner he always treats you with, something you don’t often get these days. Not many take the time to ask about your day or wish you a good one after you hand them their coffee, but Bucky is different. The same question falls from his lips every time you appear at his table with his order.

“How has your day been going?” he asks when you place the cup next to his laptop that’s loading.

“Pretty quiet, the rain keeps people away,” you chuckle, hoping your blush is not as apparent as it feels. “What about yours?”

“Just the same as usual,” he smiles softly and you nod, though you have no idea what’s usual for him. He might be friendly and quite welcoming when he is sitting at the café, he often chats with you about anything and everything, yet still, you know near nothing about him and his life outside of this place. It’s clear he is the kind of person that prefers to keep things to himself, but sometimes you are so desperate for just the smallest crumb of information about him. With the lack of details, you often find yourself making up things about him, like what his favorite dish is, where he likes to shop, what shows he watches on the TV. You might be entirely wrong about all of these, but it’s all you have.

Moving back behind the counter you busy yourself with cleaning it off as Bucky’s attention shifts to the screen in front of him. There are only two more customers in there and they are quite locked away in their own world as well, a college student working on some kind of assignment on her second espresso and an old lady solving Sudoku at the table near the window, sipping on a nice latte.

You can’t help but glance in his direction every now and then as you move the muffins around on the counter. He seems deeply focused, eyebrows knitted together as he is clicking away on the computer. From the looks of it, he is solving some kind of enigma, but when you walk past his table you see that he has an email open on the screen, his cursor moving around kind of aimlessly.

“Not finding the right words?” you ask, stopping to clean the table next to his that was previously occupied by a young couple. His eyes snap up to you before he huffs shaking his head.

“No, I’m just… terribly bad at IT stuff and I’m supposed to “CC” someone on this email,” he explains, using his fingers to air-quote as he glances back at the screen. “But if I’m being honest I don’t even know what it means,” he admits with a nervous chuckle.

You find it amusing, even cute that he is like an old man with these stuff. You’ve seen him struggling to type in a text message before on his flip phone that’s from the last century for sure and now this.

Placing the tray of cups down on the table you move over to him, taking the free chair next to him as you reach for the laptop, but you stop before touching it.

“May I…?”

“Go ahead,” he gestures with a nod.

You turn the device towards yourself as you click a few times, bringing up the option to send a copy of the email to another receiver.

“CC means that more people get the same email. You can put their addresses here. But you can also BCC people, in that case, the original receiver won’t see if the email was sent to others as well,” you explain patiently. Bucky tries his best to focus on the screen and what you’re saying, rather than the way your lips are moving and how badly he wants to taste them.

You haven’t been the only one feeling flustered and like a giddy teenager and Bucky didn’t choose this café as his usual spot for nothing. He spotted you the first time he stumbled in and the way you smiled brightly at everyone and the sweet chiming of your laughter made him want to come back the moment he stepped out that day. So he returned the next day and then the next day again… and now he couldn’t even imagine a day without seeing your eyes light up when he walks in while he can only hope you are just as happy to see him as he is to see you.

You help him send his email and you cheer in victory once it’s done and sent.

“See? It’s not as hard as it seems,” you smile at him gently, patting his arm that’s covered by a hoodie and your eyes fall onto his gloved hands on the tabletop.

“Yeah, I just have a lot of catching up to do from the past seven decades,” he mumbles under his breath, though he immediately regrets not keeping his mouth shut.

Your eyes flicker to his hand once again, then up to meet his gaze and he knows he just outed himself. He is expecting the usual: disgust, disappointment, even fear. That’s how most people react when they find out who he really is. But as he stares back at you, scared like a little kitten, you just smile back at him softly.

It’s not that you haven’t heard of the Avengers, because it’s impossible not to know who they are. You were just not expecting one of them to become a regular at your working place. The few times you saw him on TV he had long hair and his face was covered with a mask, so you’re not surprised you didn’t put the picture together. But knowing now who he is, you don’t see him in a worse lighting. If anything, you feel a little sad that he had to go through so much in his extremely long life.

“Well, feel free to ask any more questions. I’m not an IT guy, but I can help you with everyday stuff,” you tell him and he is in awe at your very normal, very sweet reaction. All he can do is nod as you stand from the table and grab the tray you abandoned not long ago, moving back behind the counter.

When you glance up your gaze meets his as he is still staring at you, nervous, a little anxious, but definitely relieved by your smooth reaction to finding out his identity. You shoot him a bright smile before moving to the table of the old lady who asks for another latte and as Bucky follows your frame move across the room he can’t help the small smile that tugs on his lips.

Your offer doesn’t stay unused. In fact, Bucky shows up at the café the next few days with a handful of questions for you, genuine ones, and a few he already knows the answer to, but wants to hear you explain them anyway. And you help him with anything, sitting at his table whenever you have a few free minutes between customers. He asks you about the internet, social media, online data bases and sources, going through a list from the little notebook he always keeps with himself.

The times spent with him are your favorite part of the day. You always look forward to whatever issue Bucky is going to bring up, fearing that one day he might run out of questions, but that just never comes. And you don’t know it, but your little sessions are the highlights of his days as well, listening to your smooth voice as you explain even the smallest things to him with so much patience, he is convinced you should become a teacher.

He thinks about asking you out every day, the question is always on the tip of his tongue.

What are you doing tonight? Would you want to go out with me? Do you want to grab a bite with me after your shift?

However he just never gets to actually say the words out loud. He is growing impatient with himself, he used to have no problem with asking girls out, but seven decades and another life as a brain-washed assassin later, this task feels way too impossible.

You’ve been telling him to get a smartphone for the past couple of days and though he seemed adamant, one day he shows up with a brand new one, still in the box.

“Oh my God, is that what I think it is?” you tease him with a dramatic gasp. Chuckling to himself he nods as he places the box to the counter while you are making the order of one of the customers. Today has been a little busier than usually, probably because of the special offer of 10% off from the new Cuban coffee beans your boss ordered in.

“I need a teacher to show me the ropes though.”

“Oh, Bucky, I would love to, but today is a bit crowded,” you pout as you put the lid onto the paper cup and hand it over to the customer, another one already walking in, eyeing the offer written on the black board behind you.

He didn’t even think you wouldn’t say yes, it never occurred to him that the timing might not be the best. You see as his smile slowly disappears from his scruffy face and your heart breaks seeing him like this.

“Yeah, sorry. Don’t want to keep you up,” he mumbles feeling defeated, but before he could grab the box from the counter, you put your hand on it, your fingers brushing against his gloved one, the tiny touch making both of you flustered.

“But how about after work?” you suggest and his eyes immediately light up. Spending time with you without any customers interrupting? That sounds like heaven to him.

“Y-you sure? If you have something to do, I—“

“Nothing to do,” you smile at him. You grab a napkin from the counter and a pan from near the cash register, quickly scribbling down your address before handing it over to him. “I’ll be home by seven,” you inform him as he glances down at your handwriting, noting how well it fits your personality. He then looks back at you nodding, as if he was just handed the best Christmas present ever.

“I’ll be there,” he smiles gratefully before stepping away from the counter and letting you work.

 Five minutes after seven, Bucky is standing at your front door with a bag of Chinese food in his hands as he is trying to build up the courage to ring your doorbell. He found out that you live just a few corners away from the café, so he found your address easily.

“Come on, dude. Don’t be such a loser,” he mumbles to himself as he circles his shoulders before finally pushing the button. A short, buzzing sound is heard from the other side of the door and he stares at the 6B sign in front of you as he hears footsteps from inside. A few moments later the door swings open and there you are, still wearing the same clothes from earlier, a bright smile adorning your face as you beam at your guest.

“Come on in!” you gesture for him as he steps into the small apartment. “Tried to clean up a bit, but if I’m being honest I’m starting to grow out this place,” you chuckle as you push a box out of the way. It’s a small studio apartment with everything cramped into one space except the bathroom. You have a double bed pushed up against the wall in the corner, a small sofa with your wardrobe next to it, a TV, a tiny coffee table, a bookshelf and a dresser, a little dining table near the kitchen with three chairs and a pantry right next to the fridge that stands where the hardwood floor changes into checkered tiles. It really is a tiny space that holds a lot of stuff, but all the gadgets and clutter makes it cozy, lived-in, a place that’s so much like you that he feels like he is peeking inside your head as he walks farther inside.

“I brought dinner,” he shyly holds the bag up as you lock the door.

“Oh, you shouldn’t have!” you smile at him gratefully, because you didn’t really have time to buy anything on your way home since you had to make a quick trip to the post office after your shift, leaving you no spare time before his arrival.

“It’s the least I can do for all the help,” he smiles as you take the bag from him and bring it to the designated living room area of the place. Bucky joins you on the sofa and he thanks all higher powers your place is so small that you only have a loveseat, giving him the chance to sit close to you. Your thigh brushes against his as you hand him a box and make yourself comfortable as well, starting your feast while he asks you about your day, listening to your every word intently.

When the food is gone and you’ve grabbed two beers for the two of you, he pulls out the phone that’s the reason behind his visit. He bought a simple one, not at all one of the latest versions and it’s going to be the perfect model for him to learn the ropes on.

You help him put his SIM card into the new phone and then you set his account up before finally gaining access to the phone. You start with the basic features, showing him how to make a call or send a text before moving onto the different apps and possibilities while he listens to you as if you were talking about rocket science, but in a way, it feels like that for him.

“And here you can switch to the front camera,” you explain as you push the button and suddenly, the two of you come into picture on the screen. “Perfect for taking selfies,” you add with a chuckle.

“Oh, selfies. I’m not too good with those,” he huffs shaking his head.

“Because you probably haven’t found your angle!” you smirk. “Everyone has a good angle.”

“You think so?” you knits his eyebrows together.

“Mhm, look!”

Opening the contacts you go to yours, choosing the option to add a picture that will show up on the screen when you call him, and open the camera to take one instead of choosing from the empty gallery. Holding up the phone you position it so your good angle is in the picture before snapping the photo and saving it as your caller ID.

“See?” you smile at him before handing the device back to him. He just nods, even though he can only think about how all your angles are perfect to him and that now he has a picture of you in his phone. “Let’s take one together!” you beam and moving closer to him you take the phone once again, holding it up in front of you, trying to fit both of you into the frame.

Bucky tries his best to focus on the picture, but he can’t ignore how close you are to him, he can smell your shampoo and your cheek is almost pressed against his as you smile into the camera. The corners of his mouth curl up as his eyes fix at your reflection on the screen before you snap the photo. Opening up the camera roll you take a better look at it and it’s probably your favorite photo that has ever been taken of you. Mostly because he is in it as well, smiling so sweetly.

“It’s a good one,” you say and as you turn your head to the side you realize how close you really are to him.

“Yeah?” he breathes out, definitely aware of just the few inches separating the two of you.

“I-if you had an Instagram I would tell you to post it…” you stutter as your eyes flicker down to his lips, the urge to lean in and kiss him growing with each passing second.

Feeling a little dizzy, one of your hands fall to his lower arm, the one that’s made out of metal and your gaze drops to where you are touching him, a panic filled look flashing through his eyes.

He thinks that this is where the moment is ruined, where you realize the monster he really is and decide you don’t want anything to do with him. He almost starts to apologize for God knows what reason when you reach out and your fingers start to work on the straps of his gloves. It takes a few moments for him to realize what you are doing, and he tries to pull his hand back, but you grab it stopping him from doing it.

“It’s alright,” you smile at him softly, your eyes meeting his as you finish what you started and pull the glove off his hand revealing the metal underneath the leather. Then you move onto his other hand and do the same, dropping the pair of gloves to the floor as you take both his hands in yours, thumbs running across his knuckles, feeling the difference between his own hand and the artificial one.

You see his jaw flexing at the touch and reaching up you cup his cheek in your palm, making him to look you in the eyes. The strong and confident man you see sometimes is gone now, fear and hesitation taking over his expression as your other hand keeps holding his vibranium one.

“I’m sorry,” it falls from his lips as he closes his eyes for a second.

“For what exactly?” you ask with a soft chuckle. “There’s nothing wrong with you. You don’t have to hide yourself around me.”

“You don’t find it… scary?”

“Not at all,” you assure him. “You can’t be held accountable for what happened to you. Anyone who thinks differently is just an ignorant asshole,” you add grinning and it finally breaks his fearful expression, planting a smile on his handsome face.

Keeping your hand on his cheek you lean closer, your nose touching his but you stop before your lips could meet, giving him the chance to pull back. But he never does. Instead, he closes the gap between the two of you, pressing his lips against yours, finally making the fantasy you both have been daydreaming about reality. He starts off slowly, savoring each other gently, getting accustomed to the feeling, but it doesn’t take long before the kiss grows hungrier and your tongues meet in the middle.

Your hands rest at the base of his neck while his find your waist, pulling you closer until you swing a leg over him, sitting on his lap as you smile against his lips. His kisses feel delicate and soft yet very passionate at the same time, you love the dynamic you create, tugging and biting each other playfully, it feels like kissing him is the sole purpose of your life.

When it gets hard for you to breathe you pull back, eyes opening and finding his flushed face as he stares back at you with bright, joyous eyes, his lips slightly swollen, already making you want to go back to where you were just a moment ago.

“Who knew selfies could be so much fun,” he jokes making you laugh, his heart fluttering in his chest at the sound that’s so dear to him.

“I’m glad you liked my crash course on smart phones,” you grin down at him, your fingers tracing the sharp line of his jaw. “Do you have any more questions?”

Smirking his hand, his flesh one, moves up your back as he presses you closer, your lips almost touching his.

“Oh, I’ve got plenty,” he chuckles before kissing you again eagerly.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

[ridethewritings]

spending a day with the boys. (headcanons!)

request: hey, i got a request!! i know this is super like general lmao i hope it's enough to work with! but maybe some headcanons on how each of the boys would choose to spend a day off from band duties with the reader! thanks in advance, dude!☺️

a/n: thank you @glambby for being my very first request. i’m forever grateful! :’) i hope you like these headcanons! i may or may not have gotten super emotional while writing cliff's headcanons. </3

warnings: none!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

james hetfield:

- being with james, you knew you had signed up for everything that came with this package. you fucking knew that you were about to have fun when he brought out some liquor from your liquor cabinet.

- this living room sure as hell was big enough for the both of you to get drunk and dance around, singing the lyrics to some random music you put on the stereo.

- the drunken stumbles of the both of you sent you into a fit of laughter as you slowly crumpled to the floor. james would have a huge grin on his now reddened face, cheeks pink from laughter.

- there is nothing like getting stupid, silly drunk with james hetfield. you thanked whoever was in the sky that you two didn't have neighbors in close enough proximity to y'all. hell, you damn sure knew if you did that you'd be getting noise complaints.

- once you two calmed yourselves, james brought out one of his acoustic guitars. another thing you absolutely loved about spending time with him this way. he gets relaxed, and he plays whatever he wants, and you sit there with a glass, the last few sips of your liquor in it.

- god damn, this man can sing. listening to him sing was amazing. it always amazed you at how talented he was, and it makes you wonder how the fuck you got to this point, being with him, the love of your life.

kirk hammett:

- this boy and his horror movies. you like horror movies too? "new horror movie out! let's go to the movies tonight-"

- "kirk, honey, you just got home today. relax-"

- "this movie looks so good though, just look at it!"

- eventually you gave in, and to be honest, you looked at the trailer and unfortunately, it did look like a good movie. now you REALLY had to see it.

- at the movies, he lets you get all the snacks you want, and he gets some himself, and of course he's getting the largest bucket of buttery popcorn for the two of you to share. he wants to make sure you both have everything you possibly need so that way the two of you wouldn't have to get up during the movie.

- go to the bathroom BEFORE you get into the movie, too! just so you don't miss any of the movie. if you do end up having to go again, he won't be upset, but instead, he'd follow you out so he can make a soda run for you after because your sodas ran out.

- oh yes, reclining in the top row of chairs and holding hands between all of the snacks you both put out and started munching on, stealing little kisses from you every now and then.

- needless to say, you two had a blast, and when you went home, you both went to bed, your head on his chest listening to his heartbeat slowing to a resting.

lars ulrich:

- walking through downtown, checking out small shops, his hand was in yours almost the whole time. crossing the street, he would never let your hand go, he'd keep you near him at all times. this man is protective.

- the street was lit with dim street lanterns, and the brick sidewalks made ways for the people in town to get around easily. there was music thumping throughout the town from not only the restaurants, but a small music store you spotted.

- you ended up dragging him into the music store to look at the metallica records. whoops? and the first one you grabbed to look at was the and justice for all record, which you knew had a picture of lars on the back. "look at you!" you said softly, pointing your finger at the picture of him.

- your comments on the photo made him have to resist the urge to smile, his cheeks getting rosy as he let out a small and barely audible laugh. and thank GOD no one noticed that it was actually him, lars ulrich, in the music store as you were making your way around, looking at the metallica albums happily.

- as much as he loved seeing you excited, and seeing your happiness about his band's success, he knew it was almost time for the two of you to get going.

- you've both never been in this town before, and you loved it already. you loved the hustle and bustle of this small town, the sidewalks crowded with small groups of people every once in a while, which wasn't a problem because they usually kept on their side and passed y'all without hesitancy.

- it was great, until he checked the time, then he took your hand, telling you that you both needed to leave.

- mans really made a secret reservation to a really really great restaurant that was located in this town. that was why he wanted y'all to be here this late. you weren't complaining about the town, though. you loved the streets and the small stores. this town was pretty cute.

- when he led you towards a restaurant that you laid your eyes on when you passed it moments ago, you made an audible noise.

- the smile that appeared on his face told you everything. and you loved him for that.

- the restaurant smelled and looked absolutely stunning, and he knew you wanted to go there when you passed it before. and honey, disappointment was not a word in your vocabulary when you left that restaurant. you two had a blast, and in fact, that restaurant was now your number one favorite. that food was BANGIN'.

cliff burton:

- cliff would be the person to take you out for a ride in his car, and just park at a peaceful and quiet place that he knows won't have other people at. just a regular hangout place that only he knows.

- it's nothing too fancy, but it's a great place to just relax and get away from society. how he knew about this place, you have no idea, but you're glad he took you here.

- he'd probably smoke a small bit, listening to music on the car radio, and eventually he'd turn it up so the two of you could go outside and sit on the hood of the car, taking in the fresh air.

- he would let you rest your head on his shoulder, and smile when you point out different clouds and their shapes. stay out for a little longer and the both of you would be looking at the stars, the first constellation he points out, being orion's belt.

- if you were hungry afterwards once he'd taken you home, he would call and order in.

- being in cliff's presence was and always has been a blessing from the stars, and you were very very grateful to have him. he may be quiet and chill, but you love him for it, and it always makes you relaxed whenever you are able to spend time with him. no matter how you spend that time.

jason newsted:

- you found yourself mesmerized by jason's curly hair blowing in the wind while the top of the convertible was down, the two of you going 85 on the freeway towards the mountains.

- boy were you excited to spend time with him for the night in that cabin in the mountains, seeing the pictures of the cabin and the views online before you went and booked a cabin over call.

- well, you were not disappointed when you rolled up to the cabin. even the views while driving up the mountain were gorgeous. remembering the way jason compared the mountain to you, saying that the views were gorgeous, but not as gorgeous as you.

- he said that, and all you could do was let out a small laugh, and he noticed that what he said, was in fact cheesy. but it was okay, because you loved him.

- getting into the cabin, the first thing you noticed was the warm smell of vanilla and cinnamon. maybe from the candles, maybe from the brand new bottle of rum that you spotted in the small liquor cabinet, along with some small shot glasses that were tempered with the gentlest of hands in warm red and orange color.

- the rest of the night went extremely well, you both had a nice dinner, some drinks, and relaxed in the outside hot-tub that sat in the corner of the screened in back porch, which overlooked the mountains of trees, a lake in the middle of the valleys.

- sleeping with him next to you for a night had to be the best feeling in the world, being in his arms after he was away for so long. it really takes it's toll on you, and he knows it. every time he has to leave, he apologizes profusely, and you tell him it's okay, that it's his job. and hell, whenever he does have free time for you, he always misses you too.

robert trujillo:

- what can i say? robert is a romantic, much like lars. he will want to take you out, no ifs ands or buts about it. insist that you two should stay home? sure, but he’ll find a way to make it romantic. want to go out? you bet your ass he’ll take you wherever you want to go.

- if you want to stay home, he would definitely close the blinds and curtains, make the house dimly lit instead of all bright from the light outside.

- hungry? he’ll cook for you, and you better not get up to try and help him. and to be honest, he’d cook a slammin’ meal.

- if you’re cold, he’ll go and grab both of you a big blanket to wrap the two of you up in, just to snuggle and watch whatever you want. another giant teddy bear!

- going out on this day, he’d cruise around in the vehicle with you, giving you the reins for the choice of music. no complaints from him, not a peep, he'd just listen to you sing the lyrics and have a smile on his face.

- man is just happy to spend this day with the love of his life. he'd do anything to make you happy.

[miekasa]

wait so i was scrolling through your blog (as per usual) and i saw that you brought up levi and his streamer gf briefly. care to elaborate a lil causeee im curious 👀👀

- 🖤

Absolutely, I can. He’s such a supportive bf even tho he’s far from a gamer himself, and very very proud of you 😌

Whatever game(s) you play, Levi knows the basics. He might not have ever played them himself, but he knows enough to recognize it if it ever comes up in conversation.

He doesn’t always watch your streams, and you can hardly tell when he does because he doesn’t comment or anything. He just tunes in when he’s free to support you and see what’s going on. Sometimes to peep on your comment section, but he’d never tell you that.

He doesn’t make donations. He’d just Apple Pay you money lmfao. Supportive emotionally and financially, but all your followers/subscribers don’t have to see that.

He knows when you’re recording content or streaming and typically doesn’t bother you. The only exceptions are (a) if he forgets or (b) you’ve been in your room for a while and he’s going in to check up on you.

He doesn’t forget often—and truthfully, when he walks in on your streams its not actually because he forgot; it’s because you’re online at a different time that usual and he didn’t know—but it’s pretty cute when he does. He catches himself pretty quickly, and silently asks you if you’re streaming; to which he gently closes the door and just texts you his inquiry.

He doesn’t even really disturb you—it’s not like he enters rooms cussing up a storm on full blast. Nobody could even tell he walked in, except for maybe a small lapse in your attention when you turned to him.

When you’ve been in your room for a while, he does come in to check on you. His intentions aren’t necessarily to get you away from the screen; he just wants to make sure you’ve had dinner or some snacks at the very least. When you have all night tournaments or streaming fests, he comes by with dinner for you; silently puts it on your desk, and on occasion, leaves you with a little head pat.

He doesn’t normally appear in your streams, but he is in two of your YouTube videos: one shopping haul, and once when he helped you make him/your friends in the Sims. They happen to be two of your highest viewed videos.

People constantly ask about him. They know Levi exists, but they don’t see him often, and newer fans especially are obsessed with catching a glimpse of your mysterious boyfriend on screen. If you asked him, he’d come in for a few seconds to show his face, but he wouldn’t do it unprompted.

You mention him, of course, it’s not like you’re hiding him away either. He comes up particularly often when you play with your friends or are just chatting in lobbies. You don’t exactly explicitly refer to him as your boyfriend, but you say his name—and so does Hange—and people kinda get the picture.

Hange constantly asking for Levi when you guys are playing together. It’s one of the few times Levi comes into your chat/comments to tell them to shutup. (Yes, your subscribers go crazy for the glimpse of Levi on your channel).

He’s not a gamer, and he sees no reason to disturb your streams by appearing if you don’t ask. But, also, he’s a little camera shy, not that he’d ever tell you that. You’ve got a lot of followers, he’s not prepared to be live in front of thousands of people every night; he’ll leave that up to you.

Levi built nearly everything in your gaming setup. From the adjustable standing desks, to the wall mounts for your accessories and decorations, to your chair, to the shelves. He built it all and tailored it to your exact taste and to fit your room perfectly.

So, sometimes you feel bad when people ask about stuff because you can’t exactly give them a link or recommendation—“Oh thank you! The thing is, my—well, Levi built the desk for me so you can’t buy it—but! There are some similar ones at IKEA!!”

(Levi scoffs ever so lightly when he sees that clip. His craftsmanship cannot be found at IKEA, but they can try).

He also helped mount the TV in your room so that the cables were hidden and everything. Truly a godsend. And whenever you wanna move things around, he’s there to help you. Sometimes he even has ideas of his own, “You were looking at accent walls the other day right? I think you could do something with this back wall…”

He does play games with you, just usually offscreen. He’s scarily good at first person shooters… even tho he claims to not have any past experience with them… extremely suspicious activity.

And when he mains D.Va and Symmetra then what. Then what.

Just don’t ask him to play Fornite. Ever. (He’d be good at it, but he feels so fucking dumb playing it especially when he can hear that he is competing against a twelve year old pls).

He plays games by himself, too. Think “classic” run of the mill console videos games, I guess, nothing too crazy; Zelda, Mario, Kirby… Animal Crossing. His island is nothing short of immaculate, his only regret is that he doesn’t have oranges as his island fruit. Levi really likes oranges (he got peaches instead).

He knows that you’re pretty popular and he’s super proud of you. That doesn’t mean he likes to see fancam style edits of you on his feed. He knows that you’re pretty but still 🙄🙄

Constantly on the look out for computer/keyboard parts that you mentioned. If he sees it online or anywhere else, he’ll try and snag it for you <3 that goes for new console games, too.

He’ll also periodically upgrade some of the tech in your setup. Get you a better mic, some more lighting for your desk, a cute desk mat he thinks you might like. He’s observant, so he knows your taste in design and takes note of things you mention.

Okay okay okay but imagine putting the headphones with the kitty ears on him. He wouldn’t even notice at first and then you turn on the LEDs and bam. Very focused, very cute kitty Levi playing games on your PC.

If you’ve got a merch store, he helps you run it, and by that I mean, he practically runs it for you. Periodically, he might even have a design idea. You can count on him to get things out for shipping right on time. It’s one of his many ways of supporting you.

He’s also the one who remembers to check your P.O. box for packages from fans and from companies. It was his idea initially, too (he wasn’t too crazy about anyone, even major brands having your home address on file).

Look, he knows you’ve got some super fans, and some people who really do adore you. That doesn’t mean he’s necessarily happy when you get sent non-tech or gaming related merch (like jewelry or shoes or whatever). If he happens to put them a little bit out of sight then no he did not <2

Occasionally he’ll meet someone who recognizes your name when it comes up in conversation. He very proudly confirms that yes, he is talking about you, the streamer.

Sometimes, people will even recognize him back—“Oh, so you’re Levi, then!” Obviously. You only have one Levi in your life 🙄🙄

[urban-homesteading]

Hey do you know what kind of tools I should buy if I want to move into a house? It won't have a yard yet, but fingers crossed for the future. Thank you!

Congratulations on the new house! Since you said that there's no yard yet, I'm going to focus only on tools I use inside my house and ignore gardening and lawn maintenance.

What tools should you have around your house?

So here's a pretty simple list that will cover most minor problems you will encounter.

Hammer

Cordless power drill

Screwdriver set (grab one with the ten basic sockets)

Drill set

Adjustable wrench

Level (bubble works, but I upgraded to laser and it makes life so much simpler)

Tape measurer

Utility knife

Flashlight

Extension cord

Step stool

Spare batteries

Toolbox (or even a cardboard box, just make sure you have somewhere to return your tools or they will escape to the four winds)

So how to acquire these tools while maintaining zero waste?

1) Start with your research

If you are completely unfamiliar with tool brands and the features available on tools, do a little research. Visit the websites for Sears, The Home Depot, Lowe's, Menards, True Value, Ace Hardware or any retailer that sells tools, and take a look at their new selections. Most websites organize tools in a straightforward way so you can easily find what you're looking for.

Head to a local store to get a firsthand look – many tools will be on display and out of the box so you can actually pick them up. You'll see the most-recent models, from low-end to top-of-the-line. Make notes on the prices and available features (especially relating to safety). This is your base from which to work when evaluating prices.

The next step is to look at online auction sites, such as eBay, to get an idea of prices for used tools. This gets a bit tricky because you'll need to really look at the age and condition of the tools as described by the seller. But again, make notes for a range of features and prices. Don't try to list everything you see – just make a list of price ranges for the tools, with notes on the variances in relation to brand. For example, for circular saws that range in price from $30 to $60, jot down what separates the bottom-priced tool from the top.

Head over to pawnshops as well. Pawnshops only buy items they know they can turn around and sell, so they won't have tools that don't work (everything they purchase is tested), and a pawnshop won't carry poor-quality brands. Also, the prices will accurately reflect the current value of tools in the marketplace. Make sure you visit operations that are members of the National Pawnbrokers Association, as these businesses abide by a code of ethics established by the association.

2) Name Does Matter (For the more expensive tools)

Now that you have an idea of what you'll expect to pay, it's time to consider how you'll evaluate and decide what to buy.

It used to be that if a name brand was good, it was good.  But I have found that the ‘good’ name brands have been sold so many times that most manufacturers are coasting on their reputation and they are the same quality as the ‘cheap’ tools.  Even worse, manufacturers will have different quality tools that are sold by different stores.  For example, a DeWalt power drill sold at a Home Depot will be better quality than a DeWalt Power Drill sold at Walmart because DeWalt will have two different manufacturing plants and they will send the lower quality ones to Walmart, since Walmart demands that DeWalt sell them to them at a cheaper cost or else they won’t buy from them at all.

My personal rule of thumb is buy cheap for the first one, then if you use it so long or so much that it needs replaced, buy expensive quality the second time.  This prevents you from spending hundreds on tools you’re only going to use a couple of times.

3) Where To Buy

You can start your shopping by revisiting some of the places you accessed when doing your research. Clearly you'll save money on shipping if you go to a local operation or an individual. Remember to test and examine tools closely no matter where you shop.

Pawnshops As mentioned earlier, pawnshops are a good bet for buying tools. You're going to find better-known brands that are probably on the higher end of the quality and price spectrum. Although, you're going to have little to no negotiating room on price compared to if you were buying from an individual.

Thrift Stores A thrift store may be a little less reliable for quality, and you'll probably find a lot less availability, especially at a thrift store that obtains its wares through donation. However, those that aren't donation-based aren't going to want to develop a bad reputation by selling inferior items.

Live Auctions Check local notices for potential auctions in your area. You may have a good chance of finding quality tools, but “auction fever” may set in, and you could wind up overpaying if you are bid up. These may be a good source for large equipment.

Garage Sales You could score the best deal at a garage sale, as the seller may be less likely to know the value of the tools being sold. Sellers will also be more open to price negotiation, and you can offer a bundle price for several items. Quality is going to be your biggest concern, so look these tools over really well.

Flea Markets These are similar to garage sales when it comes to negotiating, but the seller at a flea market will probably be more knowledgeable on price. Some flea market vendors have access to surplus or closeout suppliers, so you could see a potential mix of newer and older tools that haven't sold well at retail.

Classifieds Search online or newspaper classifieds under the equipment and tools categories. You may see a set or combination of tools listed as one price, which can be a good deal. As with garage sales, look these tools over carefully.

Online Websites offering tools are almost too numerous to mention, but eBay is certainly one that comes to mind. Check the seller ratings and reviews when shopping on auction sites. You'll also want to take a look at Amazon, which offers a lot of items, both new and used. Overstock.com, for example, has surplus items and may be a good source for refurbished items. You can often get limited warranties.

Retail Speaking of refurbished items, you may do well by looking at the clearance aisles at hardware stores and home centers. Sometimes they will heavily discount tools that have been returned. Check the reason for the return because it can be merely cosmetic.

4) Be an Inspector

On corded power tools, examine the electrical and basic mechanics of the tool. Aside from plugging it in and turning it on, thoroughly inspect the cord. Look for any visible defects, such as a crimp (what looks like a big dent), or if the cord is bent at a severe angle. A thick wad of electrical tape will be a big tip-off that something might not be right. Also take a look at where the cord meets the tool to see if it's heavily worn or loose. Closely examine the prongs of the plug. A slight bend on one of the prongs isn't a big deal, but if the metal looks heavily worn at the bend, it may be close to failure. And don't forget to check out the switch to see if it is loose or cracked.

Cordless tools present their own challenge. If you've ever looked at the price of replacement batteries, you know they can be quite pricey. Some are very expensive in relation to the cost of a new tool and can be as much as half or more of the cost of a new tool. Plus, it's hard to tell if the battery will hold its charge for any length of time. Sure, it may work fine in the short time you test it, but it's difficult to determine if it will hold a charge for longer than a few minutes. Only opt for cordless tools that you know are at most a couple of years old. Refurbished units are your best bet here.

With both corded and cordless power tools, be sure all the parts and guards are there. It's a bonus if the case and operating manual are included (although you may be able to find a copy of the manual on a tool manufacturer's website). You can easily find replacement accessories, such as saw blades, for many tools because the standards for accessory sizes are pretty consistent.

While you can't exactly take a small screwdriver and dismantle a power tool to look at its inner workings, you can search for a few telltale signs that all may not be well. Be prepared to use all five senses.

Take at look at the motor vent area of the tool (which looks like little slits in the housing). Ideally, you want this to be free of any sort of dirt, grime or buildup – a tall order for a used tool, but a good indication of how well it has been maintained. While inspecting this area, look for any burn marks or smoke trails (take a peek at the switch area as well). These would be clear indications that there's been an electrical problem. But just in case the evidence of a fire has been cleaned up, give the vent area the old sniff test for odor of smoke.

Keep the focus on this area and turn on the tool. You don't want to see smoke or sparks emitting from the housing. Notice how the tool feels in your hand while it's running. Look for intermittent operation or jerkiness. Yes, a power tool will vibrate in your hand, but you should be able to control it. If it feels like the tool could jump right out of your hand, there could be issues. Listen to the tool. Is it making erratic sounds or grating noises? Think back to other tools of the same type you're inspecting. Does the used tool sound significantly different?

You can look for specific things such as the movement of the blade in a circular saw or table saw. With the tool off and unplugged, move the blade around to see if there is a significant wobble to its motion. An old blade may be the culprit, but the arbor (the metal rod on which the blade is attached to the saw) may be bent. It would be difficult to replace and not worth purchasing the tool.

These tools will be a pretty good head start and will enable you to repair most minor work around your home.  

[rhysismydaddy]

Naughty Neighbors pt. 1 (Elriel)

Synopsis: Elain’s stuck in a dead end relationship, bored beyond belief with her life. When she befriends her brand new neighbor, it’s like taking a breath of fresh air. But with each day of friendship, she grows more and more drawn to him and the past he’s desperate to escape. His smile is all she thinks about, invading her head at the most inconvenient moments. He’s made his intentions with her perfectly clear, but she’s determined to resist his charms. She won’t allow him to turn her calm, quiet life upside down. Right?

I’M SORRY THIS HAS TAKEN SO LONG. Moving did NOT go smoothly, and my professors are taking online classes a little ~seriously~ even though they haven’t started yet lol. 

Part 2 should be out by Wednesday, and it’s in Azriel’s POV :))))) This one’s a slow burn ladies and gentlemen, so get ready for some pent up desire 

______________________________________________________________

Elain rolled over in bed, somehow too hot and cold at the same time. Gods, she was miserable. Her boyfriend was next to her, snoring loudly, and the sound did nothing to help her worsening mood. 

She was so exhausted-- when you owned a flower shop, wedding season was always hectic--but sleep had been refusing to find her for the past hour. 

It didn’t help that she had a moose-sounding man in the room. 

Reminding herself that she loved him and definitely didn’t want to strangle him in his loud ass sleep, she rolled over and pulled a pillow on her head. 

Somehow, after two years of dating, she hadn’t gotten used to how loudly Lucien snored. 

Thank the gods we don’t live together, she thought, then admonished herself for it. 

They would eventually. 

She just had to get used to it. 

The pillow over her head became suffocating, only adding to the over-heating problem, so she threw the covers off, grabbed a robe, and walked out. After going up a few flights of stairs, she found herself on the roof. 

It was the place she always went when she was stressed or sad or just needed to see the night sky. She’d even started a garden a few months ago, so she started to head over to check on it. 

But then she saw who was sitting on the bench in front of her rose bushes and paused. 

Paused and stared, because the man sitting in front of her wearing dark clothes and a smirk was both classically beautiful and dangerous. 

He was the kind of man most men would do anything not to fight and women would do anything to bed. 

Smoke curled around him, and the shadows somehow seemed to cling to his tall frame. The stranger dwarfed the small bench, large frame taking up enough space for two. Even though he was sitting, she could tell he was well over six feet. And built like a Greek god, if the way his black, long sleeve t-shirt clung to his chest was any indication.  

He was the most attractive man she’d ever seen, and that was without taking in the strong, clean shaven jaw, hazel eyes, and hair the color of spilled ink. 

And oh fuck, he was studying her, too. A shiver ran over her as she realized she was covered in just her robe. 

Her body begged her to both run far away and draw closer, and for some reason, she listened to the urge to do the latter. 

“Who are you?” she asked as she walked through the maze of flowers. 

“Who are you?” he shot back, not answering her question. Her body reacted to his voice alone, goosebumps raising at the cold but somehow soothing tone. 

A breeze caused her hair to swirl around her as she replied, “I’m Elain. What are you doing here?”

He jerked his chin at the cigarette dangling from his fingertips, but that wasn’t exactly what she’d been asking. “No, I mean what are you doing here?”

“I live here, Elain.”

She realized she shouldn’t have told him her name, because now he could say it in that sexy, very manly voice of his and it would do strange things to her sanity. 

He said her name like a lover would, soft and sensual, but also coldly amused. He sounded like he knew her, like he’d known her for years. 

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do.” His eyes are laughing at her now, but he didn’t sound mean. 

"Which apartment?”

“4B.”

Elain’s eyebrows pinched together at that news. She lived in 4A and hadn’t even noticed she’d gotten a new neighbor. Then again, she’d been at work all day. “Oh. I guess we’re neighbors then.”

A small smile graced his full lips, and she studied it before forcing her eyes back to his. “Lucky me.”

Oh, gods. Was he... flirting with her? 

She didn’t even know. It had been so long since someone had that she’d forgotten what it sounded like. 

So she rolled her eyes good naturedly, leaning against the brick railing encasing the roof. 

“Sneaking out for a smoke?” His voice was like gravel and smoke, and his hazel eyes raked over her body in a way that made her shiver. 

“Couldn’t sleep.”

He nodded, then extended the cigarette to her in question. She smiled but shook her head and said, “I don’t smoke.”

“A good girl, then.” He didn’t sound at all bothered by that statement. And once again, his hazel eyes skirted down her body. “Do you want to sit down?”

There was almost no room on the bench, but it beat standing on the edge of the roof on such a breezy night, so she walked over and sat as far away from him as possible. 

It was still way too close. 

Her arm was pressed against hers, allowing her to feel the dense muscle covering it. She doubted she could wrap both hands around it completely, but she shut down the urge to try as she crossed her legs casually.

The warmth from his body seeped into her, goosebumps raising where they touched. “You’re warm,” she commented stupidly. 

“Are you cold?” he asked, hazel eyes scanning her face, then dropping slightly. 

No small amount of horror grew when she realized what he’d glanced at. She crossed her arms over her chest, then scowled when he grinned. 

Her eyebrows flew up, though, when a heavy arm landed across her shoulders and tucked her into a warm, firm side. 

Oh, gods above every place they connected was tingling. Heat rushed into her--both between her legs and from his side.

She needed a heat CT. 

“Is this your garden?” he asked, taking a puff of his cigarette and blowing the smoke away from her. 

She nodded, then realized her head was pressed against his chest. Elain pulled away slightly, then asked, “Will you tell me your name?”

His hazel eyes were dark, like molten caramel. She felt lost in him. “What will you give me in return?”

Every inch of her body went taut and loose at the same time. Her thigh was suddenly warm, and she looked down to see his hand resting on her skin. The back of his hand was covered in scars and tattoos and his palm was covered in callouses, but it was nothing but gentle and warm on her thigh. 

Her maybe-neighbor was perfectly still, his face cool and composed while he waited for her to react. But his eyes told her exactly what would happen if she leaned into him just a tiny amount. 

And gods, she wanted to. 

Something was holding her back though. A small voice was screaming at her, and a disgusting amount of guilt crept up her shoulders. Almost jumping out of her skin, she remembered whose existence she’d forgotten completely. 

Lucien.

Her boyfriend. 

The man she’d been attempting to sleep next to not an hour ago.

She pulled away, instantly missing his warmth. “I have a boyfriend,” she said unceremoniously and with about as much enthusiasm as someone declaring grandma was dead. 

His eyes went a little darker, even as the corner of his lips twitched. “Hm.”

“I should go.” That was beyond true. 

Lucien was trusting, and their relationship was relaxed, but practically snuggling with another man wasn’t right. Even if it was all she wanted to do at the moment. 

“Okay.”

“I hope we can be friends in the future,” she said, trying to maintain polite normalcy. “But only if you tell me your name.”

Once again, those amber eyes slid over her, and she was very, very grateful she’d crossed her arms. “We’re never going to be friends, Elain.”

The way he said it didn’t feel like a rejection; it felt like a challenge. Her body thrummed, even as she shook her head slightly and started back down the stairs. 

The picture of his face followed her all the way into her apartment, sticking in her head until she fell asleep with a soft smile on her face. 

~

The next morning, she woke up and had breakfast with Lucien, who hardly glanced up from his eggs as he asked, “Where’d you go last night? I heard you get up.”

Her heart started to race even though she’d done nothing wrong. Technically. Calming her voice, she said, “I went to the roof to check on the garden. Couldn’t sleep.”

Lucien just shrugged, knowing this was pretty typical for her. 

She knew she should tell him she’d met their new neighbor, but for some reason, her mouth stayed shut. Probably because she didn’t even know his name. 

It definitely wasn’t because she’d almost kissed him. 

“I have to go; I have an early meeting.” He worked at a corporate finance place downtown, so this wasn’t exactly groundbreaking. He got up from the table, navy suit slightly wrinkled, and kissed her brow. “Thanks for breakfast. I’ll come back Friday, okay?”

This also wasn’t news. He stayed at her place a few nights a week, most of the time Sunday and Friday. She didn’t go to his that often because she didn’t have a car and liked to walk to work. 

Elain nodded and smiled, then went to get ready once he’d left. 

Were twenty-four year-olds supposed to feel like this? Like they were stuck on a conveyor belt, destined to do the same thing for the rest of her life?

It sometimes felt like she’d gone to sleep and woken up in the life of a fifty-year old housewife. 

Whenever he stayed over, he liked coming home to a clean house and meal, so she cooked for him, pretending to love it, when in reality, she’d be just as happy eating takeout on the sofa. 

She greeted him with a smile, and they talked and watched TV together, then went to bed at the same time every night. 

And gods, it was starting to get boring. 

Even the sex was starting to follow a routine. It wasn’t written down, but Elain had noticed they slept together at the beginning of the month, then not at all for a few weeks. 

She missed the beginning of the relationship, when they were so in love and crazy about each other they couldn’t keep their hands off each other.  

She didn’t expect fireworks after being together for so long, but... it had only been two years. And despite never mentioning it, Lucien was bound to propose at some point. 

Could she do this for the rest of her life? Go to work, come home, cook, go to bed? Did she love him enough for fifty years of the same routine?

That thought shocked her. Of course she did. 

He was perfect for her. He didn’t keep secrets, had a good job, and treated her with kindness and respect. So what if the fizzle had worn off? 

So what if she got more turned on sitting on a cold bench next to a complete stranger than after actual foreplay with her boyfriend?

It meant nothing. 

At least, that’s what she told herself as she put on a light blue dress and sandals and fixed her hair. 

Once she was ready, she walked outside and started down the street to her store. It was only a five minute walk, one of her favorite things about her apartment’s location. 

“Elain,” came a low voice from right next to her. 

Surprised, she turned to see her brand new neighbor walking next to her. Just like last night, he was dressed in dark jeans and a black t-shirt. But with the light she could make out his features better, and it did nothing to sway her of how attractive she found him. 

“Good morning.”

He smiled, and she found herself mimicking the expression. 

I mean, when someone who looked like a villainous Prince Charming smiled at you, you smiled back. 

“Better now,” he told her in a low tone, still smirking. 

“You’re a horrible flirt,” she laughed, brushing off how the comment made her skin tingle. 

“Horrible?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette, lighting one as they walked. “I’ll have to step up my game then. You look beautiful today.”

“I amend my statement. You’re a mediocre flirt.”

He blew a cloud of smoke around him and rolled his eyes, and she grinned agian. She did that a lot around him, she realized. It was easy to. 

There was just something alluring about him. He was dark and cold and beyond mysterious, but also sensual in a way she’d never seen before. It both threw her off guard and made her want to be reckless for once in her life. 

“Where are you going?”

“Work. I own the flower shop down on third street,” she told him proudly. The shop was her life’s work, and it made her insanely happy to tell people about it. 

“The Archeron?” he asked, and her brows shot up in surprise. “I work across the street. Start today, actually.”

“Oh, at the tattoo place?” 

The idea of getting a needle stabbed into her skin over and over again made her nauseous. 

Azriel noticed her expression. “You ever come in, I’ll give you a discount.”

“I’ll absolutely never take you up on the offer, but thank you. If you ever want a lovely bouquet, feel free to come on in.”

His hazel eyes met hers. “And what if I just want to see you? Do I still have to buy flowers?” There was a blush on her cheeks, and his eyes darkened when he saw it. “I like making you blush.”

Gods above, the man wasn’t giving up. 

She was surprised to find she didn’t want him to. 

She deflected anyway. “Fine. You’re an average flirt.” 

“Oh, baby girl, you have no idea.” They were somehow already in front of her shop, and he looked through the window and grimaced. “On second thought, if I want to see you, I’ll just knock on your door. Lot of flowers in there.”

“That’s kind of the point,” she reminded him, blocking out the picture of Azriel coming over to her apartment. “If I want to see you, who should I ask for?”

Humor flickered across his hard features, but he still shot down the request. 

“If you need me, I’ll be across the street encouraging people to make horrible decisions.”

Laughing, she unlocked the store and watched him walk away. Somehow, even though it was broad daylight, he was a spot of darkness on the street. 

She didn’t even know his name, but she was tempted to follow him, just to see his smile again. If seeing him smile made her feel that happy, how would it be to hear his laugh? 

More than anything, she wanted to find out.

And Elain knew right there that he’d been completely right: they would never be friends. 

______________________________________________________________

Part 2

@cursebreaker29 @sjmships @starrynightsbooks @lovemollywho @januarystears @astreia-oniria @wineywitch202 @captainthefangirlofhp @perseusannabeth @girl-who-reads-the-books @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @a-bit-of-a-cactus @aesthetics-11 @bamchickawowow @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @savemesoon8 @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace @poisonous00

[chasseurdeloup-retired]

Something Seams Off || Irene and Kaden

TIMING: Current LOCATION: Sew La Ti Do PARTIES: @threadofheart and @chasseurdeloup SUMMARY: Kaden goes to Irene to repair his jacket and they have a snicker-snacker of a time. CONTENT WARNINGS: None

Kaden ran his hands along the leather jacket as he watched the signs of the stores along the street. He didn’t want to miss the repair shop. Clothing wasn’t usually precious to him. It couldn’t be, not as a hunter. Sure, he had to scrounge and save for new clothing back in the day, but any shirt or pants could get destroyed in the wrong monster fight. The best thing to do was usually patch it best as he could for as long as he could before tossing it aside for something else decent. But the leather jacket in his grip was different. This was a gift. Kaden had precious few gifts in his life that he held onto, at least not prior to coming to White Crest. Either way, if anything was worth taking care of, it was the jacket Blanche had given him. To the point he was careful not to wear it on hunts, at least not often. Sometimes it was hard to avoid. Still, he couldn't figure out where some of the holes in the piece were coming from. It didn’t make sense. Definitely beyond his skills to repair. Time to try a professional for once. He gulped before swinging the door open. He had to remember whatever the price, he was fine, he could afford it. Old habits were hard to break. “Hello?” he called out. “Uh, got a jacket that needs fixing. This is the place, right?”

After the online interaction with the owner of the leather shop, Irene was quick to research some tips on how to better mend leatherwork. Since it wasn’t her typical area of expertise, she wanted to improve on it in the event she had customers seeking that specific service. Scattered across her table were scrap pieces of leather she had practiced her stitching. Several of her poor needles already set aside and bent at odd angles. Just then, the jingle of the door chimes caused her to look up at the customer entering her shop. With a warm smile, she got up from her table and walked over to the counter. “Welcome, I’m Irene, and you’re in the right place. What sort of fixing does this jacket need?” she asked, her hands gently patting on the counter indicating for him to set down the piece. Upon brief examination, it certainly appeared to be well-worn, well-appreciated.

“Hi, nice to meet you,” Kaden said, awkwardly and a little stilted as he walked towards the counter. He had no idea what the protocol was in this whole exchange, it wasn’t like he’d ever done it before. Thankfully she took the lead and indicated where to place the jacket so after giving her a slightly startled look, he did just that. Right. Made sense, she had to look at it after all. “Uh, there are some holes in it. Weird spots. I don’t think I made them.” Then again, he got so many injuries and brushed up against so many various fangs, claws, and pincers it was hard to keep track of the damage after a while. “Not that I-- I mean, I work in animal control. With the WCPD. Uh, Officer Langley.” Which probably didn't matter. Why the fuck was he introducing himself? And why was he nervous about a damn jacket repair? “You probably didn’t need to know that or care. Just, yeah. Weird holes. Does it… You think you can fix this? Not to-- I just don’t know what can and can’t be saved. Usually don’t try.”

Irene’s expert hands were quick to search typical areas where jackets typically formed holes. The seams didn’t seem to be split but with some of the holes, she likely would have to reline a couple of spots so that any fixing wouldn’t look like a patch job. Her eyes narrowed as she continued to study the jacket. “Overall, this looks like it’s in good condition, but the holes are… a little strange,” she noted aloud. “Like you said, definitely in some strange places. If this were a weather or cotton piece, I’d say maybe moths or something, but I’m a bit at a loss as to the cause.” Straightening up, she let out a small sigh and another smile. After all, her job wasn’t to determine what caused this but rather how she would fix it. “Well, Officer Langley, this probably will take me about a week. I think I have similar thread and fabric to fix this up, though once I’m done, it’ll look brand new.” It was clear this jacket meant a lot to him; the stress emanating from him was hitting Irene like a wall of bricks, so she hoped her words could offer some relief. “And I could offer you a rough estimate as well if you’re interested.”

Kaden rubbed the back of his neck as he watched the woman work through what was going on with his jacket. Putain, he wasn’t normally this nervous about simple human interactions. Something about it being new, unknown, it left him unsure. “Yeah I didn’t think moths would go for leather, but a brow--” Merde. He caught himself before he started talking about fae and monsters. Barely. “I mean, yeah probably not moths.” He felt his stupid heart pounding in his chest over a stupid conversation with a seamstress. The fuck was wrong with him? Maybe he shouldn’t quit hunting. He clearly couldn’t handle normalcy. “A week? Is that-- I mean, sounds good. I’m not sure how long this would normally take. I’ve never had anything repaired before. I normally just throw away things once they get damaged but I guess if I did that you wouldn’t have any business so anyway this is, uh, new. For me.” He was certain she could tell without him saying shit. Her next assurance had him even more wide eyed. Shit, was he really that obvious? He didn’t think he looked poor. He didn’t right? Fuck, maybe he did. “A rough estimate? Oh. Yeah. That’d be good. To know. If you--” His brow furrowed as he cut his sentence short once more. This time it wasn’t just him not knowing how to speak like a normal person. Something was moving. His brows knit together as he looked closer at the jacket. “You’re not…” His eyes darted back up to her. Her hands were in fact not underneath the jacket. And yet it was wiggling. “That’s not you moving it, is it?”

Irene could feel the intensity of his emotions grow despite her telling him that the jacket could be fixed. Was something else worrying him? In the past, she had worked with clients who held incredible sentimental value to their clothing articles. Perhaps this was one of those instances. With a warm smile, she looked across the counter at the man. “This jacket must mean a lot to you if you’re bringing this in for extra care. I assure you that your jacket is in great hands with me, officer. You’re doing great,” she added lightly with a small chuckle. Grabbing a notepad and a pen, she scribbled a few quick notes about the current condition of the leather jacket and the exact fixes the officer was requesting. That helped her approximate the cost. Just as she was about to write out an estimate, his question caught her by surprise. “Hm? N-no, what do you mean?” she asked, her eyes instantly darting to the jacket to see brief movement. Shoot, did her shop have mice or rodents? “Oh goodness!” Without thinking, she lifted the jacket up, expecting to find some sort of critter there only to spot something… not quite exactly that or anything she had seen before. “What--” she jumped back in surprise, her eyes wide after she immediately dropped the jacket back down.

Kaden nodded a little along with her words. “I mean, sure it, uh, I like it and all. But it’s not that important.” Putain, why did he say that? What if that meant she was less careful with it now that she thought he didn’t care? “Not that-- I mean. Yes. Thank you.” Fuck, what if she was fae? And he just thanked her. And why did she have to reassure him that he was doing fine with a basic social interaction. Sadly, his ineptitude wasn’t the biggest disaster in the room. When she moved the jacket, out hopped a small rodent looking creature. Only it wasn’t a mouse or rat, no no. That was a snicker-snacker. No missing it. “Putain,” he grumbled to himself. “No wonder there were holes.” Out of instinct, Kaden reached for his knife in his back pocket, but his hand hovered and hesitated. Just long enough for the supernatural rodent to scutter off. Shit. But he couldn’t just stab the snicker-snacker right in front of her in her shop. He wasn’t the most experienced with social norms, but he was pretty fucking sure destroying shops with knives was frowned upon. He twisted and turned looking to see if he could find the creature. “Must have been in the jacket. Not sure how I missed that.” Had to have crawled in one night when he was hunting. At least he hoped that was the case. If he had an infestation in his apartment, well, he didn’t want to think about the destruction waiting for him at home. “Did you see where it-- there!” he shouted as he leapt towards a corner of the store, diving onto the floor, trying to clasp the rodent with his bare hands. It skittered just out of reach, running to the other side. Shit. He had to get it or else it could be bad news for her shop. It had definitely gone to the left. Only, when he glanced to the right, he saw it there, too. No, not the original one. There were two. “Uh. Think you’ve got a problem here,” he told her, trying to pick himself up off the floor.

If the rodent-looking creature scared Irene, the man pulling out a knife immediately caused the seamstress to shriek out of surprise and fear. But her attention was quickly drawn back to the thing that jumped off her counter and was not running around her shop. With wide eyes, she pulled her gaze back to the man as she tried to process just what had happened. Irene wasn’t normally one for any sort of judgment, but yes, how had this man conveniently not realize that something like that was burrowing his jacket? Before she could even respond, Irene toward the floor as the creature skittered across her feet to the man’s left. Another yelp escaped her lips as she jumped back in surprise. It was one thing for rodents to be scampering around, but she will not have them messing up her shop. Trying to think quickly, Irene grabbed a broom from the corner and glanced to the right and saw… another one. Confusion etched across her face. “Oh no…” she muttered quietly as she slowly raised her broom. Was this her weapon now or a poor decision of a shield? Who knew. “What are those?” she asked in a soft voice, hoping not to startle these creatures with any sudden noise.

This was a problem. One snicker-snacker was bad news. Two were exponentially worse. And for all they knew, there were more than even that. Kaden started to listen and look for any more signs of them, trying to keep his steps quiet as he ducked down to look at any and every corner. “Snicker--” He paused before finishing his answer. Saying “snicker-snackers” was going to make him sound like he was out of his mind, wasn’t it? And it wasn’t exactly keeping the supernatural a secret at that point either. Putain. “Uh, rodents. Mutated mice. I think.” That worked, right? “They’ll eat through just about anything so be careful.” This whole shop would be in bad shape if an infestation broke out. All the clothes and fabric would never last. He glanced over to see how she was holding up. Broom wasn’t a bad idea on her part. Shit, if only he had his work kit. No nets or cages on him now, unfortunately. “Got anything to trap them with? A basket. A bowl. Anything?” He saw a jar full of pins. This was a terrible idea. “Putain,” he grumbled to himself as he dumped the pins as carefully as he could manage onto the table he picked the jar up off of. “Sorry about that. I, uh, I mean looks like it’ll work.” He caught a blur of motion out of the corner of his eyes and leapt towards it, jar in hand. “Sweep it towards me! Corner it”

Irene watched the man move around expertly ready to attack. She clutched the broom tighter against her chest as her heart pounded loudly in her ears. “Snicker? Like--what, like the candy?” she asked incredulously. Her brow knitted tightly as she tried to keep an eye on even just one of these creatures. “Mutated mice. Wonderful. Thank you evolution,” she muttered under her breath as she took slow, quiet steps through her shop. Rodents weren’t something she was scared of; hell, she’d seen her fair share of very brave rats in New York. This? This should be a piece of cake, though she had no idea what sort of advantages these mutations gave these rodents. Her eyes quickly scanned the room in response to his request. “Uh… how’s this? Wait!” she called out, unable to find a suitable container before the pins were spilled out. Great. But she had little time to process that before she also caught sight of a dashing blur past her. Instinctively, she swept broadly with the broom, the bristles making contact with something, and a loud squeak seemed to indicate she must have caught the rodent. “Coming your way!” she called out as she made one swift broom push toward the man. “Well, that has to be one, right? Is that it?”

“Uh, sort of,” Kaden started. With how often he ran into the supernatural in this town, it was hard to remember how few of the residents actually were in the know. Code said to keep shit secret, he needed to try a little harder. As he dove, he slammed the lar over top of where he’d seen the blur. Only to catch something just to the left of him. Shit. He reached out with the jar again as she swept the lump towards him, capturing the creature underneath. “Got it!” he shouted, keeping both hands on top of the small jar, just in case. There was a sound of something splitting behind him. Putain. He kept one hand on the jar as he twisted to try and look behind him. A table leg had snapped in two and he was certain if they didn’t hurry, there might be less than three legs there. “Shit, shit, shit.” He was making a real fucking great impression here. He had to let go of the jar to get over to the other one. “Uh, do you have a book? Or a weight? Or something? And one more--” He paused. “Maybe two more jars. Just in case.”

Irene's stress levels increased, both from wanting these creatures out of her shop and from the fact that this whole instance was creating a giant mess of her shop. Had these things always been around this entire time? A hazard of her work she never considered before? As the man dove down, Irene held her breath until she saw that he had managed to catch something. “B-book? Um, goodness, I have uh I have a couple of binders of fabric swatches,” she said, frantically reaching for these from the desk in the back. And jars. Her eyes looked for a few more of those, all filled with things like thread scraps or buttons. The priorities now though was definitely in capturing these creatures, so she poured the contents out into an empty box and quickly returned to the man. And then she saw the cracked leg on her table. Oh goodness why was this happening. “I hate to bombard a customer with orders, but please get these things out of here before the rest of my shop is destroyed,” she pleaded.

This was not the first impression Kaden had planned to make. Granted, he didn’t start off on the best foot so guess he didn’t have much to lose. He’d shifted and let his foot rest on the jar while she went to grab more supplies to trap the creatures, untrusting of what would happen if he left it unweighted. He didn’t want to find out if the snicker-snacker could topple over the glass. At least it couldn’t eat it. Well, it shouldn’t at least. It wasn’t exactly wood or fiber. He looked down. Floors should be safe, too. Right, better get them out quickly. “Thanks,” he said, taking the book and the jars from her. He dumped the book on top of the makeshift snicker-snacker trap and hoped like hell it was enough to keep it there. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the little pest run up and back towards his jacket. “Oh no you don’t,” he said, diving towards it and yanking it away off the counter. The mutant mouse went spinning and flying in the air as the rug was pulled out from under it, but landed on its feet and scurried off. Merde. He’d have to be more careful.

Jars in hand and ready to pounce, Kaden tried to move quietly around to the back of the counter to see if it had landed back there. A flash of fur and horns darted out, squealing towards the table with three legs. “Not today, you little bastard,” Kaden said as he threw himself at the table, crashing into it, causing all sorts of odds and ends to go flying and clattering to the floor as he wrestled to get the jar on top of the creature. All he got was a spool of thread. Good thing she’d handed him two jars. He reached out with his left hand and slammed the glass down, praying he didn’t break it with his hunter strength and heard a squeal as the tail wriggled out from underneath the lip. If it were a mouse or a rat, he might feel a ping of remorse. But a snicker-snacker? He dug the jar down to the floor a little harder before the tail snaked its way back under the container with another squeal. “Got it,” he said, breathing heavily as he pushed himself off the floor.

Irene watched with astonishment as the man moved so expertly. Her eyes darted back and forth between the now-occupied jar and the precarious situation of her table. “Sure…” was all she managed to respond. With her hands now empty and the man chasing after the other “mutant rodents,” Irene’s attention honed onto the jar. She could hear the skittering of the creature, sounds of tiny claws scraping against the glass in an attempt to escape. Leaning down onto her hands and knees, Irene took a peek at the rodent inside, this snicker thing, and let out a small gasp. It looked like a mouse or a hamster but with horns. What the heck was in the White Crest water that mutated the rodents into something like this? Her thoughts were quickly interrupted by the sudden slam from the man, the sound of another jar crashing onto the ground and securing another creature in its confines. “O-okay, what do we do now? I mean, are we supposed to let these go out in the wild? Is there animal control for something like this?” And how dangerous were these things? So many questions ran through her head. Then her face paled lightly at the next thought. Did these need to be exterminated? Despite the trouble they brought, the idea soured her stomach.

Kaden brushed off his pants and arms after standing and taking a look at the chaos around the room. Putain. Not how he intended this to go. Couldn’t even have a simple interaction in a store in this goddamn town. “Lucky for you, I am animal control. Obviously not on duty right this second. Or else, you know, I’d be prepared.” He sighed and pushed his hair back into place. “They’re pretty destructive, as you can see,” he said, gesturing to the poor table. Shit. “Uh, I can, pay for that, by the way. I sorta brought them here.” No clue how he was affording that but tables couldn’t cost that much, right? Shit. “Reproduce exceptionally fast, too.” He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. This was the worst part. People already had bad takes on animal control half the time. He’d been called an animal killer too many times for his liking. And it’s not like he could tell her these were clearly monsters and out himself. No one liked to hear about dead animals and he couldn’t blame them. But these weren’t sweet little mice, these were pests. Abominations. Capable of destroying full houses if left to their own devices. “For now, I’ll take them out of here. They’re definitely not adoptable, though. I’ll do a relocation out in the woods, though.” He hoped she would buy it. There was no way he was going to chance a snicker-snacker infestation in town.

It was the sudden calmness that stressed Irene out even more. Was this it? Were all of them caught in her jars? “You? You’re animal control?” Had he said that earlier before all of this happened? She couldn’t recall. A hand ran through her hair, the other hand almost resting against her damaged table before she spotted the broken leg. She quickly pulled back and sighed. At least that table was a hand-me-down from the previous tenant of the shop, and Irene had been hoping to upgrade to a more customized work surface. “Um, yea, th-thanks, I think,” she said mindlessly, unable to fully assess the severity of these creatures. “Like rabbits. Or rats. And I thought New York rats were damaging,” she muttered to herself. How did those things even scurry onto him and into her shop? “Right, your jacket though. If uh if you still wanted that mended, I can still take that on but I might need more time now because…” her voice trailed as she gestured to her mess of a space.

“Officer Langley, yeah. That’s me. Animal control.” Kaden almost felt like he should apologize for that fact. Almost. He did catch them, after all. “But yeah, like rabbits or rats. Only they’ll eat through your table legs. Uh, anyway, if you don’t mind, I’ll go get something more appropriate to transport them and come back.” He’d make sure  to bring a knife with him, too. Maybe a few extra cages in case more of them showed up in the interim. He was about to turn and walk out when his eyes shot back to the jacket, brows raised. Right. He almost forgot. “Oh, yeah. If you can. No rush. At all. Um, thanks, and,” he paused to look around the room, “sorry. I’ll be back soon.”

[lovemesomesurveys]

[pinkchocolate @ bzoink]

Do you know anyone who doesn't seem to be fond of animals?   Hmm. Nope.

Speaking of animals, do you have any pets? If you do, what are their favourite treats?   Yep, I have a doggo named Princess Leia. <3 She’s not picky haha she’ll take pretty much whatever. I do find it funny how much she seems to love lettuce and zucchini, though lol.

Did you ever have a crush on any 90's TV stars, or pop stars?   Yeah, like Justin Timberlake, Freddie Prinze Jr., Josh Hartnett...

Are you planning any outings or trips anytime soon? Whereabouts?   I’m trying to because my mom took a week off this week so I want to try and do something. The beach would definitely be involved.

Do you know anyone who has a phobia of a certain animal?   I do with killer whales. 

In terms of clothing, are there any colours that you don't wear or colours that you feel don't suit you?   I avoid white cause I most definitely will spill something on it. 

When was the last time you went to a department store? Did you buy anything, on that occasion?   A couple weeks ago and bought food.

As a teenager, did you read many magazines? Did you have a favourite, or any that you subscribed to?   Yeah, I was super into like Tiger Beat, Bop, CosmoGirl, etc. I always put up the posters and I loved making collages. 

What colour is your library card, if you have one?   I don’t have one.

Were there any businesses you were fond of that unfortunately closed down permanently, as a result of the pandemic?   Fortunately, no, I don’t think so.

Do you enjoy energy drinks? What kind(s)?   The white chocolate Starbucks Doubleshot energy drink.

Is there a particular brand of technology/electronics that you prefer?  I’m an Apple gal.

Have you ever had a work colleague that you didn't like/found annoying?   --

Is there a singer whose voice gives you goosebumps/chills?   There isn’t one who always does, but certain ones with certain songs, sure.

And is there a singer whose voice you simply can't stand?   Yes.

Does your place of employment have a uniform? What colour is it?    --

Have you ever found yourself attracted to a friend's sibling? How did that turn out?   Nope.

Do you know of any songs that were popular, in the year that you were born?   Yeah, Lovesong by The Cure is one of them.

If you wear make-up, do you pay attention to the shelf life or just use the product until it runs out?   I paid attention to how long I had it and swapped it out every few months or so. 

Have you ever allowed yourself to drift away from a friend and then regretted it? What happened?   Yes, that’s happened a few times. 

In terms of friendships, how important do you think it is, to share some common interests? In some cases, is it enough to simply like each other as people?   I mean, I want to have some things in common that we can bond over, talk about, and enjoy together.

Name an item in your kitchen that is your favourite colour.   I have several favorite colors, though.

If you could go back in time 10 years, what would you say to your past self? Take better care of yourself.

During the last week, has anything caused you to shake with laughter? No. I haven’t laughed that hard in a very long time. I don’t even remember to be honest.

Do you own any check patterned shirts?   Nope.

What about shirts with stripes on them?   I don’t think so.

Has anyone you know started a new job recently? Do they seem to enjoy it?   Yes, my brother had his first day at his new job today, actually. He said it went well and thinks he’s going to really like working there. He’s doing exactly what he wants to do and went to school for, so.

During the last week, have you met, or been introduced to anyone new? If so, what was your first impression of that person?   Nope.

The last time you went shopping, did you pick up any bargains?   Yeah, I did some online shopping earlier and there was a sale going on plus I had some discount codes.

Do you own any bags or purses in your favourite colour?   Yeah.

Have you seen a butterfly at any time recently?   Not that I can recall.

Describe your most comfortable pair of shoes.   I’m assuming my Adidas are comfortable, but as a paraplegic I can’t say for sure.

Are there any authors that are particularly dominant on your bookshelf? Willow Rose, Mary Stone, and AJ Rivers.

The last aroma you smelled - was it pleasant or unpleasant?   Pleasant; it was my Funfetti ice cream milkshake.

Are there any ornaments in the room you're in? What do they look like?   No.

Have you seen any photographs or videos that made you smile today?  Yeah, I’ve been enjoying my feed on here lately because all the autumn blogs I follow are active now and it gets me excited for that time of year. 

Do you know anyone named Aidan? Tell me a little about that person.   No. I just think of the character from Braceface cause I’ve been watching that lately lol.

Is anyone you know into vintage or retro styles of clothing?   Yeah.

Have you drank any fruit flavoured beverages today?   Nope.

What carbonated beverages do you have in your fridge at the moment?   Dr. Pepper, Pepsi, Diet Pepsi, Diet Root Beer, and bottled Mexican Coke.

Which item in your fridge are you most looking forward to consuming?  I’m thinking of making a bologna sandwich in a bit.

Has anyone you know got into a new relationship lately?   Possibly, but none I’m aware of.

Did you ever have a woodwork class in school? If so, did you ever make anything that you were proud of?   Yes. I remember attempting a small dollhouse.

If you menstruate, do you experience much PMS prior to it?   The PMS is the worst of it for me, it kicks my ass.

Is there any food in your house that has purple packaging?   *shrug* Possibly.

Do you know anyone else with the same first name as you? How many people?   Yeah, a couple. I knew a a few growing up as Stephanie seemed to be a very common name at the time.

What colour are the cushions on your living room couch?   Gray.

Approximately how much time have you spent online so far today? Not much, actually. Just a few hours total, which is a short amount of time for me for sure.

[famouslastwordsinmexico]

Suggested for You

     You think to yourself, I shouldn’t have looked that up online.

     You’re now staring at a bunch of banner ads that frame your email inbox. Each one is attempting to entice you to purchase succulents from flower shops near and far, small and conglomerated. The bright, animated images boast to you about how their store’s succulents will set you on the path to self-care while reconnecting you with nature. You know these ads are suggested to you and tailored specifically for you based on your search history, but, really, you just wanted to know how to spell “succulent”.

     To be fair, you probably shouldn’t be looking up non-work related curiosities while actually at work, but it’s been a slow morning. And yet, right as you excuse yourself for the trivial indiscretion, you’re called into your manager’s office. You lock your computer and worriedly head over to where they wait for you. Upon entering the room you see that there is someone else here for this impromptu meeting. Or, rather, someone has video-called in, their face on your manager’s monitor, which has been turned to meet yours.

    “A representative from HR will be joining us remotely,” your manager informs you. They then sit on the front edge of their desk, not behind it, in a manner you suspect all managers unironically believe comes off as cool and relaxed.

    “Huh. Is something wrong?” You cautiously take your seat, looking between them and the digital HR rep.

    “Oh, no, not at all. It’s just a small request.” They fold their hands in front of them. “That presentation you’re working on for Friday; I wanted to ask if you would give it over to Robert.”

    “Robert? Why? I thought it was supposed to be my project.” You worked hard on that presentation, and even harder on that project. It was something that was going to get you noticed by the higher-ups, a first step towards bigger things.

    “It is. Or, it was. It…” They stop themselves, physically appear to reset, and adopt a concerned face. “We’re simply worried it might be putting too much stress on you.” They lean in. “How are you feeling? Is everything alright with you?”

    “Uh… I’m doing fine?” You’re progressively less certain about what’s happening.

    “You sure? You can be honest with us.” They lean back. “We’ve heard you’ve been depressed.”

    The shock of this gives you mental whiplash.

    “‘Depressed’?” you echo. “Why would you think that?”

    “Well,” they begin, affecting the concerned yet distant tone in which only senior managers are capable of speaking, “it’s come to our attention that you’ve been sharing some pretty troubling sentiments.”

    “I only really talk about work-related stuff with people, honestly.”

    “No, I’m referring to the stuff you share online.”

    Dumbfounded, you blink.

    “You see,” your manager explains, “we recently employed a service that keeps us up to date with our employees.” They seem mildly pleased with themself over their technological ability. They speak to you but look at the HR rep on screen. “Of course, it’s only because we care for the well-being of everyone here in the office. And their software told us that you’ve been feeling quite down lately. They even highlighted some examples; is it not true that you recently posted about how nothing really matters?”

    You don’t recall using those words for anything. As you confusedly shrug, they pull out their phone and hand you it, showing the post in question.

    “Wait, what?” you ask. “Those are song lyrics. To a very popular song! I shared them for a ‘Throwback Thursday’.”

    “Hmm, no,” they say, taking their phone back. “I’m still seeing a cry for help. Like, what about this one: ‘All I want is to sleep and pizza and do nothing and sleep’? That sounds pretty depressed.”

    “That was one of those online things where people let auto-complete write a post for them.”

    “Sure, then how do you explain this post, where you describe how you wish the food truck across the street would ‘run you over’ if you ‘tipped extra’ for your burrito before you got back in from lunch?”

    “That’s a really old post I made when I was at my old job. The one I left for this job! I made that joke to vent. Other people liked it.” Specifically two people: a friend, and the food truck’s company (which you presume auto-likes any mention of their brand).

    Your manager sighs as they shake their head.

    “Come on, now, you don’t have to hide. You can be honest.” They lean in again. “This is sophisticated software; it wouldn’t lie. Its algorithm combed through your life and crunched the numbers. You are depressed. And, if you’re feeling depressed, we want to make sure the company isn’t placing any undue stress on you. Wouldn’t want you turning around and saying we’re unfair, or that we torment you with public speaking, huh?” No one laughs at their non-joke. The HR rep briefly writes something on their notepad. “Right. Well, when we ask you to hand the presentation off to Robert, it’s not just because we want it to turn out well, it’s because we want you to be well, too.”

    “You’re punishing me because of memes?” you ask, unsure of how much incredulity you can show without further risking your job.

    “Oh, no, of course not,” they reply, “we would never!” At this point your manager doesn’t even try to hide that they’re assuring the HR rep more than they’re talking to you. “This company does not punish depression. In fact,” they add, turning back to you, “why don’t you take the rest of the day off? We’ll mark it down as a sick day, a day for ‘personal care’, even.” They nod to themself, satisfied. “I’ll mark it down in your time sheet right now.”

    They pull out their phone and begin typing, finished with this meeting. You want to tell them not to do that, since you only have a limited number of sick days, but feel there’d be no use arguing. You stand up, at a loss for words. As you slowly turn to leave you find the HR rep is pointing towards the printer in the room. It prints off something you deduce they sent remotely. It appears to be a pamphlet. The person in the monitor motions for you to pick it up, their face set in the textbook definition of a polite smile. The pamphlet is titled Dealing with Depression.

    Your smartwatch pings as you grab the pamphlet and the screen displays an ad for succulents. You turn the watch off.

    You don’t feel like going home right away. You instead head to a nearby cafe and order the kind of sugary latte you know isn’t worth the high price and higher calorie count, but you could use the comfort. There are no real baristas here, only machines that charge you extra to print a picture of yourself onto the latte foam. You pay the extra amount. You then sign on to the free wifi, checking off the terms and conditions you didn’t read, and take a picture of your cup to share online. Not five minutes of browsing later you get a call from your mom. You plug in your headset and answer.

    “Are you alright?” she asks.

    “Yeah, how do you mean?” You wonder why everyone’s asking you that today.

    “Because you’re not at work!” You realize now that the picture you just posted is location-tagged. “And I know what kind of drinks you like when you’re feeling sad; I’m your mother, after all.” You should’ve never accepted her friend request.

    “No, it’s not that, it’s just… I’m alright. Working from home today, but I figured I’d grab a coffee. That’s all, I promise.”

    You don’t think she believes you but her silence tells you she won’t push if you don’t want to tell her the truth. You instead get a notification on your phone that your mom has sent you a “poke”, a feature that only moms still remember exists. She breaks the silence first.

    “Well, okay then,” she offers, “if you say so. Anyways, there was something else I wanted to ask you about.” Her tone gets conspiratorial for her next question. “Are you and Jamie dating?”

    “What?!” You nearly choke on your latte. “No! Why do you think that?”

    “Your aunts told me,” she answers plainly. “And, apparently, some of their friends told them first. They’re still not used to, you know, those kinds of relationships.” As progressive as your mom can be, her age and upbringing still show from time to time.

    “I don’t even know my aunts’ friends, why would they think I’m dating Jamie?”

    “They saw your picture online.”

    You rub your eye, annoyed.

    “What picture, mom?”

    “Well,” she starts, and if phones still had cords you could imagine your mom twirling hers now, wrapping her finger as she shares the gossip, “you see, one of your aunts’ friends was online and saw you as a suggested friend.” You never understood what algorithms determined those suggestions. “She was curious, so she went in and browsed your page. There it was, a photo of the two of you, looking pretty close and cozy.”

    You check your account on your phone. There’s no way someone randomly looking you up online could’ve seen that photo. Although, how many times did the site tell you they were updating their privacy policy and you opted to skip the details of what that meant?

    “Mom, didn’t you see that picture yourself before? That was just Jamie and me playing around. You know we’re just friends.”

    “Yes, I thought it was nothing. But, those friends of your aunts talk a lot, and they do seem very convinced. I looked at the picture again and it got me thinking.” Her tone gets conspiratorial again. “Are you dating Jamie? I’d have nothing against it. Your father, though…” You block the headset mic to hide your exasperated sigh, and then interrupt before she can finish the thought.

    “We’re not close, mom, not like that. My aunts and their friends are making up stories.” You wonder how scrutinized any future pictures you post will be. Maybe you should restrict how much of your profile your mom can access. You’ll have to figure out the new privacy settings first.

    “Yes, fine, you’re right. I’m simply saying they sounded convinced, is all.” You can almost picture her busying herself with some chores at home to prove that she’s over it. And yet she adds, “I will say, though, that if you were with Jamie, I’d be very supportive. Jamie’s lovely, and would be lucky to have you.”

    You hide another exasperated sigh and change the topic. When she’s had her fill of catching up, your mom says goodbye and you hang up.

    You sit in the cafe, your mouth contorted in contemplation save for when you sip from your cup. You thought you were good at keeping your personal and online lives separate, but thanks to dubious algorithms and out-of-touch inquirers, your agency at work has been diminished and your sexuality is being questioned by people who’d be less than understanding. Even if you restrict who gets access to your information, what little slips through the cracks is still interpreted without context. Is that what the internet is now? For people to be data-mined so other people can make assumptions? Who wanted it that way?

    Your phone sets off with another notification, informing you that a local indoor plant store has followed you online. They specialize in succulents.

    You almost laugh out loud at the insanity of it. Of course; this hunt for data is mostly the hunt for ad revenue. While it’s a marvel how fervently someone on the other side of the screen wants to believe they understand you, advertisers are the ones who set the system up. And even they can’t seem to get it right!

    The fever of frustration breaks, giving way to a fever of defiance. Why leave room to be misinterpreted? You decide to live your online life unabashedly and unafraid to share all. Will someone be tracking your moves? You don’t care, but if they are you hope they can keep up.

    You grab your phone and browse with fury and determination. You share news articles and let your political leanings lay bare as you never had before. You hit “publish” on every dumb joke and inane thought you had previously hid shamefully as drafts. You post all of the pictures in your phone, and when you’re done with those you take a couple more. You follow musicians, actors, and influencers alike, so that no one would have to guess what your tastes are. You join in as many forum conversations as you can, and only stop when a person you’re arguing with, who has an anime-girl profile picture, threatens to dox you. You log off.

    When you finally get home you’re bleary eyed from unblinking browsing and shaky from the excess of caffeine. You want nothing more than to decompress. As you turn on your TV to search for something to stream and zone out to, you call out to your virtual assistant device and say, “Play something soothing.”

    Though your command was vague, as the speakers turn on they start playing exactly what you only now realize you had in mind. You love this band, even if you hadn’t thought of them in a while. Your phone goes off with a notification that this band has a concert coming up soon. As if on instinct triggered by serendipity, you click the notification to buy tickets.

    While browsing various streaming services on your TV you come across several documentaries that you’ve heard confirm a lot of opinions you’ve had on the state of things. While you’d love to be proven correct, you’re more in the mood for something light. You wonder if they have this one funny movie that’s a reboot of a movie that’s based on a book. Before you can remember the title you see it listed. You hit play.

    Ultimately, modern movie watching entails being on your phone, so you scroll through whatever new content was uploaded on your commute home. While you idly browse, you find another tailored ad, this time for a t-shirt boldly claiming that people born the same month as you are kind yet shouldn’t be messed with, each line in a different garish font.

    “Ha,” you laugh to yourself, “what a stupid ad.” Even after all the data you gave them, advertisers are no better than your manager or your aunts, thinking they know you and what’s best for you.

    Suddenly the page you’re on refreshes. What loads first is the ad, this time for a different shirt that’s admittedly more your style. The tagline reads, “Your life, your look.” Unsettled by the coincidence and feeling like you’ve found yourself in a conversation with your phone you didn’t know you were having, you try to click on a different link. More content loads just at that moment, though, shifting the layout of the page and leading you to click on the ad instead. Surprised, you fumble with your phone to close what’s popped up, but as your panicked fingers slip your phone decides you mean to go through with the order. You adjust your hold on your phone but somehow manage to set off a biometric scan that confirms the purchase.

    As if queued by your consumerist momentum, an ad interrupts the movie you’re watching (since when did this streaming service have ads?). The volume seems to increase on its own as the TV blares at you.

    “You don’t necessarily feel you age, so why look your age? Our skin cream can miraculously take 5 years off your face, letting your inner youth shine through.” The ad shows a model before and after using the cream. It makes a specific point of telling you the model’s age, which is your age.

    You search frantically for the remote to turn the volume down. No matter what angle you point the remote at it, the TV refuses to recognize your button pushing. You get up and simply turn off the TV manually. This gives your virtual assistant device space to chime in with a separate ad.

    “Tired of the long commute to your workplace? Find more free time while moving into one of the fastest growing neighbourhoods that’s perfect for you.” The voice emanating from your speakers describes listings in a building that you recognize is half a block away from your office. You run to unplug the device.

    One by one more “smart” appliances in your home, devices that you now question their need for internet connectivity, begin to play or display ads that were made to appeal to you exactly.

    “Our energy efficient windows fit your green lifestyle!” your thermostat boasts, citing a climate change article you just read.

    “Let us deliver the groceries you need for the recipes you love!” your fridge demands, listing off your actual favourite recipes.

    “Bzzt!” vibrates your electric toothbrush, calling you to look at its charger’s digital screen and see an ad for a dental clinic, featuring a close up of a mouth you’re weirdly certain is actually yours.

    As your apartment comes alive with the sounds of aggressive advertising, you’re terrified. You step out onto the balcony. You think to yourself, and only to yourself, that you need to get away.

    A delivery drone floats up from under your balcony and stops right at your eye level. It’s been outfitted with a display monitor. It plays a video.

    “Looking for a vacation?” it asks. “Why not fly out to Pasadena, California? You can visit the Cactus & Succulent Society of America’s annual show and sale!”

[sabreean]

One word for you...

Where I have not gone plastic-free:

Bread box: There are no plastic-free, airtight bread boxes that I’ve been able to find and I *must have* airtight. I make my own bread in a bread machine just because I like to, and the first few loaves I made here on the humid island grew mold within three days because my old bread box was not airtight. Bread bags are more eco-friendly but aren’t airtight, and will hold the humidity. I could find no silicon boxes and also could not find silicone containers/bags that I could be sure would be big enough to hold a loaf of bread and still close completely. I’m considering a giant silicone bag I found online, for marinating meat, so if I get that I can see if a loaf will fit inside. But I haven’t pulled the trigger on that yet, buying something just to marinate meat doesn’t fall neatly into the “I really need it now” category. So I purchased a BPA-free plastic, airtight box and it seems to be working very well. It’s so airtight that I was able to store bananas in it as well and there has been no sign of fruit flies.

Suncare: I spent two days working on the porch. I was under a roof in shade the entire time but I sunburn if I stand next to a toaster, so at the end of the second day I looked like Roy Neary in “Close Encounters of the Third Kind”. As in the right half of my face was bright red. I wasn’t wearing sunscreen because it breaks me out. All of it. Every single sunscreen ever. They all break out my face, neck and chest within 20 minutes of application. So I did some research and learned about mineral sunscreens versus chemical sunscreens and after reading a lot of recommendations and reviews, I ordered Alba Botanica Sensitive Mineral Sunscreen. Yes the tube is plastic, but there’s probably no avoiding that. The sport cream is 45 SPF, waterproof for up to 80 minutes, vegan, free of all the chemicals that turn my face into a Marscape, biodegradable and - get this - reef safe. That’s a “gee how nice” for most people but now that I’m swimming around coral reefs, shit got real. They also make a spray-on but it’s not legal to ship aerosol cans to Hawaii, something about them exploding under pressure blah-bibby-blah. Pretty bummed about that. For those wondering, until now I’ve worn a sun visor whenever I’m outdoors but it didn’t occur to me to wear it on a covered porch. I’m sure it didn’t occur to Roy on a dark deserted highway in the middle of an Indiana night, either. LATER UPDATE: Native makes a mineral sunscreen and I thought it wasn't water resistant, but it turns out that it is, although I should not have had to dig so deep into their website to find this out. Better than getting anal probed, all things considered. The Alba sunscreen is very thick and hard to squeeze out of the tube, and you can feel it on your skin at first but you forget pretty quickly. It is completely unscented. You have to make sure to rub it in well if you don’t want to look a little weird. It showers off clean and easy and after a few days with it, not a single blemish! Our pharmacy sells some water resistant mineral sunscreens. I didn’t price them the last time I was there to compare with online ordering and they are probably reef-safe because as of January 1 of this year, suncreeens containing oxybenzone and octinoxate are banned in Hawaii to protect the reefs. But my next purchase will be Little Hands because it is made right here in Hawaii. I have been a big believer in ‘buy local’ for many years and they are plastic-free.

Groceries: Groceries haven’t changed. I’ve been using cloth shopping and produce bags for many years, they just bloody well work better. I do buy some foods in plastic, often there just isn’t any alternative. This was true even on the mainland. The main change is that now I walk to the store more often than not. I was able to walk to almost everything I needed when I lived in Austin’s SoCo in the early aughts and I loved it, I am so so happy to be able to do that again. Knowing I’m just a pleasant stroll away also means that I only buy what I need in the immediate future. There are a few exceptions for items that sell out very soon after the weekly supply barge comes, and don’t always get restocked even then. I drive when I have to buy heavy or awkward to carry things, like a case of soda. I’ve found conflicts with grocery choices because of a weird contradiction: non-hippie products in cardboard/paper packaging versus hippie products in plastic. I first noticed this when I went to buy sugar the other day - do I get the organic non bleached sugar in the plastic bag, or the nonorganic bleached sugar in the plastic bag? It wasn’t much of a conflict in any real world sense, just something that grabbed my attention. (I went with the plastic by the way, for the organic foodstuff that was going to go into my body).

Probably the clothesline, I have no idea what the hell that thing is made of, most likely nylon. We don’t use it for everything because it’s too humid here to dry everything in a reasonable amount of time. But we use it for some things - especially towels and swim wear - and I’m glad that we have it and it saves money on electricity. Our electricity generation here on the island is likely solar but still, no need to be greedy about it. Lots of people here have clotheslines, they are a common sight I am glad to see.

Bandages: I use Wellys. Patch bamboo bandages sound great, but I am clumsy AF and so I need bandages that are going to stay on through wet and dry and everything else. Wellys are flexible fabric, latex-free bandages made in the USA, in reusable tins that you can buy refills for if you don’t want a new tin, and that create a seal around all four edges. They are a certified B Corp so even with a bit of plastic, the company is still in line with my ethics.

Makeup: I use mostly mineral makeup, because it lasts longer (no organic ingredients to breed bacteria) and many mineral brands offer smaller quantities that are more sensible for people who don’t wear it everyday, or at least don’t wear the same colors every day. On the mainland I went weeks without wearing makeup and here I’ll probably go for months, it’s just such a casual place. I might wear some when we go across to Maui for a long weekend. But there are a lot of all natural and plastic-free makeup options out there these days, I am glad to see. If I need to replace anything I will shop with them but it’s just stupid and wasteful to toss everything out and buy new. One thing I won’t compromise on is mascara, I use Thrive because it really does what it claims, and it is still a company that aligns with my ethics. Many zero-waste brands sell cake mascara and that’s a complete nope for me. I tried cake mascara in high school, when I was going through my Audrey Hepburn/Sophia Loren makeup phase and I really didn’t like it. I also tried cake eyeliner and must confess that this elder goth never ever got the hang of liquid eyeliner, Icarus winged better than I can. I gave up a long time ago, pencil me in baby. Also, I wear lipstick, the paint-on stuff that stays on through food, drink, sex and a nuclear blast. IMO, lip balms are a waste of money and do not count as ‘makeup’, unless you’re only intention is to prevent chapped lips and with a small amount of color that lasts few minutes at a time.

Hair brush: I need a new hair brush that is designed for my long fine mane because my hair is getting a lot of punishment here, between wind and swimming and so more frequent washing and lots of pulling and tugging into braids. I bounced back and forth between Ibiza (boar bristles, wood handle) and Mason Pearson (boar bristles, plastic handle), for about half an hour. I finally decided to bite the big one and invest in the Mason Pearson. It is universally reputed as the best hair brush to be had on planet Earth. The was company founded in London by a Yorkshireman named Mason Pearson (bet you didn’t see that coming) in 1885. The boar bristles are either shed bristles collected from the wild in India and China or sourced from the meat industry as they are a by-product of processing farmed boar; you may ask so I will answer and yes, I do eat boar. Mason Pearson is still owned and run by the Pearson family and the Pearson women have always played integral roles in the company. Indeed Mary Pearson was the CEO for the 20 years following the death of her husband, founder Mason, and one of their daughters ran the top floor of the factory on Old Ford Road in London for 50 years. You can purchase a brush with a handcrafted made-to-order wood handle but while I am willing to make the investment in a Mason Pearson brush, I just can’t bring myself to be so self-indulgent as to even send a price inquiry for the wood model. This is where my best friend reminds me of the lengths I went to and the price I paid to obtain a bottle of the finest Irish whiskey in the world to demonstrate that yes, I can be that self-indulgent without much convincing. I just can’t bring myself to do it with a hair brush. I purchased from Pasteur Pharmacy in NYC because they made their bones, if you will, in their early years in the 60s by catering to humans with dogs.

Bed blanket: I just couldn’t bring myself to buy a bamboo blanket/bedspread that costs in the $275 neighborhood when the dogs will be spending at least as much time on it as we will spend under it. So we went with half cotton/half bamboo for a much more reasonable price. The temps here are warm by the thermometer but the air is heavy with humidity (100% yesterday and that doesn’t necessarily mean rain), so when the fans blow it around it can be pretty damn chilly. And the dogs steal the covers.

Clothing: if I need new clothing I will consider bamboo but it’s damned expensive. I was shopping for a second bathing suit recently because I’m at the beach often enough that I need a suit to wear while the other one is drying or waiting to be laundered free of all the salt and sand that didn’t wind up in my ass or under my tits. I always thought that sand-in-uncomfortable-places was a joke, I was very wrong. I spent two hours searching for bamboo or other plant-based sustainable fabric or recycled fabric and found nothing under a hundred bucks. Nothing. Not even a thong bikini (I already have sand up my ass, I don’t need material there as well). I’m not lounging instagrammatically on Waikiki, I’m swimming in 5+ foot surf every weekend at least, so I am not willing to pay that much for a suit intended for plenty of use and punishment. I got a bikini because it will be easier to discreetly rinse most of the sand away before going back up the beach, if you know what I mean and I think you do.

[siremasterlawrence]

Fan project requested and co-written by pleasentreviewbystarfish

Ryan Alexander Taylor is a well-known, and coveted CEO of a popular online services company. The company has been doing very well, and received a lot of interest from investors. Ryan has been looking to further grow the company by buying a new startup specialized in virtual reality. Ryan travels to meet the management of the company to discuss a deal. Ryan’s car arrives a half hour earlier than scheduled - very precise, good, I like someone who knows how to conduct themselves appropriately, but soon, real soon, he will learn to appreciate my way.

Ryan exits his car observing the location in disgust – the building appears to look like a run-down office building which has not really been maintained. The area appears secluded, and somewhat vandalized. There are lots of graffiti on walls and there are no shops in the area. He says “What a dumpster area this is, I cannot even believe that I am here, this is no place to do business dealings. I am not impressed at all by this disaster area, and yet here I am, somewhat intrigued.” He enters the building and is welcome by a secretary, who brings him to the visitor room to wait while her boss arrives. She brings him a drink while he waits before leaving. Ryan drank the drink, not suspecting that the drink was spiked.

The door suddenly locks and the light goes off. Ryan is in the room alone, in the dark, with only his face being lit up with light. Suddenly a voice can be heard coming from the speakers:“Welcome Mr. Taylor! We are so pleased to have you with us today! It is a great honor for us to have you, and we are very excited at the range of opportunities for us to work with you, or should I say… to work on you”.

Another voice – this time somewhat familiar – says:“Oh, don’t worry, we will take this nice and slow, so that we can enjoy every minute of this. We also do want to make sure you get everything that we will be cramming down your brain.”

Before Ryan can figure out what happens, the light comes back on but some static noise can be heard, causing a buzzing sensation within Ryan. The room is fading away before Ryan’s eyes leaving only a white appearance boxing him in. Ryan begins to shout for help, trying to cover his ears but the buzzing goes on.

After a while the buzzing stops. Before Ryan can sigh in relief, a voice can be heard:“Before you leave us, I would really like you to meet the man who has paid a huge sum of money to acquire you as his new slave. I believe you have already met – Jake Templeton!”

Ryan is confused. “Jake Templeton? Wait, he is the employee that I fired last year for stealing company property and for trying to sell company information to our competitors? What do you think you are doing?”

“Hello Mr. Taylor, or should I say Ryan since you are no longer my boss. I am flattered that a busy man, like you, remembers my name, but you will soon learn to appreciate me for who I am! Can you blame me for trying to make some money? I came up with a concept of immersive virtual experience 3 years ago, and you canned it because the prototype development would cost $500,000, and you said it was not ‘cost-effective’! So yeah, I tried to sell my research to competitors, and you fired me! Now I will show you what my concept, properly funded, can do. Yes, I found someone willing to take a risk and invest the money to build it and found some nice practical applications to it!”

Some colors start to flash in the room and a buzzing sound can be heard.“Now I want you to listen to my voice.... feel yourself going deeper... listen to my voice... only I can make you feel this good... you like listening to my voice... imagine yourself on stairs...I want you to walk slowly down those stairs...as you take each step, you will get more relaxed and obey my voice...you want to obey my voice because it makes you feel so good...that’s it, continue going down the stairs...feel your body floating...there is no pain, only pleasure...relaxing...pleasure...my voice brings you that....relaxing...pleasure...

I would not worry about my words at the moment, focus on the sound of fire buzzing through the room, how it is in tune with the colors in the room. Notice the colorful change of sequences on all four walls. Your eyes are getting more and more tired, the drink you took when you came in took care of that. Just relax, your eyes can’t focus on anything else except the sound of my voice, your memories slowly draining away and disappearing, and the world before you is brand new”.

The lights continue flashing and the buzzing continues for another hour or so.A young man, in his late twenties, watches the events from the safety of his private laboratory as a camera was filming everything happening in the room.“Time to see the efforts of my fruit and labor!” He says flipping a switch on his console that makes a door suddenly appear in the solid white room where Ryan is. The door slides up to the ceiling as he walks into the room, in awe of his own genius.

“Now, I hate to toot my own horn, but ta-da! And bravo!” He claps at himself as he stands face to face with the former business titan. Ryan is standing motionless.The young man cups his chin turning side to inspect him. The drool is very apparent dripping all over his face. The young man says “Pathetic! Look at you now – once a Harvard Business graduate, now covered in your own drool.”

He lets go of Ryan’s face, pondering what else this man has accomplished in life. Ivy League education, successful business ventures, award-winning and well regarded in the business world, but now nothing but a statue. A toy, to be used. Coming back to his sense, he begins smacking the man in the face knowing there is no longer any response going to come. Ryan just stands still returning back to the position after his feet lose balance.

He proceeds to grope Ryan’s private parts and give him a spanking, but Ryan still stays motionless. He inserts his hand within Ryan’s shirt and begins to move his hand, brushing his hand across Ryan’s torso to get a good feeling and smiles as he is satisfied with touching Ryan.

The young man removes his hand as he hears someone approaching, then laughs in a mocking tone at the sight of a shadowy figure descending down the stair case. The young man says “It’s about time you arrive to pay and pick up the main man of your dreams.”

Jake appears and says “Well, despite everything that happened and me losing my job because of him, I do find he looks dreamy, so yeah, he is the man of my dreams”.The young guy says “Well, I am usually more into muscular and bodybuilders, but I do find him very handsome. I like the boyish looks. I was not expecting much but he is actually in good shape. An excellent choice for a slave. I would certainly do him. Would you mind sharing him with me?”

Jake laughs and agrees “Sure, you were very helpful so I can lend him to you for an afternoon. What do you want to do?”The young man says “well, the more I look at him, the more I find him hot… Would love fucking his straight ass.”Jake responds “Don’t we all” and proceeds to kiss Ryan passionately while Ryan still staying immobile.

Jake then hands the young man a white envelope with a generous payment. The young man says asks “so what will you do with him now?”

Jake responds “Ah, I have waited a long time for this moment! He will be my obedient slave and serve me, cook for me, clean my house, and when he is not serving me, maybe he can be my footstool or a nice statue in my bedroom. Let’s see? Basically, anything that is humiliating to a straight guy, so of course he is going to get fucked a lot.”

The young man then says “Sweet. Ok, just a reminder. This is still an experimental device and there are lots that we have not tested out yet. You should use the brainwave device on Mr. Taylor maybe once every 24 hours to ensure that he does not wake up or even begin to get back some memories. It is unlikely but you just never know.”

Jake chuckles, “Could be fun if he does wake up actually, realizing how much he has been used, and then bringing him down again just as he tries to escape.”The young man responds “Yeah but be careful” before walking away.

Jake proceeds to grab Ryan by the tie and places Ryan on a cart leaving him like a statue standing in normal position. He is then carted out to the car, Jake rummages through his pockets looking for his keys, and he opens his car trunk. He plops Ryan into it, locking Ryan in the car boot as he goes to the driver’s seat and begin driving off elsewhere.

“Enjoy the tunes, Mr. Taylor, or whoever is left inside that mushed up head of yours.” He taunts through the speakers one last time.He turns the dial on the radio activating the car trunk’s brainwashing station. The back of the trunk has speakers out blasting white noise, and Ryan is motionless the last of his iron will is gone. The noise produced is a quickly changing binaural sound which breaks Ryan’s mind and leaves it blank.

Once they arrived at the destination, Jake opens the car trunk and brings Ryan inside.Unaware of his location or even who he used to be, Ryan’s body lay on the wall, asleep. Jake presses a button on the oddly small remote the man gave him as he left the facility. The remote lights up, blaring a multitude of colors like a kaleidoscope of colors. He points it at Ryan’s head. A red beam is aimed directly at his head, the light then turns green, and a voice can be heard.

“Initiating, initiating, initiating, ... processing.” “Activation code please.” Jake then realizes that the voice is actually Ryan’s voice. Jake smiles, licking his lips. He answers “Ryan Taylor Is A Bot”, awaiting the acceptance, Ryan says “Accepted” and then Ryan’s eyes pop open.

“I am Ryan Taylor the Bot, human-cyborg slave and I am here to serve you. What is your name?”Jake laughs. “I’m Jake Templeton, but you can call me Jake.”Ryan’s expression never changed as he replied in a dull, empty tone: “Yes Master Jake, I am ready to serve you. Please put me through my paces,” responds Ryan.

“Who am I?” asks Jake“My Master,” replies Ryan.”And what are you?” asks Jake”I am your slave, Master,” came as a reply.“Yes, you are my slave. You exist to serve and obey me. I own you. Your mind and body are my property. You have no thoughts because you are a slave. Slaves are mindless. Slaves just obey. You are my slave. You obey me. You must obey your Master. Obeying and pleasing your Master is your only purpose. You love your Master. I am your Master and I own you.”

“Yes, Master Jake, I understand” came as a reply.“Tell me the truth of your purpose, slave,” he now ordered.Ryan responds “I live to obey and serve you, Master,” he began. “I am your sex-slave. My body belongs to you. I exist to pleasure you. Your pleasure is my only desire, my Master.”“You just can’t make this stuff up even if you tried… Very good, my slave, now kneel and lick my feet, slave.”

While Ryan is licking his feet, Jake was thinking what to do next. What should Ryan wear? Maybe continue wearing a suit as my butler? Or maybe wear nothing but a tight speedo? Or a jockstrap? Maybe make Ryan get some tattoos? That could work. Like the word ‘bot’ on his chest? Or ‘maybe ‘slave’? No, that would not look nice on Ryan. Maybe a tattoo on his arm instead? Like a tribal tattoo? Or Chinese characters on his arm, like "bad boy" in Chinese?

Suddenly Ryan’s phone starts to ring and Jake takes it from Ryan’s pocket.“Well, well, looks like your girlfriend is trying to phone you. She is no longer of concern to you. I will send her a text message later telling her you are breaking up with her and are no longer interested in her. Now, on the left of this room there is a table with three pre prepared paperwork. Sign each giving me everything you have, and then I will finish the process.”

“Yes, Master Jake, I understand” came as a reply.“From now on, Ryan, you will seek to please me at all times and exist only for me. You are a robot who will live like any pet would. My robot human dog hybrid.” Jake smiles as the drool is descending from Ryan’s mouth.Jake adds “Let’s go to my room now where you will strip for me and then I will fuck you”.

The end.

[sakura-blossom28]

Modern Day Romance

Chapter 5

The date continues! Thinking about doing a small time jump to get their relationship moving! Let me know what you think! Don’t own Naruto 

Ch 1 / Ch 2 / Ch 3 / Ch 4 / 

The botanical garden was more magical than Sakura could have ever imagined.  Flowers bloomed all over and so many scents mixed in the space, it was a bit overpowering, but they got used to it as they moved through.  Everything was sculpted into different abstract shapes.  Sakura had never seen so many flowers at once.  They walked around in silence for a bit getting lost in observing the flowers.  

Soon they found a different type of arrangement of cacti off to the side.  Gaara seemed to have noticed them and headed right over to them but still made sure that Sakura was with him.  His eyes scanned all the different potted plants in front of them, there actually was excitement in his eyes.  Sakura thought he looked like a kid in a candy shop.  She remembered that Gaara had some cacti in one of his pictures on the dating app.  

“You really like them right?” Sakura finally asked.  Gaara slowly turned his eyes towards her and she smiled gently.  He started to blush a bit and Sakura found that so cute.  

“Sorry, yeah, I guess you could say I’m obsessed with them.  I got into gardening and desert plants when I was in school,” Gaara said as he put his hands in his pockets, “It was part of my rehabilitation while I was in high school.” 

He turned back towards the plants, but Sakura knew he was waiting to see her reaction.  She could ask a million questions but decided against it.  It would be so rude of Sakura to question his past when this was the first day, and she felt that she would come off as judgemental towards him and that’s the last thing she felt.  But she risked asking one question.  

“Are you healthy now since then?” she asked while turning to look at the plants like Gaara.  He took a few minutes to answer.

“I had a messed up past, but with the help of that school and my siblings, I can say that I am not the same person I was back then and have no desire to be how I was.  So yes, for years I’ve been healthy and now I help people who were like me,” Gaara said with clear pride in his voice.  Sakura slid closer to him so that their arms were touching.  

“You being healthy is all that matters,” she said looking up into his eyes, “So mister cactus expert, tell me about that one.” Sakura pointed at a small potted cactus that had a small orange flower on top of it, but the flower hadn’t bloomed yet.  Gaara followed her finger to see which cactus she wanted to know about.  He chuckled when he looked at it.

“That’s a cactus and that’s its stomata.  It doesn’t bloom during the day to conserve water.  Normally plants open their flowers during the day for the process of photosynthesis, but they open during the night to conserve water.”

“Oh, well that’s less exciting than I thought,” Sakura half grumbled to herself, “Tell me more!” 

Gaara seemed taken aback by her general interest in the plants around them.  The rest of the time Gaara led them around and talked about all the pants that he knew.  He was so invested in what he was talking about that he didn’t notice when Sakura slipped her arm through his and they walked around the rest of the gardens just like that.  Sakura was very much enjoying hearing Gaara talk about what he was clearly passionate about.  For thinking they would be awkward the majority of the date, all their stress melted off of them.  

Gaara was in the middle of discussing a particularly rare desert flower to Sakura when his phone started ringing.  Sighing Gaara went to pull his cellphone out.  Sakura wanting to give him some privacy, she slipped out his arm, but before she could get too far he reached out his hand to take hers to keep her close.  He had turned away to answer the call, but Sakura could see that the back of his neck was bright pink.  She laughed to herself about this but turned in the opposite direction to give him a little bit of privacy.  He finally hung up the phone and gave a light squeeze to her hand to tell her that he was done.  

“I guess we lost track of time,” he said and showed Sakura the time of 5:15 pm on his phone.  They had been walking and talking for about three hours and it felt like nothing to either of them.

“This may seem weird and feel free to say no, but my sister is a designer and has a fashion show tonight, and she just called to remind me.  Would you be interested to go?  I’m not sure if you’re busy or not-” but Sakura stopped him by squeezing his hand and laughed when she noticed that he was rubbing the back of his head similarly as how she did herself when she was embarrassed.  

“Gaara I’d love to go with you.  I don’t want this date to end yet.”  The look of relief in his eyes was so visible.  It was nice to see how Sakura wasn’t the only one who was enjoying her time and that he was clearly into her too.  

X

Gaara had failed to mention exactly who his sister was.  When he offered to drive them so Sakura could drop off her car at home, he filled her in on a few more facts about his older siblings and what they do for a living.  Temari being the center of attention tonight it did not take her long to figure out that the brand that his sister designed for is Tee.  An extremely high-end fashion line that was the closest thing to couture that was available to the common people.  Ino and Sakura had always admired Tee’s designs and wished they had a reason to wear these beautiful clothes.  

“You know I’m freaking out on the inside right?”

“I think you’ll be fine.”

Now that Ino had moved away to the city she had every reason to wear these clothes.  Sakura always browsed online and had the fashion magazine Shukaku sent to her home, she loved these clothes so much.  (Gaara made no comment that this particular magazine was almost run by him.)  

Gaara pulled his sleek black car (a company car) up to the valet of the abandoned building.  He explained that Temari got a kick of making the other couture designers squirm and picked the creepiest places to showcase a new line of clothes.  Gaara nodded to the valet who seemed to recognize him as they made their way inside.  He reassured Sakura that they were perfectly dressed in their casual clothes, “No one is going to be looking at us anyway.”

The inside of the building was completely redone in order to house this fashion show.  It looked exactly as Sakura had seen on TV;  a long white catwalk that went into the audience, large black curtains on the sides to hide the upcoming models.  On each curtain were large TV’s showing Temari’s previous works.  These were photos from different photo-shoots that Sakura could remember seeing online and in her fashion magazines.  As Gaara lead her to their seats on the side, a familiar face popped up on the screen.  

There Gaara was twenty feet up in the air posing in Temari’s clothes.  It was a fitted three-piece suit in a blood-red color that matched perfectly with his hair, making his teal eyes pop.  Sakura’s breath caught in her throat at the sight of him.  She had never seen this photo anywhere before and she would remember.  The look in his eyes was mesmerizing, they were hard but drew you in any way that you couldn’t look away.  Gaara finally looked up because Sakura had become so quiet. 

“Oh, she didn’t! I specifically told her never to use these pictures,” Gaara grumbled mostly to himself as he pulled out of his phone, probably to tell off his sister.  Sakura noticed that he was scowling and blushing at the same time.  

“I didn’t know you modeled Gaara,” Sakura said as she tried to focus on a spot on the floor and not keep drooling over the screen.

“Technically I’m not, but my siblings love to drag me into their business.  Temari knows she can push me around and I won’t crack like the models do when she yells at them for making her clothes look bad.  And my brother hates working with the models too.”

“You’re very good at it.  But I do prefer you as you are now,” Sakura said not being able to look at him.  Gaara seemed to relax next to her and Sakura peeked a glance at him.  There was a gentle smile on his face as he was avoiding her gaze as well.  They sat there like two blushing fools as the room around them started filling up.  Sakura finally relaxed enough that she got comfortable in her seat to sit closer to Gaara.  

X

As she took in the room she failed to notice a man in his 30’s sit next to her.  He was not much to look at, but his ego oozed out of him.  Checking Sakura out, he was about to strike up a conversation with the young woman, but a long toned arm wrapped around her shoulders.  When Sakura leaned into Gaara’s touch she did not notice the battle that was going above her head.  Gaara stared daggers into the man’s eyes.  The man went pale and decided to change his seat before the show started.  He did not want to cross a man with eyes like that.

Ch 6 

[edourado]

Together, ch iv

Here’s chapter four, because I need something light and fluffy, to help me stomach the world. I’m sad, I’m angry, sick to my stomach, I am legit losing faith in humanity, I burst out in tears at any given moment. And I don’t want to lose my mind, so here’s me coping. 

This is nothing, its a silly piece of fluffy fanfiction, but it’s for George Floyd, for Ahmaud Arbery, for João Pedro, a 14 year old black boy from Rio who was shot by police while playing inside his home, for every black individual who died because they were black, for their families, for the protesters. This is nothing, nothing, nothing, but it has a little of my heart in it, so it’s for them. 

I hope it makes you smile.

------- 

It wasn’t long until Frank got cabin fever. 

Staying inside all day was not at all like him. How long had he been spending most of his days outside, moving, doing something, or just looking at the people walking around the street?

To Karen’s amusement - and delight - he cleaned the entire apartment, top to bottom, and was even able to remove the touch stains on the light switches. He did something to the fridge, and by the time he was done, the shelves and the door were gleaming as if had just arrived from the store, brand new. 

But the apartment was not big enough to keep him entertained for long, so he started ordering things online to improve on little stuff, like the shelves she needed for her shoes, since she had needed to make room for his, or these fancy magnets to install on bottom of  the doors, so they would stop banging shut whenever it was a little windy. He spent a whole afternoon on the phone with David Lieberman, deciding on the best cameras to install around the place.

Reading only took him so far. He went through four books before he found it hard to keep still, and it was even worse with Netflix. 

Then, one day, the masks they bought from the neighbor from two floors down were ready, and she texted to let them know she had left them at their door. 

“I thought they’d be much worse”, Karen said, after they wired the neighbor the money and collected the neatly packed masks. “These are good, look!”

She put one on and they were, indeed, much better than they both had expected. Not fancy or in any way tech advanced, but a simple cloth mask that covered mouth and nose without leaving gaps. All of them black. 

“I think I’ll order more”, Karen mused, while Frank put one on. As far as masks go, this was not the worst he had ever worn, not by a long shot. 

That night, Frank lied awake in bed, his finger twitching, unable to sleep. They had cooked a big dinner together, looking for something to do to spend the time and use the things they had on the pantry, trying to avoid spoiling food. 

Karen had also stayed awake for longer than usual, but now she breathed slowly, sleeping by his side, and Frank had given up keeping his eyes closed, and now stared at the ceiling. 

After what seemed like forever, he looked at the window and noticed that the sky was starting to become a tad lighter. When he checked his phone, it told him it was 4:34 in the morning. With a glance at Karen, he got up, careful not to wake her. 

After silently dressing, Frank picked up his phone from the bedside table and carried his shoes to the living room, stopping to pick up one of the masks they had washed before starting on dinner. The radiator had dried them all completely, leaving them warm and crisp feeling. 

Closing the apartment door silently behind him, he locked it and then moved quickly down the stairs. 

He couldn’t take a proper breath in, with the mask covering his mouth and nose, but the fresh air that made it through his lungs when he inhaled deeply were enough to make him feel better already. Looking at the empty street before him, Frank set off for the first jog he had in years. 

Ever since he came back from his last tour, he favored other ways of exercising. Jogging was neither possible nor efficient after the whole mess, but it felt good, it felt natural, to run without hurry and from nobody, not chasing anybody. Run for the sake of running. 

He was on a break by the river, almost an hour later, when his phone pinged. 

“Ok”, said Karen’s text, in reply to the one he had sent her before he left the apartment, letting her know he was off for a run. “Have fun”, and then, almost as an afterthought, “Be careful. Don’t touch anything and don’t take off your mask.”

“Yes, ma’am”, he replied. 

Frank ran for a good while. Not counting the time, or the miles, or his heartbeat, he just ran, took breaks, walked and then ran some more, looking as the morning made the city brighter, noticing how strange it the streets looked, so empty, even this early. He ran and he wished he could take off his mask, but he didn’t, happy that at least he was able to breathe some fresh air and not see any walls around him, for a change. 

The sun was up when he turned to make his way back, at 7:15.

There was a bakery one corner away from home, and the smell of fresh bread lured him in. A man in uniform, a mask and gloves told him they just took a fresh batch out of the oven, and Frank bought a few, along with cheese and two cups of coffee (which they had at the apartment, but he figured these people were risking themselves to provide food for the neighborhood and try and keep their business alive, so what’s two cups of extra coffee?)

“Thank you so much for your support” said the guy, handing him the bag and the cup holder through a window. 

“Thank you”, Frank replied, happy for this little slice of normal. “You guys open tomorrow?” 

“From seven to seven.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Name’s Frank.”

“I’m Ray. See you, Frank. Have a good day.”

He walked the rest of the way, and had to balance his purchases in one hand while taking the key from his shoe, towing said shoes off and unlocking the door, walking in in his socks.”

“Frank?” Karen called from the bedroom.   

“I’m here” he called back, starting the new strange process of cleaning the things he brought home with him. 

After putting the warm bread on the designated bread basket and disposing of the paper bag, he transferred the cheese to a clean container and the coffee to the coffee pot, where Karen had not yet pushed the button to brew. 

After his shower, he walked to the bedroom, feeling much, much better than he felt before getting up this morning. 

Karen was still in bed, phone in hand, and smiled at him when he walked in. 

“Hi”, she greeted, and he walked to her. “Enjoy your run?”

“Hmm”, was his answer, lying down half on top of her, kissing her gently, closing his eyes when her hands caressed his hair. “I brought breakfast.”

“I can smell it”, she said, softly. “That show we wanted to watch is available on Netflix. Wanna eat on the couch and watch it with me?”

He made them egg sandwiches and brought it to the couch while she cued the new show on TV, and when he settled down to watch it, he didn’t feel restless or that itch that made him want to get up every five seconds. 

What a difference, a run made. 

.:.

He came back to the apartment on the fourth day with croissants and the usual coffee, sweating profusely, since he had not made any stops this time, nor did he walk, and the jog was just straight up sprinting.

“Kare?” he called from the kitchen.

“I’m here!” she called back, and he saw her hand waving at him through the window. She was in the fire escape. 

He had to deal with the sanitizing of the shopping and then a shower, so it was a few minutes before he walked to the living room window. 

Before he got to the ledge, she popped her head inside and smiled at him. 

“I got you something.”

When Frank ducked to climb out to the narrow fire escape, he saw what she had gotten: a hammock. 

Cream colored, she had tied it on the iron bars above head, it hung a good few inches above the floor. She had placed two throw pillows in it, plus a heavy blanket. 

“You’ve been feeling so cooped up, I thought this would maybe help a little.

Turning to her, Frank smiled and moved to kiss her. 

“You didn’t have to do that”, he said, a hand caressing her hair. 

“I wanted to. I’m only sorry it took so long to arrive, I ordered it almost a month ago.”

Frank looked at the hammock, swaying lightly in the wind, and thought that this small act, this simple purchase for his benefit made him a little more sure that she meant it, when she said she loved him. 

It was silly, he knew that, but there still was a little part of him that expected her to wake up one day and realize that all she thought she felt for him was nothing but the thrill of the danger, the forbidden, the very ill advised act of rebellion, or even misinterpreted feelings of concern and worry and gratitude.

The fact that she didn’t run away from him after they slept together for the first time, or asked him to stay after the second third fourth and so on, asked him to move in, gave him a key, made room for his things, made room for him, bought him a hammock. It all told him that yeah, she was serious about that love. 

“Maybe we can have breakfast here?” he suggested, and she beamed, nodding. 

“So you like it?”

“I do”, he said against her mouth. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Settle in, I’ll get the food.”

 They ate the croissants and drank the coffee while sharing the hammock, after adjusting the height a little bit. 

“This is so good”, she said around a mouthful of warm croissant, taking a sip of coffee, looking out at the street below them. 

Frank watched as the morning light caught in her hair, how it made her eyes shine just a tad bluer, accentuated the few freckles she had on her nose.

“Yeah, it is”, he agreed, squeezing her foot under the blanket, thankful that, if he had to be stuck inside, at least it was with her.