#ruston head

[warmglowofsurvival]

behind the scenes of the shy away music video

[antiquarianfics]

Dark and Bloody Ground

So you violently murdered a man? So what? You did it in the name of love.

a/n: This is super loosely inspired by the song "Dark and Bloody Ground" by Ruston Kelly. Great song if you haven't heard it. Anyway, this is super gory and violent, but it's still a little fluffy... Hope you like it.

warning(s): Profanity, gore, extreme violence, sort of a hostage type situation, only kind of proofed.

note: I do not own Bucky Barnes or any other Marvel affiliate characters.

You do not have permission to steal or repost my work; however, feel free to like, comment, and reblog.

»»———-———-———-———-———-———-———-««

Blood. Blood everywhere. It’s on the ground, on the body, on your hands, on your face. The scene looks as if a toddler was given a box of crayons—all shades of red—and a coloring sheet. It’s horrific. Blood splattered, crayon scribbled—however you look at it.

Your breathing is erratic, heavy breaths shake your body as your lungs struggle to take in air. You’ve over exerted yourself, but you can’t find even a smidgen of a fuck to give.

There’s a dull ache in your knees where you’re sat on them; you lean back to distribute some weight onto your heels. Once your knees are slightly alleviated, you become more aware of the constant ringing in your ears, the ringing that has been constant since the moment you pulled your weapon. Then, you notice the soreness in your fingers and glance down to where your hands are clenched in fists, your knuckles busted and bruised. Looking around, you see a bloodied knife a few feet away: your gun is still in its holster.

You look up at the bloodbath in front of you—the dead men in front of you.

Did I even pull my gun?

The ringing in your ears is deafening, and you can’t focus on anything other than the carnage. Or, you can’t until you hear Bucky call for you. Wait. Bucky.

The moment your brain processes Bucky’s voice, it’s as if someone hits the fast forward button until your brain catches up with what is actively happening around you. The ringing squeals until it doesn’t; your head swivels until your eyes lock on their target.

“Y/N,” Bucky repeats. “Doll.” He slides next to you on his knees slowly, grimacing slightly as he moves.

Bucky’s eyes are filled with worry, his every movement cautious. He takes in your current state, but he saw the whole thing. He saw you kill the man who lay dead before you. He watched as the deceased attempted to fight back, how he got a few minor licks in, and how it was for naught. Still, though, Bucky is cautious as he looks at you--as he tries to make sure you're okay.

"Oh, baby," you say, voice low and hoarse. You smile softly and raise a hand to cup Bucky's cheek. "Oh, how I've missed you."

Bucky smiles sadly, his own hand reaching up to cup your cheek. "I've missed you, too."

"Are you okay?" You ask, concern palpable.

"I am now. You've got me, Doll."

You nod. "Yeah, I've got you."

Bucky looks around the facility he'd been held prisoner in for weeks. The drab appearance had changed quickly in your fury; he'd never seen you like that before.

—

Bucky coughed as the HYDRA operative kicked him in the gut. In most cases, Bucky would have already killed the guy, but he'd been starved and neglected for days, pumped full of a chemical that lessened the effectiveness of the super soldier serum, and his body thus has been struggling to fight off a nasty infection from a three day old stab wound.

"I'll ask again, Winter Soldier. Where is it?" The man in charge, an unassuming man in a pressed gray suit, asks in an even tone.

"I'll tell 'ya again," Bucky spits, "fuck. you."

"Very well. Again." The man waves his hand carelessly in a 'go ahead' motion.

The HYDRA operative kicks Bucky again. That's when the door to the torture chamber opens, and there you stand with a stolen keycard held to the door.

Your eyes land on Bucky on the ground, then they shift to the operative carrying out the torture, and then they settle on the man in the suit. Bucky knows you see red.

Taking a deep breath, you step forward and hit the button to shut the door behind you, stopping an escape. Then, in a flash, you've thrown your knife into the HYDRA operative's head. The operative drops, his body twitching slightly before stilling, and blood slowly begins to pool from his cracked skull.

The moment the knife leaves your hand, you step forward and swing at the man in the suit. The man side steps, lets out a 'Who do you think you are?' before being silenced by your fist to his jaw. You punch the man again and he stumbles backward; he quickly manages to get his footing and takes a swing at you. He lands a punch to your gut and one to your face, but neither deters you. You pivot around him as he lunges forward and then kick him in the back. The man falls to the ground, manages to turn over onto his back, and he is immediately met by another right hook to the face as you jump on him. You straddle the guy as you repeatedly hit him: you feel as the man's jaw cracks, as his cheekbone splinters. You're vaguely aware when each hit feels less solid, when the man beneath you finally stills. You feel weightless, a bit gone, as you slide off of the man onto your knees, sitting back on your heels.

—

"We gotta get out of here," Bucky says, shaking his head to rid himself of the thoughts of you murdering for him.

You nod and stand up with a light groan, grasping Bucky's hand and pulling him up with you. You let him wrap his arm around your shoulders, helping him walk as you make your escape.

—

Hours later, you and Bucky have not said much to one another. When you made it back to the jet, you were more worried about patching Bucky up and getting him something to eat than talking. Then, when he tried to say something, you shushed him and told him to get some rest. Now, though, as you're sitting next to his hospital bed in the med bay, and now that you know he's alright, you finally choose to talk about what happened.

"Bucky?" You say quietly, trying not to disturb him if he's asleep. You're hoping, selfishly, that he is.

"Hmm?" He hums, turning his head slightly and opening his tired eyes to look at you.

"I'm sorry. About today. I, uh. I know that was a lot..."

"Sweetheart, it's okay. You saved me. I should be thanking you; you shouldn't be apologizing."

You give him a tense smile.

"It's just. When I saw what they were doing to you... I saw red, Buck. I was so angry at them for hurting you, and I was scared. I just... I didn't think. But they didn't have to do all those awful things to you."

"I know."

"It makes me sick to think about."

"I know."

"You deserve so much better."

"I know."

You raise an eyebrow, disbelievingly.

"You do?"

"Well, I better. My girl violently killed two men because she thinks so."

You giggle. Despite everything, you giggle. Bucky smiles.

"Anyway," Bucky says, a light tone enveloping his words, "you know what they say."

"What's that?"

"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned," he teases.

"Especially when she has on her killing shoes," you laugh lightly.

"Mhmm. C'mere, Lizzie Borden." He holds out an arm for you as he scoots over to make room. You climb into the small bed with him, tucking yourself away into his embrace.

"I love you," you whisper.

"I love you, too," he replies, pressing a kiss into your hair.

[theodorecanaryhood]

Almost caught

Dick Grayson x GN reader / Jason Todd x GN reader

Dick had been working so hard he had forgotten to eat

He neglected peeing simply because he didn’t have time

You felt bad for your boyfriend being so caught up

‘You need to eat and take a break’ you said as you rubbed Dick’s shoulders

Dick exhaled a little as he realised you were right

Taking a break from the computer in the BatCave, he turned to you

Dick kissed you, wrapping his arms around your waist

You kissed him back, passionately

Dick hummed a little as he lifted you off your feet

Seating you on the desk in the cave, diving into your neck

Feeling the heat coming from between both of your legs

Dick growled as he unbuttoned your shirt, you doing the same to him

You undid his belt, feeling the hardness between his legs

You felt yourself getting more and more ready for Dick, all of him

‘Shit’ you gasped as the door to the cave opened

You jumped off the desk as you did your shirt back up

Dick rushing to do his shirt and belt back up, both of you attempting to cover how flustered you were

‘Hey!’ Tim cheered as he walked in, seeing you both smile

‘Hey Timmy’ you chuckled, ruffling his hair

Both of you relieved as he didn’t seem to notice

Jason was nose deep in a book as he had lost track of time, once again

You didn’t care much, you liked seeing him distracted as he did what he loved the most

You shifted closer to him while you both stayed seated on the big couch in the Wayne Manor library

Resting your head on Jason’s shoulder as you watched TikTok’s on your phone

Jason placed a hand on your thigh, running it upwards. Closer to that sweet spot he loves so much

You smiled, lifting your head up as you kissed Jason’s neck

Jason placed his book down on the desk as he grabbed your face

Kissing you deeply

‘Wanna do something bad?’ Jason growled in your ear, you nodded as you shifted onto Jason’s lap

Jason pulled your jacket off you, revealing your bare shoulders in your tight tank top

Jason dove in and began to kiss your collarbone

You ran your fingers through his hair

You threw your head back as Jason began to really affect you, you doing the same to him as he showed how hungry he was

It got hot as Jason was ready in his pants for you, ready for some friction and release

You were ready too

‘Master Todd?’ Alfred called out, Jason’s eyes shot wide

Jason placed his hands on your waist as he threw you next to him, shoving a pillow over his lap

You covering how flustered you were

Alfred came to where the two of you were sitting, smiling

‘Dinner is ready, if you two are hungry’ Alfred said, Jason nodded

You both laughed as Alfred left, though he probably knew, not the first time he’s caught a batboy with someone…looking flustered

It was sweaty in the training room and all you could focus on was Dick’s complimentary grey sweats

Dick was seemingly unaware of your Ruston him, though he could probably feel the attention

‘You keep undressing me like that, I’m gonna catch a cold’ Dick laughed, turning as he faced you

You feigned ignorance as to what he was saying

Dick rushed over as he kissed you, lifting you up and rolling you over onto your back

‘Easy bird boy’ you smiled, Dick bit his lip as he kissed you again

Dick began to kiss further down you from your neck, chest, stomach and then reaching your thighs

‘Oh my’ you gasped as Dick chuckled, pulling your shoes off your feet

You grabbed Dick’s face as you kissed him again

‘We gonna sweat more’ Dick whispered as he began to lift your top over your head

‘Hey, anyone in here?’ Bruce called out, the both of you panicking

You still had your top halfway over your head as Bruce’s footsteps approached

‘Crap’ Dick almost laughed out of nerves as he saw your struggle

Managing to get you seemingly back to normal once Bruce got into the room

Bruce looking at the two of you sitting in the floor

‘What are you two doing?’ Bruce asked

‘Just taking a break from training’ you smiled innocently

Bruce walked over to the punchbags as the two of you found you didn’t have the room to yourselves anymore

Jason was so busy with sorting the Batmobile tires, he didn’t notice you walk into the room

‘Hey’ you said as you walked in, wearing something skimpy that surely caught Jason’s attention

He went wide eyed as he took in your form, the new look made Jason hard instantly

‘Oh honey’ Jason laughed, grabbing your wrists as he dove in and began kissing you

You reposed your arms around his neck as he lifted you up, sitting you in the bonnet

‘You’re gonna get wrecked’ Jason growled in your ear

You ran your hand down Jason’s torso as he began to undo his belt

‘Fuck’ you gasped as Jason began grinding in you, kissing you so hard that you felt all hot

‘Jason? Y/n?’ Damian called out as the two of you jumped from where you were

You throw a jacket over your shoulders to cover your outfit as Damian stood in the doorway

‘Hey Damian’ you smiled, Damian simply smiled

‘What are we doing?’ He asked as he came over to Jason, who acted like he was still doing work to the Batmobile

You left the room to go and change before someone saw your outfit

BONUS, getting caught!

Dick was still buzzing from his patrol and still had tons of energy

You were still awake as you struggled with sleep when home alone, or without Dick next to you

‘Hi sweetness’ Dick smiled as he kissed you, you grabbed his hand and held it

Dick came in for another one, as you melted into his body

Dick held you by the waist as he backed you into the wall, wrapping your legs around his waist, lifting you up

‘Oh fuck, Dick’ you breathed out as Dick kissed you passionately and began to bite a little at your shoulder and bicep

‘Eew, guys check the room before you start doing that’ Tim said in horror as he walked into the kitchen, where the two of you were

‘Sorry’ Dick said as he let you down, back onto your feet

You readjusted your clothes as you walked over to carry on what you were doing, Dick going red in the face as Tim just gave a face of trauma

‘Oops’ you whispered to yourself

Both sitting comfortably on the couch as you watched Netflix

The two of you were alone in the room, as Jason ran his hand up and down your thigh

You thought nothing of it, until you realised Jason was looking at you

‘What?’ You asked, Jason shaking his head a little

‘Nothing, just like looking at you’ Jason smiled, then diving in for a quick kiss

You sometimes found Jason suddenly irresistible and found you wanted his body then and there

You gave another kiss as Jason smiled into it and rolled you onto your back

Jason lay on top of you as the two of you kissed heavily, not noticing that someone had walked into the room

‘Ahem’ Alfred cleared his throat, ‘I only went to get some snacks Master Todd’ Alfred continued

You both laughed as you went back to your seated forms

[traintrainingmontage]

CW: alcohol, smoking

Ok, but TTTE bar/cafe AU.

The most popular cafe/restaurant on the entire island is the Wild Nor'Wester, owned and operated by Sir Topham Hatt. He has several employees, with Thomas (the face of the place), James, Emily, and Percy as the waitstaff and Gordon, Henry, Toby, and Edward cooking up a storm in the kitchen.

Gordon is the head chef, and he knows it. This often brings him into conflict with Thomas, who is none too pleased with how he treats the front of house, but they manage to strike up an alliance. Gordon and Percy, on the other hand, really don't see eye to eye on most anything.

All of their ingredients are sourced from Little Western Farms, run by a kind fellow known as Duck. He often brings over the ingredients personally, although sometimes the other farmworker, Oliver, will deliver them. If not those two, then it'll be Donald and/or Douglas, who run a cargo/shipping service spanning across the island and work closely with Little Western.

~~~

On the other side of Sodor is The Skarloey, which is the oldest standing bar on the island and was established in 1865. It's managed by Mr. Peter Sam, and owned by Sir Handel Brown II. Mr. Ivo Hugh, who runs the Crovan's Gate Handyman Service, is a frequent patron.

The bartenders are brothers Skarloey "Karl" and Rheneas "Rhen" Fletcher, named for landmarks in the area, and they've been working the bar forever. Training under them are Handel Falcon (teasingly nicknamed "Sir") and Peter Sam Kerr-Stuart, which caused no end of confusion when he met the manager for the first time.

In the back kitchen is Ruston "Rusty" Hornsby, a young cook doing their best, and their coworker Duncan Barclay, who smokes too much. Although the kitchen is mainly for making light appetizers to accompany the drinks, Duncan often feels overworked and under-appreciated... at least until The Skarloey gets a surprise hire in the form of Duke England-Holland, who used to be employed as a chef by the richest family on the island. He'd been in retirement for years, but decided that he needed some stimulation in his life again and got hired on at The Skarloey. He manages the kitchen exceedingly well.

With Ivo Hugh's adopted son Fred and his grandson, Ivo Hugh II, also working at The Skarloey, business is better than ever!

[musicmonger]

Neutral Milk Hotel: A Journey Through Sound and Mystery.

Origins and Early Years,

Neutral Milk Hotel emerged from the creative mind of musician Jeff Mangum in 1989. Born in Ruston, Louisiana, Mangum initially recorded music under the name “Milk.” These early recordings, including gems like “Invent Yourself a Shortcake” and “Beauty,” were shared among friends, including Robert Schneider, Bill Doss, and Will Cullen Hart. Together, they formed the imaginary record label “Elephant 6,” which would later evolve into a loose musical collective.

However, when Mangum discovered another band already using the name “Milk,” he rebranded his project as Neutral Milk Hotel. The name itself carries an enigmatic quality, much like the band’s music.

Neutral Milk Hotel’s music intentionally embraced a lo-fi, deliberately low-quality sound. Drawing influences from indie rock and psychedelic folk, their sonic palette was both raw and otherworldly. Mangum’s compositions featured a mix of traditional and unconventional instruments, including the haunting singing saw and the soulful uilleann pipes.

Their debut album, “On Avery Island” (1996), recorded with childhood friend Robert Schneider, garnered modest reviews but set the stage for what was to come.

In the Aeroplane Over the Sea.

The band’s magnum opus arrived in 1998 with “In the Aeroplane Over the Sea.” This album, featuring the talents of Julian Koster, Jeremy Barnes, and Scott Spillane alongside Mangum, is a masterpiece of indie rock. Its sound is simultaneously intimate and expansive, blending dreamy acoustic guitars, brass instruments, and Mangum’s evocative vocals.

Lyrically, Mangum wove surreal and opaque narratives that touched on love, spirituality, nostalgia, sex, and loneliness. The album’s themes are as elusive as its melodies, leaving listeners with a sense of wonder and mystery.

“In the Aeroplane Over the Sea” became a touchstone for indie rock, influencing bands like Arcade Fire and the Decemberists. Critics hailed it as a landmark album of the 1990s, and its critical standing continues to rise.

The band reunited briefly in 2013, embarking on a reunion tour before slipping back into hiatus. Their legacy endures, leaving us with a treasure trove of music that defies easy categorization.

Conclusion: A Sonic Adventure

Neutral Milk Hotel remains an enigma—an exploration of sound, emotion, and the inexplicable. Whether you’re lost in the haunting strains of “Two-Headed Boy” or pondering the mysteries of “Holland, 1945,” their music invites you to step into a world where reality blurs with imagination.

So, dear reader, put on your headphones, close your eyes, and let Neutral Milk Hotel take you on a journey through the ethereal and the unknown.

[csprslvt]

teachers aide, part 3

chapter three

Summary: Ellie is jealous of readers and Abbys frequent meet ups.

Warnings: recreational drug use, foul language.

The prospect of meeting up with Abby was a little nerve wracking, you saw her multiple times a week however when she saw you in class it wasn't normal you. It was professional you, scholarly you, physics major you. It was a different you that Ellie saw when you laid in her bed high and a different you that your family saw when you came home for vacations. The you that Abby would meet today at lunch was the closest to how you actually were, that is if you had a stable sense of identity. You and Abby had coordinated lunch through texts, you exchanged numbers in the past with many students in case they had questions about assignments and Abby was one of them. The two of you decided upon Ruston Coffee, it was a quick walk on campus and had your favorite drinks and treats. 

You got dressed in something you felt the most comfortable in, you were in a good mood, practically glowing, getting free lunch was always exciting especially for a slightly broke college student. You wondered why exactly Abby wanted to take you out, was it really to make up for the embarrassment or did she need an excuse to spend time with you? Either way you were getting free lunch so It doesn't really matter.

 Once ready you grabbed your necessary belongings and headed out, the walk was about seven minutes and you enjoyed the crisp fall air brushing across your face. Once entering the smell of coffee beans and vanilla filled your senses, enveloping you in a sense of calm it was truly a very cozy place to be. Abby was already there, she spotted you and smiled, showing off her perfect teeth. She was sitting down at a booth and beckoned you to join her.

“Hey.” She said softly as you sat down, “I got your favorite.” She pushed a mug towards you as well as a plate with your regular meal on it.

You looked surprised, it was your order, perfectly done all ready for you. 

“How’d you know?” You questioned, taking a sip of the drink, Abby looked slightly nervous until you gave an approving smile.

“That is my favorite.”

“I'm observant, and I have a good memory. I see you here nearly every morning and noon and you get the same thing.”

“I'm a woman of habit.” You shrugged. Abby smiled watching you enjoy yourself, digging into your meal. Her eyes scanned over your face, your body language, your relaxed posture. Everything seemed so natural she could tell you felt comfortable with her, and that made her heart pound with joy. You were beautiful, a different kind of beautiful she saw in class. There you were strict, powerful, in your element and here you were simply at ease. It was adorable and she couldn't get enough of it. She wanted more of you.

“So, I wanted to say I'm sorry about Owen, I can tell he annoys you.”

You took a break from eating, looking up at Abby through long lashes, she swooned.

“None of my students annoy me. I'm just… disappointed in their behavior at times.”

“Either way, I'm sorry. He embarrassed both of us in front of everyone.”

“That's his apology to give, not yours, so don't worry Abby.” 

Oh how she loved when you said her name.

“Still though, it was embarrassing”

“That I can agree on”

“So how's your classes going?”

“Being a med student is a lot of work, but I'm managing, TA’s like you help a lot y/n”

“That means a lot, I try my best to be a good TA since I want to be a physics teacher and professor one day.”

“You're doing an amazing job and I am really glad to have you.” Abby spoke softly, resting a hand on yours, hers were much larger, stronger, calloused but in an odd way it was comfortable.

You smiled, “I'm happy to help.”

Abby loved everything about you, watching you smile at her made her fall deeper into your trap. Almost like a siren song. You were tantalizing, she wanted more more more.

And so routine took place, you would meet up with Abby at lunch, get the same thing and talk. Sometimes she came with questions about lessons and you had answers. After a while of this routine, someone got jealous.

You were in Ellie’s dorm once again, yet this time she had a sour look on her face.

“Are you mad at me or something?” You mumbled, laying on her chest looking up at her. “You've hardly spoken with me today.” 

“I saw you, yesterday, on your little date.”

“Date?” You sat up, “What date?”

Ellie rolled her eyes, “Don't play dumb, I know your high but you can't be serious.”

“Date?”

“Yesterday at lunch I saw you all cozy in a booth with Anderson.”

“Oh no that wasn't a date, I've been tutoring and meeting up with her at lunch this past week.”

“Looked like a date, the way she looks at you.”

“What?”

Ellie then sat up, “You cannot be that oblivious.”

“Els, what the fuck are you talking about?”

Her eyes softened a bit at the nickname. Still she had her guard up.

“She looks at you like she… like she likes you.”

“Oh please Ellie this isn't kindergarten. Anderson is my friend, just like how you're my friend.” 

Ellie’s mood deflated.

“So you just snuggle up with all of your friends then hm?”

You were too high for this.

“No, just you.”

Something about that answer satisfied Ellie but still you had basically friendzoned her. Could you be this stupid? “But I'm just a friend.”

“Ellie, where is this coming from?”

“You know what, nevermind just stay away from Anderson.”

You knew you wouldn't, you liked spending time with Abby and Ellie, whatever feud they had was beyond you. So, you lied. “Okay can we just, nap? I'm tired.”

Ellie looked into your eyes, she wanted to be firm with you, to tell you no that she shouldn't be laying with you, but oh, holding you felt so natural, so right. She couldn't say no.

“Okay babe.” Ellie pulled you down with her, laying on her chest she had her arms around your waist.

Ellie felt better now that she thought you'd stay away from Abby. Of course, you weren't her girlfriend, but that didn't stop her from being a little jealous, perhaps possessive over you. She had you first, maybe it was petty and immature to think that way but for once in her life she wanted to be selfish. She wanted you to herself. And she would fight for that.

[sgt-morgan]

This Morning ☕️🌅

Summary: Mornings with your Cowboy.

Warnings: AFAB!reader, Female identifying!reader.

A/N: sorry I’ve been MIA folks, my family has been going through it. Posting Friday for Whiskey Sunrise. Also, my links are gonna take 45 years to fix but I’m on vacation so I’ll fix it I swear!

Pedro Masterlist

You woke to a strangely quiet house. With three children all under the age of five, the quiet you were being treated to was a little unsettling, reaching a tired hand back to smack your husband to go check on the kids, you find his side of the bed empty. You look at the time and, shit. You’ve been allowed to sleep in.

By this time, you are normally hips deep in chores, babies strapped to your chest and a giggling four year old yelling for you to “come see me feed the horsey mama!” You looked in the kitchen for signs that anyone made breakfast and found none, you started the coffee pot and contemplated food options. Eggs? Nah. No way you could get Daisy to eat that. Bagels? No cream cheese, you never went to the store. Cinnamon rolls it is then. You pull and place each little roll onto a baking sheet and indulge in the rich earthy scent of the coffee brewing in the pot, humming a simple tune whilst you dance around the kitchen. When the cinnamon rolls are finally in the oven, you go to find your family.

You take time to slip into the wool socks, pulling on jeans and boots, a Henley and a beanie, and one of Jack’s big work jacket with a flannel lining. It’s comfy and your whole body is warm and relaxed when you grab the two travel mugs and head out to find your family. It’s getting down in the fall, the trees are bare and you’re in the stage where the wind is cool enough in the morning for winter but that sun in the afternoon keeps it warm enough to keep the frost at bay. You check the chickens, they’ve been fed. You check the barn, the horses are let out. You then walk along the fence until you catch sight of your family and sure enough, there they are.

“Good mornin’ darlin!” You hear him call when you’re about halfway up the fence.

“Well howdy cowboy!” You call back with a giggle.

“I was hoping you’d sleep a little longer.” He chuckles, starting to meet you half way. You could see that Daisy was riding Sazzerac with Tequila sat behind her, and Coke was following her around the pen like the great big horse would be able to stop her falling off if it came down to it.

“Ah, I see, riding lessons meant extra help with the chores.” You giggle. “No, an extra 20 minutes of sleep for me might as well be an extra twelve hours as I see it. I got cinnamon rolls in the oven,” you raise your voice so Tequila can hear you, “I reckon there’s plenty enough to pay the helpful instructor.”

“Thank you hot stuff!” Tequila yells from the back of the horse and Daisy squeals.

“Hands off Tequila, these are my ladies, get your own!” Jack shouts back and Tequila laughs.

“No! She’s mine!” Tequila hugs an arm around Daisy and makes an evil laugh, galloping the horse back towards the house.

“Well, there goes our girl, running off with a cowboy just like her momma!” You laugh, “Hey, where are my other babies?” You look at him curiously, just seeing him and his Stetson standing there.

“Ah! Right.” You look at him curiously as he unzips his jacket to reveal the two baby’s strapped to his chest and zipped in his fluffy coat, sleeping soundly.

Your heart physically aches at the sight, their two tiny brown heads tucked up into his chest and sleeping soundly in the sling he wore to carry them. They were so snug in there, little cheeks flushed with sleep and their fuzzy curls framing their faces. Upon closer examination when you leaned in to kiss their foreheads and coo, you almost died of cuteness at one little detail.

“Jack, they’re holding hands.” You cooed, stroking their cheeks and kissing their hands.

“I know, been doing it all morning. They were wide awake ‘till I zipped my jacket to keep em’ a little warmer and then they were out like a light.” He chuckles, slinging an arm around you and ushering you back towards the house, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“That’s so cute I can’t stand it.” You chuckled, tearing up a bit with the force of how much you loved your little family. “And you! That is the most attractive thing you’ve ever done hands down. I don’t know why I think it’s so hot, but you sir, are gonna get it later.” You wink when you finally make it to the steps, standing two above him and kissing your startled cowboy with ferocity, leaving him to gawk on the steps.

When you finally jogged into the house, you found Tequila sitting at the island with Daisy, coloring in a Bluey coloring book contentedly while he sipped on coffee from a mug that said ‘World’s Sexiest Cowboy’ and she sipped some milk from a bright pink cup with unicorns on it. To your surprise, Ginger was also sat at the island, laptop open and keys clacking away.

“Well! I got the whole fam damnily in my kitchen this morning! Hi there Ginge!” you smile, squeezing the woman in a hug while you went to retrieve the cinnamon rolls. Your friend snorts and squeezes you back before going back to her typing.

“Bacon anyone?” You grin as Jack finally wanders into the house in a daze, leaving his hat and coat at the door. He looks like he’s been struck by lightning, and with that kiss he might as well have been. He walks up to you as one of the baby’s makes that little infant growl and you chuckle watching lavender rub her face angrily against her dad’s chest.

“Sorry sweet pea, noting coming from there.” You chuckle plucking her from the carrier, she growls again and her legs fold up in that newborn scrunch, her tiny hands flying up towards her face as she stretches. “Oh big stretch!” You chuckle, settling her against your chest before beginning to feed her, not bothering to shield yourself in your own home, you walk around with her eating while you pull out the necessary tools for bacon and eggs.

“Oh no, here goes baby number two.” Jack chuckles as Violet starts to gurgle in her spot as well, he pulls her out and she scrunched up too, giving a particularly fierce growl and a big yawn in the process.

“Oh my little Lion!” Jack groans with the baby, trading you when her sister seems to have had her fill, allowing you to begin to feed the other baby. You scrambled the eggs and put the bacon on a wire rack in the oven, letting it crisp up while Ginger helped Daisy ice the cinnamon rolls, and Jack and Tequila looked over mission plans. Once breakfast had been served up and bellies well fed, you settled into your cleanup routine. Daisy was playing in the living room, and the babies were each being held by one of the agents at the table while they fought sleep, alternating as seemed fit. Everyone was happy and content in their little routines, and you were singing a tune while drying the dishes.

When your tune finished and all the dishes were put away, you looked around and all three little ones were asleep…and so was Tequila.

“Did Tequila?” Your whispered giggle makes Jack smirk.

“Yeah, almost immediately.” Ginger giggles, stroking the soft head of Violet and placing a kiss there.

“Oh goodness.” You giggle and snap a picture of the super spy once again crashing with one of your children asleep on his chest.

“They’re like little pillows of melatonin.” Jack chuckles, reaching out to take the baby from his snoozing best friend, who grumbles and bats his hand away.

“S’my turn.” He mumbles sleepily, adjusting Lavender up under his chin. “Snuggle buddy.”

“Okay Hoss, but when she pees through her diaper you don’t come crying to me.” Jack laughs, getting up to go put Daisy down in your bed for a nap.

You step onto the porch with your second cup of coffee and watch Tequila and Ginger out once they’ve placed their respective cuddle buddies in their cradle. The peaceful silence of the mid morning surrounds your little family and you smile, enjoying the calm of the stillness.

Jack watches you for a moment then. Drinking your coffee, eyes following mother and foal as they meander across the field. Tracing each individual feature lovingly as if they were gonna disappear. You are so beautiful to him. The soft curve of your belly and your breasts speaking of the beautiful gift you’ve given him in your children. The hands that have wiped his tears and built this life with him. The smile that takes his breath away every time he sees it. The eyes that see straight to the heart of him no matter how hard he tries to hide himself from the world. You are his world. The center of his universe, and he is yours.

“Darlin? I hope every morning for the rest of our lives is exactly like this one.” He sighs, burying a hand in your hair. You feel yourself preen at his touch, soaking up all of his caressed with glee.

“I don’t.” You shrug, burrowing your face happily in his chest.

“No?” He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your crown.

“No, I love living life with you. When it’s messy and complicated, that’s when it’s most fun. I wanna see you grow old, wanna go to birthdays, and weddings, and first days of schools, and graduations, with you. I want to live everyday with you. I don’t need a calm life, I just need you.” Jack could feel his heart swelling with pride at your complete love of him. Your every moment of trust. God he loves you. “Days like this are nice though.” You grin and he laughs.

“Yes they are baby, yes they are.”

[gigglecongregation]

perfect plan

based on this tumblr post i saw, except it isn't finished bc i don't know if it's any good...

enjoy if you wish :)

When Sam woke up this morning he had a plan. He’d been formulating it for months, mentally calculating everything that could go wrong, and what needed to go right. Nothing could fail, nothing could be misplaced. It had to be perfect.

He found his way into the kitchen, by now used to the twists and turns that made up the bunker, and pulled out his pre-made strawberry & spinach smoothie. He calmly walked over to the cupboard on his left, and pulled out the bread and some raspberry jam. He made himself toast.

He sat at the table, glancing occasionally at the clock on the wall as it ticked by, enjoying the silence that fell over the room, a silence he knew he’d be missing in roughly three minutes. 

Dean’s alarm goes off every morning at eight, and he always hits ‘snooze’ twice and then grunts and grumbles all the way to the kitchen. On his way, he’ll walk past Castiel’s room, who’d be waiting to hear him and would exit his room immediately (real smooth).

2 minutes left.

As they’d walk Dean would make himself more awake in order to participate in conversation with Cas, who’s usually discussing his victories and losses in Candy Crush; the game he plays during the night due to his ability to survive without sleep.

1 minute.

As they’d enter the kitchen, Dean would have just made a comment about how ‘Even Angel’s should rest’ and Cas would have reminded him bluntly that, ‘no, we don’t’. 

“-don’t actually.” Cas finished, walking into the kitchen as predicted with Dean following behind. Dean made an annoyed face at the bluntness but withheld a sarcastic comment- It’d fly over Cas’ head anyway.

“Hey Sammy, still drinking your health juice I see,” was Dean’s choice of words, as unoriginal and repetitive as they’d always been. Sam rolled his eyes and stopped himself from sticking his tongue out at his brother.

“Hey Dean, still falling asleep with your shirt inside out I see,” he replied snarkily, enjoying Dean's confused looks at his normal shirt, oddly twisting himself to try and find the tag. He continued this for 30 seconds until he saw Sam grinning.

“Okay, fuck you.” Sam then got whacked on the back of the head with a random newspaper that he’d placed there last night. The plan was in action.

“What is that?” Cas asked, chiming into the conversation as he pulled the newspaper out of Dean's hands. On the front page was Gabriel, the archangel, getting arrested for murder in Ruston, Louisiana. Thank you Gabe for assisting.

“Is that Gabriel?” Dean said, both shocked and confused as he skimmed over the words on the paper. Of course Sam knew everything in it was fake- hell he wrote it himself- but he played into it.

“What?” he’d pulled the paper down slightly, looking at it alongside the others as they tried to grasp on what the fuck was going on. Cas seemed suspicious, not of Sam but of Gabriel surprisingly. Dean was mainly confused, Sam was already grabbing the car keys from the table.

“So we’re going, right?” Sam asked, standing up with the keys in one hand and his empty plate in the other, placing it in the sink as the others nod. 

“Let me grab my phone,”

—

“Sam you are not driving Baby, No fucking chance!” Dean denied, moving his hand back from where Sam held out his, going to grab the Keys. Cas stood awkwardly at the door.

“Dean, c’mon, literally just this once,” Sam asked, frustration lingering in his tone and a tired look in his eyes. All practised. Dean- still as clueless as always- is still shaking his head hard enough for it to fall off if it weren’t screwed on.

“Nope. Not happening,” he continued, completely against the mere idea that someone else is gonna drive his Baby. Sam sighed and glanced at Cas, a pleading look for him to intervene. This was going so perfectly.

“Dean, surely Sam isn't this bad of a driver?” Cas asked, looking at Dean in confusion, not yet grasping the pure insanity that is Dean's love for his car. Ironic, seeing as he can understand everything else about Dean- other than his crippling internalised homophobia (also ironic, seeing as he has plenty of it himself).

“No- Cas it’s not that he’s a bad driver, it’s my car.” Dean protests, his tone softening slightly in a way it never does for Sam, or anyone, and eyes now desperately glancing between the other two.

“If you aren’t driving we can talk though?” the angel continued, and Sam actually watched, in real time, his brother turn a shade of red that hasn't happened since Dean was in high school. Just kidding, it happened last week when Cas was helping Dean with enochian. Sam still remembers the muttering Dean was doing as he left the room, Sam is still traumatised.

Dean had paused, the blush he was attempting to shove down not listening very well as he scrambled to find an excuse to not let Sam drive his car. He couldn’t.

“If I see one scratch when we're out of this car I’m running you over with her.” Was Dean's response instead, finally chucking the keys over to Sam as he grumbled his way to the passenger side of the car. Sam bit back a grin.

“Duly Noted.” he affirmed, swapping places with Dean and opening the door. 

This was going well.

—

“Where are you going, you just missed the exit?!” Dean said, a slight shout as he glanced back, pausing his conversation with Cas to look at Sam in confusion. 

“There’s a roadblock, they’d check our IDs, I’m not bothered.” Sam offered simply, telling a partial truth, he hated roadblocks. There wasn’t one, but still. That wasn’t enough of an answer for Dean of course.

“Right,” Dean scoffed, still looking at Sam as if he had three heads. “There’s a road block, in the middle of fuck off no where, and you already knew of it?”

“Seriously, there was,” Sam lied simply, leaving his tone neutral as he merged lanes. This plan was too far along to fail now, and Sam had practised every aspect. Nothing was going to go wrong. “And unlike you I do actually check the traffic reports before driving somewhere.”

“Whatever, just don’t drive us into the middle of nowhere.” Dean muttered, huffing a bit before turning back to Cas. Their conversation about whether or not there was inhumanity in killing flies was re-started.

—

“What’s that in front of the car?” Cas asked, breaking the silence that’d been in the car for a rough 20 minutes. Sam grinned. Thank you Crowley.

“Whaddya mean Cas?” he asked, obviously not seeing what they’re seeing due to not being the person the spell was directed at.

“The light?” Cas answered, still questioning as he squinted slightly. Dean was covering his eyes too, so he was aware he wasn’t losing sanity, however Sam’s indifference confused him.

“Why the fuck is it so bright?,” Dean asked angrily, covering his eyes as he flipped off the air in front of him. Sam let himself laugh a bit at that. He wondered how bright the light they were seeing was.

“Did you guys both whack your heads together this morning? It’s called the Sun,” Sam excused easily, telling the partial truth once more. For him it was the Sun- he has no clue what they’re seeing.

—

“The light is still there,” Cas said, probably only 10 minutes later, Sam gave a half-sigh half-laugh. Dean had been rummaging around the glove box and centre console the whole time. 

“Where are my sunnies?” he asked, finally stopping his rummaging to look up at Sam, he only opened the overhead compartment for him.

“Guys, relax, it’s the morning, the sun is obviously gonna be there,” Sam assured, glancing at Cas in the rearview mirror. His eyes were drooping. 

—

“Sam?” Cas asked, once more breaking the silence. He’d been trying to play candy crush and couldn’t even finish the level he was on from last night. 

“Yeah Cas?” he responded, looking at the angel in the back looking roughly 10 seconds away from sleep. The plan was almost complete.

“Dean’s asleep.” he commented, causing Sam to glance down at his brother, who’d fallen asleep mere minutes after he put his sunnies on. Sam made sure he still had the plastic spoon in his pocket quickly before responding to Cas.

“I know,” was all he replied with, waiting for Cas to continue. 

“Why do I want to sleep?” the angel mumbled, his eyes drooping even further as he laid his head on the seat. He wants to sleep because of a spell Sam asked Crowley to cast on them so they would be unconscious when Sam very obviously drove past Louisiana and to Singer Salvage Yard.

“I dunno Cas, maybe you should though, it’s a long drive,”

“Okay.”

Should I write more perhaps?

[newly-feral]

I woke up this morning to Ruston Kelly's version of Bury Me Under the Weeping Willow playing in my head. This song should not be an earworm...it's lovely, but it's also just soaked with loss. It's the story of being the one who isn't chosen, of being rejected by the person you think you're building a future with. Here's a sampling of the plaintiveness...

Bury me under the violets blue

To prove my love to him

Tell him that I'd die for him

His love I could never win

I went down a rabbit hole of versions, and you know what? This is the only one that actually matches the lyrics in the best possible way. Every other version sticks to the upbeat tone of The Carter Family's original recording, at least to some degree or another. But Ruston Kelly's version is like the most melodic funeral dirge of all time, beautiful, and pathetic, and incredibly sing-a-longable.

This may be the best cover of all time. There's a gravity to this song that is incredible.

On a side note, another great thing about it? He doesn't gender-flip the pronouns. Fucking champion.

[osrphotography]

MoTaT's c. 1946 Ford 2N (Ferguson system) parked up with their 1927 Ruston R-7 crawler excavator.

The Ruston was involved in the construction of the Devonport-Takapuna tramway and was new to W. Stevenson and Company (New Zealand) as their № 1. It spent WWII building camps for US Forces and installing gun defences at North Head. It was retired in 1964 having completed its final project in the Hunua Ranges.

As for the Ford, it was probs picked up off a farm somewhere.

[sun-worship]

God, so my dear friend and old roommate used to listen to Ruston Kelly all the time while we were living together and he was hella going through it and I lowkey kinda hated it cuz that’s too far on the emo part of emo country. I’m kinda really going through it now, got one of them songs stuck in my head and put on the album and fuck wait I actually get it now.

[whitepolaris]

Woman in White

In Ruston, the Center for Biomedical Engineering and Rehabilitation Science on South Vienna Street is a bright, white brick building where researchers and technicians develop equipment to help disabled people lead more normal lives. Everyone there is committed to making specialized devices that fulfill particular medical needs. All highly trained, they're pragmatic and no-nonsense, not the kind of people with uncontrolled imaginations.

And yet much of the staff will tell you about the otherworldly occupants of their building. An apparition haunts three places inside the facility: a consultation room on the fourth floor, an elevator in the hall immediately outside it, and a workshop in the basement. A woman in white is occasionally seen puttering around all three places; and although she's a startling sight to new employees, she is harmless in going about her duties. Doors sometimes open and shut and the elevator may suddenly head from the fourth floor down to the basement and back again; but other than that, she seems to have taken the primary tenet of the Hippocratic Oath to heart: First, do no harm. Her name is Mrs. Evans and she's there to stay.

Remains of Ruston Hospital

At one time, the Biomedical Engineering building was the old Ruston Hospital. The fourth-floor consultation room, which has wider windows than any other room, was once an operating suite. Now filled with comfortable furniture, the room's windows open out onto a kind of terrace the adjacent wing. Those windows hint at the room's original function. Before they had automatic emergency lighting backup generators, hospitals operated primarily in the daylight. And if the facility were to catch fire, surgical personnel were forbidden to abandon their unconscious patients on the operating table; instead they would have to sew up incisions as fast as possible and drag the patients out onto the terrace to await rescue. When patients died, that elevator took them down to the basement morgue, where autopsies were performed, tumors were sectioned, and amputated limbs were disposed.

Mrs. Evans, it turns out, was the former head OR nurse. She'd spent her whole adult life standing guard at the gateway between suffering and recovery, and between life and afterlife. She'd seen plenty of patients through storms and fires, accompanied them or their body about life's fragility. She was evidently so dedicated and took her duties so seriously that she wasn't about to let her task be interrupted by something as routine as death-especially not her own.

[norainahmadme-blog]

UTEP vs. Louisiana Tech prediction, odds, pick for CFB Week 9

ClutchPoints is not affiliated with, endorsed by, or in any way connected to any sportsbook. Gambling is not offered on this website in any form. The UTEP Miners (1-6, 1-3 CUSA) head to Ruston to take on the Louisiana Tech Bulldogs (2-4, 1-2 CUSA) Tuesday night. It is time to continue our college football odds series with a UTEP-Louisiana Tech prediction and pick. We will also let you know how…

[custosdefabulas]

Okay, so judging by the fact that you put the timeperiod as Georgian/Regency, I'm guessing that you are primarily interested in the British or at least English-speaking world?

If so, the first thing to remember is that "zoology" is not really a thing yet as its own dicipline – instead everyone is talking about "natural history", which is kind of a catch-all term for anything from what is today botany, zoology, entomology and geology to anthropology and ethnology etc. Really, anything that could be seen as "the study of the natural world". (If you already know this I am sorry for the lecture)

Anyway! Book recs (don't read every chapter, just what seems fun/relevant). Unfortunately I don't know much about zoology specifically, so these are about natural history:

MacGregor, Arthur (Eds.). (2018). Naturalists in the Field : Collecting, Recording and Preserving the Natural World from the Fifteenth to the Twenty-First Century. Brill.

Holmes, J., & Ruston, S. (Eds.). (2017). The Routledge research companion to nineteenth-century British literature and science. Taylor & Francis Ltd. (has a chapter on women & science)

Emling, Shelly. (2009). The fossil hunter : dinosaurs, evolution, and the woman whose discoveries changed the world. Palgrave Macmillan. (About Mary Anning, the paleontologist)

Taylor, Michael. (2024). Impossible Monsters: Dinosaurs, Darwin and the War Between Science and Religion. The Bodley Head. (Talks about Mary Anning, among other things)

Hill, Kate. (2016). Women and museums, 1850-1914 : modernity and the gendering of knowledge. Manchester University Press. https://doi.org/10.7765/9781526100313

Musgrave, Toby. (2021). The multifarious Mr. Banks : from Botany Bay to Kew, the natural historian who shaped the world. Yale University Press. https://doi.org/10.12987/9780300252132

Broberg, Gunnar. (2023). The man who organized nature: the life of Linnaeus. Princeton: Princeton University Press. (This book is very long and not all will be relevant for you)

Academic history nowadays is very much trying to get away from the "great men" type of history, but the fact remains that a few people (mostly men) were very influential and are worth looking into (especially if you want to understand the historiography of the field). There are usually easy to read biographies of them that provide an overview of the time period, so they are usually a good jumping-of point, though you do of course need to go beyond them. I would recommend looking into Joseph Banks (British naturalist), Carl Linnaeus (Swedish naturalist, "Father of modern taxonomy"), maybe Georges-Louis Leclerc de Buffon (French naturalist), and of course Charles Darwin, as well as the history of the Royal Society in London in general.

Unfortunately I am not specialised in zoology nor women in science, but hopefully these books prove useful as jumping of points! From my understanding, women during this period were often in the very important but somewhat invisible roles of collectors, illustrators, patorns, and the like during this time. Collecting was VERY important for science during this time – really, it was what science was all about. You needed to collect things so you could categorise and study them, and then write papers on them. Rich women - sometimes with their husbands, sometimes alone - were very much involved in developing these collections. More lower-class women were more likely to be involved in the actual finding of these objects – Mary Anning is a good example.

Sorry if this is not what you wanted, this got away from me.

Friends! Once again I am looking for BOOKS. HISTORY BOOKS!!

I want to look into the word of Georgian/Regency era zoology, but I've no idea where to start. Does anyone have any recs for books on the topic, or more broadly on women in science in this era?

I'd quite like something like an overview, or even recs for studies/books/articles from the time. THANKS Y'ALL.

[csprslvt]

you and i, and her. pt. 9

Chapter 8

Summary: The journey with Ellie thickens and you run into some obstacles. Getting closer and closer to the WLF has some risks and before you could make it far enough, you are attacked by the WLF who doesn’t yet recognize you. Ellie is kidnapped and you run for it. Now reader is in a dilemma sooner than she thought she’d be. Now in the territory of what was once her home she could risk being identified. Exposing her secret to Ellie.

Warnings: Once again reader hates herself, Ellie’s flirting is getting kind of obvious. Kidnapping, brief descriptions of violence, fighting, shimmer dies. Not much in to worry about in this chapter. Please see notes at the end to help me make a decision about tomorrows chapter! thanks for reading xoxoxo!!

You were sort of not the greatest person in the world. And that became more clear the longer you started to reciprocate Ellie’s advances. Ellie had done nothing but support you, she was a good person. But here you are, entertaining the idea that you weren’t an awful person, romanticizing yourself so Ellie still liked you. She was going to find out soon so what is the harm in embracing every moment you have with her now?

It’s actually probably very harmful. But you felt selfish, especially after such a heartbreak.

Abby cheated. You had never broken up, she just left you to die. She didn’t look for you like how you’d look for her. Your heart was growing and it was settling a place inside for Ellie. Was it possible to love two people at once? Or were you just liking the idea of one of them while genuinely loving the other. It was so fucking complicated. But as far as you knew. Your long romance with Abby was over. Still a part of you that was so enraptured in her, hoped at the end of the day that you would find eachother again.

“How stupid of me” you’d thought.

You and Ellie were deep in some sort of downtown past the music shop, You’d been on Shimmer all day and your legs kind of felt numb from sitting so long. Being on a horse was not the most comfortable thing in the world. there was a building titled “Ruston Coffee”

Ellie and you jumped off, you wondered how you’d get in for a second until you heard a loud shatter of Ellie throwing a random brick at the window.

“Ellie! Oh my god warn me next time”

Ellie smiled and climbed in, beckoning for you to follow her.

You went in, careful of the sharp glass around you. You both went out back, to the bathroom.

Very suddenly an infected came out and sprung at Ellie. Her reflexes were quick and she slit its throat. The way she was so quick with her hands made you question her experiences and how exactly was it that she was so skilled in killing. Joel must’ve had a big influence on teaching her, you assumed. You’d explored for a bit together but ultimately found nothing worth your time other than a small key that seemed to be attached to a dog tag. Ellie held it up.

“What’s this?”

“A key.”

“Well no duh Ellie but what does it say?”

“Uhm it says Barkos”

“Hey I think I saw a place called Barkos Pet Store west of the music store!”

“Let’s go then”

Ellie grabbed your hand as if it was an obvious thing to do and helped you step out of the window. She kicked glass out of the way before you stepped in it. She was awfully chivalrous.

“Such a gentlemen” You grinned, gripping Ellie’s hand gently.

“Of course m’lady” She said with a doopy smile

The entire walk to Barkos she didn’t let your hand go. It felt nice to be cared for. You’d feel guilty another time now you’d just enjoy some time with Ellie. You’d walked down a side alley together and headed inside. Luckily enough Ellie discovers some type of Poster from the WLF. You were getting close and it created an awful turning in your gut.

You leaned over Ellie’s shoulder and read the poster

“They think we’re sheep, bare your fangs.”

Ellie was quiet.

“Cringe” you’d spoke blunty.

Ellie looked over at you. She relaxed,

“Yea it’s pretty cheesy.”

“Weirdos with weird propaganda.” You said, as if you weren’t one of the concept artists for posters like this years ago with Abby.

“Your so right”

You kind of liked hating on the WLF with Ellie. Though it was very hypocritical the entire Owen thing made you feel quite petty. It was indirectly a way to talk shit about Abby. Whom you really really felt very disconnected too at this point.

You rubbed the locket that settled on your collarbones. Maybe it was time to take it off. Were you ready to let go? Did you even deserve that? Deserve a chance to change? Did you deserve Ellie? No, probably not. But you would try your best to be better for her. She had been through enough and the fact that you already betrayed her and snuck away from her on top of Joel’s death and whatever other trauma she had made you feel like you wanted to improve as a person. She was good for you, you wanted to be good for her.

You then both left Barkos, finding nothing interesting. Heading down the south road, there was a walkway going over the street. You both climbed up the walkway an approached a building. Once again, Ellie there a brick at the windows, this time she warned you though, which you appreciated. It was highly populated with infected so you grabbed out your axe while Ellie approached them with a knife.

Ellie took a deep breath, “Here we go.” she spoke, anticipation in her voice.

Going counterclockwise Ellie started with the clicker in the room while you went straight for the runner in the doorway. Once they were eliminated, you’d both gone round to others in the end room. Going to a long corridor, you moved in stealth back to back, watching eachothers weak spots. The coast was clear.

Eventually you both started talking again once deciding that there was nothing else to harm you. The duo traveled down the lobby, there wasn’t much light so you’d both turned on your flashlights.

“Oh shit!” You mumbled

“What?”

A rotten corpse laid on the floor, completely decomposed.

Ellie made a gagging noise. “that’s why it fucking stinks in here”

You reached down and found a letter it seemed like a plea. You pocketed it for later.

To the left was a wooden door but it was locked. You turned to Eilie,

“Go ahead”

She smirked and threw yet another brick (where was she finding those?) at the window to enter the office. There was a safe and you took notice of it for later. This time Ellie didn’t let go of your hand even when you were out of the window. You’d both look through some filing cabinets and Ellie found a book you recognized.

“Prep, a survival guide for the silent majority”

“Silent majority. Ominous”

“I guess so” Ellie responded.

It stank in this room as well, and you noticed another lifeless body in far stages of rigor mortis. You pulled machete out from inside of it. It made a strange wet noise.

“Gross”

“Why’d you take it?”

“Not everyday you see a perfectly good machete lying around”

Ellie left it at that, looking around some more, still with entwined hands. It was almost like she didn’t notice her hold on you. Like it was in her nature. A code was written on the whiteboard,

“Ellie go put this into the safe, 860722”

Ellie let go of your hand to open the safe, the feeling of her touch lingered.

“Oh fuck yes!”

You kneeled by Elle, both eye level to the safe.

“Some more raviolis!” Ellie spoke with some excitement in her pretty green eyes. You admired them for a second before quickly avoiding her stare.

“Why would they be in a safe?”

“Well there’s some ammo too” Ellie said, stuffing everything in her already full pack.

“Doesn’t explain the ravioli”

“They’re just that good!”

“Sure Ells. That’s totally why”

“Oh whatever y/n, let’s keep going!”

Ellie took your hand again and walked to the lift shafts. You dropped into the elevator and once in the garage were immediately placed into combat. Infected were everywhere. Saving ammo, You both used hand to hand on the Runners, careful to dodge them. You plunged your machete into them, decaptating each one.

“Told you it would be useful!”

Ellie didn’t pay any mind to that comment she was using her gun ( or rather one of them) to fire at clickers. They fell to the floor with a heavy thud.

Eventually you both made it last the garage unscathed.

“We…make a good pair” Ellie spoke, breaking the quiet you were wandering in. You didn’t look at her when she said this, her gaze on you was too strong. Sometimes eye contact felt like it hurt. Especially with her loving stare. You didn’t deserve it.

“Yea, we really do” in your peripheral you could see her face lighting up. And it hurt you. Knowing that would someday turn into a hateful glare hurt. But for now, you’ll grasp at every part of her she shared with you.

You headed to a gate that said FUCK FEDRA in big letters. Conveniently someone had gotten there before you as the gate had a damaged area big enough to crawl through.

And so you kept riding on. This time when your arms wrapped around Ellie’s waist, she held one of them, rubbing circle’s soothingly into your knuckles. It was sort of impressive, her ability to ride with one hand.

You stopped when another large building came into sight.

“The Servena Hotel.” Ellie read out loud.

The place was absolutely trashed. Infected ran rampant but with Ellie, killing them felt like a video game. Getting rid of obstacles rather than people who were once human.

The lobby was soon cleared out and Ellie held your hand again. It was almost like an instinctual urge she had, to be touching you somehow at all times. Upstairs you both raided the cabinets. Finding more artifacts of the WLF. There was a hotel door slightly ajar. You headed in.

The light in this room was orange, there was dust visible in the atmosphere and the curtains were tightly shut. As if hiding something. You walked in further. A body was bound to a chair, leaning to one side, beaten a bruised they had put up a fight for sure.

“Shit” someone had been here, you approached first. holding your pistol out to them. They were leaning over and Ellie then pushed their head up.

“What the fuck happened here?”

Ellie paused, recognition flickering in her eyes you watched her carefully.

“Tommy did this.”

“This? What?”

“This was one of the ones that killed Joel” Ellie spoke with a tone of rage in her voice.

You didn’t realize that Tommy was on his own journey this entire time. Now Abby had two people to worry about. One of which, Tommy she didn’t know about. Fuck her anyways though. She would be “fine” according to her.

You made a few steps forward before noticing another one.

“There’s another one over here”

On his side sat a man tied down to a chair. His brains were blown out of him. Blood dripping in a pool by his ear. It smelt of copper.

“I don’t recognize him” Ellie muttered

“He was using them against each other”

Your expression must’ve looked a little terrified. You were starting to see how violent Tommy could really be on the hunt for justice.

“How?” you questioned

“Joel told me about this.”

You raised an eyebrow for her to continue.

“You ask this guy a question but you don’t make him say it…. you make him write it down. Then you ask this guy and if the facts match they’re telling the truth…if not”

“ You fuck em up” you finished

“Yea”

East one was written on the floor along with a number. Ellie took out a map of her own. You didn’t even realize she had one in the first place.

“Another gate code?”

“Looks like it”

“This just happened Els, he can’t be far off”

“Yea” Ellie responded monotone once again. Seeing these people clearly dragged her back into a place she didn’t want to be. A place where you couldn’t reach her. You didn’t like that. Not at all.

You then both proceeded to the next room. Ellie found a hammer and kept it “just in case”

Continuously you started to explore again. Until you spoke up,

“I say we find shelter and we set up camp”

You were interrupted by a large blast and were knocked off of Shimmer. A trap. You groaned in pain and rolled down some sort of surface. Separated from Ellie

A group of people ran to you “Get the other! Don’t loose her! Go!”

“Y/n!” You heard Ellie shout

A gunshot and a loud whine pained your ears. Shimmer was definitely dead. A loud groan and a crunch sounded. And it scared you.

“ Ellie please be okay.” was the last thought you had before quickly running away. out of sight.

Notes: So, more angst will be coming up soon that is if the reader is recognized by the WLF and exposed to Ellie. I wonder exactly how this should go about since Ellie will obviously find this unforgivable. Will reader be accepted by Abby again or will she be shunned from them all and left alone? I’m still debating it myself and all the possibilities this story could be. I don’t plan on ending it any time soon. Feedback would be appreciated! After all this is all for my small group of loyal readers that I really do appreciate. xoxo! Thanks for reading!

ps i still haven’t found my charger and writing on google docs iphone has been difficult pls lmk if y’all see any mistakes! thanks! <3

[thesinglesjukebox]

NOAH KAHAN - "STICK SEASON"

Just to be clear, this post was *not* sponsored by the Vermont Tourism Board... [5.10]

Hannah Jocelyn: Noah Kahan snuck up on me -- I first wondered why Ruston Kelly was opening for this guy who I'd never heard of before. I heard a couple of his songs, they were fine! So I ignored him. Suddenly, last year, a friend (a songwriter herself) was complaining about him, asking "What does the 'season of the sticks' even MEAN?" And from then on, he was everywhere, the same way Ed Sheeran was genuinely grassroots a decade ago before he became the eldritch pop horror he is now. Sheeran and Mumford & Sons ultimately gave us the indie folk of Boygenius and co., as well as Taylor Swift's own forays into indie, all of which I either love or respect. I go to open mics and concerts often, and it's a lot of empowered non-men leading the charge; even the guys I see make more interesting music than "I'm so sad, I'm so fucked up."  And now the pendulum's swinging, so now we are back at WGWAGs, and they don't even have the slick production of the Mumfords. I am not afraid of Noah Kahan; this song just sounds like the banality of fuckboys. I am more afraid of everyone following in his footsteps. Bonus point for actually mentioning COVID, though. [5]

Jacob Satter: Back when they were riding the wave of stardom for the first time, I bought tickets to see Counting Crows and a pre-dreadlocked Adam Duritz was going through it. He spent most of the show baffling the audience by lying flat on his back at center stage, talk-singing his way through August and Everything After, genuinely unable to look success in the eye. I take this trip down memory lane to clarify that when I say that every generation gets the self-actualizing folk dorkery it deserves, I'm not exculpating X while side-eying any COVID-worn millennials who embrace Mr. More-Mumford-Than-Mumford here for their mental balm. [3]

Dave Moore: I can google "is Noah Kahan related to Marcus Mumford" (no) but I can't google "do I hate Mumford and Sons" because despite remembering making fun of and claiming I hated Mumford and Sons at the time, I never wrote anything about them. Now that nothing else really sounds like this, I don't mind it so much. [6]

Leah Isobel: At least Mumford & Sons had the showmanship to drop an f-bomb in the midst of their self-regarding self-flagellation. What does Noah have? The word al-co-hol, leaden and imprecise and sung like it's an unbelievable blasphemy? Grow some balls, dude. [3]

Alfred Soto: He's so earnest that he acknowledges a drinkin' problem and the existence of COVID-19 and must sing as if he wants Mike Posner to sell him a pill to take in Vermont. [3]

Thomas Inskeep: His voice just oozes earnestness, and no, that's not a good thing. But strummy guitar guys never entirely go out of style, do they? If his success makes a Lumineers comeback happen, I swear to God… [3]

Lauren Gilbert: Yes, I could write a snarky review that this is a song for girls who haven't yet left their Folklore era.  And that's true enough; it's a pretty standard folk pop, with too many words pressed into too few lines, the murmurings of someone who spends entirely too much time in their head.  But it's also a pretty good instance of the form.  It has more of a hook than Bridgers, and it's less likely to put me to sleep than Clairo.  And it does feel like the season of the sticks -- like driving my parents' car through the hills of Virginia, dark, leafless trees silhouetted against a grey, featureless sky, thinking only of the person not sitting in the passenger seat. [7]

Mark Sinker: What if “season of the sticks” but it’s good not bad? (It’s such a gorgeous phrase to attempt to use as a negative… ) Plus Noah’s breath control seems kind of terrible -- the snatch at air plus his kinda squeaky voice makes him seem way younger than he even is (which is already way young), and sorry teens but that really dilutes the resigned agony he’s going for here. [6]

Taylor Alatorre: "I've been called the Jewish Ed Sheeran," says Noah Kahan on stage, with apparent regularity. Cheap heat, sure, but it's also self-deprecation as brand-building, aimed at propping up a certain persona by playfully prodding at the weaker and more exposed parts of it -- and suddenly I'm not just describing the stage banter but also the music itself. Kahan spent much of the last year collecting enough guest artist remixes for an unplugged No.6 Collaborations Project, but one of the few Stick Season songs to remain untouched by this process was the title track, which says something about it. It says that this is the anthem, the legacy definer; this is his own private Vermont, and no one but him (and a sold-out arena crowd, inshallah) can ever do it justice. With some reservations, it's deserving of this pedestal. And no, those reservations have not the slightest to do with Mumford & Sons, who are overdue to be treated as a normal, middling rock band and not a portentous class enemy. When teenage Mumford fans were listening to "Hopeless Wanderer" back in 2012, I imagine many of them were playing in their heads the kind of diaristic scenarios that Kahan sings about here, replacing grandiose Biblical allusions with only slightly less grandiose relationship angst. That was always the correct reading, and one can't fault Kahan for opting to cut out the middleman between his and his audience's experiences. "COVID on the planes" is the line that most loudly announces this isn't your father's indie folk, and it's the kind of lyric whose currency will only grow with time, like the transistor radio in "Brown Eyed Girl" or the satellite radio in "Sequestered in Memphis." At the other end of the realist-romantic spectrum, there's "might not have but I did not lose," a waist-deep k?an that's perfectly befitting of a future dorm room staple. Also fitting the dorm room vibe, less fortunately, is the way the phrasing in the chorus is awkwardly chopped up so as to min-max its drunk singalong value, with the line about alcohol of course being the worst offender. It's a testament to Kahan's affability that I want to forgive his more sophomoric tics -- I mean, who wants to be the one to interrupt a drunk singalong? [7]

Nortey Dowuona: When did Noah Kahan develop talent, and why wasn't it with Joel Little? [9]

Joshua Lu: "Stick Season" starts off as a earnestly mopey torch song, with a steady stream of metaphors and rhymes about his post-breakup blues. The causes and effects of this despair are presented straightforwardly, earning an almost comical feeling: the mom forgetting about him entirely, the excessive drug and alcohol use, his victim complex. It's in the second verse, though, that the song takes an interesting turn into self-reflection: "So I thought that if I piled something good on all my bad / That I could cancel out the darkness I inherited from Dad." That same chorus rings differently in this new light, creating an image of a once-fixed man who has returned to his broken default nature, and whose internal sadness was only buried, not cured, by being with the one he loved. There's something quietly devastating about how resigned he is to his fate -- how he knows that he can't heal his pain, only dampen it with the memory of a time when he couldn't feel it. [8]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: A [2] or an [8] depending on how much this alerts your anti-Mumford and Sons or anti-Lewis Capaldi radar, and whether or not you have a soft spot for self-deprecating white men telling jokes and making confessions at their own expense. We’ll skew higher since this has aged surprisingly well. [7]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: I’ve heard this around seven times and I’m not exactly sure what he’s singing about, but I like the texture of his words as they spill out of his mouth. Kahan will let a syllable last just a bit longer or shorter than I expect, all while singing fast enough that he feels like he’s uninterested in easy signifiers of the contemplative. The banjo feels like a cheap way to keep the song interesting; he doesn’t need it when every guitar strum is so propulsive. [5]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: Loses me after that banjo riff comes in two thirds of the way through. Everything before that is charmingly middling, everything after makes me want to place the entirety of New England under cordon sanitaire. [2]

Will Rivitz: I also love Vermont, having grown up just outside of Boston, and have to admit Kahan's bitter and self-deprecating narcissism quite poignantly encapsulates the sense of drifting listlessly and peevishly through New England's dreary December, mired in one's own solitude and the inexorably self-centered trappings that accompany it. His lyrical acumen is, however, not quite sharp enough to justify exhuming the stomp clap hey brouhaha previously left to rot alongside the word "hipster" a decade ago. If he thinks it appropriate to hire a mandolinist, maybe you were right to break up with him. [4]

Rachel Saywitz: “Stick Season” is a haunting masterpiece, and a triumph for Noah Kahan -- with just a folkloric guitar, illuminating banjo, and a steady kick drum, he traces a love lost with a traveler’s bent and a timeless seasonal metaphor. Wait, this song takes place in Vermont? Wait, he’s American? I can feel the spell breaking, the cloudy haze over my eyes that always appears when I’m listening to mediocre folk-pop by European singers is dissipating. Okay, sorry. Back to normal now. Going to review this again. “Stick Season” is some Lumineers-ass sounding shit. Grow up, stop being a whiny lovesick boy, and pick up an English accent! [4]

Ian Mathers: I'm so pissed that 1. "stick season" is not a reference to hockey which part of my brain irrationally insisted it was; 2. this tweet no longer applies to me. I gave that up for something that's just deeply mediocre, not even entertainingly bad. That the Olivia Rodrigo cover is… fine indicates my problem is less with the song (not bad, kinda standard) and more with Kahan's excruciating indie folk dude presentation. [4]

Will Adams: Outside of a terribly dull EDM feature, I had not heard a single note of Noah Kahan's music until now, so every time I saw his name I would think, "Oh, he does that one song, like 'lady, running down to the riptide, da-da-da'" before correcting myself. Listening to "Stick Season," I wasn't far off: anodyne stomp-clap folk complete with banjo. Instead of a rousing singalong, however, we get a winter doldrum mope-fest where the more a clever line is repeated, the less clever it seems. [4]

Katherine St. Asaph: Big junior-year busker energy. I hope the quad found "once you called me forever, now you still can't call me back" as clever as he does. [4]

Isabel Cole: Mumford-lite, nasal whine, uninspired lyrics: sure. And I, who tend towards particular indifference in the face of men with their guitars, should of all people be somewhere between immune and repelled. But this one fucking got me, I don’t know. There’s something about the unrelenting quickness of the verses, the way it slips heedlessly along axes of register and mood and scope: from the mannered poetry of “all the miles combined” to the indignantly conversational “like halfway through the drive,” from self-pity to self-recrimination, from daddy issues to drinking the pain away. It plunges into melodrama -- “I’m terrified of weather” -- and pivots to a gag, funny enough and also true, about air travel in the era of COVID. He says he’s stuck, and I believe him not because of that line but precisely because the song refuses to alight on any particular complaint for long.

That’s what it’s like sometimes, when you’re in the long process of reconfiguring your life around an absence you never planned for. You scrabble for purchase amidst the concrete and specific, saying all the useless sayable things because the whole truth defies articulation. Your petty irritations and psychological fault lines alike draw you right back into the vortex. You do see him in the weather, which is a way of saying you see him everywhere, and also that you never realized your block had a particular smell in spring until one April morning you found yourself thinking of him and realized it had been a year. You dream a version of him and wake up unnerved and you don’t know if what disturbed you was what the dream got wrong or what the dream got right. You can’t believe you can't talk to him when your uncle dies and when #FreeBritney goes mainstream and every time Marvel puts out a new terrible movie, and in the peculiar gravity of loss these things feel somehow equally consequential.

You wash the dishes and listen to a song that rattles off all these different ways to miss someone and you wonder how long he’ll be the person this type of song makes you think of, and you think about how much he would hate it, how mean he would be about Noah Kahan’s hair, how you have to look up every time if it’s Noah or Noel but you’re still crying at the kitchen sink, how much of your taste was his taste first, how you lost two people, really, because he took with him the person you were when he was here. I am no longer funny, ‘cause I miss the way you laugh. Your head says this is a generous [5], that it’s neither special nor smart enough to quit while it’s ahead, that while the line about being half a heart is trite but serviceable, the clarification of “the other half was you” is unforgivable, truly, taking you out of the song every time. Your heart thinks that so many of the funniest things you’ve ever said were things you only said because he was listening. Noah, not Noel, drops the strumming to sing that line about Vermont one more time and in the emptiness around him you can almost hear the whistling northern wind, the sound of a world turned brittle and cold. Stupid. These fucking songs always do that. It’ll be four years come April. You put the dish in the rack and wipe your eyes with your wrist and before you pick up another dirty plate you hit play one more time. [8]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox ]