#thinkin about suicide and doing drugs is pretty much all i do now

[our-smooty]

Take Me to Church Chapter 24: Happy

Fandom: Gorillaz

Rating: Explicit

Relationships: 2doc

Tags: Car Accidents Angst Hurt/Comfort Drugs/Alcohol Implied/Referenced Suicide SuicideHealing Everything Hurts

Summary: The band is back together, but things are… weird to say the least. But when a crisis arises, can they pull it all together and be a family again?

Link to other Chapters on my Blog!

At first, when he woke up, he felt pretty good. There was a warm body beside him and he didn’t feel hungover. Murdoc took a few seconds to open his eyes, savouring those feelings before having to start the day. When he did open them, he came face to face with a sleeping Stu, drooling all over his pillows and looking as beautiful as the day they’d met.

How did he get so lucky? Murdoc hadn’t done anything in his life to deserve something like this, something so precious and good. But he wasn’t supposed to think like that anymore. He was a person capable of giving and receiving love. He deserved to be happy. As he watched the younger man sleep he repeated that mantra in his mind, trying to convince himself it was true.

It didn’t take long for Stu to wake up as well. Murdoc watched as it happened, first a small crinkling of the other’s brow, then a huge yawn. The singer nuzzled his face into the soaked pillow, grumbling quietly before cracking one eye open to look at the bassist.

“Wha’ time is it?” he groaned, curling forward to rest his head on Murdoc shoulder. Immediately the Satanist made room for him, draping an arm around Stu’s waist and pulling him closer. His hair smelled like butterscotch.

“No idea, I jus’ woke up,” Murdoc answered. They lay quietly for some time, enjoying the sleepy morning atmosphere. Eventually, though, the need to piss was stronger than the need for human contact and Murdoc grunted, shimmying away from the singer and out of bed.

“Nooo… Come back…” 2D whined, reaching out and grabbing at the air. Murdoc chuckled lightly and leaned down to give him a kiss on the forehead. That seemed to placate the singer and he lay back down, huddled under the covers.

“I’ll be back in a minute, love. I’m an old man, when I’ve gotta piss I’ve gotta piss,” Murdoc chuckled. He left the dark room behind and walked to the bathroom. As he finished up there, he looked in the mirror, mentally preparing himself for what he’d see. He was shocked when his eyes met the face of a tired, but happy man. The bags under his eyes were fading, the frown lines on his forehead looked smoother. Most notably though, was the way his eyes seemed to sparkle just a little, like he had life inside him for the first time in years. Murdoc reached up to the mirror, then to his own face, running fingers over his skin.

When he returned to the bedroom, 2D was sitting up against the headboard, scrolling through his phone. Murdoc climbed back into bed, sidling up beside the singer and peeking at the screen nosily. Stu didn’t seem to mind, only humming and leaning his head against the other’s shoulder.

“Are you ready for today?” he asked casually. A cold spike of anxiety shot thought he bassist’s chest. He attempted to breathe through it before answering.

“No, but I have to do it.” If he gave himself the option of chickening out, he’d take it. So he wouldn’t give himself that option.

“You don’t have to, Muds,” 2D said, flicking from the news app he was browsing to social media.

Murdoc sighed. “Yeah, I do have to. I can’t run from this anymore Stu.”

“It’s gonna be fine, you know. You’ve been textin’ her and it’s been OK right?” He was right, they had been texting back and forth since the first time he sent her a message. That’d been a few weeks ago, and it’s may have been the hardest thing he’d ever done. But she’d responded well, though they hadn’t talked about anything serious so far.

“I know, I know,” he groaned. “I jus’ can’t stop thinkin’ about it.”

2D set his phone down on the nightstand and turned on his side to face Murdoc directly. “Well, we’re up early… we could do somethin’ to get your mind off it.”

Immediately, Murdoc felt a warmth in his belly replace the fear. He lived that the singer was as randy as he was. “Oh? And what did you have in mind?” he teased, knowing exactly what Stu was proposing. Murdoc could think of nothing he’d rather do that fool around with the singer while they enjoyed the warm, early-morning calm.

“Yeah,” the singer murmured, letting one of his hands trail along Murdoc’s bare side, stopping just above his briefs. “I always want you so much Murdoc. It drives me crazy.”

“You have me Stu, you have me,” Murdoc moaned as the singer’s other hand roamed over his chest, pinching and rubbing his nipple. The singer must have liked what he heard, because he grinned salaciously, leaning forward to capture the older man's lips in a loving kiss. Murdoc let him do it, using his own hands to tease the other with slight pressure over his crotch.

They kept things slow despite the heat. Cut off moans and grunts passed between them, building up until neither could take it anymore. 2D rolled them over so Murdoc was underneath him, pinned to the mattress by the singer’s hand around his wrist. The bassist arched up into the other, keening. 2D grinned, using his other hand to push down on Murdoc’s chest, pinning him further.

“You want me to take care of you, love?” he asked, already knowing the answer. Murdoc nodded, eyes glued to the spot where their hips were nearly touching. How was he already so far gone? Every time he slept with the singer it was so intense, so new. Murdoc had never had that with anyone else.

“I do, I do D. Please…” Stu chuckled, watching to bassist fall apart under him. He paused a moment, letting the hand on Murdoc’s chest wander up to his throat caressing but not squeezing, testing the waters. The slightest bit of pressure there made Murdoc’s breath hitch.

“God, you’re such a slut.” Murdoc nodded again, bucking his hips to get something, anything.

“Yeah, yeah--!” Stu’s baggy pyjama bottoms let him feel the entire outline of the singer’s cock against his own. Satan, he as already so hard.

“You love being under me, don’t you? Love me filling you up, fucking you right.” 2D’s dirty talk was doing wonders for Murdoc’s state of mind, pushing out any worries and filling that space with pleasure. Even if it was a little over the top. “Tell me what you want me to do to you Muds. I wanna hear you.”

Oh so they were playing that game were they? “I want you to fuck me, Stu.”

“You can do better than that. Come on, tell me~” 2D teased, a gentle roll of his hips making Murdoc writhe. At least the distraction was working, Murdoc couldn’t think about anything but how much he needed the singer.

“Fuck D, I want to you stick your cock in me and ram me into this bed! I want you to make me feel it. I wanna be sore for days--I want--” 2D kissed him then, with enough force to make their teeth clack. He also tightened that hand on the bassist's throat, still not tight enough to choke but just enough to threaten.

“You want me to be rough?” the singer asked, leaving Murdoc’s mouth to bite and suck at his neck. He was biting hard enough to leave welts and Murdoc could only moan weakly at the sensation.

“Yes--!” he groaned, craning his neck to give Sty more access. The singer readily took advantage. Murdoc whined in pleasure pain, knowing that if the other kept going he wouldn’t be able to last long.

“You like this, don’t you Muds?” Murdoc shook nodded frantically, grinding their hips together the best he could. He did, he really really did and the fact that it was his singer doling out the pain made it 10x better.

Stu grinned as he pulled back, slithering his body down the bassist’s front. The sight of 2D, mouth-level with his prick, smirking deviously, was nearly enough to make him cum. As it was his cock twitched, much to the delight of the singer. Stu slowly pulled his briefs down his thighs, making sure Murdoc was watching the entire time.

“I’m gonna suck you off now, is that what you want?” He did, but he also wanted the singer inside him, wanted to feel stretched out and owned and needed. But he didn’t want to ruin this wonder dominant streak 2D was on, and he trusted that the singer would give him what he needed eventually, so he nodded slightly, spreading his legs open to accommodate him.

“Good boy,” 2D praised, right before taking the tip of Murdoc’s prick into his mouth and sucking. His nails dug into his hips, the sharp stinging only making the pleasure sweeter. The contrast between the soft heat of Stu’s mouth and the hot burn of his nails drive Murdoc wild.

“Fuck!” Murdoc hissed, knees drawing up to frame the singer’s head. He took a risk and knotted his hands in the other’s hair. Stu chuckled a little, and oh those sweet vibrations were too much.

He wasn’t sure how long the singer had been sucking him, but eventually, he pulled off with a pop and a smile. “Pass me the lube,” Stuart ordered. Murdoc took a few seconds for the words to get through but then shot a hand into the bedside drawer. Soon the lube was in 2D’s capable hands. Slicking a couple of fingers and pressing them against Murdoc’s arse Stu looked up.

“You want my fingers?” he asked, tone low and dark.

“Y-yes.”

“Good, you take them so well,” Stu purred as the pushed two inside at once. Murdoc stiffened from the sudden intrusion and the little bit of pain that came with it, but quickly adjusted. The burn was a compliment to the aching throb in his cock that got worse with each passing second.

“M-more! Give me more!” He’d take them all if it meant he could continue feeling this wonderful feeling for a few seconds more. When he felt a third finger pushing in just as the singer curled the others over his prostate, Murdoc was finished.

“Stu!” he moaned, cock shooting cum all over his belly. Murdoc didn’t have his eyes open, so he couldn’t tell if the other was surprised, but to his credit 2D continued to fuck him through his orgasm. It just went on and on until he was a shaking and stuttering mess.

When he managed to open his eyes the singer was still moving his fingers slowly while looking right at Murdoc’s face. Murdoc wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or worried at the hungry look he saw there.

“That was beautiful,” he breathed, fingers moving in gentle circles inside Murdoc. There was enough stimulation that it felt nearly overwhelming, but not enough for it to be truly unpleasant. The singer was smiling softly, now petting the bassist’s hips softly, calming him back down again. “D’you still want to…?”

Murdoc used his grip on the other’s hair to pull him up between his legs. Stu came willingly, letting his fingers slip out and his hands forearms to bracket the bassist’s head. He looked over his face for a moment before kissing him again, softer this time but with no less passion. Murdoc let his legs fall wide open and his hands wander down to 2D’s arse, squeezing a little.

“Someone’s still feelin’ frisky,” he joked as he wiggled out of his PJ pants. Murdoc gave him a weak smile, enjoying the feeling of the other man pressing him into the bed. There was no space in his mind to worry about what they would be doing in a few hours. Right now, there was only 2D, especially when he felt the singer pushing his cock forward and inside Murdoc’s arse.

“Enough of this slow shit D, fuck me,” Murdoc ordered, voice shaking. He wanted to hurt, wanted to feel owned. 2D took the hint and picked up the pace immediately, hips snapping harshly at the end of each thrust. “Oh fuck yes.”

Murdoc’s eyes closed in pleasure, his hands wrapping around the other and squeezing tight. Stu ducked down and captured the bassist’s lips in a brutal kiss, teeth and tongue fighting for dominance. Murdoc gave up willingly. Satan, could he really cum again so soon? It felt like it, the burning edges of pleasure coursing through his veins.

“You feel so good,” 2D murmured against his mouth, their hot breath coming in explosive puffs between them. “You need this, don’t you?”

“Need it, want it, please--!”

He watched 2D’s expression darken with lust as he stopped thrusting and pulled out.

“Turn around”

Murdoc did, eagerly. Arse in the air, hands planted shoulder-width apart, he waited patiently for the singer to get back to buggering him. When a few seconds had passed without any change he looked back over his shoulder at the other.

“W-what’s the holdup?” he asked, wiggling his hips slightly.

Stu’s face was unreadable as he stared down at him. His hands were pulled up against his chest until the singer lowered them to wrap around Murdoc’s hips. Murdoc had always admired Stu’s hands, the way the were so big and crooked looking, the way they would dance across the keyboard. The bassist let himself fall onto his forearms, practically presenting himself to the singer. “Come’on Stu, don’t leave m-me hangin’.”

Suddenly 2D raised a hand and slapped his ass, hard. Murdoc lurched forward with an embarrassing yelp, still looking back at the singer who was raising his hand for another slap. 2D started smiling, watching the way Murdoc writhed and jolted on the sheets.

“You like that?” he asked, soothing the reddened skin with his hand before getting back into position. Murdoc nodded meekly, mostly focusing on keeping himself from falling flat completely. “Good.”

This time there was no slow buildup. The singer began pounding him into the mattress, mercilessly rubbing against his sweet spot. Murdoc could only take it, drawn-out moans and grunts pouring him his lips as he grasped the sheets.

“Oh God, o-oh shit--” he panted, ending with a whine. Behind him he could hear Stu swearing and muttering to himself before giving his arse another brisk slap. Murdoc yelped again, feeling his end approach quickly. “I-I’m gonna cum!”

“Do it, cum on my cock. I-I’m gonna cum in you, I-I’m--!” Faster than anticipated, Murdoc was cumming with a weak gasp as Stu gave one last hard thrust. Through his orgasm he could feel 2D cumming inside, could feel the sharp bite of his nails. It only extended his high.

In the aftermath, once they had cleaned up a little and snuggled up under the covers, Murdoc felt a strong sense of peace wash over him. 2D lay beside him, curled toward him with his hands wrapped around the bassists. Their faces were close enough for their noses to brush with even the tiniest movement.

“Was that good?” the singer asked, playing with Murdoc’s fingers. Murdoc felt his lip twitch with a smile.

“Rocked my world, as usual, Stu-Pot.” 2D grinned cockily.

“Good. We can stay here a little bit before we have to get up, if you want.”

Murdoc nodded and closed his eyes, letting himself curl even closer to the other. He let himself be completely in the moment, completely there with his singer, in his room, in his home. The blankets were warm, and anything else that had to happen could happen later because, for that brief time, Murdoc was truly, really happy.

They were at the hospital now. Murdoc had spent the entire drive there focusing on his breathing and the feeling of the weathered seat below him. Luckily, 2D had taken pity on him before they left and given him a couple of Xanax to help him through. He’d taken them all just before he got in the car, and they’d started kicking in as they walked through the hospital doors.

“She’s on a different floor from last time you were here, Muds,” Russel explained as they exited the elevator on the 10th floor. To be honest, Murdoc hadn’t even noticed, too busy worrying about the increasingly fuzzy feeling in his head. Maybe he shouldn’t have taken all those pills at once. “Since she’s doing so much better she doesn’t need to stay in the ICU.”

“You feelin’ OK mate?” 2D asked. Murdoc gave him a jerky nod as he focused on what he wanted to say to Noodle. He hadn’t seen her in weeks. They’d been texting a bit, but only really innocuous things. Even with the situation, she was in, Noodle seemed to understand that he wasn’t ready to talk yet. Not until they could meet face to face.

He’d spent ages drafting his first version of the text he eventually sent. At first, he’d starred at the blank screen for hours, at a complete loss as to what he should say. Should he start off by apologizing, or was that something he should do in person? Could he even apologize for everything he’d done? After hours of deliberation, and a few kind words from 2D, he’d started with a small hello, and to his shock, she’d replied almost right away. It’d been like a dream, being able to talk to her again even if it was only a quick good morning or goodnight.

Which brought him to today. 2D and Russel stopped outside her door, both looking at him. “What?”

“We uh, we wanted to know if you wanna see her alone first,” Russel said, shrugging. 2D nodded in agreement.

“Oh,” Murdoc replied dumbly. He looked down and thought for a few moments; did he want the other's there for support, or did he want to face her alone? It might be easier alone, without the pressure of others. “I guess I’d like a few minutes, yeah.”

They moved aside so he could open the door. Murdoc took one last deep breath, then slipped inside. It was surprisingly homey inside, unlike the ICU room. The floor was wood, the bed was as close to a normal bed as it could probably get, and the normal hospital gear was tucked away in corners as to be unobtrusive. Beside the bed were two comfy chairs and a little end table littered with gifts and flowers. The keychain he’d bought was hanging out on the table top.

But he could only spend so much time staring at the room because Noodle was right there, sitting up on her own and eating a tray of hospital food on a pullout table. She had a forkful of what looked like macaroni halfway up to her mouth, frozen. Murdoc realized that maybe she was as surprised to see him as he was to see her.

“H-hey, Noodle,” he stuttered, not taking a single step towards the bed. She seemed to overcome her shock quickly, lowering the fork and beaming at him. Her smile felt like the warmest hug he’d ever had.

“Murdoc!” she rasped, reaching out to him. He could see could still see the cast on her leg and the bandages on her head; he had to be the one to take the first step. So he did. And one step became two, then three, then four as he reached the side of her bed and wrapped her up in the biggest, tightest embrace possible, given her injuries.

“Noodle,” he said again, tears already falling down his cheeks. She laughed a little into his shoulder, hugging him back as best she could. “I’m so s-sorry love.”

“I love you, Dad,” she whispered back, ignoring his apologies and sniffles. A small laugh bubbled its way out of his chest, then another, and another until he was giggling like a child into her shoulder. “Murdoc?”

“Oh f-f-fuck!” he gasped between laughter, pulling back from her enough to look at her face. The bruising was gone, and she looked healthy. Healthy and alive. Had he ever been this happy before? “That idiot gave me too many p-pills!”

“2D?” she asked, rolling her eyes when he nodded.

“H-he gave me some t’calm down, but you know what he’s like with t-those bloody things.”

He watched her sigh in frustration before pulling him back in for another hug. She was so strong, not as strong as usual but he was thankful for it anyway. Going from seeing her immobile in a bed to alive and laughing and teasing him was a miracle he could barely believe.

“I’m glad nothing’s changed, then,” Noodle said with a smile in her voice. Murdoc took a few more calming breaths to stop the giggles before hugging her back and answering.

“I dunno love, think a few things have changed since you’ve been away.”

#takemetochurchfic #2doc #niccalpot #tw hospital #tw DRUGS AND ALCOHOL #tw car accident #tw violence #tw suicide

[the-facelss-writer]

It’s Good to Be Queen

TRIGGER WARNING: Attempted suicide, drugs, overdose

READ WITH CAUTION!!! Reblog, don’t repost, thank you.

Characters: Porter Gage, Fallout OC (Emily)

Premise: Porter has been noticing the the Overboss (Emily) has been acting strangely. For once, he isn’t ready for what she had planned.

Porter Gage was never the emotional type. Even when he was betrayed as a younger man by what’s-his-face “Harvester,” whatever his bullshit name was, he just wiped the blood from his lip and carried on. However, one thing that put Gage on edge was a feeling - and intuition you could call it. A feeling that something was just… wrong. And what felt wrong lately was the Overboss.

Gage and Overboss Emily had grown pretty damn close in her time here in Nuka-World. He dared to say that he cared for her, not that he’d ever fuckin’ tell anyone that. That’s weak. Something someone could use against him. Of course, he kept her safe while traveling and would definitely save her if she got kidnapped, but that was all good business for everyone here at Nuka-World, especially after Emily had taken down The Disciples. Bunch of rats. But the point was, he had a pretty good idea of what she was thinking and feeling just by her body language and speech. And it was rough lately.

Out on explorative trips, the Lady Overboss was more reckless than usual, pushier, and left many useful things behind. She didn’t take radiation medication before she swam or ate, and she never stayed hydrated in the deserts. For fuck’s sake, last week she walked right up to a big mama Deathclaw without even drawing a weapon first. Gage admits, he might’ve cussed Emily out for that one, but she needed to be more careful.

Now, they hadn’t gone out into the wastes in about four days, which was… Well, it was odd, to say the least. Overboss Emily always liked to go out, even to at least look at how the parks were doing or to gather Feverfew and visit Evan on the edge of the mountain range to chat. Damn guy was always so happy. He didn’t know how he felt about them being all close. But that didn’t mean anything right now. Apart from not going out in the wastes in four day, she hadn’t even left the Grille in the last two days. THAT was even more odd. Even when she was feeling down, Emily liked to at least go and visit Mags for girl talk or go see Mason for some crude jokes instead of secluding herself.

Gage sighed and downed the rest of his beer as he sat in Cappy’s Cafe, setting the bottle down and tapping the bar softly with his fingernail. Alright. That’s enough sitting around like a fuckin bum. He’s got to ask around for some clues about what might be going on without asking the Overboss directly. He didn’t want to get them angry.

The yellow-clothed cyclops threw a couple caps on the bar for the beer and walked out. Who first? He guesses Mags Black is a good a place as any, plus it was just closer. He’d have to pay up to get her to talk though. Damn Operators and their greed. Gage walked out of the loud bar and stretched before heading across the street to The Parlor, opening the door without even waiting for the goon at the door to pat him down. By now he knew he’d lose a hand if he tried.

“Hello, Gage. What do you want now?” Mags muttered as the man walked in, filing her nails in bored fashion. “Hope you brought my some caps as a gift.”

“Get off your damn high horse, Mags. I just came to ask ya somethin’,” Gage replied irritably. Mags chuckled at his anger.

“Your know information isn’t cheap. Who’s it about this time?” She smirked. Gage’s face didn’t soften an ounce.

“The Overboss,” he said firmly, making everyone in The Parlor look over curiously. Mags furrowed a brow.

“Interesting. I have many questions, but my primary one is… Why the hell can’t you just ask her yourself?” She smirked at the sudden anger in Gage’s eyes.

“Just fuckin’ talk to me, Mags. In private.”

“Hey-” William began.

“No,” interrupted Mags. “We’ll talk. But I expect caps next time you come by.”

The two walked to a back room and Mags shooed out the few Operators out before closing the door and lighting a cigarette, the glow illuminating her expressionless face.

“Now what the hell is it?” she asked.

“I just…” Gage rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “I wanna know if you and the Overboss have been talkin’ about anythin’... worrisome lately is all.”

“What do you count as worrisome?”

“...I dunno. Sounds fuckin’ stupid, but… Wantin’ to die, I guess. Not carin’ about livin’. Anything like that.” Mags swayed a bit as she took a drag off of her cigarette as she thought to herself, most likely trying to figure out how to phrase it.

“Let’s just say that she’s feeling… Alone.”

“I came here for important information and all you can fuckin’ tell me is that she feels alone? You know how fuckin’ stupid that is?” Gage mumbled angrily. Mags raised an eyebrow and stubbed her cigarette out on the thick metal rigging of Gage’s armor.

“Listen, I told you what I’m comfortable with telling you about confidential information. And more than that, I told you without incentive of money. I don’t need you drawing conclusions where none exist. You’re very good at that,” she said coldly. Then, without another word, Mags left the room and went back to the main room. Gage came out soon after and left, yelling “Thanks for fuckin’ nothin’!” behind him as he left.

Alone. Well, that wasn’t fair. Gage was almost always with Emily. She shouldn’t feel alone. Even if he wasn’t enough, she had Mags and William and Lizzie and Mason. Mason. Just who he didn’t feel like seeing today. But what other choice did he have right now?

Porter Gage made his way towards the market, then crossed over to The Nest in the old amphitheater. He could smell the fuckin’ slobs without even walking inside. His nose hairs damn near curled at the rough smell of piss, sex, booze, and drugs, but he knows Emily was pretty close to Mason, too. Then again, the Overboss could remember everybody’s name while Porter often forgot his own. Nonetheless, she liked coming here to chat with the Alpha, so it’s the best lead he had.

Porter ignored the lady at the gate as she muttered something crass at him about coming into the Nest unannounced, but he really didn’t give a flying fuck right now. The gross smells were making his beer-buzzed brain hurt and he still had that bad feeling in the pit of his stomach about the whole situation. Gage mosied up to the throne, watching the dog fight in the arena as if he thought it interesting. He wanted to seem as calm as possible. He needed real information this time. Yes. Even if it was from the damn furry.

Gage approached the Pack Alpha quietly and stood before him, waiting for Mason to acknowledge him, admittedly a bit impatiently. His steel-toed boot tapped on the concrete steps as he waited, Mason soon looking up with a raised eyebrow.

“Can I help you?” Mason muttered sarcastically. He could tell the one-eyed Co-Boss was nervous. Or impatient. The tapping foot, the crossed arms… Hell, when he spoke, it was a million miles an hour.

“Listen, Mason, I need to ask ya about the Overboss, I’m wo-... I need to see if she’s bein’ weird or not.”

“I’m pretty sure you were gonna say you were worried there, Gage.”

“Shut the fuck and tell me what I need to know.”

“I can do one or the other, ya fuckin’ prick. Besides, I don’t even know what you want me to tell you,” Mason said, fingers playing at his moustache.

“Just… Tell me if she’s been acting weird,” Gage practically begged.

“Now, now, Gage, this is awfully unlike you. You-”

Gage had had enough, grabbing Mason by his Yao Guai finger necklace and bashing him across the face with his fist, smearing the leader’s face paint and causing some blood to dribble out from his mouth. But the Alpha just smirked as The Pack stared, some drawing their guns. Mason waved his hand to signal for everyone to go back to their business before grabbing Porter by the armor and pulling him in close, his eyes and tone menacing.

“You fuckin’ try that again, and I’ll feed your dick to the dogs,” he threatened quietly before letting go. He seemed back to his old, immature self after that. “Listen, cyclops, I didn’t notice too much out of the ordinary. We always make really shitty jokes about each other and ourselves. It keeps our egos in check. All I can say is that maybe she went a little heavy on the self-deprecation and a little light on the Pack deprecation. But who am I to complain?” Gage was quiet, pondering. “Listen, kid. I know ya worry about everything and nothing and sometimes even people who might mean something to you. But she ain’t been actin’ weird. Maybe the Boss just ain’t been seein’ eye to eye with you lately, ya know?”

“How do you figure that?” Gage asked, kind of only half in the conversation.

“Well, you’re always quick to judge her actions. Hatin’ it when she’s nice to nobodies, slippin’ extra caps to the traders, and havin’ a beer on the job. But look at you. You’ve done all the same things, thinkin’ nobody notices. No one mows ya down for it either. But you’ve always got somethin’ to say to her when she does it.”

“The fuck are you tryin’ to tell me, Mason?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing. I’m just sayin’ that maybe she needed a little space from her resident hypocrite. Take a break. Now if you go askin’ what I think you should do-”

“Which I’m not.”

“Yeah, but if you were, I’d tell you to go get some chems and chill the fuck out for a while. Alright?

“Eeyeah, whatever,” Gage muttered before turning heel and leaving the Nest, not even saying goodbye. He had too much on his mind.

Porter stopped and sat on a bench by the information terminals to think. Was he really that hypocritical? And what the hell was up with Emily being so damn gloomy to Mags and Mason? Why wasn’t she letting him, her main advisor, into her world? The man in yellow sighed and lifted his eye patch to rub both eyes as he thought to himself in the heat of the sun. Ugh. Maybe Mason was right. Maybe he just needed some chems to take the edge off. He put his eye patch on and walked into the market.

As he entered, there seemed to be a bit of a ruckus at Maddox’s stand, involving two Pack members. They were ranting and raving about something or other. He only caught bits as he approached. What he head mostly was bits of ‘What do you mean you’re out?!’ and ‘Do you know what happens when I don’t have my Psycho?!’ Gage paused as he connected the dots. Maddox, the chem dealer, who always had at least a fair amount of backstock, was completely out of Psycho, which has literally never happened before? Then, he got his explanation.

“Look, I’m sorry, I had a bunch this morning, but the Overboss came by and took everything I had! I can’t just make more appear out of thin air!” Maddox explained frantically.

Fast as lightning, Gage walked up and pushed both Pack members out of the way so he could speak with the trader.

“You said the Overboss bought all the Psycho? How much?”

“I… Why?” Maddox stammered.

“Answer the fucking question!”

“Uhh, s-something like 10 syringes, sir, why?”

Gage didn’t even reply. He ran out of the market, pushing people out the way, whether they were raiders, traders, or guests. He isn’t sure he had ever ran so fast in his goddamn life. And why? The dots connected. And he didn’t fucking like them one bit.

When Porter Gage finally got to the far end of the main park where Fizztop Grille resided, he let his facade of at least a small shred of calmness evaporate into pure terror. He frantically pushed on the elevator button, but nothing was happening. It was as if someone had cut the wire to the power. Muttering worriedly under his breath, Gage went through the doors instead and began climbing stairs. He fucking hated this. He fucking hated every single damn thing that was going on right now. The panic, the worry, the speculation, all of it. If he turned out being wrong, he swore he’d get so fucking drunk that he’d black out for the next goddamn week.

When Gage reached the top door that led to the Grille, he tried to open it, but it was stuck. No, that couldn’t be right, he just opened it this morning. Fuck. She locked it, didn’t she?

“Motherfucker… I ain’t got the hands for this shit…” the cyclops grumbled in frustration as he pulled out a screwdriver and bobby pin box. If Emily was okay, there would be a damn long talk about this shit.

He broke his first bobby pin just trying to get it in the lock and he swore gruffly. But, before he could try again, he forced himself to take a deep breath. ‘You may not have the hands for it,’ he told himself, ‘but you ain’t ever had someone worry you this much before. You can do it.’

Even with his, admittedly a bit embarrassing, peptalk, Gage still found the lock nearly unsurpassable. Three more bobby pins and still nothing even close to right.

“Alright, Gage,” he said aloud. “You’re gonna pick this lock or you’re gonna shoot your way in. You ain’t givin’ up on her.” His voice was insistent and persuasive, even to himself. His hands calmed and whether it was luck, some god, or something in the beer he had, he unlocked the door and ran inside.

His head whipped around like a dust storm as he looked for the Overboss. Where was she? Then Gage’s eyes locked onto a chair in the sun, a still and lifeless Overboss laying there, a sea of Psycho syringes at her feet.

“Boss…?” Gage said quietly as he approached. Nothing. “...Emily…?”

As the advisor drew nearer, he could see the effects of the Psycho. Though the Overboss was still and lifeless, Gage could see her heart pounding from the stimulant. She had veins popping out from their places and all of her muscles were tensed. What the fuck was he doing just standing there? Something. Something to calm the muscles down. Anything!

Unfortunately, Gage’s only inkling for trying was that he reckoned he couldn’t make it any worse at this point. He grabbed some Day Tripper and some Jet, forcing them into Emily’s system, praying to whatever the fuck was out there that it didn’t kill her. And if anything, Gage thought he would pass out from relief as he saw the Overboss’ heart and muscles calm. But this wasn’t his expertise anymore. He grabbed her and flung her over his shoulder, rushing back to the market, not giving one shit that she was heavy as hell.

Needless to say, everyone was a bit startled when Gage caved the door in with a single kick and ran over to Mackenzie Bridgeman’s stand with a near-dead-looking Overboss on his shoulder. He was sweaty, unkempt, and most of all, clearly worried. But right now, he didn’t give a damn about anything or anyone. Porter angrily brushed everything off the Doc’s table and laid Emily down.

“Ten Psycho, one Day Tripper, one Jet, now fucking FIX HER!” he commanded at the cowering woman. She looked hesitant, eyeing the other traders in the market, as if asking for their opinions.

“Sir, I-” she began.

“You say one damn thing not related to her and I’ll slit your fucking throat. I know you’re thinkin’ of stallin’ so she’ll die, but let’s get one thing straight. She dies, I’m gonna be the next Overboss. And let me tell you, if you think Colter was bad, I’d be ten times worse. Now. Do you want this death on your hands and have a fuckhole future, or would you rather just fuckin’  fix her and have a pretty damn alright life?” Gage didn’t even really understand the tyrade he went off of himself, but it sure as hell got Mackenzie moving into high gear. She found a few syringes she needed and quickly injected them.

“Th-There. I f-flushed her system and added a stabilizer. Sh-She might urinate because of the f-flush, but she’ll be okay. I promise!” Mackenzie stuttered and begged. She was surprised when Gage threw a bag at her… It was full of caps. More than what the procedure would have costed. But she wasn’t complaining.

Porter, on the other hand, said nothing. He picked Emily back up in his arms and carried her all the way back to the Grille as on-lookers gasped and whispered. His mind was on Mags and Mason. Sons of bitches. What had they not told him? Worse yet, how the fuck did they care so little as to not even suspect anything was wrong? He’d cut them both down some day. But for now, he had other business to attend to.

Back at the Grille, after Emily had had her “accident,” Gage changed her into some clean clothes in as gentlemanly a way as he could, then tucked her into bed. And then, he sat. He sat and waited. She had to wake up sometime. Mackenzie said she would. And if Mackenzie was lying, she wouldn’t see out the week. He made a promise on that.

Eventually though, minutes turned to hours and hours turned into a day and a half. A day and a half of sitting on his ass, waiting. Neither Mags and her crew nor Mason had even showed up to see about the mess of a show he had put on. It made Gage sick and angry. It was bullshit. Ugh. He had to get his mind off of this, even just a little. He knew Emily kept a book or two in her dresser in case she ever felt the need to read. Maybe that would help.

Gage stood from the bed and went to Emily’s dresser, digging around in the drawer neatly labeled “books”. At least her organization came with labels. But that’s when he found something… a bit off. A book bound in what seemed to be Gatorclaw skin. The cover said nothing, but a pencil marked a page. He opened it and saw it read a date. A diary? The Overboss had a fucking diary? Normally, he wouldn’t pry or poke around in this girly shit… but he needed to get to the bottom of this whole ordeal himself.

Gage took the diary and sat on the edge of the be there, consciously avoiding anything that wasn’t pertinent or that seemed a little too personal. But even with those stipulations, there was just so much… raw, rough material, many of the pages tear stained. When had she even written these? Gage could have sworn he always had an eye on the Overboss, but he guesses he was wrong.

Nearing the end of the written pages, the tear stains had disappeared. The writing was bland and calm. No explanation of feelings. Nothing except short passages of things like ‘I am a disgrace. I’m horrid. My family is dead. I should be dead. I hate myself and so does everyone else.’

Honestly, it scared Gage to death most when he came across a bi-columned list. One side was labeled “Live” and the other “Die”. The “Live” list was a fucking mess of scribbling out and circling and more crossing out. The “Die” list was pretty cut and dry. No real scribbling, except with spelling errors, which he would have found funny if it wasn’t in this context.

On the “Live” side, all that remained unscribbled were very silly things, like “Fancy Lad Snack Cakes”, “Dogs”, and “Haven’t killed 100 Gatorclaws yet”, as if it was even a possible goal, all the goods adding up to maybe 10. But on the “Die” side, it said things like “Family dead”, “Fat”, “Ugly”, “Worthless”, and other things like that. This side was ridiculously long.

One thing Gage noticed, though, was the smudge of new additions. The first five “Live” options had recently been crossed out with bold lines and the same writing was added to the bottom of the “Die” list, which when he read them, his blood turned cold.

It was them. Him, Mason, Mags, William, and Lizzie. The new additions. That made the “Die” list easily in the high 30’s. But Gage didn’t understand. Why were they on that side? He quickly flipped the page to look at the back side. For the first time in years, he felt a lump in his throat. ‘They’re raiders. They don’t give a fuck about me. I have reached the end of my usefulness to them. They don’t really like me at all.’

Porter closed the book slowly, his hands clammy and shaking lightly. The took a breath. Did Emily really think that? I mean, why else would she-

“Gage…?” A weak voice interrupted his thoughts. “Wh…at… are you doing… with my diary…?” Gage turned to see Emily’s eyes open weakly, the woman pale and looking hurt.

“O-Overboss… Are you okay?”

“I-” she stopped herself for a moment. “Uh… Yeah. Just went on a bit of a rush. That Psycho really knocks you out, huh?” Gage’s eyes went from worried to just plain angry.

“Goin’ on a rush doesn’t usually fuckin’ involve rushing ya to the doc for a flush and stabilizer,” he said, knuckles white from his grip on the book in his hands.

“I-I… I…” Emily couldn’t speak, and her stutters quickly digressed into shakey gasps and soon after, sobs.

Porter’s anger softened into pity and guilt as he watched her. The raider set down the diary on the edge of the bed and then moved to sit next to the woman. He was never good with emotions. At all. So he just lightly took her hand in his own and rubbed the back of it with his thumb.

All he could do was listen to Emily cry and ramble incoherently, trying to give his best encouragements, which sort of just amounted to ‘eeyeah’, ‘alright’, and ‘it’s okay’. He felt like a fucking idiot, not knowing what to say. But what he did gather from Emily’s ramblings was something along the lines of that she felt alone, unloved, lost, and hated herself. It was a lot more than that, but Gage honestly couldn’t keep track of it all, he was in such a daze yet. Soon though, he helped her sit up and he threw off his cage armor, hugging her just for a moment before softly taking her soft hands in his.

“Now, I know this ain’t gonna just solve all those problems, Boss, but I need ya to know that that ain’t the case. You ain’t ugly or worthless or useless. You’re beautiful as ya are, just like ya tell everybody else. And ya know what? The leaders and I? We ain’t even been happier than since you came around,” he explained, looking into her eyes… It felt like he was searching for something. Hope. A spark. Anything.

“B-Bu-But… All of you make fun of me and call me names and besides, I-I’m just some stupid pawn, right? I’m just some empty fucking figurehead,” she whimpered. Gage promptly shushed her and brought her head to lay on his chest.

“No, no no no, that ain’t true at all. I… I know Mason and Mags can be pretty cold, but they always mean well with you. Believe me, if they didn’t like you, they wouldn’t tease ya, they’d off ya. Trust me.”

“Well, maybe they should have-”

“Don’t you dare go sayin’ that. Ever. And right now I wanna apologize. I know I’ve been… critical of you. But it ain’t fair. You’ve been a great Boss, Emily, and I think I never realized how rough I was on ya,” Gage explained.

“I… Uh… I forgive you,” Emily said quietly, a soft blush creeping on her cheeks… He must have missed an important detail in the diary. “But… You know… I wasn’t so worried about you being hard on me… I… I, uh… Thought it was kind of cute…”

“Then why was I on that die list…?” he asked. He felt Emily’s face heat up on his chest.

“I was jealous… Of that girl you flirted with last week… I… like you a lot, Porter,” she mumbled quietly. “Fuck… Why did I say that…”

“Wait, hold on now, hold it… You wanted to die because I was too damn thick to see that you were fallin’ for me?” he said with squinted, confused eyes.

“I mean… One of a great many reasons. But yeah. I thought you would never want someone like me. So that’s why you were on the list.”

At that, Gage chuckled a bit sadly.

“Well… Overbo-... Emily… I like ya a lot, too. I just wish ya woulda said so sooner so we could have avoided this…” Just as he said this, there was a knock at the door, which was promptly busted in by the Pack Alpha, the three Operator leaders behind him.

“Alright, where the fuck is the Overboss? I just heard what happened and I had to kill someone for it and I’m fuckin’ done with this shit for today.” Mason looked over and saw Emily awake and walked over, pointing at her. “Alright. You listen here, missy. We’re all gonna have a fuckin’ talk.” Mags stepped up with William and Lizzie.

“Right here, right now,” the blonde leader added, lighting her cigarette. “You’ve put us through enough goddamn stress for one lifetime.” Mason butted in again like the Alpha he was.

“Next time ya start feelin’ like this, you’re gonna come right to me and we’re going to fuckin’  fix it!”

“HEY!” Gage yelled, still holding a scared and confused Overboss close. “All of you need to calm the fuck down, grab a chair, and start takin’ it like adults. We’re workin’ on this now, but we’re gonna act like adults. Right, Overboss?

Emily gulped softly. “Right.”

#porter gage #fallout 4 #fo4 #fo4 companions #writing #author #trigger #trigger warning

[ohmyteez]

Big Bad World

Pairing: Daryl x Reader

Summary: You had been bitten on a run that you went on alone and when you got back to Alexandria, Daryl felt that now was the perfect time to confess some stuff

Warnings: tw: suicide!!! very, very, tragic chapter, language, no fluff, only sadness

Word Count: 1.8k

Note: thanks for requesting and sorry this took me so long! hope you like it, anon! also, i decided to leave out the “You may kill me but you might never insult me.” quote cause it just didn’t really fit. requests are OPEN

#26 “You’re the only one for me.”

#110 “Put the gun down.”

#153 “I have these weird feelings…”

#179 “Kiss me. Right here, right now.”

#184 “No! No, no, nononono.”

and your own: “Did everyone see that? Because I will NOT be doing it again.”

“No cause is lost, if there is but one fool left to fight for it.”

Masterlist

Prompt List

One thing you should’ve learned from all those times Rick lectured everyone was that you should not go alone on a run. But being as stubborn as you were, you wouldn’t have it and Denise needed more medicine, and since no one was willing to go on a run you decided to do it yourself. Which was the biggest mistake you’ve ever made. Not only did you get back with a half empty bag, but you got back with another surprise up your sleeve - literally. While you were out looking through the shelves of a seemingly empty drug store, you found out just minutes later that you were not alone but had the pleasure of the company of a walker, which you’d noticed much too late. It had gotten you by the arm, lustfully gnawing at the exposed flesh of your lower arm as you fiddled with your knife to stab its head. You were bit, and what was probably even worse, the bite was spreading slowly, which just meant suffering. Still, you decided to drive back to Alexandria, though with your vision a bit cloudy it took you twice as long. But once you’d gotten through the gates, you were quite successful to hide the bite mark that was starting to spread out further on your arm, and also looking quite nasty. You decided to drop off the meds to Denise first thing before you would go and hide somewhere with a loaded gun for when the time was right. You walked up the steps of the infirmary building, legs a little wobbly from the disease spreading but you tried to keep it together. The last thing you needed was to grab attention from the only medically equipped person in all of Alexandria. You entered the building, Denise’s head rising up to meet your gaze as you held the bag out to her, “I didn’t find a lot, I’m sorry about that. But I hope whatever’s in there helps you out.”

“Wait, did you go out there all by yourself? Are you okay? Do you need a check up? I have time now if you-”

“Please stop. I’m fine, just tired from all the driving. You’re welcome, by the way. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get some rest.” You interrupted and turned around to leave just as quick as you’d entered. Now you just needed to find a way to sneak into the armory and back out again. The doors were thankfully not guarded, so you quickly walked down the steps and through the doorway and headed to your right, the massive amount of weapons now right in front of you. You decided to just take a simple revolver, nothing too special but most importantly loaded with bullets, and snuck back outside without having been caught. Now you just needed to find a quiet place where you could sit down and wait until the time was right. You stuffed the gun between the waistband of your jeans and your back as you straightened out your jacket, wincing as the leather material stretched along the bite mark. You needed to get this done, asap. You walked through the streets of Alexandria, sparing a few sad little glances at the houses and people that you’d grown so fond of. You felt tears well up in your eyes and quickly turned your head up to the sky to keep them from falling. If you’d start crying now, that would definitely catch the attention of someone passing by and you did not need that. All you needed was to be alone and somewhere far away from civilization. 

“Y/N!” You heard someone yell out for you, mentally cursing yourself as you turned around to face the person who shouted for you. Daryl. The last person you needed to see right now was Daryl. The air between the two of you felt thick with tension as he was now only mere centimeters away from you.

“Can I help you?” You asked, wanting to get this over with as quick as possible. Not that you didn’t like Daryl, not at all. In fact, you were pretty much in love with him. But all the stress with the walkers and working on upgrading Alexandria left little to no time talking about feelings. Nor have you ever felt the need to tell him. The two of you were perfectly fine the way it was, other than the occasional tension. 

“I need to talk to ya. Can we go somewhere?” He asked quietly, as if whatever he was asking was a secret. You gnawed on your bottom lip, honestly debating whether or not you should just go with him and let him talk, maybe shoot yourself in front of him. Yeah, right. Like you would be able to do that.

“Look, D… I’m in a desperate need for a nap right now, so maybe we could talk later?” You tried but all you got from him was a glare and a huff of air. 

“I can’t talk later, Y/N. If I don’t get this off my chest now, I might never do it.” Daryl told you and you let out a sigh and nodded your head for him to continue. Better get this over with now than never, “I have these weird feelings… for ya.”

“And by that you mean?”

“I think I might love ya. I’ve been thinkin’ about this a lot and wheneva I think of you, I just feel… happy. Hell, you know I’m bad with words.” He told you and you let out a little laugh. Not that it was funny, you just found it ridiculous that now God thought it was the perfect time to give you a chance to be happy. Now. After you were bitten and close to dying. Great, just great. But then again, you couldn’t just let the mere fact that you were dying ruin a perfectly good confession.

“You know what? Kiss me. Right here, right now. I’ve been waiting for you to say that for a very long time.” You confessed and Daryl looked quite taken aback for a moment before he pulled himself together and actually did it. He just frantically reached for your face and pulled you towards him, lips molding together as if they belonged. You were sure that there was already a small crowd gathered around you, probably watching in awe. If they only knew what was actually going on. Well, only you did, but whatever.

The two of you parted, both panting heavily as Daryl let his forehead fall onto yours, “D, you’re the only one for me. I just want you to know that. But now, I gotta go.” You could feel Daryl’s forehead scrunch up at your words, forehead slowly removing itself from your own as you were met with his questioning eyes. You raised your hand to caress his cheek, your lips turning up into a sad smile as you stepped away from him to leave. And you actually did. You turned around and didn’t look back once, making your way to the very end of the town. When suddenly, Daryl called out to you again.

“Whatcha need that gun for?” He asked, having you caught red handed. Daryl knew you well enough to know that you hardly ever carried a gun with you just because and that you were a lot more skilled with knives. You stopped dead in your tracks, pulled the gun out and turned around, hand shaking.

“Oh, that? Well, fate decided that today should be my dying day.” You said, only to receive confused looks from not only Daryl but other onlookers, including Rick and the others. A little crowd had started to form behind Daryl, watching the interaction curiously, “I’ve been bit, Daryl. That’s what I need the gun for.”

“I don’t believe ya.” He said with his jaw clenched angrily. You let out a laugh, averting your gaze from him to everybody else. 

“Oh yeah? Well, how about fucking now.” You said and quickly slipped out of your jacket, throwing it to the floor in a fit. You rolled up the already blood soaked sleeve of your shirt and showed everyone the bite. For extra drama, you just decided to take a shot at it, just because, “ Did everyone see that? Because I will not be doing it again. Even though I could. It’s fun, I don’t even feel it hurting even though I believe this must hurt like shit!” You could feel yourself turning a little crazy. Probably all the adrenaline plus the virus pumping through you. 

“Put the gun down, Y/N. You don’t know what you’re doing.” Rick now decided it was time to step in. You scoffed at him and waved the gun around, mimicking his words as you rolled your eyes. 

“I know exactly what I’m doing, Rick. The bite has spread all the way up my arm. I’m a lost cause.” You spat out, sniffling as you now couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. Daryl started to walk towards you slowly, his usual hard exterior now broken down as he was crying as well. 

“Look at me. You’re no lost cause, Y/N. Remember a quote from one of your favorite movies ya told me about?  “No cause is lost, if there is but one fool left to fight for it.” You remember that, don’t ya?” Daryl asked and you sniffed loudly, “I’m gonna be that one fool fighting for ya. Let us help you. Please.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t. I already feel it taking over me, Daryl. You can’t help me anymore.” You sobbed and clicked the hammer of the gun down, pointing it to your temple, “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I was too dumb to listen to any of you. I’m sorry I went out alone. I’m sorry I wasn’t careful enough. Daryl, I’m sorry for never telling you how I felt. But at least now you know. I love you, always have and always will. I gotta go, I’m sorry.” You squeezed your eyes shut, blocking out all the protests and shouts from everyone as you pulled the trigger, your eyes opening one last time to see the image of Daryl rushing towards your falling body. 

“No! No, no, nononono.” Daryl continuously sobbed as he held your body in his hands, blood oozing out of your temples. He couldn’t believe he had just watch you die. The love of his life, right in front of his eyes. It was something he never thought would happen. You were the only person Daryl had ever wished a future with. With you, he had hope. And now he would never have the chance to tell you all of that. You were gone, for good, leaving Alexandria broken and devastated.

#daryl dixon #daryl x reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl #dixon #twd #the walking dead #twd imagine #the #walking #dead #imagine #the walking dead imagine #request #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #prompt #anon #anonymous #thanks nonnie #ff #dd

[briteboy]

yelling @ santi, i’m evil again (what else is new), SOME REALLY REALLY OLD ASKS, one GoT spoiler at the very bottom (beware)

*angrily slaps santi* GET YOUR SELF TOGETHER YAH POOP HEAD

Lou and Fiona deserve happiness pls let it happen ty

they do ;-; it will happen, don’t worry, no one suffers forever <3 i’ve actually been planning out lou’s story and i’m excited to actualize it hehe

I just read all of Santis story. Dear god, it is amazing. I cannot begin to describe how much I love it. I have been really sick lately and have such a hard time concentrating on anything for more than one second but I have not been able to look away from this story, not even when I re-read it for the third time. You are an amazing writer and I have fallen in love with every charachter you have introduced. I teared up so many times and my heart began beating fast, it was really an experience.

OH MY GOD ;___________; YOU READ IT THREE TIMES WHAATDOSOIGODFSKL holy shit thank you so much, i don’t even know what to say right now lmao ;-; i’m just kinda in awe that i was able to grab your attention like that and that you enjoyed it so much and just askjdjfsd THANK YOU i can’t say anything else but just thank you, people like you make this all worth it <3 

A case of the novembers is the kinda story you read and you just know its going to stick with you for awhile. Like ones day, you'll be long gone in the future, doing something totally different, older wiser, all that bullshit, and you'll just randomly remember what a bittersweet story it was.

OMFG ;___; holy heck asjdjnfkdkjs this really got me right in the heart lmao. that’s the kind of story it’s always been for me and seeing other people interpret it that way as well is just mind boggling, thank you <3 

You are evil. My poor heart hurts. ;______________;

you've ruined my life

Life hack: listen to the entire Hamilton soundtrack whilst working out at the gym. By the end of it, you'll have lost half your body weight due to sweating and crying at the same time (pls help this was such a bad decision)

OMG that’s me with grimes’ art angels lmao i go hord to kill v maim and venus fly

hamilton fans also go hord i respect it. learn more about history get swole killing two birds with one stone

Okay this is so fucking random but a while ago you did a post where you talked about perfect bby gianni saying that he spent a lot of time in introspection and like Thank you 'cause now I have a word to put on this thing I do when I try to figure why I feel certain things or what my relationship with people/random shit is and why and yeah I kind of understand myself a little better now so thx a lot!!! 😘😘😘 Also, you're great.

i think i was actually talking about santi (’cause that’s where we’re at right now, in that period of introspection for him heheh) but YES omg that makes me so happy ;-; it’s a good word lmao and i do the same thing, in fact i’m always trying to figure out my relationships with everything in order to understand myself more. that’s kinda why i’m so into astrology haha. i’m glad you finally got to pin down that feeling for yourself, it’s the best when that happens <3 YOU’RE GREAT TOO 💫

NOOOOOOOO MY FAVS THIS CAN'T... LOU.... SANTI PLS... THIS IS A RIOT 😭😭

let’s start protesting santi in the streets

Hi!! Umm I'm guessing you do but just in case, did you know there was a tear accessory? I think it's an eyeliner (cause you mentioned having to draw them yourself)

yeah i do! i mentioned the ones by s-club, i’ve used those a couple times. but i like drawing them myself because i feel like it’s weird to have the same single teardrop every time one of my characters cries (and we all know they’ve been crying a lot lately lmfao) if they didn’t cry often i probably wouldn’t feel compelled to draw the tears. but i don’t mind drawing them honestly, it’s kinda fun lmao. thanks for your consideration <3 

so im sitting here thinkin....... what if santi goes on this trip and coms back and lou is in a relationship!?!?!

👏santi👏get👏it👏together👏

HE’S TRYIN

i want to die

AAAH SOLE DEVELOPMENT BETWEEN CUTE DEVIL CHILD AND I ALMOST DIED TWICE TATOO MAN YES

I HAD TO READ THIS LIKE THREE TIMES TO UNDERSTAND IT LMFAOSDOJDKF BUT YES their relationship kills me the most ;__;

wait santi tried to kys :'(

WHERE U BEEN he did  :{

what font do u use in your histories?

arial!

hi u have a really pretty blog and I hope you have a good day

THIS IS SO SWEET I DON’T DESERVE IT ;-; I HOPE YOU HAVE A GOOD DAY TOO HONEYBEE 🌻

nyooooooom

I WENT M.I.A FOR A LITTLE AND I COME BACK TO READ UP ON THE STORY AND HOW DARE YOU ASHDDJFKL

@teishajenaie on instagram looks like Rooney to me, idk if you'd agree but ??

i see it!! definitely in the eyes and nose. also sorry i answered this literally like 3 months later lmao

gooey by glass animals gives me santi vibes :) ive been listening to it on repeat (bc im tht bitch) and it was making me think of you and his story! c: i hope you dont mind me over here lmao anyway, im excited to see where it goes and real excited for a back story for lou!! <3 lots of love

omg haha that’s actually funny because i used it in that one scene of him tripping, although it’s like completely a gianni song to me (at least personality-wise, it’s even on his playlist on my character page) and noooo i don’t mind, i love that song and i love when people recommend me songs!! i have a whole bunch of recommendations in my inbox that i need to acknowledge omg. anyway I’M EXCITED THAT YOU’RE EXCITED, especially for lou’s story, it’s coming up reeeeeal soon <333

i feel so late to the party but i Just started reading your story like five minutes ago and im absolutely entranced by it already and i cant wait to catch up and finally understand what to heck is going on

this was sent literally forever ago when santi and molly were out there being wild in the desert lmao so i hope you caught up and everything. “entranced” omg that’s such a wonderful word i’m honored

i didnt think i could love you more but the fact that you watch arrested development makes me so happy. i cry. my boyfriend has a mr manager, bluths frozen bananas shirt thats literally my favorite thing ever.

OMGGG YES i watched it once forever ago and i need to re-watch it asap lmao. I’M PRETTY SURE I BOUGHT THAT SAME EXACT SHIRT FOR MY BROTHER FOR CHRISTMAS ONE YEAR

Just a biiig prank. Huge

this one is from so long ago i don’t remember the context but i laughed at loud when i read it. huge

i was playing with uncharted for the first time today and they said Navarro in it and i was like THATS MY BOI SANTIII

santi infiltrating everyone’s lives my bf played uncharted tho!! it looked cool. like indiana jones. i liked the marketplace part. a monkey stole his apple

Hi sunny! I really am in love with your story (even if it's tearing me apart at the moment) and just wanted to say you're cool Stay strong ma dude

HI THANK YOU <333 you’re also cool my dude and i’m sorry for tearing you apart (if it makes you feel any better this story tears me apart on a daily basis)

what packs and expansions do u have for ur game?

ummmmmm all of them except vintage glamour and fitness stuff. i wish i didn’t buy some of the stuff packs lmao but what can ya do i actually didn’t even get vampires or bowling or parenthood until like a month ago lmao i’m late to the party

Oh shit she's been dead hasn't she. Like this is all a drug or alcohol infused bender of mollys memory, she's probably never left. They're probably still at the hospital. I hope I fucking wrong but shit I also hope not. Poor santi

we’re so far past this but i just wanted to publish this anyway lmao it was a good theory! and this person was so sure of it it kinda made me wish it was true lol. sorry if that disappointed you but i’ll always remember this one in my sad sad heart 💔

how long did it take for you to make friends here? I started a simblr because I really like storytelling with my sims & I thought it'd be fun to meet people who enjoy that, too, especially since I don't have many friends irl...but I've been here for quite a few months now and it seems like no one even cares that I'm here....everyone I try to interact with pretty much ignores me after a message or two....I'm just feeling really discouraged about my presence here :/

I’M REALLY SORRY I DIDN’T ANSWER THIS SOONER ASKJDKJFSDKA (i’m sure it didn’t help the fact that you feel ignored, i really really hope you see this) but okay uhhhhhhh i only had acquaintances from 2015 up until like this year? then i started really becoming close with people. so it took a while lol, but i think everyone starts off slow because it’s mostly about the actual game we’re playing at first and then making friends just happens through that. don’t get discouraged, like i said it took a while for me. you really just need to reach out to the people you’d like to become friends with, reply to their posts, give your genuine thoughts, say something that’ll make their day...people notice that no matter what they have going on, i promise. i hope you’re still here and hanging in there. don’t get caught up in who’s talking to you or not talking to you, just do your thing, enjoy what you do, and people will notice you. <3

3. Hi so I just wanted to say that I love your story, I'm here for every update. I'm an s3 player I play s4 every once in awhile but s3 has my soul. I love Santi and I know he will be happy in the end, whether it's with Lou or not(hopefully it is tho) I only want him to be happy. I go through so many emotions in one post, like this is a tv drama and I can’t wait for the next episode. This is the end of my cut and paste. Have a nice day.❤️

HI HELLO <3 this is so sweet and i can’t believe you actually care about my story lmao thank you i’m glad you have faith in his happy ending, i don’t want anyone to think i genuinely like making my characters suffer lmao. i only do it to make the happy ending more satisfying. asjdfjksd comparing my stuff to film or tv always makes me so giddy so THANK YOU ily <333

"Suicide before you see this tear fall down my eyes" (Beyonce) reminds me of Molly's situation soooo muchhhh aaaahhhhh

OMG YES what a good connection. good song good connection yaeeahhh better call molly with the good hair

Ummmm... hello! I just read through your whole story with Santi and I'm like... holy fuck. Not only is your story wonderful, your editing is so good. I'm surprised I didn't shove my eyes up against my computer screen. Please continue making wonderful things and being great. Signing off 12:31 in the morning, I hope you have as much fun as you want to

“as much fun as you want to” omfgasdkngjd why did that make me laugh so much. don’t have too much fun, have the responsible amount of fun anyway HELLO thank you soooooO much ;-; pls don’t shove ur eyes up against the screen i’m almost positive that’s not good for them. but i appreciate this so much thank YOU for being great <3 signing off at 2:18 in the morning after ignoring this message for months now (i’m sorryyyyyyy) but um ily

HELLO??? I JUST READ A SERIOUS CASE OF NOVEMBER FOR THE FIRST TIME AND I'M LIKE CRYING???? y u do dis to me I hate you and love you at the same time

(I need to rant I'm sorry) My uncle is really positive towards the army and war and stuff like that and all day he's been going on about how it should be mandatory to serve in the military, especially for "little brat girls" like me? And it's stressing me out so much I want to cry :( The army and war is something that genuinely scares me and I don't want anything to do with it, but he's just going on and on! What should I do?

this is literally sooooooooo late and i feel so bad i’m sorry, i hope this still helps you out and i hope you see it tho okay. i’m pretty sure this was even before the trans military ban like whew idek what your uncle must think about that. tbh just ignore him, like i know it’s hurtful but like...what is his point in telling you this? i would’ve literally been like (sarcastically) “ok then sign me up” but i’m also a lil shit so that’s probably not the best thing to say. but really like the only thing he’s trying to do is feel powerful by means of expressing his militaristic (no pun intended) opinions to someone far younger than him. it’s so that he feels bigger and better than you (especially by calling you a brat). he’s a sad man and anyone who relies on the military, of all things, to shape a person probably doesn’t have a strong sense of self anyway. i love you okay, just ignore him, don’t let him stress you out <3

I'm a little high and it's late but I have a lot of courage now so I've been following you for a while and I just want to tell you how much I love your story! I have come across other places on tumblr who do this but none have captured me as this one did! You are amazing and I am in love with this story! Thanks fo being you! :)

ONMG YOU HAD TO BE HIGH TO SEND THIS LMAO that was me this weekend anyway thank you so much, it floors me every time anyone says these kinds of things to me and it never gets old ;-; you are so amazing ok <333

you can't possibly be offended by a homophobic joke in game of thrones, it's set in medieval times. they had several lgbt characters in it, it's not the show that's homophobic, it's the characters, which is accurate for that time period.

o i can and i will lmao i mean i get where you’re coming from but with that logic you could say it’s only accurate to put homophobic jokes in today’s media just because people are still homophobic in the time live in. i know it’s the characters, but you do understand that someone writes those characters, right? it’s bad writing. it’s lazy and pandering and because of that it’s offensive. idk if you know the exact dialogue i was referring to but it was so completely unnecessary lmfao. they could’ve made a million other jokes. regardless of how it offended me it was just BAD lmao

SPOILER BELOW OK DON’T SAY I DIDN’T WARN YA

@ I wanna watch GoT anon: don't. It's just so fucking bad. The definition of overhyped tbh (and btw, sunny, PLS HELP HE SCREWED HIS FUCKING AUNT WTH)

LMAO SOMEONE ACTUALLY AGREES WITH ME? wow bless u. it is definitely overhyped, like it was good at first but it’s been riding that hype through these past couple of seasons to disguise the bad writing. i understand being entertained by it, but i’m always surprised when people think it’s actually well written at this point...it’s so cringey and now thanks to the season finale this fanbase will be justifying incest. great!

OK MOVE ALONG NOW

#AND I'LL BE ANSWERING THE CHARACTER ASKS TOMORROW (well today but whatev) #anonymous #nonsims #saviorhide #sunny answers

[foursprout-blog]

This Is How To Sleep Better: 5 Secrets From Neuroscience

New Post has been published on http://foursprout.com/happiness/this-is-how-to-sleep-better-5-secrets-from-neuroscience/

This Is How To Sleep Better: 5 Secrets From Neuroscience

***

Before we commence with the festivities, I wanted to thank everyone for helping my first book become a Wall Street Journal bestseller. To check it out, click here.

***

I’ll bet you’re not getting enough sleep. Honestly, I’m kind of cheating — it’s a pretty safe bet.

From Why We Sleep:

Two-thirds of adults throughout all developed nations fail to obtain the recommended eight hours of nightly sleep.

And that’s bad. Really bad… Yes, this is the part where I lecture you on how horrific missing sleep is. I promise to make it as quick and terrifying as possible, okay?

From Why We Sleep:

Routinely sleeping less than six or seven hours a night demolishes your immune system, more than doubling your risk of cancer. Insufficient sleep is a key lifestyle factor determining whether or not you will develop Alzheimer’s disease. Inadequate sleep—even moderate reductions for just one week—disrupts blood sugar levels so profoundly that you would be classified as pre-diabetic. Short sleeping increases the likelihood of your coronary arteries becoming blocked and brittle, setting you on a path toward cardiovascular disease, stroke, and congestive heart failure. Fitting Charlotte Brontë’s prophetic wisdom that “a ruffled mind makes a restless pillow,” sleep disruption further contributes to all major psychiatric conditions, including depression, anxiety, and suicidality.

So if you’re fond of saying, “I’ll sleep when I’m dead”, well, that may be happening a lot faster than you anticipated.

But I know: you’re fine. You don’t feel tired. Or you’ve “taught” yourself to get by on less sleep. Or you have mutant powers. Nope. Truth is you’re too tired to realize how tired you are. You’re like a drunk shouting, “GIMME THE KEYS! I CAN DRIVE! I’M FINE!”

From Why We Sleep:

When participants were asked about their subjective sense of how impaired they were, they consistently underestimated their degree of performance disability.

Which is probably why “…vehicular accidents caused by drowsy driving exceed those caused by alcohol and drugs combined.”

You need eight hours. The National Sleep Foundation and the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention both recommend 7 to 9 hours — but after 10 days of 7 hours your brain is mush whether you realize it or not. So get 8.

From Why We Sleep:

After being awake for nineteen hours, people who were sleep-deprived were as cognitively impaired as those who were legally drunk… After sixteen hours of being awake, the brain begins to fail. Humans need more than seven hours of sleep each night to maintain cognitive performance. After ten days of just seven hours of sleep, the brain is as dysfunctional as it would be after going without sleep for twenty-four hours.

Let’s not forget: sleep deprivation is routinely used as a torture method. And we do this to ourselves. Voluntarily. (I’ve moved on to waterboarding myself. I like a challenge.)

But, seriously, if two-thirds of people have this problem then we need some real answers from a real expert…

Matthew Walker is a professor of neuroscience and psychology at UC Berkeley, the director of its Sleep and Neuroimaging Lab, and a former professor of psychiatry at Harvard University. He’s been a sleep consultant for the NBA, the NFL, Pixar and a bunch of other places your mom would be really impressed by.

His New York Times bestselling book is Why We Sleep: Unlocking the Power of Sleep and Dreams.

We’re gonna explode some myths, review the science and get some great tips on how to sleep better — along with the best way to implement them.

Let’s get to it…

  So Why Do We Need Sleep Anyway?

On the surface, from an evolutionary perspective, sleep makes absolutely zero sense. You can’t gather food, find a mate, socialize or do anything useful while you’re out cold. And you’re vulnerable to predators.

Yet every animal that has a lifespan of more than a few days sleeps or performs a sleep-like activity. So obviously something pretty darn important is going on. Actually, a lot of important stuff…

Sleep is essential for memory and skill development. Cheat yourself on zzz’s and learning drops as much as 40%. Yeah, thats the difference between an A+ and an F.

From Why We Sleep:

When we compared the effectiveness of learning between the two groups, the result was clear: there was a 40 percent deficit in the ability of the sleep-deprived group to cram new facts into the brain (i.e., to make new memories), relative to the group that obtained a full night of sleep.

Sleep is also a built-in therapist, emotionally working out the issues you’re dealing with while you’re out cold.

From Why We Sleep:

REM-sleep dreaming offers a form of overnight therapy. That is, REM-sleep dreaming takes the painful sting out of difficult, even traumatic, emotional episodes you have experienced during the day, offering emotional resolution when you awake the next morning…

That’s not too shocking — we’ve all been moody after a night of little rest. But what you probably don’t know is that sleep also helps you deal with the emotions of others. Less slumber means less emotional intelligence.

From Why We Sleep:

By removing REM sleep, we had, quite literally, removed participants’ levelheaded ability to read the social world around them.

Nobody has ever told you to “stay awake on a problem.” And there’s a good reason that “sleep on it” is a phrase that exists not only in English, but in numerous languages. Next time your Swahili-speaking friend needs to come up with a creative solution to a tricky challenge, tell them to “kulala juu ya tatizo.”

From Why We Sleep:

Things were very different for those participants who had obtained a full night of sleep—one dressed with late-morning, REM-rich slumber. Almost 60 percent returned and had the “ah-ha!” moment of spotting the hidden cheat—which is a threefold difference in creative solution insight afforded by sleep!

And from a health perspective, sleep is the after hours cleaning crew. You make quite a mess in your grey matter with all that thinkin’ you do all day. Without the janitor to sweep up those amyloid dust bunnies you have a much higher chance of developing Alzheimer’s.

From Why We Sleep:

Without sufficient sleep, amyloid plaques build up in the brain, especially in deep-sleep-generating regions, attacking and degrading them… getting too little sleep across the adult life span will significantly raise your risk of developing Alzheimer’s disease.

And downtime makes you sexy. Yeah, research shows “beauty sleep” is real.

(To learn more about the science of a successful life, check out my bestselling book here.)

Alrighty: sleep-deprived bad. Lots-of-sleep good. So if you’re only going to do one thing to improve your nightly slumber, what should it be?

  Have A Consistent Sleep Schedule

Go to bed at the same time every night. Wake up at the same time every day. It’s crucial.

From Why We Sleep:

…if you can only adhere to one of these each and every day, make it: going to bed and waking up at the same time of day no matter what.

Don’t just set an alarm to wake up — set an alarm for bedtime. Build yourself a good pre-sleep routine where you wind down at the same time every night. And if you can get someone to read you a bedtime story, all the better.

(To learn the seven-step morning ritual that will make you happy all day, click here.)

You’re consistent and ritualized. Great. So let’s talk about that thing you hear mentioned constantly: blue light. How your smartphone and iPad screens are teaming up to turn you into an insomniac. Thing is, that’s only half the story…

  “Blue” Light Isn’t The Only Problem

All light is bad. Blue is just worse.

From Why We Sleep:

Even a hint of dim light—8 to 10 lux—has been shown to delay the release of nighttime melatonin in humans. The feeblest of bedside lamps pumps out twice as much: anywhere from 20 to 80 lux. A subtly lit living room, where most people reside in the hours before bed, will hum at around 200 lux. Despite being just 1 to 2 percent of the strength of daylight, this ambient level of incandescent home lighting can have 50 percent of the melatonin-suppressing influence within the brain.

That sleep hormone melatonin doesn’t just immediately flood your system when you flip the light switch off. It takes time. So dim the lights long before you’re ready to hit the sack.

And make sure your bedroom is darker than an H.P. Lovecraft story when it’s finally time to sleep.

(To learn the science of how to take naps that will make you smarter and happier, click here.)

Now everybody knows dark is important when it comes to sleep. But there’s a second melatonin trigger that most people don’t pay enough attention to…

  Be Cool

Ever try to sleep when it’s too hot? It’s not just icky uncomfortable, but it’s also telling your brain that it’s not bedtime.

From Why We Sleep:

Your nocturnal melatonin levels are therefore controlled not only by the loss of daylight at dusk, but also the drop in temperature that coincides with the setting sun… A bedroom temperature of around 65 degrees Fahrenheit (18.3°C) is ideal for the sleep of most people, assuming standard bedding and clothing.

Your body wants its core temperature low when you sleep. So it’s gotta dump all that heat you’re producing. And this is why you often see people’s feet or arms sticking out from under the covers: unconscious heat regulation.

From Why We Sleep:

The need to dump heat from our extremities is also the reason that you may occasionally stick your hands and feet out from underneath the bedcovers at night due to your core becoming too hot, usually without your knowing.

For super sleep, take a hot bath before bed. It doesn’t just relax you; it dilates blood vessels, allowing your body to ditch all that extra core warmth. This can boost NREM sleep by up to 15%.

From Why We Sleep:

When you get out of the bath, those dilated blood vessels on the surface quickly help radiate out inner heat, and your core body temperature plummets. Consequently, you fall asleep more quickly because your core is colder. Hot baths prior to bed can also induce 10 to 15 percent more deep NREM sleep in healthy adults.

Exercise definitely improves sleep but you don’t want to do it within 3 hours of bedtime because — guess what? It raises your core temperature.

(To learn 5 secrets from neuroscience that will increase your attention span, click here.)

I’m guessing you know that drinking a latte and a Red Bull before bed is not a great idea. And you probably heard booze isn’t a genius move here either. But there’s more to it than that…

  No Coffee, No Booze… And No Sleeping Pills

If you want the best sleep possible, you should only use caffeine in the morning or early afternoon.

From Why We Sleep:

Caffeine has an average half-life of five to seven hours. Let’s say that you have a cup of coffee after your evening dinner, around 7:30 p.m. This means that by 1:30 a.m., 50 percent of that caffeine may still be active and circulating throughout your brain tissue.

And decaf isn’t really decaf. It actually contains 15-30% of the caffeine of a regular cup of coffee. So if you drink three or four cups of decaf after dinner, well, don’t be surprised if you’re staring at the ceiling at 2AM. (To learn more about the science of coffee, click here.)

And, no, alcohol doesn’t help you sleep. What it does is actually more akin to anesthesia, which is not “real” sleep. And because it’s not the real deal, your brain can’t do its memory consolidation work properly.

From Why We Sleep:

…those who had their sleep laced with alcohol on the first night after learning suffered what can conservatively be described as partial amnesia seven days later, forgetting more than 50 percent of all that original knowledge.

And sleeping pills affect the same receptors in your brain as alcohol. So you get the same results — except their effects on memory are even worse.

From Why We Sleep:

No past or current sleeping medications on the legal (or illegal) market induce natural sleep.

Oh, and there’s one other teensy-weensy little problem with sleeping pills… they don’t actually work.

From Why We Sleep:

A recent team of leading medical doctors and researchers examined all published studies to date on newer forms of sedative sleeping pills that most people take. They considered sixty-five separate drug-placebo studies, encompassing almost 4,500 individuals. Overall, participants subjectively felt they fell asleep faster and slept more soundly with fewer awakenings, relative to the placebo. But that’s not what the actual sleep recordings showed. There was no difference in how soundly the individuals slept. Both the placebo and the sleeping pills reduced the time it took people to fall asleep (between ten and thirty minutes), but the change was not statistically different between the two. In other words, there was no objective benefit of these sleeping pills beyond that which a placebo offered.

I’m sure this is going to get me hate mail from Ambien lovers. Emails they won’t remember sending, that is.

(To learn how to best use caffeine — from a neuroscientist — click here.)

So what if all of the above isn’t cutting it? What if you have stone cold chronic insomnia? What’s the cutting edge front-line treatment for the most serious of sleep issues?

  To Sleep More… Sleep Less

If you’re only able to sleep 6 hours a night, then restrict yourself to 5. You’ll feel like poop the next day and crash hard…

But then only let yourself sleep 5 hours and 15 minutes. Now you feel like double poop and will be out before your head hits the pillow. So go to 5 hours and 30 minutes… And as long as you meet your designated quota, incrementally increase the amount of sleep you allow yourself. No naps.

You’ll be a zombie for a while but this is actually a core part of what is now quickly becoming the first-line treatment for chronic insomnia: CBT-I. The application of cognitive behavioral therapy to sleep issues.

From Why We Sleep:

One of the more paradoxical CBT-I methods used to help insomniacs sleep is to restrict their time spent in bed, perhaps even to just six hours of sleep or less to begin with. By keeping patients awake for longer, we build up a strong sleep pressure—a greater abundance of adenosine. Under this heavier weight of sleep pressure, patients fall asleep faster, and achieve a more stable, solid form of sleep across the night. In this way, a patient can regain their psychological confidence in being able to self-generate and sustain healthy, rapid, and sound sleep, night after night: something that has eluded them for months if not years. Upon reestablishing a patient’s confidence in this regard, time in bed is gradually increased.

(To learn 3 secrets from neuroscience that will help you quit bad habits without willpower, click here.)

Okay, hopefully that wasn’t too exhausting. (Or maybe it’s good that it was?) Let’s round everything up and learn the most important question to ask your doctor…

  Sum Up

Here’s how to sleep better:

Have a consistent sleep schedule: Yes, that includes weekends. Yes, I understand that you hate me now.

“Blue” light isn’t the only problem: Dim the lights in the evening. Set the mood. (Barry White music optional.)

Be Cool: People stick their feet out from under the covers because it’s good science.

No coffee, no booze… and no sleeping pills: And while I’m ruining everything and being a total buzzkill let me add: there is no Santa Claus.

To sleep more… sleep less: Don’t think of it as CBT; look at it as getting revenge on your brain for not letting you sleep.

What’s the question you definitely want to ask your doctor before your next procedure?

“How much sleep did you get last night?”

The amount of zzz’s you get certainly affects your life. But don’t forget that how much sleep other people get can affect your life too. Or end it. After a 30 hour shift, residents make 460 percent more errors.

From Why We Sleep:

Additionally, after a thirty-hour shift without sleep, residents make a whopping 460 percent more diagnostic mistakes in the intensive care unit than when well rested after enough sleep. Throughout the course of their residency, one in five medical residents will make a sleepless-related medical error that causes significant, liable harm to a patient. One in twenty residents will kill a patient due to a lack of sleep.

But hopefully you won’t be seeing a doctor anytime soon because you’ll be in tip-top shape due to all that glorious shut-eye you’re getting.

And this is the one post where if you fell asleep while reading it, well, I’m not offended.

Join over 320,000 readers. Get a free weekly update via email here.

Related posts:

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How To Get People To Like You: 7 Ways From An FBI Behavior Expert

The post This Is How To Sleep Better: 5 Secrets From Neuroscience appeared first on Barking Up The Wrong Tree.

#Happiness

[foursprouthappiness-blog]

This Is How To Sleep Better: 5 Secrets From Neuroscience

New Post has been published on http://foursprout.com/happiness/this-is-how-to-sleep-better-5-secrets-from-neuroscience/

This Is How To Sleep Better: 5 Secrets From Neuroscience

***

Before we commence with the festivities, I wanted to thank everyone for helping my first book become a Wall Street Journal bestseller. To check it out, click here.

***

I’ll bet you’re not getting enough sleep. Honestly, I’m kind of cheating — it’s a pretty safe bet.

From Why We Sleep:

Two-thirds of adults throughout all developed nations fail to obtain the recommended eight hours of nightly sleep.

And that’s bad. Really bad… Yes, this is the part where I lecture you on how horrific missing sleep is. I promise to make it as quick and terrifying as possible, okay?

From Why We Sleep:

Routinely sleeping less than six or seven hours a night demolishes your immune system, more than doubling your risk of cancer. Insufficient sleep is a key lifestyle factor determining whether or not you will develop Alzheimer’s disease. Inadequate sleep—even moderate reductions for just one week—disrupts blood sugar levels so profoundly that you would be classified as pre-diabetic. Short sleeping increases the likelihood of your coronary arteries becoming blocked and brittle, setting you on a path toward cardiovascular disease, stroke, and congestive heart failure. Fitting Charlotte Brontë’s prophetic wisdom that “a ruffled mind makes a restless pillow,” sleep disruption further contributes to all major psychiatric conditions, including depression, anxiety, and suicidality.

So if you’re fond of saying, “I’ll sleep when I’m dead”, well, that may be happening a lot faster than you anticipated.

But I know: you’re fine. You don’t feel tired. Or you’ve “taught” yourself to get by on less sleep. Or you have mutant powers. Nope. Truth is you’re too tired to realize how tired you are. You’re like a drunk shouting, “GIMME THE KEYS! I CAN DRIVE! I’M FINE!”

From Why We Sleep:

When participants were asked about their subjective sense of how impaired they were, they consistently underestimated their degree of performance disability.

Which is probably why “…vehicular accidents caused by drowsy driving exceed those caused by alcohol and drugs combined.”

You need eight hours. The National Sleep Foundation and the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention both recommend 7 to 9 hours — but after 10 days of 7 hours your brain is mush whether you realize it or not. So get 8.

From Why We Sleep:

After being awake for nineteen hours, people who were sleep-deprived were as cognitively impaired as those who were legally drunk… After sixteen hours of being awake, the brain begins to fail. Humans need more than seven hours of sleep each night to maintain cognitive performance. After ten days of just seven hours of sleep, the brain is as dysfunctional as it would be after going without sleep for twenty-four hours.

Let’s not forget: sleep deprivation is routinely used as a torture method. And we do this to ourselves. Voluntarily. (I’ve moved on to waterboarding myself. I like a challenge.)

But, seriously, if two-thirds of people have this problem then we need some real answers from a real expert…

Matthew Walker is a professor of neuroscience and psychology at UC Berkeley, the director of its Sleep and Neuroimaging Lab, and a former professor of psychiatry at Harvard University. He’s been a sleep consultant for the NBA, the NFL, Pixar and a bunch of other places your mom would be really impressed by.

His New York Times bestselling book is Why We Sleep: Unlocking the Power of Sleep and Dreams.

We’re gonna explode some myths, review the science and get some great tips on how to sleep better — along with the best way to implement them.

Let’s get to it…

  So Why Do We Need Sleep Anyway?

On the surface, from an evolutionary perspective, sleep makes absolutely zero sense. You can’t gather food, find a mate, socialize or do anything useful while you’re out cold. And you’re vulnerable to predators.

Yet every animal that has a lifespan of more than a few days sleeps or performs a sleep-like activity. So obviously something pretty darn important is going on. Actually, a lot of important stuff…

Sleep is essential for memory and skill development. Cheat yourself on zzz’s and learning drops as much as 40%. Yeah, thats the difference between an A+ and an F.

From Why We Sleep:

When we compared the effectiveness of learning between the two groups, the result was clear: there was a 40 percent deficit in the ability of the sleep-deprived group to cram new facts into the brain (i.e., to make new memories), relative to the group that obtained a full night of sleep.

Sleep is also a built-in therapist, emotionally working out the issues you’re dealing with while you’re out cold.

From Why We Sleep:

REM-sleep dreaming offers a form of overnight therapy. That is, REM-sleep dreaming takes the painful sting out of difficult, even traumatic, emotional episodes you have experienced during the day, offering emotional resolution when you awake the next morning…

That’s not too shocking — we’ve all been moody after a night of little rest. But what you probably don’t know is that sleep also helps you deal with the emotions of others. Less slumber means less emotional intelligence.

From Why We Sleep:

By removing REM sleep, we had, quite literally, removed participants’ levelheaded ability to read the social world around them.

Nobody has ever told you to “stay awake on a problem.” And there’s a good reason that “sleep on it” is a phrase that exists not only in English, but in numerous languages. Next time your Swahili-speaking friend needs to come up with a creative solution to a tricky challenge, tell them to “kulala juu ya tatizo.”

From Why We Sleep:

Things were very different for those participants who had obtained a full night of sleep—one dressed with late-morning, REM-rich slumber. Almost 60 percent returned and had the “ah-ha!” moment of spotting the hidden cheat—which is a threefold difference in creative solution insight afforded by sleep!

And from a health perspective, sleep is the after hours cleaning crew. You make quite a mess in your grey matter with all that thinkin’ you do all day. Without the janitor to sweep up those amyloid dust bunnies you have a much higher chance of developing Alzheimer’s.

From Why We Sleep:

Without sufficient sleep, amyloid plaques build up in the brain, especially in deep-sleep-generating regions, attacking and degrading them… getting too little sleep across the adult life span will significantly raise your risk of developing Alzheimer’s disease.

And downtime makes you sexy. Yeah, research shows “beauty sleep” is real.

(To learn more about the science of a successful life, check out my bestselling book here.)

Alrighty: sleep-deprived bad. Lots-of-sleep good. So if you’re only going to do one thing to improve your nightly slumber, what should it be?

  Have A Consistent Sleep Schedule

Go to bed at the same time every night. Wake up at the same time every day. It’s crucial.

From Why We Sleep:

…if you can only adhere to one of these each and every day, make it: going to bed and waking up at the same time of day no matter what.

Don’t just set an alarm to wake up — set an alarm for bedtime. Build yourself a good pre-sleep routine where you wind down at the same time every night. And if you can get someone to read you a bedtime story, all the better.

(To learn the seven-step morning ritual that will make you happy all day, click here.)

You’re consistent and ritualized. Great. So let’s talk about that thing you hear mentioned constantly: blue light. How your smartphone and iPad screens are teaming up to turn you into an insomniac. Thing is, that’s only half the story…

  “Blue” Light Isn’t The Only Problem

All light is bad. Blue is just worse.

From Why We Sleep:

Even a hint of dim light—8 to 10 lux—has been shown to delay the release of nighttime melatonin in humans. The feeblest of bedside lamps pumps out twice as much: anywhere from 20 to 80 lux. A subtly lit living room, where most people reside in the hours before bed, will hum at around 200 lux. Despite being just 1 to 2 percent of the strength of daylight, this ambient level of incandescent home lighting can have 50 percent of the melatonin-suppressing influence within the brain.

That sleep hormone melatonin doesn’t just immediately flood your system when you flip the light switch off. It takes time. So dim the lights long before you’re ready to hit the sack.

And make sure your bedroom is darker than an H.P. Lovecraft story when it’s finally time to sleep.

(To learn the science of how to take naps that will make you smarter and happier, click here.)

Now everybody knows dark is important when it comes to sleep. But there’s a second melatonin trigger that most people don’t pay enough attention to…

  Be Cool

Ever try to sleep when it’s too hot? It’s not just icky uncomfortable, but it’s also telling your brain that it’s not bedtime.

From Why We Sleep:

Your nocturnal melatonin levels are therefore controlled not only by the loss of daylight at dusk, but also the drop in temperature that coincides with the setting sun… A bedroom temperature of around 65 degrees Fahrenheit (18.3°C) is ideal for the sleep of most people, assuming standard bedding and clothing.

Your body wants its core temperature low when you sleep. So it’s gotta dump all that heat you’re producing. And this is why you often see people’s feet or arms sticking out from under the covers: unconscious heat regulation.

From Why We Sleep:

The need to dump heat from our extremities is also the reason that you may occasionally stick your hands and feet out from underneath the bedcovers at night due to your core becoming too hot, usually without your knowing.

For super sleep, take a hot bath before bed. It doesn’t just relax you; it dilates blood vessels, allowing your body to ditch all that extra core warmth. This can boost NREM sleep by up to 15%.

From Why We Sleep:

When you get out of the bath, those dilated blood vessels on the surface quickly help radiate out inner heat, and your core body temperature plummets. Consequently, you fall asleep more quickly because your core is colder. Hot baths prior to bed can also induce 10 to 15 percent more deep NREM sleep in healthy adults.

Exercise definitely improves sleep but you don’t want to do it within 3 hours of bedtime because — guess what? It raises your core temperature.

(To learn 5 secrets from neuroscience that will increase your attention span, click here.)

I’m guessing you know that drinking a latte and a Red Bull before bed is not a great idea. And you probably heard booze isn’t a genius move here either. But there’s more to it than that…

  No Coffee, No Booze… And No Sleeping Pills

If you want the best sleep possible, you should only use caffeine in the morning or early afternoon.

From Why We Sleep:

Caffeine has an average half-life of five to seven hours. Let’s say that you have a cup of coffee after your evening dinner, around 7:30 p.m. This means that by 1:30 a.m., 50 percent of that caffeine may still be active and circulating throughout your brain tissue.

And decaf isn’t really decaf. It actually contains 15-30% of the caffeine of a regular cup of coffee. So if you drink three or four cups of decaf after dinner, well, don’t be surprised if you’re staring at the ceiling at 2AM. (To learn more about the science of coffee, click here.)

And, no, alcohol doesn’t help you sleep. What it does is actually more akin to anesthesia, which is not “real” sleep. And because it’s not the real deal, your brain can’t do its memory consolidation work properly.

From Why We Sleep:

…those who had their sleep laced with alcohol on the first night after learning suffered what can conservatively be described as partial amnesia seven days later, forgetting more than 50 percent of all that original knowledge.

And sleeping pills affect the same receptors in your brain as alcohol. So you get the same results — except their effects on memory are even worse.

From Why We Sleep:

No past or current sleeping medications on the legal (or illegal) market induce natural sleep.

Oh, and there’s one other teensy-weensy little problem with sleeping pills… they don’t actually work.

From Why We Sleep:

A recent team of leading medical doctors and researchers examined all published studies to date on newer forms of sedative sleeping pills that most people take. They considered sixty-five separate drug-placebo studies, encompassing almost 4,500 individuals. Overall, participants subjectively felt they fell asleep faster and slept more soundly with fewer awakenings, relative to the placebo. But that’s not what the actual sleep recordings showed. There was no difference in how soundly the individuals slept. Both the placebo and the sleeping pills reduced the time it took people to fall asleep (between ten and thirty minutes), but the change was not statistically different between the two. In other words, there was no objective benefit of these sleeping pills beyond that which a placebo offered.

I’m sure this is going to get me hate mail from Ambien lovers. Emails they won’t remember sending, that is.

(To learn how to best use caffeine — from a neuroscientist — click here.)

So what if all of the above isn’t cutting it? What if you have stone cold chronic insomnia? What’s the cutting edge front-line treatment for the most serious of sleep issues?

  To Sleep More… Sleep Less

If you’re only able to sleep 6 hours a night, then restrict yourself to 5. You’ll feel like poop the next day and crash hard…

But then only let yourself sleep 5 hours and 15 minutes. Now you feel like double poop and will be out before your head hits the pillow. So go to 5 hours and 30 minutes… And as long as you meet your designated quota, incrementally increase the amount of sleep you allow yourself. No naps.

You’ll be a zombie for a while but this is actually a core part of what is now quickly becoming the first-line treatment for chronic insomnia: CBT-I. The application of cognitive behavioral therapy to sleep issues.

From Why We Sleep:

One of the more paradoxical CBT-I methods used to help insomniacs sleep is to restrict their time spent in bed, perhaps even to just six hours of sleep or less to begin with. By keeping patients awake for longer, we build up a strong sleep pressure—a greater abundance of adenosine. Under this heavier weight of sleep pressure, patients fall asleep faster, and achieve a more stable, solid form of sleep across the night. In this way, a patient can regain their psychological confidence in being able to self-generate and sustain healthy, rapid, and sound sleep, night after night: something that has eluded them for months if not years. Upon reestablishing a patient’s confidence in this regard, time in bed is gradually increased.

(To learn 3 secrets from neuroscience that will help you quit bad habits without willpower, click here.)

Okay, hopefully that wasn’t too exhausting. (Or maybe it’s good that it was?) Let’s round everything up and learn the most important question to ask your doctor…

  Sum Up

Here’s how to sleep better:

Have a consistent sleep schedule: Yes, that includes weekends. Yes, I understand that you hate me now.

“Blue” light isn’t the only problem: Dim the lights in the evening. Set the mood. (Barry White music optional.)

Be Cool: People stick their feet out from under the covers because it’s good science.

No coffee, no booze… and no sleeping pills: And while I’m ruining everything and being a total buzzkill let me add: there is no Santa Claus.

To sleep more… sleep less: Don’t think of it as CBT; look at it as getting revenge on your brain for not letting you sleep.

What’s the question you definitely want to ask your doctor before your next procedure?

“How much sleep did you get last night?”

The amount of zzz’s you get certainly affects your life. But don’t forget that how much sleep other people get can affect your life too. Or end it. After a 30 hour shift, residents make 460 percent more errors.

From Why We Sleep:

Additionally, after a thirty-hour shift without sleep, residents make a whopping 460 percent more diagnostic mistakes in the intensive care unit than when well rested after enough sleep. Throughout the course of their residency, one in five medical residents will make a sleepless-related medical error that causes significant, liable harm to a patient. One in twenty residents will kill a patient due to a lack of sleep.

But hopefully you won’t be seeing a doctor anytime soon because you’ll be in tip-top shape due to all that glorious shut-eye you’re getting.

And this is the one post where if you fell asleep while reading it, well, I’m not offended.

Join over 320,000 readers. Get a free weekly update via email here.

Related posts:

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The post This Is How To Sleep Better: 5 Secrets From Neuroscience appeared first on Barking Up The Wrong Tree.

#Happiness

[our-smooty]

Take Me to Church Chapter 13: Date

Fandom: Gorillaz

Rating: Explicit

Relationships: 2doc

Tags: Car Accidents Angst Hurt/Comfort Drugs/Alcohol Implied/Referenced Suicide SuicideHealing Everything Hurts

Summary: The band is back together, but things are… weird to say the least. But when a crisis arises, can they pull it all together and be a family again?

Link to other Chapters on my Blog!

The next two days passed much the same as the one after the day at the hospital. 2D and Murdoc practised music, hung out, and generally goofed off together. Sometimes they fucked, but mostly they just enjoyed each other's company. Russel was around, but he seemed to be going out more and the other two were too busy with each other to question it.

Friday morning, three days after the hospital visit, they were all crowded around the breakfast table debating which of their albums would win in a fight when Russel’s phone rang. Murdoc paused mid-laugh to glance at it and saw the caller was Dr. Cavenaw. Russel saw as well and quickly answered.

“Russel Hobbs speakin’. Yes. Yes thank you. I understand. Yes, OK, see you then.” As quick as the conversation began it ended, and Russel sighed.

“Who was that Russ?” 2D asked with his mouth full of the pancakes they’d made. Murdoc didn’t say anything but he waited with bated breath, the good morning he’d been having taking a sharp downward spike.

“That was Noodle’s doctor. She said that they started the process of wakin’ her up yesterday and she’s been showin’ some good signs. She also said we could come back tomorrow and try to help by takin’ to her and stuff, get her to wake up on her own,” he explained. 2D jumped out of his chair and pumped a fist in the air. Murdoc felt sick.

“Muds did you hear that? Noodles gonna wake up soon! We can go see here again!” Murdoc watched him jump around. Satan, what he wouldn’t give to just feel happiness at the idea of Noodle waking up. Because he was happy, he was fucking ecstatic that his baby girl was going to wake up and get back to normal but the looming dread of what might happen after hung over him like a noose.

“Calm down D, before you go and hurt yourself,” Russel warned. Murdoc stood and walked to the fridge, grabbing two bears and tossing one to the singer. The younger barely caught it, and Russel raised an eyebrow.

“Guys its ten in the morning.”

“It’s celebratory,” Murdoc snapped, draining half the can in one go. 2D cracked his open and took a sip as Russel shrugged.

“Right well, you two have fun with that.” Russel cleared his plate and put it in the sink, heading off to his room. Murdoc watched him go as he opened another beer.

“Isn’t it great Murdoc, Noodles gonna be awake soon,” 2D sighed happily, spinning in circles in the middle of the kitchen. He rounded on Murdoc with a big smile, which slowly faded as he saw the look on the bassist’s face. “Aren’t you happy?”

“Yeah mate, I am. I promise it’s jus’...” he trailed off with a shrug. He didn’t know what was wrong with him, why couldn’t he just be happy that Noodle was alive and going to be ok? For some reason, his brain wouldn’t allow him to just be happy instead of worrying about what might happen.

“You’re still worried she’s gonna hate you.” 2D hit the nail on the head and Murdoc flinched. There was no doubt in his mind the guitarist would want nothing to do with him once she was up and kicking again. Then he’d be back to having nothing; no band, no fame, and certainly no family.

“I’ve fucked up too many timed Stu, I don’t see how she could forgive me.” It’d be easier to bite the bullet and get it over with, leave before she could tell him to. It would hurt less.

“I’ve forgiven you, haven’t I?” The singer asked and Murdoc paused.

“Actually, you’ve never said you have,” he said slowly. Now it was 2D’s turn to pause for a second. He seemed to be thinking rather hard because he was doing that little thing with his tongue, the one where he stuck it in and out between his missing teeth. Murdoc had found it annoying, but now it was almost endearing.

He must have come to a conclusion because he nodded his head and strode towards the Satanist with a look of determination. Coming to stand directly in front of Murdoc 2D placed his hands on the shorter man’s shoulders.

“Murdoc, I forgive you,” he said, slowly and clearly, looking right into the bassist's eyes. A brief silence, a blink from the bassist, and suddenly Murdoc found himself in a crushing embrace. He wasn’t sure if he pulled Stu in, or if Stu pulled him in, but it didn’t really matter. All that mattered what the sense of relief he felt at those three words, words that until this morning he didn’t even really think he needed to hear.

“I forgive you Muds, but I dunno if I’m gonna be able to forgive you if you crush the life outta me,” 2D joked. Murdoc barked a laugh and let him go, a little embarrassed but too high on endorphins to care.

“Sorry, mate, sorry,” he chuckled as he let go, giving 2D’s arm a friendly pat. He felt better, lighter, somehow. Like maybe he should be celebrating.

They were still quite close together, so it wasn’t hard for Murdoc to lean in and plant a kiss on Stuart's lips. The singer kissed back willingly, openly. There was a moment, when their tongues touched briefly, where Murdoc thought about deepening the kiss, pushing 2D against the counter, and letting the taller man take him right there in the kitchen. He thought about how good it would feel, to ride this wave of relief and happiness right into something more carnal.

And he didn’t.

Instead, he pulled back, finished the kiss with a breathy laugh and let the singer go. 2D seemed reluctant but stepped back and Murdoc was grateful. If the singer had kept going, or been insistent he wasn’t sure if he had the willpower to keep thing PG.

“Heh, you’re a pretty aggressive hugger, aren’t you Muds?” 2D teased, but Murdoc was in too much of a good mood to snap back. Instead, he chuckled and sipped the beer he’d managed to hold on to during their moment. “So what are your plans for today?”

“The same as the last couple days?” he asked, feeling like 2D was going somewhere with his questions. His assumption turned out to be correct when 2D shook his head and scolded him.

“Murdoc we can’t jus’ keep doin’ the same thing every day. I don’t think we’ve been outside since Monday!” The bassist didn't really see the problem with that but gestured for Stu to continue.

“So I  was thinkin’ we could go out an’ do some shoppin’? Maybe get a few gifts for Noodle to make her room feel homier.” Despite still feeling nervous about seeing Noodle tomorrow, Murdoc couldn’t help but agree.

“Fine, we’ll go out. Go ask Russ if he wants to come while I get ready.” 2D scampered out of the kitchen excitedly as Murdoc watched on. Sometimes he swore the other was more a child than a 40-year-old man.

Russel declined the offer to go out, which 2D thought was weird since going out had been all the drummer had done in the last week. He tried to convince him, but Russel had just shaken his head with a funny smirk.

“Nah, you and Murdoc go have fun together,” was all he had said before shooing 2D out of his room. The singer was a little disappointed but figured Russ had his own plans so he got himself ready to meet Murdoc downstairs.

Shuffling into the front hall, 2D picked out a pair of chucks and sat on the steps. When he’d asked Murdoc to go out he hadn’t really had a plan. As much as he enjoyed working on music and shagging, he didn’t want to spend another day cooped up in the house. Getting gifts for Noodle was just an excuse to get out and about. Besides, it would be good for Murdoc to get some fresh air. The bassist had been in better spirits over the last few days but 2D was still keeping an eye on him.

He was still worried that the other might do something he’d regret. At times like then, when they were separated, the fear he’d felt up on the roof would come back and he’d have to force himself not to go barreling through the house looking for his mate. They hadn’t talked about any of that since Monday, mostly because 2D didn’t know what to say.

“Alright, D?” Murdoc asked, stomping down the stairs in his Cuban heels and startling the singer. He was quite bundled up, with a sweater, scarf, and leather gloves. 2D looked down at his own t-shirt and jeans. “You’re gonna want to grab a jacket, mate.”

“Is it cold out?” he asked, trying to remember what the weather had been like the last time they went outside. A side effect of the multiple brain injuries was that his memory was a bit shit.

“D it’s the end of September, of course it’s cold. Go get a jacket,” Murdoc sighed. “I'll go start the car.”

After fighting through the hall closet and wrestling his fall jacket from the grips of a particularly feisty umbrella stand 2D walked outside and got in the passenger seat. Murdoc hadn’t been drinking as much recently, so he wasn’t too worried about the bassist driving them around.

“So, where to then?” Murdoc asked as he sat down. 2D thought for a few minutes before an idea hit him.

“Why don’t we head downtown and check out the music shops, see if we can find any cool old records?” When he was younger he loved browsing through the shops with his mates looking for interesting records.

“Sounds good mate,” Murdoc agreed and they were on their way. They weren’t too far from the downtown core, they probably could have taken the train instead but there was always the chance of being recognized out in public and 2D didn’t really want to risk it. Not with all the press about Noodle.

When they got downtown they picked out a parking space and wandered towards the shops. Murdoc was chattering on about something on one of his soap operas, so 2D wasn’t paying attention other than the hum or nod occasionally. It was a lot busier than he’d expected, with people crowding the storefronts and pushing along the walkways.

“So then  he says that she was the one who bought the gun--Stu can you please try to keep up?” Murdoc griped. He didn’t seem to be having trouble moving through the crowds despite being almost a head shorter.

“I’m tryin’ Muds but people keep pushin’ me!” he whimpered as another person shouldered him. Murdoc shot him a frustrated look, then held out his hand.

“Come on, you git,” he huffed. 2D took his gloved hand and let Muroc lead him through the crowds. People moved out of the way for Murdoc, probably because he was so cranky looking, and 2D had a much easier time getting along with Murdoc’s hand in his.

They stopped at a couple of the more popular and mainstream music stores along the way, having a good laugh when they came across a poster of Gorillaz for sale in one. 2D even convinced Murdoc to take a selfie with the selection of Gorillaz albums and CDs under the pretence that Noodle would enjoy it. He knew, secretly, that Murdoc got a kick out of seeing all the Gorillaz stuff on sale.

Eventually, they got to a quieter part of downtown off the beaten track, though Stu kept a tight grip on Murdoc just the same. The shops down that end had more to the stuff they wanted to look through and they spent a good amount of time combing through the piles and piles of records comparing finds.

“I don’t think we have this one, do we Muds?” 2D asked, holding up a copy of A Night at the Opera. Murdoc scoffed.

“It’s Queen, D. Of course we have that one.” 2D giggled and put the album aside. Murdoc had an absolutely astonishing amount of records buried away in his room that the band had collected over the years.

“M’glad you can remember Muds. My brain’s like a siv,” he lamented, continuing to dig through the piles. Occasionally he would hold up an album for Murdoc’s consideration, but they mostly explored in silence. At one point Murdoc disappeared for a little and that now-familiar feeling returned, but 2D found him skulking around the poster and memorabilia section. They accumulated a good pile of music after and eventually left the shops.

“D’you want to get somethin’ to eat Murdoc?” 2D asked as they walked back down the street. The bassist had also been a lot better about eating as well, but Stu was getting tired of pizza and leftovers.

“If you want, I don’t care,” he answered, which wasn’t the answer 2D was looking for but it was good enough. He looked around the street for somewhere interesting and spotted a little Mexican place that looked quite cozy.

“Oh! Let’s go there!” he exclaimed excitedly and Murdoc shrugged. 2D grasped the bassist hand again and led him across the street and into the little restaurant. Inside was warm and colourful and surprisingly empty.

“Table for two please!” he said to the waitress with a big smile. She led them to a booth and left them with menus.

“Muds, these menus are in Spanish. I dunno Spanish!” he fretted. Murdoc rolled his eyes and pointed to the main section.

“Pick somethin’ here that has a picture you like an’ I’ll tell you what it is,” he instructed, looking over the menu himself.

“You can speak Spanish?” 2D gaped, eyes wide. Murdoc nodded.

“Picked it up in prison. S’not so hard after you’ve got the basics. Or if you’ve got a big guy named Lenny shouting it at you every day.” 2D stared in awe for a moment, partially at how casual Murdoc was being but also because he’d had no idea. How do you live with someone all that time and not know they can speak another language. He eventually pulled himself away from watching Murdoc read the options and looked down.

“What about this?” he asked pointing to something completely random on the page. Murdoc looked over, standing in his seat a little to see over the table. HIs hair fell into his face and 2D got distracted by the way it made his deep-set eyes even more noticeable.

“Pollo Picado, that’s chicken with peppers and tomato sauce. Sounds good,” 2D barely heard a word the Satanist said, too busy admiring the way Murdoc’s lips curled around the foreign language.

“W-what are you gonna have?” 2D stuttered, hiding his flush behind a glass of water.

“The carnitas sounds good.” 2D shivered.

“Good, good.” They ordered when the waitress came back, or rather Murdoc ordered because 2D couldn’t pronounce the food names despite hearing Murdoc say them before.

“So, did you find anythin’ cool?” 2D asked once they were alone again. Murdoc pulled his bags up from the floor and rifled through them for a bit before sighing.

“Not really, didn’t see any albums that weren’t shit or that we don’t already have. I uh, I did find these though. Thought you might like them.” He pulled out a smaller bag and handed it over to the singer, face just the slightest bit red. 2D peaked inside the bag warily--you could never tell what Murdoc might find--and smiled.

Inside were four keychains, each one moulded to look like a member of Gorillaz. They were all in the phase one style, little Noodle with her helmet, Russ with that yellow hat from the Clint Eastwood video, Murdoc with his base, and 2D signing into a little model microphone. He held them gently, turning each over in his hands.

“Stupid I know, I shouldn’t of--” 2D shushed him and pulled out his keys, clipping the 2D one to them.

“They’re adorable Muds! I’m gonna call this lil’ guy Tiny 2D!” He jangled the keys around excitedly. Murdoc still looked embarrassed but held his hand out for the other three keychains, clipping the Murdoc to his own keys.

“I guess this is Mini Murdoc then?” he asked, holding the keychain up to eye level. “I think they made me too short.”

“I think it looks jus’ right,” 2D ventured. Murdoc scowled and put the keys down as their food. Starving from all the walking around 2D dug in immediately. Murdoc poked at his with an uneasy look before 2D raised an eyebrow at him.

“Not what you wanted?” Murdoc looked up at him, then back at the food.

“No, carnitas is one of my favourites, but…” he loaded one of the soft taco shells with meat and toppings, “I haven’t really had much of an appetite recently.”

“I’ve noticed,” 2D garbled through a mouthful of chicken and peppers. He watched Murdoc take a bite and felt a little better. Not wanting this to go like the diner, where he’d upset Murdoc so much he didn’t eat anything, 2D decided to focus on his own meal until the other was done.

They finished and paid, wandering back out onto the street. “Other than the keychains we didn’t buy anything for Noodle, did we?” 2D asked as they walked.

“No, but we could stop and get her some flowers or somethin’. Isn’t that what people bring to hospitals?” Murdoc said, leading them back towards the car. “I think there was a florist near where we parked.”

2D linked their hands again and allowed the bassist to lead the way. “Gosh, I’m glad I brought you Muds, you’re a lot smarter about this stuff than I am.”

There wasn’t much of a crowd at the florist so they were able to walk in and check out the flowers right away. 2D pulled them from bouquets to arrangements, oohing and ahhing the entire time. He’d never had much of a green thumb--in fact, he managed to kill an air plant once--so he didn’t really know what to get. Murdoc looked board.

“Jeeze Murdoc, I didn’t know there were so many different types of flowers in the whole world!” he said happily.

“Just pick something already Faceache, it doesn’t matter what,” Murdoc said, pointing to some potted plants. “Those look fine and they won’t die in a couple of days.”

“Good idea, let’s get one of those then,” Stu agreed picking up a little pot filled with white and pink clusters of flowers. Didn’t different flowers have different meanings? He wondered what those ones meant.

Murdoc was getting fidgety, so they checked out quickly and headed back to the car. 2D cradled the little potted plant in his hands the whole way, protecting it from the cold and wind. They each hopped into their seats hastily, the setting sun bringing colder temperatures.

“Bloody hell it’s freezin’, it wasn’t this fuckin’ cold the other day!” Murdoc groused as he navigated the Sunday afternoon traffic. The heating in the car was slow to warm up and 2D fretted over the plant.

“Can’t you drive faster? The florist said if the flowers get too cold they’ll die,” he wailed, hugging the pot to his chest.

“They’re goin’ to die if you crush them to death D,” Murdoc said, eyeing the poor plant. “I’m drivin’ as fast as I can.” 2D continued to fuss over the plant until they pulled into the driveway, where he sprinted inside.

“Oi! You can’t leave me with all the bags you sod,” Murdoc shouted, but 2D ignored him and continued inside. He rushed through into the kitchen to give the flower a drink of water, hoping that would be enough to prevent it from dying. He paused a moment to pet the dainty flowers before the slamming of the front door startled him.

“Oh it’s fiiiiiine, jus’ leave ol’Murdoc with all the bags.” 2D could hear Murdoc complaining from the foyer. Guiltily he walked back to the front hall to help.

“Sorry Muds, I was jus’ so worried about the flowers,” Stu apologized as he took some of the bags Murdoc was holding.

“Whatever, Faceache,” Murdoc grumbled, but he didn’t sound too put-out.

2D shuffled his feet a little as he watched Murdoc stretch out the kinks in his arms and back from dragging the bags inside. He could see the muscle of Murdoc’s back and shoulders twisting and bunching under his shirt and it made his face heat up just a bit.

“I-I had a good time today, Muds,” he said, scratching the back of his head awkwardly.

Murdoc turned to the singer and paused. 2D stared down at his shoes feeling oddly embarrassed. “Yeah, today wasn’t so awful.”

2D had been around Murdoc long enough to know what the bassist meant. The urge to hug the shorter man was strong, and 2D decided to take his chances and step into Murdoc’s space, arms open. He half expected Murdoc to push him away, but was pleasantly surprised when the other man allowed him to wrap him up in a hug. Murdoc smelled like shampoo and cigarettes and sweat. 2D nuzzled into his hair slightly, tightening his hold and nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt Murdoc’s arms wrap around his middle loosely, returning the hug. They haven't hugged like this in well, ever. He could feel the bassist sigh against his collar as 2D began to sway them side to side gently, their hug morphing into something closer to an embrace.

Feeling bold, 2D decided to try something he’d been thinking about for a while. Slowly removing one of his hands from Murdoc’s back he brought it up to his hair and gently ran his fingers through. The reaction was immediate. Murdoc sagged with a sigh, tightening his arms around Stu’s waist. 2D’s confidence surged and he continued to pet and ruffle the bassist hair as much as he wanted. It was softer than he expected--Murdoc wasn’t a stickler for good hygiene normally--and 2D wondered at the feeling between his fingers.

“Mmmmm,” Murdoc moaned. 2D continued to rub at that particular spot and he could feel the other man relaxing in his hold. He could feel the potential for sex vibrating between them, Murdoc was probably in the right headspace to agree to almost anything 2D wanted. But he didn’t really want to, for the moment he was enjoying making the other man feel good. Making Murdoc feel good made 2D feel good, so why not indulge a little?

Eventually, they separated when 2D realized they’d been standing in the foyer for a significant amount of time. He smiled down at Murdoc, who was still standing quite close.

“Thanks for the hug, Muds,” he said and the older man smiled.

“Don’t mention it, you can pay me back by hauling all those bags upstairs,” Murdoc said, winking. 2D groaned but didn’t make too much of a fuss.

“I guess it’s only fair,” he admitted, leaning down to grab a couple bags. Unlike Murdoc he wasn’t stupid enough to try and carry all of them at once. Murdoc nodded and left the front hall, probably to go get a drink, and 2D got to work on moving all the bags. Even after when he was done, tired, sweaty, and a little sore, he still thought today had been a really good day.

#tw suicide #tw violence #tw car accident #tw DRUGS AND ALCOHOL #tw hospital #takemetochurchfic #niccalpot