#EAT ASS SMOKE GRASS GOTTA GO FAST

[red0-3]

[darklymelanatedstories]

Hope you like this intro to:

Hide and seek (ft Goku)

Part 1

You kept as still as you could–despite your uncontrollable shaking–steadying your breathing as not to hyperventilate.

Breath in...breath out...breath in...breath out

The only thing you could hear was your breathing in this unbearable silence. Where was he?

Last you saw him, he was counting to 10. But you didn't stick around as you started running as soon as he reached 2.

You tried to control your sobbing and quietly prayed that he wouldn't find your hiding spot. It was dark and cramped on an especially dark night. Hopefully he'd miss you if he ever were to come by, if you just kept still.

Breath in...breath out–

Then you heard it.

The sound of a broken twig and crunched leaves as his footsteps became known, followed by the loud clanking of chains that spoke wonders of its intended use. You could hear his goofy chuckle, that which once brought you joy now brought you chilling goosebumps.

"Ready or not, here I come!"

~

"Found you, (Y/n)!"

A shriek left your lips as you were tackled to the ground.

"Goku! Goku, let go of me!"

You rolled around the grass in a fit of giggles and laughs as you tried to push the spiky haired man off your smaller form.

"Not until you give it."

"Never!"

Still struggling to free your self, you thought up a plan that was sure to work...and if it didn't then you'd die from embarrassment.

With Goku looming over you, you cupped his face with your hands, closed your eyes and hoped for the best as you leaned forward.

"What are you doing?"

You froze. Your lips just a kiss away from his and the man of your dreams was watching.

"Uh," You immediately pushed Goku off your form and jumped up from you spot. "Hey Vegeta. We were...uh just wrestling."

He raised an eyebrow at you. At that moment you could've died from embarrassment and you'd be happy because the last thing you'd see is Vegeta.

"Wrestling with your lips? Or actually was it tongue wrestling?",he teased.

"Well..."

"It's (Y/n)'s distraction technique to put her enemies off guard." Goku said, placing a hand on your shoulder. His way of saying that he was backing you up. "I gotta say it sure did the trick for me." He chuckled and you couldn't help but notice the light blush on his face.

"Uh huh, so if you two idiots are done with your little games," he then turned to look at Goku. "We have a match to get to."

And with that, he left.

"Sooo Goku–"

You were immediately cut off when Goku started rummaging through your backpack that you left on the ground. Realizing what he was looking, you rushed over to him but it was too late.

"Aha! Found it." He raised the box he found, up in triumph while using his other hand to stop you from trying to take it.

"Sorry (y/n)",he said before making a run for it, with you chasing after him.

"Goku, get back here with my donuts!"

•••

After chasing Goku and failing to get your donuts back, he made you a deal that if you stayed to help him prepare for his match against Vegeta then he'd give you your donuts back.

You didn't really have anything else planned so you decided to stay and help him warm up, also while trying to find where he hid your donuts. Priorities, right?

You were currently holding the giant punching bag still while Goku sent a flurry of punches so fast and hard that you thought you were the punching bag. The reason for his sudden aggressiveness was because of all the eyes that were immediately on you he moment you walked into a gym full of thirsty male wrestlers.

"Oh, sorry. (Y/n) are you okay?",he asked when he realized he almost punched you.

"Yeah.",you reassured. "It's nice not having you going easy on me as usual."

"But you know I'd never hurt you."

You gave him a smile and playfully punched him in the arm. "I know, big guy." You stood on your tip toes to match his height, your face dangerously close to his. "So does that mean I can wrestle today?"

Goku blinked comically before he chuckled. "I don't know (Y/n)."

"Aw." You crossed you arms and pouted. "Can I at least have my donuts?"

"Yo guys I found a box of donuts. Let's eat!"

Goku's eyes snapped towards the donut thief and you noticed him somewhat trying to forced back the scowl. You figured it was because someone found the donuts so you paid it no mind. You ran over to hug Yamcha and chow on your donuts like the world was coming to an end. Unaware of the burning glare a certain spiky haired man has been giving Yamcha. Though he kept his mastered fake smile whenever someone came near him.

It's no secret that Yamcha has been after you for a while now. Making no effort to hide his feelings or keep his hands to himself. He'd always make up an excuse to be around you or to have you to himself even if it was for something like watching a movie. You never really picked up on his flirty nature since he was like this with most women and you thought nothing of it but seeing him so much as touch you made Son want to cut Yamcha's hands off, break both of his legs and literally kick what's left of his ass with them.

He hated it. He hated that he loved the idea of having Yamcha scream in agony. Goku was a nice guy. He is a nice guy. Most loved in the city.

Goku had tried to convince Yamcha to leave you alone with some lame excuse but Yamcha wouldn't give up.

He watched as you laughed at whatever Yamcha just said while he wrapped your arms around you in which you thought was a loving brotherly manner.

6 weeks.

6 long weeks of seeing that shit and he was tired of it. It would end...tonight.

•••

Walking over to his car in the dark, empty parking lot, Yamcha couldn't help but feel uneasy, as if he was being watched. And the more he tread towards his car, the harder the feeling felt. Reaching for his keys in his pockets, he pressed a button that lead to what was music to his ears.

beep beep

Now sure his car was only a few steps away, his nerves slowly calmed as he quickened his pace.

"Haha, what was I so worried about. No one is here but me.",he tried convincing himself.

"10"

Yamcha immediately stopped in his tracks at the sound of the sudden voice seemingly echo in the parking lot.

"9"

"What?!" He started freaking out as he heard it again. The voice sounded so familiar but he was too scared to find out who it was.

The voice chuckled. "8"

"Who are you?!",Yamcha yelled only to be answered by another number.

"7"

"Fxck this!" Yamcha started jogging to to his car cautiously as his eyes searched the darkness for any other signs of life.

"6...5... You better be running the opposite way Yamcha because if I find you...no one else will."

Increasing speed, now running to his car, he tried to ignore whatever it was that was speaking to him. Once he reaches his car, he'll be fine. He'll be fine. That's what he keeps telling himself.

"4...3. Yamcha turn the fxck around before I kill you~",they sang.

They were delusion if they thought that would happen. Yamcha was getting to his car if it's the last thing he does.

The mysterious voice was soon heard laughing as soon as Yamcha touched his car.

"2.."

A horrific thought came into Yamcha's mind of seeing this person in his car.

He cautiously opened his door, his guard up just in case.

"Oh thank God!",he shouted after letting out a breath of relief. He jumped into his car in excitement. "Yes, I made it, now let's get the fuck out of–"

BOOM!

An explosion seared the air and earth in large expansion of smoke and flames leaving only a few large burning scraps of what used to be Yamcha's car.

~

Fixated on the glorious sight from his hiding place, he couldn't help but let out a derange cackle.

"Nothing like a bomb to make everything lit!",he joked to himself, clapping his hands excitedly to have gotten another victim in such a long time. Though he had to admit it wasn't as much fun as chasing after his prey in a nice little game of hide and seek but it was exceptional. He wouldn't waste all that energy on Yamcha.

Letting out a content sigh, he composed himself as he wiped a tear of joy from his eye. "I've missed this."

Looking back at the tiny destruction he's caused, he scowled at the thought of seeing that bastard Yamcha again. To think that one wrong move could have destroyed their friendship so fast that it'd have to result in manslaughter.

No regrets.

"I warned you Yamcha but you just had to go after my (Y/n).",he said. "You aren't the first and you certainly won't be the last. (Y/n) is mine and anyone who thinks otherwise better hide, because once the countdown ends I'll come seeking. And when I do, you better pray to Kami that I don't find you."

[harrysgloves]

Trouble (chapter 4)

>>>Catch up with master list here!<<<

word count: 1.9k

story summary: You’re nothing but trouble and Harry can’t help the fact that he wants a taste.

warnings: Language // Mentions of past smut // Harry is a cute little jealous jelly bean

chapter summary: A piece of your past comes back.

a/n: Lots of supporting characters in this one which is pretty great writing them. I’m in love with them all and very protective of them at this point.

>>><<<

Harry should have known you'd be there with your back pressed tightly against a tree. One hand laying on some frat boy's chest as he chatted you up outside on the quad.

He rolled his eyes, his dark sunglasses shading him from the sun and everyone knowing he was staring at you talking up some asshole.

He couldn't help it. Ever since you two hooked up, you had avoided him like the plague. Every time he stepped into the living room and you were there, you'd find some reason to run to your room.

Even at parties when he'd usually go out for a cigarette with you, you'd quickly put yours out and go back inside.

He had no idea what the hell he'd done to get you to fully stop talking to him. Sure, you guys weren't best friends by any means but you were always friendly. At least said hi to him when he walked in the front door. Now you were avoiding him and it was driving him crazy.

"You fucked her and you still can't stop staring?" Lex asked with a laugh, pulling Harry away from his thoughts of you and back to your guys' group of friends.

"You got it bad, man." Finn said with a smile, taking a hit from his cigarette before Rose walked up to the group with Elena following shortly behind her.

"Who's got what bad? Do I need to get tested?" Rose asked, plopping down on the sun-warmed grass, taking Finn's cigarette from him to take a hit before giving it back.

"Ew, stop fucking doing that." He complained, handing the cigarette back to her. A proud smile on her face as she got it back, knowing it worked every single time.

"Seriously, what are we talking about?" She asked as she let out a puff of smoke.

"Nothin'." Harry mumbled out as he stretched out on the grass. His long legs crossed in front of him as he rested on his elbows.

"We're talking about how the British twat has a hard-on for Y/N still." Link said as Addie rolled her eyes, laying her head in his lap when she laid down on the grass. His fingers running absentmindedly through her dark hair.

"You guys hooked up?" Elena asked, her head snapping towards Harry.

A short nod of his head was all it took for her face to fall. Staring off into the distance, glaring at you still flirting your ass off with some jock.

"Oh, they didn't just hook up," Finn said, glowing from the fact he had managed to weasel out all the dirty little deals of yours and Harry's night together. "They had crazy sex. I mean, shit, the details were enough to get me going."

"What the fuck, Finn? You're so gross." Addie complained as she kicked her brother in the arm with her outstretched leg. His annoying laughter being cut off when you finally made your way to the group, sitting down on the grass in the free spot beside Harry.

Not at all missing the glare you were receiving from Elena and the rest of them looking at you with those annoying shit-eating grins.

"What was that about?" Lex asked as you handed him a flyer. Everyone in the group who was sitting up inching their way towards Lex to read the piece of paper.

"Omega Chi is having a glow party this weekend!" You said excitedly as everyone ohh and awed at the news.

"Fuck yes." Finn cheered as he ripped the paper out of Lex's hands.

"Wot's a glow party?" Harry asked, sitting up, his arm slightly brushing yours as he reached for the flyer in Finn's hand.

The sparks erupting in you even from the slightest touch from him. Making you bite your lip. Really, it was so stupid. You had no idea why the hell you were this attracted to him.

"It's a black light party where you paint neon paint on each other." You said with a smile as he finally handed you back the paper you had been given.

You really had been trying your absolute hardest to keep him off your mind but with this party coming up, you couldn't help but wonder if that meant he'd be touching you again. Even something as simple as painting on you had your thighs clenching.

The sound of your name broke off the rest of the conversation. Your head swiveling around to see who was calling out for you.

You squealed, eyes wide, as you scrambled from your spot on the ground toward the person yelling and waving to you like a maniac. You ran full force, arms thrown around him as he spun you around in a hug.

Everyone in the group looked towards Harry, whose face had fallen slightly at your departure. A sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that he didn't even want to admit was there. He hated feeling like this for no reason.

You two had hardly even talked since that night. He really needed to put it out of his mind.

"Fuck, that hurts." Finn said, handing Harry his cigarette. Not even bitching about the fact someone else was stealing another cigarette from him.

"Nah," Harry lied as he took a hit from the cigarette before handing it back. "We're not together or anything. She doesn't do serious shit. Made it pretty well known too."

"We'll see about that." Rose hummed out, her eyes moving back towards you but Harry's stayed fixed on her. What the hell was she talking about?

His thoughts were quickly interrupted from wandering off too far when you pulled your new friend over to the group. His arm around your shoulder as he walked with you.

"Guys, this is Austin. He just transferred here from my hometown community college." You said with that bright smile on your face as you looked at him.

Harry hated to see you looking at anyone like that. Anyone besides him. Which was stupid because he was pretty sure you'd never look at him like that.

He hated the feeling, jealousy, that was burning up his esophagus from the pit of his stomach. He swallowed thickly, reminding himself that everything with you would have to be strictly physical.

"Yeah, we used to have a lot of fun back in the day." Your new buddy said, pulling you closer into him, making Harry thankfully he had sunglasses on to hide his eye roll. Fucking prick just had to rub it in.

"She was a great cheer captain. Even got us to nationals last year. Too bad we all got wasted the night before, right?" He asked with a laugh as you swatted his chest.

"Shut up, they don't know about the cheering." You grumbled, feeling your face heat as everyone looked at you.

"What?" Rose asked, perking up at the news that someone may possibly know you better than her.

"Yeah, I used to cheer."

"Hot damn. Go get your outfi-" Finn started but was quickly cut off by Addie kicking him on the shoulder… again.

"Yeah, this is why I didn't say anything." You said rolling your eyes but not missing the playful smirk forming across Harry's lips. Feeling your cheeks heating as you felt his eyes burn into you.

"Well, we were pretty great. I'll have to show you guys the videos. You know, from when we weren't hungover." Austin said with a smile, ruffling your hair with his hand before pulling away from you.

"Okay, gotta get my stuff together and into my new apartment. Just wanted to check out the campus." He said, making you pout up to him.

He had been one of your closest friends before you had met Rose. Of course, he was also a guy on a cheer squad in a small town, the guy could have used all the friends he could get his hands on back then. You were sure in a bigger more open-minded place he would really flourish.

"Oh my God!" You squealed, eyes widening when you caught a glimpse of another man walking towards you two. Throwing a slap on the now laughing Austin's shoulder.

"You didn't tell me you brought him!" You yelled as you ran past him, hugging yet another guy.

"Jesus, how many people does she fuck?" Elena scoffed.

Harry's head whipping around to her so fast you could hear his neck crack as he glared at her through his glasses.

"Damn, someone's bitter today." Finn commented as everyone else stared at the now slightly blushing Elena.

"What the fuck?" Rose asked quietly to her as you walked back up to the group.

"Guys, this is Akiro." You said as you pulled the other guy up to the group. "This is Austin's boyfriend."

Harry had never heard sweeter words in his whole life. Letting go of a breath he didn't even know he was holding in, making Finn laugh silently from beside him.

"They're high school sweethearts. Wish we didn't grow up in a shit town. You guys could have been Homecoming king and king." You gushed, pushing them together.

"Yeah, the gay linebacker and the gay cheerleader. A romance novel in the making." Akiro joked, his arm going around Austin's shoulder.

"Well, we got to get going. It was good seeing you again, babydoll. We'll catch up before this one leaves town. He's just here helping me unpack." You nodded your head, hugging them both before they turned to leave.

"Damn, they make a hot couple." Rose said, Addie agreeing with her as you sat down back in your spot.

"Yeah, they were adorable in high school. The only problem was they were the only out couple so they got a lot of shit." You sighed, leaning back to rest on your elbows.

Your eyes closing as you soaked up the sun. Only opening them slightly when Harry mimicked your position.

"Still got that cheer outfit?" He whispered in your ear as the group carried on another conversation.

Your cheeks immediately heating when you turned to look at him. The smug smile on his face and playfulness dancing in his now uncovered eyes.

"Maybe I do. Maybe I don't." You said, smiling at his eye roll.

"Maybe I'll find out. Yeh?"

"Possibly. What's in it for me?" You asked, genuinely interested know what you'd get if you pulled that old thing out of your closet.

Well, what you'd get minus a mind-blowing orgasm.

"I'll pretend y'haven't been avoidin' me all week. Blushin' every time y'walk out 'f the room 'M in." He smiled, that annoying dimple popping out as your eyes widened.

"Whatever. I do not." You lied, trying your best to ignore your cheeks heating yet again at the fact he noticed you being so weird with him.

You just couldn't help it. You were so into him with knowing so little about him. You were afraid if you got to know him better you'd catch feelings.

"Sure, y'don't, love. Careful, someone might think y'got a crush on me or sumthin'." He said smiling widely as he laid back flatly on the ground. Your eyes widened as you looked at him so content with himself.

Did you have a crush on him? You didn't think so but at the same time, you couldn't deny the fact you were drawn to him like a magnet, couldn't get your mind off how he touched you. How you wanted him to touch you again.

You swallowed the thought down. Knowing you were playing with fire. You didn't do relationships for a reason. You didn't do getting close to people for a reason and you'd be damned is some pretty boy with nice eyes and a great smile made you forget what it felt like to be the one with your heart ripped out and torn into pieces.

[johannstutt413]

Christmas in the Clouds

(requested by anonymous, who thought this would be cursed...HAH I say. HAH.)

It was Christmas morning, and like most of their employees, the Doctor wasn’t going into work today; they’d polished off most of their work the day before in a Christmas Eve crunch that would make any exec jealous, and now it was time for some serious R&R. They pulled out their trusty rolling paper, tossed in some of their favorite blend of grass, and smiled as they settled into their smoking chair, ready for a comfy evening in their house, just them and the THC.

It was an open secret the Doctor had started smoking marijuana some time after returning to Rhodes Island from their comatose exile in Chernobog; Perfumer, after several sessions with them, had determined they were entirely too anxious to keep up their current pace and not hurt or even kill themselves with a blood pressure spike, so she’d put together a blend of medicinal herbs - including marijuana, yes - to calm them down and prescribed it under the pseudonym “Smoke Balm,” which she got approved through Aak to minimize the number of questions asked by medical personnel. The best part, in the Doctor’s mind, was how easy it was to get more; Lena and Podenco grew the individual ingredients for a variety of other blends for other Operators, and they were more than willing to top the stash off whenever their boss asked them to, which meant the Doc essentially had a year-round season pass to Zootsville whenever they felt like. It was heavenly.

That morning, however, wasn’t the best to start high off their ass, as the knock on their door signaled. They stood up, albeit a bit shakily, set their joint on a silver tray on their chair arm, and answered the door to find...Lena? “Good morning, Doctor...Did you forget about the Christmas party?”

“The what?” They blinked. “We have one of those?”

“Dr. Kal’tsit sent the invite out two weeks ago. Did you not get one?”

They thought for a minute, but there wasn’t really any hope of them remembering at this point - that blend did good work, fast. “Uh...”

“Regardless, I was hoping you and I could go together.” She smiled. “Especially since it seems you’ll need someone watching you tonight, as I imagine you’ll be taking your afternoon dose as well.”

“Yeah...sorry, I didn’t know.” The Doctor wasn’t sure why they were blushing. Maybe from the heat from holding the smoldering herbs to their face?

Perfumer pat them on the shoulder. “It’s okay, Doctor. Next time I plan on asking you on a date, I’ll do it earlier. See you tonight~”

“Yeah, I’ll see you tonight.” She left, and a few minutes after they sat back down, it clicked what had just happened. Maybe they shouldn’t smoke the second one today…

About ten hours and three joints later, the Doctor was going on a vision quest in the main hall as Lena led them around, arm in arm. The lights shone brighter, the music sounded more in-tune, and the Vulpo on their arm looked absolutely stunning, but in spite of all of that, there was a gnawing pit in their stomach that something wasn’t right...or maybe they were just hungry.

“The kitchen staff aren’t serving dinner until later tonight,” Perfumer explained as they walked to the snack table, “but this should be enough to tide you over for now. I’m going to get us some punch, okay? Stay by the brownies until I come back.”

“Okay.” They waved to her as she went off, which was apparently enough to earn a blush, before turning to the brownie plate and picking it up off the table.

Aak arrived around three brownies later, looking oddly dapper in his party get-up. “Hey, dude. Man, you look wasted; how many puffs did you take before you got here?”

“...Uh...” Were they supposed to answer with a number?

“Ah, whatever; I won’t stop ya from having fun.” He winked at them. “Waitin’ for my date, too. Can I get one of those?”

The Doctor looked at the brownies, frowned, and handed them the plate. “There you go.”

“Thanks, man.” The Feline took two and handed back the plate.

“Hey...” They counted the number in his hand. “That’s not one.”

Aak laughed. “I rounded down, man, don’t worry ‘bout it. Guess you got nervous about your speech, huh?”

“...Speech?”

“Yeah! You’re the boss, after all.” He laughed at the expression on the Doctor’s face, but after a moment he realized he wasn’t joking, and the Feline suddenly felt a pang of sympathy for the poor bastard. “Shit, man, they didn’t tell you anything, huh?”

They shook their head. “I didn’t even know we had a party today.”

“No wonder you’re so out of it. Well, you’ll do fine, so don’t think about it too much.”

At that point, Warfarin arrived; if looks could kill, she’d’ve slain most of the room by now in that scarlet dress of hers. “Good evening, Doctor. Aak, you’re not bothering them too much, are you?”

“No more than a nibble on their neck would.” He grinned as she thumbed him in the center of his forehead. “Gotta go, my guy, but good luck tonight!”

“Yeah, man...You, too.” The Feline steered his Sarkaz date away from the Doctor, who suddenly had a real concern on their plate. What kind of speech was it supposed to be? And how do you give a speech when you can’t remember the sentence that came before the one you were saying just then after you said a sentence and forgot about the other one?...Wait, hadn’t they already thought that?

Perfumer returned with two tall plastic cups and handed them one. “There you go, darling...Is everything okay? You’re sweating now.”

“Aak said I have to give a speech tonight.” They gulped down the punch. “I’m not ready.”

“Ah, yes, the speech. I wrote one for you this afternoon.” She reached around the back of her dress and pulled out a set of note cards.

The Doctor set their empty cup on the table and hugged her. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Lena’s face was now a Christmas light in and of itself. “I also spiked your punch.”

“Wait, what?” They let her go.

The Vulpo smiled back at them. “It’s a counter-dose for the Smoke Balm in your system. It’ll take some time to take effect, but by the time you need to make your speech, you should have all your faculties back.”

“Wow...You’re amazing.” That overloaded her systems, but the Doctor couldn’t tell in their current state. “Hey, is there somewhere I could sit? I’m kinda dizzy.”

“Ah, yes, the side effects...Coming down so quickly might fatigue your body extra. Let’s find somewhere to wait for the antidote to kick in.” She took their arm again, blushing more than she had in her life, and led them to a circle of chairs that, at first, was completely unoccupied.

Once people saw the pair sit down, however, they began to fill in around them; Podenco sat next to Perfumer, which meant Myrrh and a few others from the garden crew did as well, while Gravel took the seat next to the Doctor with a wide smile on her face. “Good evening, Doctor. How’re things?”

“Things? Things are good.” Lena was distracted right then, but that probably wasn’t a big deal. “How’re your things?”

“Good. I’d like to show you something, if you’re not busy~”

They shook their head. “Not really, but I gotta sit for a bit.”

“Oh? That’s fine.” The Zalak pulled a piece of mistletoe from somewhere and dangled it between them. “Here is just fine~”

“...I don’t get it.”

She giggled. “You don’t know? When two people are under mistletoe together, they have to kiss. It’s the law.”

“It is?” The Doctor looked over to Perfumer. “Hey, Lena? Is it a rule that people under mistletoe have to kiss?”

“Hmm? Why are you-” The Vulpo looked over, saw Gravel attempting to steal their date, and glared at her.

The Zalak cocked her head. “Is the Doctor with you tonight?”

“Yes, they are.” She held out a hand to the Doctor. “We’re on a date.”

“Is that true, Doctor?” The knight turned back to her mark-

-who’d plucked the mistletoe from her hand and was now eating it. “Piney.”

“...Doctor?” Perfumer giggled. “Well, I suppose you’re not under it anymore.”

“Huh? Oh, right.” They kissed Gravel’s forehead, which left her steaming in her chair.

Lena blinked. “I...hmm.”

“What?” The Doctor did the same to her. “Now I’m the mistletoe.”

“I...I suppose you are, but...why are you kissing everyone’s forehead?”

They shook their head. “Not everyone. Only if they’re shorter than me.”

“...Okay, then.” She stood up, letting go of their hand. “I need to use the restroom. Stay here until I get back, okay?”

“Okay.” As they walked off, the Doctor could feel the high wearing off as everything turned a little more grey, a little more quiet...or was that because their eyes were closing?

A few hours later, the Doctor woke up, still in the corner, with no one anywhere near him. They glanced around, confused. “Wait, wasn’t...wasn’t there a party?”

“There was.” Perfumer walked in from off to the side. “You slept through the rest of it. No one asked you for a speech after all - apparently Amiya does those now. Are you ready to go home?”

“...I’m sorry.” They really were.

She shook her head. “I should be apologizing, Doctor; I didn’t realize the antidote had a side effect-”

“I shouldn’t have had four Balms in the first place.” They sighed. “I’m a terrible date, and a worse person for making you drag me around like that.”

“Doctor, you didn’t make me do that. I wanted to.”

The Doctor looked up at her. “You did?”

“Of course.” Lena smiled at him, although it was a little shaky. “You’re my patient, after all.”

“You know you’re more than that to me, though, right?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“...You’re sure?” They stood up, holding out a hand. “You don’t seem confident in that.”

“I...the mistletoe stunt hurt, but I knew better.” She didn’t take their hand.

So they took hers. “Lena-”

“It’s fine.” The Vulpo’s eyes fell to the floor. “We aren’t actually a couple, so I-”

“Lena, look at me. Please.”

Perfumer looked up - and sprouting from the Doctor’s head was a sprig of mistletoe. “...Huh?”

“I don’t need this to kiss you.” They snapped it off their head and threw it behind them, into a smoldering fireplace which flared dramatically as the plant made contact. “I want to do that anyway.”

“Oh, Doctor~” She leapt into their arms to accept their kiss-

-and punched their arm to wake them up. “Doctor? You fell asleep.”

“...Did I?” They groggily looked around. The party was still going on, but it did feel like it was winding down. “Sorry. I think the Balm’s wearing off.”

“That’s good.” She was apparently cross with them in real life as well as in their dreams. Reality is often disappointing like that.

The Doctor turned to Lena. “Did something happen with mistletoe earlier?”

“...Nothing important.” The Vulpo looked back at them, completely neutral, as she stood up. “Dr. Kal’tsit said your speech is in ten minutes. I’ll take you to where you’ll be giving it.”

“Thank you...I’m sorry.” They followed suit.

She shrugged. “Sorry for what?”

“For making you work on Christmas Day.” That earned them a curious work. “And on our date, too.”

“It’s not work,” Lena protested.

The Doctor took her hand. “It hasn’t been a date, either...I’ll make it up to you.”

“That’s okay, you don’t have to.” Perfumer looked off to the side before they started walking. “I knew what I was asking for.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, please be seated. The Doctor’s closing message is about to begin.” Dr. Kal’tsit said as she saw their HR head and primary tactician approach the raised platform she’d had set up for the night’s festivities.

The Vulpo patted the pocket where she’d put the speech cards. “Just read that and you should be fine. I’ll be sitting in the crowd with everyone else.”

“Okay.” They took a deep breath, and suddenly the world was brighter again. “Wait, what the-”

“Doctor, would you please come up to the microphone?” The green-haired Feline surrounded by knives - wait, knives? - called to them.

They walked up the mile-long staircase to the mike and looked out into the sea of blood and ashes- looked out into the audience, including Lena, who flashed them a thumbs-up. The Doctor cleared their throat, took a deep breath, and began to read.

“As the end of the first calendar year since my return comes to an end, I look at what we’ve accomplished as a company, and I couldn’t be more proud of each and every one of you. I know that even before my return, you were hard at work, and you set a strong foundation for me to capitalize on, which I can’t thank you enough for. Since then, we’ve created a strong working partnership with Lungmen, initiated trade deals with multiple city-states, repelled Reunion forces from several locations and secured trade routes, stopped a volcano - a fricken volcano! - from erupting and burying a city, prevented a hostile takeover of Lungmen by the Rat King and his forces, and fought injustice and prejudice at every turn. It’s impossible for me to thank each and every one of you for your contributions, but as this year ends and another one begins, I hope to at least be able to return the effort and good faith you’ve given me and this company with my own.”

Applause...and then an awkward pause as the Doctor stood there, contemplating their next action before continuing.

“Truth be told, my own investment has been...lacking, I feel. Shortly after returning, I developed a chemical dependency which very nearly jeopardized this evening.”

Murmurs from the crowd.

“Going forward, I promise I will be fully present and engaged for gatherings such as these, as I refuse to repeat this sort of mistake...and to my date for the evening, I’d like to apologize with every fiber of my being. Let’s grab a burger or something tomorrow. My treat.”

Louder murmuring, which instantly fell silent when Lena called out “Sure!” from the back of the audience.

“Alright, now I’m done.” They chuckled. “Have a good night, everyone. Try to not get caught under the mistletoe at the wrong time, okay?”

A few people in the know broke out into laughs as the rest awkwardly applauded; Kal’tsit returned to the stage and announced the party was over, and as quickly as they’d taken their seats, the crowd scattered.

Except, that is, for Lena and the Doctor, who took their time walking arm-in-arm to her apartment. “You didn’t need to do that, Doctor; I knew you didn’t intend for the evening to go the way it did.”

“I want to be held accountable, so I decided to get the whole company involved. Besides, it was a convenient way of making sure we scheduled a second date.”

“Ah, clever.” The Vulpo giggled. “I would have agreed no matter how you asked, of course.”

They smiled back. “Of course...Well, we’re here. I should probably get some sleep now; I did a real number on my body today.”

“Oh, I’m sure...but are you sure you want to go all the way home to do that?” Perfumer didn’t let go of the Doctor’s arm as she swiped her keycard through her dorm’s card reader.

“Hmm...well,” the Doctor admitted, “I suppose I can stay for a little bit. Having a medical opinion of my condition would be nice.”

Lena nodded. “Oh, yes, I agree. I’ll be sure to give you a thorough examination.”

“...You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Gravel scared me with that mistletoe stunt,” she admitted, “and scent marking might not be as effective as I’d hoped. If you’d rather not-”

They spun around so they were holding Perfumer in the threshold, unlinking their arm so they could hug her instead. “I never said that. I’m just surprised you’re okay with moving so quickly.”

“You can never be too careful around Rhodes Island, Doctor, but you can be too cautious.” She hugged them close, gently leading them backwards into her apartment.

“True.” They pulled the door shut behind them once both were past the threshold. “Merry Christmas, Lena.”

Lena slid the Doctor’s mask aside with a finger and kissed them, eyes glittering in anticipation. “Merry Christmas, Doctor dearest~”

[prompt-master]

Thanks Nikki

For @taylor-tut who requested David with a migraine! I hope you like it!

Mr. Cambell stared down at David with a proud smile, "I can't believe you've done it! Davey" he clasped a hand down onto David's shoulder, gesturing out towards the camp from through the counsler's cabin window, "somehow you've created the perfect atmosphere! Every one of those campers are happy and have learned an experience like no other!"

David gasped, teary eyed from how wide his smile was, "Oh Mr. Cambell! It was worth it to make the kids happy!"

"Here you go Davey," he spun David around, pulling out a golden trophy from his hat, "the greatest counsler award."

David pressed two hands over his mouth, his gasp cracked from tears and emotion, "for me...?!"

"Take it Davey...you deserve it. You always were my favorite"

David let out a strange high pitched noise and reached out for the award. Fingers stretching out for the golden goal, everything felt so glorious. This was all he had ever wanted.

And then there was a loud slam to ruin it all.

David gasped and shot up from his bed, scrambling against the headboard in panicked confusion, "who?! What?! Mr. Cambell?!"

He relaxed only slightly when he saw Gwen standing in the doorway, arm stretched out against the door she just tore open. She was panting and sliucbed, hair torn apart and her hat angrily gripping into her other hand. She was breathing sharply through her teeth, a scary red flashing in her eyes.

"Ah...Gwen!" He laughed nervously, trying to figure out what he did to piss off Gwen, "to what do I owe the honor?"

Gwen took a deep, nearly animalistic, breath through her nose. "David. I know you said you had a headache and I know I said you could rest for the day but if you don't get your ass out here right now I'm going to kill each and everyone one of these kids with my bare hands right before I tear this place up by the floorboards"

The fact that she said that all in one breath somehow made it only scarier.

He smiled tensly, "...sure Gwen! You know id be more than happy to help you!"

She looked relaxed at that, and slumped against the door. She wiped her forehead with her burnt hat, the predatory look in her eyes snuffing out. She waited a moment before turning back to David, speaking much softer, "...you are feeling better right?"

There was a throbbing behind his eye. It was painful, it was distracting. In fact he noticed it the moment he was startled awake. He noticed it before he noticed Gwen. The pain was spread to his temples too. It was awful. And the back of his head was throbbing too. Everything felt....ouch. But it was better than earlier! And that was a sign he was getting better right?

"Abso-tiv-alutely! So, tell me, what did our lovely campers get into this time?" He asked, tying his camp shirt around his neck.

Gwen had a guilty look in her eyes suddenly.

"...Gwen?"

"I got distracted and next thing I knew they started a pyrotechnics camp"

"...huh?"

He turned to the window, where he got a glimpse of Nurf holding what was most defiently an invention of Niel's. He yelled something 'And this is for the systematic oppression that no one bothers to question!' Before BOOM a burst of fire blinded his view.

Oh how David wished his dream was real.

-----

Max glared at David, who's armpit he was tucked under. He was being cradled like some kind of fucking purse. It annoyed the shit out of him! He was actually enjoying himself, he had nearly burned this place to the ground! Fuck David and fuck this camp.

David sighed, rubbing soot off the base of his forehead as he stomped out the last flame rising out of the grass. "And that kids is how you put out a fire! Thank you Gwen for demonstrating how to use the fire extinguisher"

Gwen held the extinguisher in her hands tightly, as if another fire could spring up any moment. She hissed out, "you little shits pull this kinda crap again and I will use this on you. Except the hose will be down your throat"

David laughed, "that's nice Gwen. Ok campers! Why don't we head to the mess hall for snacks and to cool down a bit"

Everyone but Nerris groaned at the joke, but they complied for once and started walking towards the mess hall. Turns out nearly destroying an entire camp really built up an appetite.

Max kicked in David's grip, "can you put me the fuck down now?"

To his confusion David seemed a lot less ...eager in his response as he sounded just a second ok, "just a second Max..."

Max frowned, what's his problem? Nearly burn down the camp and now he's got an attitude? He watched David miserably rub his nose, a pale look to his skin was starting to be more clear to him. Now that he noticed, the arm holding David was shaking slightly.

"David. David. DAVID!"

David cringed at the yelling, turning to him with the most exhausted and beat up voice he had ever heard in his life, "what Max?"

It was pathetic...and kinda worrying.

"What's your problem? You're really just gonna leave them with Gwen again?"

David seemed to ponder this a moment. No...not ponder...more like it took his brain a moment to connect what Max had even said. "You're right. Let's go"

He trotted off towards the mess hall, feeling nauscious from pain.

When David put Max down he could barely stand anymore. His ankles and knees were shaking. The pain was unbearable anymore. It was all he could think of. He felt everything. He didn't think a headache could be so painful.

And oh god the smell. Smoke smoke smoke. The campers, his clothes, his hair, the camp itself. Everything held this strong smokey smell that was killing his suddenly sensitive senses. And the pain was so strong he was sweating, he could feel every cold drop of sweat rolling down his arms and how he shook against it. He could barely stand the lights in this mess hall, even though they weren't that bright. They were cheap light bulbs that flickered every now and then.

"David?" He looked down shakily to see Nikki looking up at him, "what're you doing? Are you possessed?"

David shook his head, but instantly regretted it. He clinged to the table next to him, "I'm just thinking of what I should eat..." His voice was small and shaky as if he was about to throw up.

"Yeah" Max spat out bitterly, stabbing his fork into his food, "green slop or brown?"

Usually Davis would tell him to respect quartermaster and all his hard work, but instead he just half heartedly dragged himself to the corner of the room and sat down. Max frowned, watching him with close eyes.

He looked at Nikki, "what was that about?"

Nikki shrugged, chewing on a stick, "it's a tough decision Max! There's a lot of good and bad stuff about the green and brown slop you know!"

"Its obviously not about the slop Nikki are you fucking kidding me!"

"Bah...what do you know" she rolled her eyes and continued chewing on her stick.

Neil just sighed heavily, "oh great. You got the look in your eyes when you're about to obsess over David."

"Shut it! I'm not obsessed with him! You have to admit he's acting weird"

"I don't really care man. I'm tired, I was chased with flame throwers all day"

"Flame throwers that you made"

"Touche"

"So how are we harassing David today!?" Nikki yelled, crawling onto the table with a vicious excitement in her eyes.

Max glared, "Not at all. Yet. First I gotta figure out what he's planning"

"Remmeber Max he's not trying to kill us we've already done that" Neil mumbled, making sure to exaggerate his eye roll.

David laid his head down on the table, curling his arms over his head to block out the light. For just a split second Max's typical angry frown turned into a concerned one. But it was gone before anyone could comment.

Neil sighed "well, Nikki and I are staying here. I'm too tired for another bullshit adventure right now"

"Well I'm not!" Nikki yelled raising her hand.

"Nobody fucking cares Nikki!"

She slowly lowered her hand back down, watching Max make his way over to David.

David swore the world was gonna spin so fast he would fall onto the ceiling. Or onto the floor. Or just keep on falling. He was gonna fall and that's what mattered. He never realized how dizzy someone could feel when sitting down, and he dreaded the idea of what it would feel like when he inevitably had to stand up. Somehow he felt like his skin was made of sweat, rolling up and down his body like an icky trail of spiders. His whole body felt tingly and his mind was full of static. And oh god the pain. David couldn't describe it.

He didn't even notice Max coming up to him.

"Hey. Dickbag. What are you up to.." Max's suspicious accusation made him want to cry. His poor head...

David tried to say, 'nothing max! Go back to your friends!' But let out a miserable groan instead.

There was a pause in silence. Max's lip twitching ever so slightly before going back into a smug smile. "You getting tired of us David? Where's Gwen huh?"

"Cabin" Max cringed at the way his words collided together, like he could barely talk. Was David...?"

"Are you drunk?" Max yelled, causing David to curl in further into himself. Max, annoyed with this, grabbed David's arm and tugged him, trying to get a view of his face.

"There's no way you're actually fucking drunk right? You'd be a huge ass lightweight! I mean-"

"Max please-" Max froze at the completely beaten up tone of David.

Max's shoulders slouched, is David...okay? "...what's wrong with you David?"

"Max maybe you should leave him alone..." space kid mumbled from behind him, but Max ignored him.

David looked up bleerily, he blinked up at the light to refocus his vision before his eyes went wide.

"Davi-?"

"Max get Gwen." Everyone in the cafeteria froze at David's serious and commanding tone.

"What? Why-"

"I said get Gwen Max." David covered his left eye, his skin pale and his whole body shaking.

Max froze in terror. He hated not knowing what was going on. He hated the fact that he was genuinely terrified. But he was also really fucking grateful that Dolph ran out the mess hall to get Gwen for him. Because no way would Max be able to move.

Everyone was crowding around nervously now.

"David..." Max mumbled "what...what the fuck is wrong?" David stared down at the table, blinking strangely, "don't ignore me David!"

"Max" Erid said in a harsh tone, "Like, can't you tell he doesn't feel good?"

Max frowned, he felt impatient. Like he needed to know NOW.

God was David pale.

He heard Space Kid whisper to Neil "is David gonna die?"

"Kids. Kids" David mumbled sounding 2 seconds away from death, "it's ok...im ok"

"You're a terrible fucking liar David. You've been acting weird all day and-"

Gwen barged through the doors with Dolph right behind her, her face was clearly riddled with anxiety but her posture was strangely confident and commanding. It got the campers to step back away from David before she even spoke.

"Okay okay everyone give him some space. Relax." She kneeled down next to David, as Max started to close in on them again, barely able to think or look away.

He was just a kid you know.

Maybe that's why it especially filled him with terror when he heard the next bit of the conversation.

"Ok David talk to me what's wrong. You said it was just a headache did you lie to me?"

David weakly shook his head, sounding nauscious, "no i...it just hurts so much and- Gwen my eye I can't see out of it"

Max felt his heart race, his whole body went numb. Gwen's eyes widened, before going back to being serious.

"Ok don't panic."

"How can he not fucking panic if he can't see Gwen?! You're a dumbass!" Max suddenly yelled. And he instantly regretted it when David flinched. He felt...embarassed of his reaction.

Gwen glared at him, "I've seen a lot of hospital shows ok"

She hooked an arm under David's shoulder and lugged his limp body up. He tried to help but he was sluggish. He turned his head away from the light, pressing it into Gwen's neck as she rubbed his back. "It just means he has a very very bad headache"

She suddenly directed her glare to all of them somehow, "probably because of you little shits."

With that Gwen led the sick David away, leaving frozen campers behind. Even when David started vomiting outside the mess hall.

---

The cabin was dark. And cold. Just what David needed. It was quiet too. Gwen even offered headphones to help block any extra noise out. He had gotten some pain killers, and out of his sweaty clothes. The aura in his vision may had increased the pain temporally but it went away in half an hours time.

"Gwen" he groaned out, clinging to his blanket, "you didn't have to be so harsh to the kids"

Gwen rolled her eyes, being rude as ever but making sure to whisper softly, "I just wanted the chance to chew them out"

David didn't miss the smile she sent him. Alas though she had to get back to her duties as camp councler and left to go check up on everyone's tents. Leaving David to the peaceful atmosphere. As he was falling asleep though Max quietly slipped into his room.

David peaked open an eye at Max, startlilng the kid, "yes Max?"

Max looked down at his feet, rolling on the heels of his feet with a grumpy pout on his face. David laughed softly, "what's wrong kiddo?"

"Nothing" he hissed out, "just. The gang- uh." He cleared his throat, "Nikki wanted me to give you a hug ok" he quickly gave David a hug, only letting Davey get in one back pat before pulling away, glaring at the wall.

"Thanks Max"

Max glared at him, so David corrected himself, "thanks Nikki"

[trustafarian-theserialfiction]

“trustafarian” part 16: girls from 8-11 stay up all night (and I can get a discount) April 4, 2016 10:22pm

The day of the big hoopla, Dan was already exhausted before they left Maison Rokkoku.  Bruce had been in a panic through the end of March after hearing through the show-vine that Wrongbar of all places (even Dan was surprised) was gone-but-not-forgotten.  After finding out it wasn’t a forever thing, and it’d be back sometimes, kind of, but not really, Bruce had gone on some kind of manic bender and dragged Dan and whoever else he could, to every event he got invited to, which was sometimes two or three venues within five blocks within one night.  Or two or three places that were extremely far apart.  Dan couldn’t remember much about any one place, let alone all of them.  They had all had that characteristic humidity, the seasonings varying a bit place to place, depending: sweat and hair product, weed haze, beer and cigarettes, cat piss and patchouli and other weird smells including spilled moonshine.   One night after several hours of watching Bruce throw himself around a tiny lightless room in the market, Dan had gone out for air and in the little alley he’d smelled hash-blunt smoke for the first time in his life, which made him feel profoundly underdeveloped in the opposite of the way his weedless life usually made him feel. Andreah had been there as well, with friends she didn’t seem to need to bring around for introductions.  They all liked Bruce, though, and he seemed to know their names but spent the night in what Dan read as a chemically maxed-out fury.  He seemed to think he’d done Dan a disservice by not bringing him to any of the parties he’d gone to that winter; it was an issue of how fast everything changed. And, specifically, he was upset about the fact that Dan had blinked and missed Wrongbar—what was next, Bassmentality?  So this was them knocking-on-wood.  Refusing to take T.O. for granted.  Not letting good things pass them by. Jean-Paul seemed to gravitate toward Higher Grounds for respite oftentimes when their excursions put them nearby, but he came out with them every night and Dan was thankful.  The club crawl had taken them through the great outdoors, even; they’d gone back to the ravine one night and had a youtube rave somewhere away from where people were sleeping.  It had been green, terrifically green, everywhere new grass and leaves were coming in and the lighthazed-sky oculus over the oasis had dipcoated everything else that bluey-dusk palette.  For a few minutes the green had been so bright against the dusky backgrounding he’d thought he’d somehow stupidly tried some of Bruce’s bottle of fluorescent-purple “rave juice” earlier and gotten so high he’d forgotten.  When the green dimmed down with the nightfall he’d quickly realized that he’d have been much, much higher suddenly, if he was coming up on Bruce-portion-number-two, and he wasn’t.  He’d then rightly chalked it up to being slightly high from all the laughs and the shawarma Jean-Paul had gotten him earlier; after he’d preemptively asked Bruce about an ipod dock/speaker set-up for the yearly flashmob bake-in at High Park, Bruce had done him two better and reemerged from his room with a nice compact vintage boombox with an aux cord as well as a two port usb lithium battery with an led party-light clipped in.  And he’d insisted on bringing it and them with him, and VJing southward through the ravine (before streetcar hopping south to some hardcore shindig Mouse and Pete were excited about, some multiday fest). They’d stopped in to the Mediterranean-and-shawarma place at the Runnymeade intersection to eat, on their way out that night from the Maison. From there they’d walked up, over to Keele, and caught the St. Clair streetcar coreward from there with new transfer slips that had been left in a ziplock bag folded around a magnet stuck to the underside of the TTC shelter bench. Bruce said the magnetbags were all over the city and people even coordinated live in some codeword-heavy facebook group, to find good slips nearby when their stop didn’t have any or a bag had been removed. Apparently everyone in the city who rode transit knew to get transfers they didn’t need so they could cache them for people like Easter eggs, if not in the bags then just around the stop somewhere.  Bruce had said some places on the east side had “set in stone” laundry-line spots and every day there’d be rows of papers like socks drying, folded over a nearby gate top or trash bin.  Dan still hadn’t noticed any such spots but didn’t rule out simply having overlooked them for what they were, before.  Like the weird door to the roof from Bruce’s room.  He’d wished someone had thought to tell him before, so he hadn’t risked the sign-foretold fine at the station more times than necessary.  That evening the giant spire downtown had blinked up at them, all the way up where they were.

Standing in the same spot as he had a few nights back (three or five, just after it had rained and while it was still really warm, before the weather had rewinterized sharply, obviously anticipating his ex’s arrival as warmly as he was), the looming antenna weirded him out today, as it had the time they’d been headed to the ravine.  The last time he—they; the squad, such as it was tonight, with himself, Jean-Paul, and Bruce—had been out of the junction.  It had snowed again overnight, since then. “It’s like something from Blade Runner,” he spoke without thinking, somehow hearing the thousands upon thousands of other times that charge had been made of the thing.  He rolled his eyes at himself, expecting his comment to go over silently.  He was leaning against the streetcar shelter wall absently circling the streetcar loop with his eyes.  They were at the start of the line, and the sky was turning from lilac to coppery black.  It was a cold, clear night.   His breaths were back in front of him, a recurrent spectral inverted-shadow.

“I know,” Jean-Paul agreed. “That thing should only be in a movie-city, its really so ominous and alien, there’s nothing in Montreal like it.”  He paused before correcting, “although they do have that giant electric cross.”

“Like at the funeral in Romeo Plus Juliet!” Bruce was high off his ass and smoking his first road joint in an attempt to summon the streetcar.

Jean-Paul continued like he hadn’t heard. “But that’s not aliens that’s Catholics, different beast.”

“OH MY GOD,” Bruce bellowed, and a couple of the few other people around on the corner in front of them looked over, unfazed but mildly interested.  “That’s exactly what it is, it’s like war of the worlds!  Do you guys know that war of the worlds prog record, Jeff Wayne is the guy?”  Dan didn’t, and Jean-Paul shrugged so he figured not saying anything covered him too.  “Oh snapple-cranapple, we should listen to that sometime this month.” Dan knew what war of the worlds was, he’d seen the Tom Cruise movie on TV.  The comparison kind of fit, that was true; one, the tower was clearly made to let you know that the vista you were seeing was of-the-future but, two, maybe the future was kind of hinky in a hard to place, insectoid-seeming way.  He didn’t know anywhere in Vic that wasn’t at sea level and the fourth floor condo he’d lived in, stood in the shadow of the only actual high-rise in Victoria (which had seen a lot of the last century before making it in to this one).

They got off the streetcar earlier than they had before, at an intersection with a pizzapizza at one corner.  Here Jean-Paul made them wait inside while he went to a side door on the same building and let himself in somehow.  He was back what seemed like a long time later, maybe ten minutes after Dan had started reading a free paper he’d fond on a table. Bruce had wandered off to smoke a joint across the street in the field before that and hadn’t come back. With his friend Elinor at his elbow Jean-Paul finally waved at him through the window and he came back outside, ready to complain.

“Where’s Bruce,” she beat him to the punch, seeming legitimately alarmed for some reason.  It looked like she was gently wringing her hands, even.  She had a sweet, shy kind of voice. Soft and high, like his ex’s singing voice (which was eerily different from her regular voice).  Elinor sounded like Grimes when she talked, and kind of looked like her.  She was dressed like some kind of post-apocalyptic punk doing a Blossom cosplay.  A fair number of girls he saw around town seemed to, it was close to how Andre dressed but there were several key differences that placed them in distinct girl-genres in Dan’s mind.  Andre was very granola but these girls looked like they were more granola.  They looked like they farted granola.  And then yelled at it for being there.  This girl probably only looked like she could yell.

He shrugged and said “somewhere getting high.  Higher.”  He could tell already that she was one of those overly-invested, mother-hen mom-friend types his ex always thought were so perfect for a couple of months.  He still didn’t know what it was about these mom-friend girls that had made his ex try to befriend a string of them, and he wasn’t sure what signalled time-up, each time, either.  He got the sense that neither did the girls, or his ex.  They usually both seemed upset at one another and walked away feeling equally mislead, but he wasn’t clear on what it was all about so he had no idea who had been right.

“Gotta get up, gotta get up, gotta get up,” Jean-Paul sort of mumbled musically to the air, and Dan could hear the 90’s dance even though he didn’t specifically know whatever song it was.  It was that characteristic progression the notes had taken.  Jean-Paul didn’t seem overly concerned about where Bruce could be.  He was smoking a cigarette happily and had been pre-drinking weird medicinal-tasting craft cocktails in his apartment all evening, with Dan going one-for-two.  The cocktails showed on his face by making it pink and pliant-looking.

“I’m gonna text,” she pulled out her phone, looking upset, and pounded some message to Bruce into it.  Almost as soon as she put the phone away there was a shout from across the street, Bruce waving the lit square of his phone screen back and forth at them, deadcentre in the dim field.

Bruce boinged his way back to them hastily as they crossed the street to meet him, and got picked up by the deceptively strong hugging-arms of Elinor, who told him never to worry her like that.  When she put him down again it was just as someone was leaving a box of crusts inside the pizzapizza, and Bruce hooted, scampering in to heist his next batch of munchies.

“Gross, crusts” was all Dan had to say about it.

“Gross, pizzapizza,” Jean-Paul and Elinor corrected in unison.  They laughed together, and Dan could see that they were friends in way that Jean-Paul and Andre, for example, were not.  It didn’t really make him like Elinor more, or maybe it did, he wasn’t sure.

They walked over to the ravine instead of streetcar hopping and again, Dan was admittedly impressed-upon by the sprawling view of the spire, the inland-sea of green around them, and by the ambivalent extremes of the oddly-knowing-and-poetic weather.  On the trail Bruce told them something was afoot at the Circle K, which turned out to mean they were supposed to follow him to the gas station at the foot of the path they were on.  This was where they’d been met by Andre and several of her friends who were also Bruce’s friends but didn’t seem to know Jean-Paul at all and didn’t know Elinor well but were very happy to see her.  They seemed kind of creepy in some way to Dan, like they were too happy and too super-nice.  He couldn’t tell what they were high on but assumed that whatever it was, it was their favourite.  Or it was really agreeing with them, at least.  They seemed very agreed-with.  He didn’t know anyone who acted like that while high.  They were seeming to him like hippies in a movie, but not exactly, more like evangelical baptists or something.  He tried to better recall what he was thinking of, maybe that George Clooney movie O-Brother-Whateverthehell. It had been a while since he’d seen whateverthehell.

They all trooped from the Circle K onto the subway at Dupont (a station Dan had been through but not out in, which Bruce said was his personal favourite), and went down to Higher Grounds to put their heads together. And caffeinate over a pre-bake.  Once they were ensconsed in the vape lounge and everyone Dan didn’t know was inhaling their own personal balloonbag of stabilizer, Dan realized he was feeling queasy.  

“Like about-to-cross-the-graduation-stage queasy.  Is there a--” there was a pharmacy nearby, he knew.  But he had no idea what he could take that was non-drowsy but good for nausea so his next question died on the way.

“DUDE,” Bruce was all agog.  Dan knew that face.  He raised his eyebrows at it, asking it what the fuss was.  Last time the fuss had been that the orange juice wasn’t orange juice.  “Look around you!”

Dan scoffed.  “I don’t want to fall asleep on my feet, I’m not captain weed-face,” he deflected onto his low tolerance, arguing with a stoner about whether weed was the solution to everything was pointless.  One of the Andre-friends laughed like “captain weed-face” had been a really, really funny joke.  Apparently in that universe, it was.  Dan didn’t plan on visiting, regardless.

“You don’t need to be, that’s not what I’m packing!” Holding aloft a snapcase half full of pre-rolls and half full of baggied loose shake, he proceeded to convince Dan that this weed was exactly what he needed.  It worked because he felt like hell.  Falling asleep and missing everything wouldn’t be such a bad call.  But supposedly this was high-cbd pure sativa, which Dan sort of approximately understood when he was told.  He got that the near-absence of thc was supposed to help avoid the couchlock issue. And he got that Bruce had gotten it from a fan who worked at the ultra-fancy quasi-legal dispensary that had opened up a few blocks down Dundas from the Maison.  He just didn’t expect any given drug someone was giving him to be all it was built up to be; years of “really great coke” had never seemed to amount to what he would have called really great highs.

It tasted different in an unexpected way, from the vape bag.  Like honeyed woodpulp or something instead of pine sap.  He felt something lift off his brain, like a layer of crud peeling off it and blowing away.  This was followed in short order by a similar sensation accompanying his queasy feeling’s departure from his midsection. It was a pleasant relief, and he was surprised to be thanking Bruce, and Roscoe for having the lounge.  Roscoe was supine on a lounger with his feet up, black unmarked cowboy boots crossed on an ottoman.  He rocked the chair occasionally on its pillar base, his arms up behind him.  He seemed to be trying to stretch something in his back out.  He knew Bruce and Andre’s friends, and seemed to like them.  Their names were Raven and Shay, but Dan still wasn’t sure which was which, they seemed to be a paired set.  Neither of them looked like a raven.  They were both dressed more or less Elinor, who was also trying to layer on a good high before going back out.

Finally Jean-Paul got a text that said the opener was on.  The showcase was starting two hours late; they’d gotten down to the market expecting one hour later than the posted time plus fifteen minutes for the first act to warm up.  It seemed best to show up after it had started, anyway.  No pre-show showdown that way.  They coated back up and trooped out the back, heading to the venue with the copyright infringement logo, which Dan saw was up on their exterior, glowing like it wasn’t a legal complaint waiting to happen.  Maybe it wasn’t, maybe this was a licensed brand expansion, it was right in the middle of downtown Toronto.  An ambiguous beacon, and Dan hoped it wasn’t an omen.  Raven and Shay were making some kind of fuss about how the Banksy that had been nearby was gone finally, but it was unclear whether they did or didn’t like Banksy.  It was pretty clear they didn’t like 8-11 and didn’t really want to go in.  Neither did Elinor, she was doing the hands again, hanging back. The window of the place was full of a weird art installation of melting horned masks, lit with panic-inducing marshmallow peeps pink and yellow.  There were little cards with text, but he didn’t saunter up to read.  There were people there, smoking outside and talking loudly, and music could be heard from somewhere deep inside the building.  The bass vibrated through the ground and everything else, but nothing of the music itself was coherent from where they were.

Jean-Paul was texting someone who came outside after a few minutes, complaining with feeling about the awol soundtech—this was the person who knew the person who was involved in hosting the event somehow.  They were ushered inside through a maze of small rooms that were and were full of, the kind of hipster sculptural-conceptual art stuff his ex loved. Dan realized she was probably in heaven, as he followed Jean-Paul following his friend through the pitchblack entrance cave lit only by a tv playing a Warholian “weird footage” film, through several psychedelic rooms leading back to a staircase down to a basement from a grindhouse movie, which was full to the low, grizzled pipe-and-wiring rafters, with happy shiny people.  Everyone looked very stylish, sort of like Andre and her friends, but glossier.  He saw a lot of logos and brands, not so many stained or ripped or patched things.   Glad to have found out about and used Jean-Paul's small washer and dryer, Dan realized they were the least fancy people there, in terms of the things his ex generally evaluated as fancy, but he really didn’t care.  It felt like an accomplishment anyway, to be here, holding himself together.  Holding down his new turf, it was supposed to be.  Trying to get her to go away, so this wouldn’t keep happening—so she wouldn’t get attached to some appalling idea like moving to Toronto.  Like making all new friends for him to run into and later be unfriended by.  

Their posse squoze its way in to the periphery of the thick crowd, shoulder-to-shoulder with one another.  Dan heard Bruce ask Raven-and-or-Shay if they were going to be okay and whichever it was yelled back that it was actually a great place to be on acid.  The yell barely made it to him from three feet away, but he was focusing on hearing what they said.  Acid, duh. So that was that mystery solved.  He’d never done acid but didn’t really think this place or this crowd would have been in his top ten places to be on acid.  It was enough like a visualization of a freaky trip as it was, which really seemed too intentional to have not been. The walls bristled with a thick, uninviting layer of some kind of calcification that was everywhere, and full of cobwebs.  

The first set had ended as they were on the stairs, and despite people overflowing from the dancefloor into the linked circuit of downstairs house-of-frightenstein style alcoves, very little space had opened up while the mc queued up some canned music to time-fill.  Dan was again glad he’d taken Bruce up on the weed, and scanned the crowd. People were sweating and looking restless but resolute about holding the floor.

He sighed, kind of glad of the press of people in the harsh yellow light of the maybe-go-outside-for-a-minute between-set lights.  He didn’t see anyone he knew aside from who he was with, which meant his ex hadn’t brought anyone.  He wasn’t sure who she would have brought, when he considered it. At his elbow Jean-Paul prodded him and when he tilted his head to show his attention was drawn, said “that guy at the mixer is Elinor’s friend.”  The mc.  Dan hadn’t clocked him as someone who would be in Elinor’s circle, but had looked at his outfit and decided he’d never feel like he, personally, looked like too much of a hipster, again.  It was reassuring in a way.  He was dressed like the opening sequence of rugrats had been left out overnight to form a puddingskin which had then been skimmed off and made into Hawaiian shirts, which he had decided to make into everything he was wearing.  He had on one pair of Urkel glasses as a headband and one on his face, and Dan wasn’t sure either had real lenses.  They might not have had lenses.  He was wearing one dangling earring, which seemed to be a string of shorter dangly earrings stuck together.  It looked like there was even a tiny figurine in the little flare cascade.

“He’s very...” hip, colourful, dressed-up, silly, visible, elaborate, contrived, “very 8-11.”  Jean-Paul barked a HA and Dan was gratified that they seemed to agree.

“He’s sweet.  Day job is teaching people tennis.  The rent here is astronomical, and they got a C&D for the sign they’ve been sitting on.  But it’s really something, what their collective is doing here.”  Dan wondered how many tennis instructors it took to mismanage a venue.  But he was impressed; these people were his age, presumably, like the little mc who had flittered away with people, leaving the floor-fillers to their own devices in the eye of the oubliette.  Dan couldn’t have even started to consider an undertaking like leasing an event space and floating it for however long.  It sounded like a nightmare.  But the place was packed, at least.  Then he wondered how many people were there gratis, like the seven person group he was in.  

The floor had emptied a tiny bit, and Raven and Shay were now—by some agreement between them he’d missed—flowing out from around the squad into a gap at the centre of the floor.  The two of them began to do a quarter-time interpretive dance to the fillermusic, clearing a wider and wider sphere of avoidance around them as tighter-wound attendees side-eyed them and decided it was time for air after all. About half as many as left, stood around with their space-price beers in hand, watching in amusement.  If Dan hadn’t known the two of them were on acid, he’d probably have guessed quickly.  They looked like melting puppets doing a two-sides-of-the-mirror pantomime intermittently.  It didn’t look bad, but it was extremely uncomfortable in a vague way.  Eventually Andre and Bruce joined them, picking up their flow.  They weren’t bad either, and there were a couple hoots from onlookers.  Jean-Paul tapped his elbow again, and gestured toward the entrance with his head.  Dan nodded and the two were sort of conveyed via a sort of peristalsis through the twisting warren of parlors, out to the front where it was cold and dark in sharp contrast to the interior.  Jean-Paul was smoking by the time they were on the sidewalk.  Weirdly Dan could feel himself wanting to be back inside, instantly.  He thought it was the cold until he spied a familiar shape with a sinking sensation of dread.  It was his ex, standing with people, talking and people-watching casually.  She looked a little stiff, like she was exercising a lot of self-control to seem like she was totally at-ease.  He knew that was because she was.  Suddenly he didn’t find running into her very intimidating, because he had, and she just looked like...the same uptight insecure weirdo he had known forever. When he tried to turn around more fully so that she couldn’t see him, it had the opposite effect and from over his shoulder he heard a noise, like she had noticed him.

“Oh, it’s you two,” she announced herself, breaking away from her people.  Dan turned their way and saw them behind her, watching from where they were standing.  They weren’t glaring or anything, no one was throwing bottles.  “Long time no see,” she shrugged at them both, forming a triangle with them by the display window.

“Big night tonight,” Jean-Paul mentioned, acknowledging that she was there and why.  He sounded very bored, but didn’t blow his cigarette smoke in her face, which Dan appreciated.  He really didn’t want a scene.  He hadn’t planned on talking to her at all, the thought hadn’t occurred to him.  

“Ugh don’t make me think about it, I’m supposed to be in there right now.”

“You were supposed to be on hours ago,” Dan spoke up, but just carrying on the conversation like it wasn’t weird to be talking to her seemed really spineless, so he added, “long time, yeah.”  He grimaced, feeling stupid.  That was barely words.

“Oh, Dan, don’t be so—listen, I’m sorry,” she sounded troubled, and he believed her when she said she was sorry, but he was also annoyed suddenly by how she’d said it.  He hadn’t even considered that she would apologize to him, it had seemed a lot like everyone wanted him to apologize to her for wasting her time and money and emotional energy and bla bla bla. “Look things ended, and it could have, it didn’t need to be.  I shouldn’t have listened to that asshole, and I’m sorry I let him publish that, I was just—we were high and I was shit-talking, I forgot—I didn’t really think it was all on-record or whatever, after we started doing lines, and yeah.  I guess that’s journalism. I’m sor—it’s my bad.  Please don’t stay mad at me,” she concluded in a kind of wheedling tone. He heard Jean-Paul scoff out a puff of air from his nose, next to him.  Suddenly suspicious, he looked at Wishelle closely; her skin looked washed out and too dry, wherever she hadn’t put makeup, and he could see that she’d had trouble because she’d decided to glue in extra long eyelashes and it had run into her liquid eyeliner-corrections time.  No one else would ever have noticed, unless they’d seen her screaming at her reflection’s eyeliner for hours, a trillion times.

“Maybe I wont,” he finally shrugged.  “Listen, good luck.”  He kind of wanted to remind her that she was about to do something really stressful.  She groaned theatrically and shifted where she stood, expelling some tension.  Her outfit looked cute, dark matte tights sticking out from under her big coat, and it annoyed Dan to be wearing the shoes she liked.  And the coat she’d picked.  They still looked like a salt and pepper shaker set.

“See you inside?” she sounded fretful, but he wasn’t sure whether she wanted them to watch or not.

“We’ll be there,” Jean-Paul cut in decisively.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The two-track set Wishelle had put together went find, if sort of underwhelming.  She’d done a sort of spooky-surfy musicbox-sounding plink-plink-plink kind of riff on some sort old doowop sounding base-track Dan didn’t recognize. There were distorted loops of a few samples of vocal sections, the one that was most decipherable was “we loved each other we just couldn’t get along.”  It was about their breakup, hit like an epiphany.  He wasn’t the only one who kept thinking about when they’d made music together when he did new work.  Her own on-mic contributions were repetitions of the phrases sung in a way that sounded like she only knew English phonetically. It was fine, overall, but it was hardly thrilling or innovative.  Not as many people came back in for the second opener, but it was crowded and she had a new logo printed the laptop plugged in to her big keyboard.  Her music sounded really sad to Dan, melancholic even.  It was pretty but he felt it draining him while he listened to it.  It was a lot like the feeling he’d been trying to avoid when he’d said he didn’t want to get kushblasted before getting here.

They stuck around for the appearance of the headliner, who was another thing all together; candles on plinths were being lit around the spot in the centre of the audio equipment.  Some dark synth longplay was on to keep people happy in the downtime.  Seemed like a fire hazard to be setting up candles, from Dan’s point of view.  Elinor and Jean-Paul were conferring about something under the general din; she at least had stopped looking worried about things.  The others were still holding a circle of floor with their ritualistic looking modern ballet, but had been relegated to the absolute front of the crowd. They seemed happy to have started a mosh, such as it was.

Wishelle appeared again after ten or fifteen minutes, and seemed intent on watching the closing performance, but after standing in the throng for a minute, looked around impatiently, her gaze quickly locking with his, laserlike.  We crossed the beams, he joked to himself, feeling sort of pathetic.  She drifted his way and asked if he wanted to come upstairs and do a line of some really good coke she’d been linked up with, and for a second he missed her so much that he said sure.  Or he missed coke, or having his life make sense to his mom, or something.  Whatever he missed, missing it hit him like an icepick in that moment, and he chased her upstairs to try to get away from it.  He wasn’t sure the others had seen him leave, but he had his phone and if necessary he could get on wifi somewhere and coordinate, or just go back to the Maison himself.

Upstairs in the staff bathroom (which seemed to be as much in use as the other toilet closet), they did the rest of her coke, which turned out to once again be coke Dan wouldn’t have called good.  He felt worse immediately and said “I can’t believe you told that guy I had a trust fund, what the hell was that about?”

She seemed taken aback like she hadn’t been expecting bickering when she’d invited him to do coke with her in the bathroom, but she laughed. “That’s me. You’re not the trustfund kid, you’re the scammer.”

“What?”

She sighed, rolling her eyes cokeily, fishing around in the baggy for anything that might form a line of granules.  “He was making fun of us both, he’s an asshole.  Trustafarian scammer.  As in, a scammer who targets trustafarians.”  Oh. Dan his misread it.  But then, so had Jean-Paul.  This way was actually kind of better—at least it was only half a character assassination.  He had never been scamming her.  Probably that had been the Slackjaw guy projecting because he was scamming her, for a story at least, and assumed Dan was like him.  Dan decided they probably had been fucking but that it really didn’t matter now anyway.  “He introduced me to his friend who’s a producer but apparently I wasn’t supposed to do coke with his friend, so bla bla bla, you know?” They had definitely been fucking.

“What a fucking loser,” Dan smirked, meaning the guy and her as well, a little.  To cover that part better he added “you already ditched him, right?” She loved ditching people.

“Obviously, with that man-bun hair?  He was the worst.  So pretentious and fake-woke.”

He laughed and said “NEXT,” as in bring-in-a-new-one, and she laughed because it was a thing they said to make eachother laugh, and then kissed him.  It was unexpected and awkward, but most of their kisses had been awkward somehow.

“I need to go find—my friends,” he broke it off and stepped toward the door.

“He’s not going to—come on, stay a minute,” she was wheedling again, and it was patently unattractive.  It took Dan a second to fixate on what she’d started to say, but the word “he” was like a hook, pulling his attention back to it.

“You’re just trying to make me stay in here.”

She lost her patience, he saw it happen. It was simultaneously when she stomped her little booted foot on the mangled linoleum and balled her fists.  She’d never actually punched him but when she was mad she went into what he thought of as her cannonball form. “YEAH, NO SHIT.”

“Okay, I’m sorry, look—this is a surprise and I’m not really into it. I’m still--” recovering from when you dumped me because some asshole with stupid hair convinced you it was a good career move.  Dan felt himself get angrier, the feeling propelled by the stimulant wave like mario doing a spring jump. “Hey, y’know what, fuck you,” and he started to open the door.

She reached past him and shut it with a bang, and the jarring noise clapped the edge off his frustration with her for a second, but he knew what this mood was, and he knew he’d be back to full frustration in a second.  This was her fighting mood.  “Please don’t run off,” she sounded annoyed but like she was trying to be calm.  “You know I’m just—it’s the coke.  You’re being mean, too.  We’re both being assholes.”  You’re being an asshole, he wanted to say.  I’m just here. “I’m sorry I made things weird, I really want us to be friends.” Couldn’t’ve wanted that when we were a couple? he wanted to ask. What had changed, he asked himself.  Everything, came the answer.  He lived in Toronto now, and she didn’t.  He was friends with the kind of people who were friends with the people she tried so hard to network with for work.

“I’m sure you do,” he said, wanting it to be mean.  She looked hurt and angry and stepped away and he could tell he’d been mean successfully.  He told her “this isn’t high-school anymore, grow up,” and left her in the bathroom.  It felt like the most epic, savage burn on an ex anyone had ever gotten off. He walked away feeling amazing for about half the time it took to get back through the eddies of people in all the little antechambers.  By the time he was in the main performance space, he felt kind of shitty.  It was utterly black inside except for the candles and a few cell phones, and the maestro was at work.  It was quite the production, in fact.  Basically a one-man melodic metal band on a synth, with backing layering filled in by a loopstation.  The music successfully engulfed him and took him out of himself, and when the house lights were starkly flipped back on afterward, he blinked, wondering who he had come in here looking for.

Jean-Paul was there, his hair a halo, unmistakable as always.  Bruce and that contingent were all excitedly talking to the synth lord.  It occurred to Dan that they had prior knowledge of the biggest name on the flyer, although he didn’t—it was probably why they’d shown up. He couldn’t image why else Andre would’ve agreed to, when he thought about it.  He went to join Jean-Paul and Elinor along the wall, watching people leave.  The whole last set had taken only as long as he’d been in the bathroom.  He wasn’t sure how long that had been, now.  It felt like it had been two minutes.  He chewed the inside of his cheek gently, trying to keep his teeth busy.

“What was all that?  You missed this Fragonard guy here,” Jean-Paul gestured with his chin toward the front.  Bruce was bouncing around, they all looked like groupies. “It was very... heavy metal and reflective.”

“Yeah, uh.  I.  Saw the candles.  Atmosphere.”

Elinor looked at him closely for what seemed like the first time, peering into his face. “You look like you want to leave,” she said, and he liked her.

“I do.  I’m, I want to go.  Back.  Home,” he caught himself add on to the tumble of words.  He felt like he’d done something sneaky or wrong—he realized he was feeling guilty, maybe for “relapsing” and not thinking about the others or wanting to tell them.  They’d be worried if he did and were worried already because now he was acting different and looked weird.  He tried not to make it worse by getting paranoid about it.  Maybe it was because they were all there to back him up and he’d ditched them to go do drugs and ...relapse on his relationship.  For as long as it took them to get on eachother’s nerves he had half been hoping she’d ask him to move back with her.  His thoughts were choppy and it felt like he was getting wires crossed.  “I think this place is getting to me.”

Jean-Paul looked like he was going to say something, his mouth opening for a second before he shut it again.  He looked at Bruce and Andre and their friends instead, and told Elinor “you take Dan out, I’ll find out what they’re doing now,” before moving decisively to do so.

Elinor slid into the space Jean-Paul had left, looking at Dan still, in that careful, mom-friend way.  “I wanted to go upstairs to find my friend and say goodnight,” her tone suggested he might like to go too, which he had just said was the case.  He rolled his eyes and then felt like an ass.  She was just being nice.  Nodding with what felt like an insincere expression of some sort, he lead the way out because she hadn’t.  Upstairs he broke off when she spotted Maximum Urkeldrive and went to the frontmost foyer before the main door, hovering in the dark next to the TV with the black and white footage, hoping his ex hadn’t stuck around after he’d gone downstairs. The others found him as a group, with the solo guy, Fragonard in tow. He and Bruce were yaking each other’s ears off about some dude named Shulgin. It didn’t sound like music talk.

They let the place as a tangle of walkers of talkers, and when Dan spotted his ex talking to the same people she’d been with earlier, he was thankful all over again for the camaraderie that had been tapped for him.  He was so elated that for the rest of the walk north through Chinatown up to the a transfer-laden stop to hop from, he understood that cliche about walking on air. Even on the streetcar he felt like he wasn’t really touching anything around him, like he was being propelled through space because there was no resistance, not because he was sitting in something with powered motion.  At the subway the group split up, and Elinor opted to go along with Bruce and the others.  Dan assumed it was because they were more likely to need a nanny with them and so she was magnetically drawn to that side of the split.  They all went off to some other party the music man wanted to go to in Scarborough. Bruce said Pete was there, and tried to beg Dan and Jean-Paul into coming along, but looked at their faces and seemed to catch some clue from whatever they looked like.

On the walk up from high park station, after a long, serious silence, Jean-Paul asked “so, how’d that go?”

Dan felt like it was a question he’d only have asked if he knew something about it from how Dan was acting, but it wasn’t like there was any way to confirm it if he just dodged around addressing it. “What, how’d what go?  Tonight?  I guess I got,” revenge? “closure,” he awkwardly jammed in, because it sounded mature. More mature than whatever they’d really gone down there for.  His injured pride?  It all seemed to corny in retrospect, and he wondered if he had, at last, managed to have one good coke high in his life after all.  When he reflected in belated confusion on his cloud-9 stint, his elevated mood really only made sense in that context.  Or maybe he was just in the valley now, and that was why he couldn’t figure out why a win had felt like a win.

“I found it all underwhelming, if I’m being honest,” Jean-Paul had a tone of arch sniffiness, and Dan laughed.

“Not the next Kate Bush, monsieur critic?”

“Hardly!” His loud scoff echoed off the dark, well-treed suburban enclave they were traversing.  In the distance the city was quiet except for the occasional siren of the red-light running variety.

Dan started to laugh, but it caught, and instead he threw up into a hedge, some runny bile that seemed to be all he had left from the stew he’d made himself for lunch and eaten again for dinner. Suddenly feeling very miserable, he thought for a horrible few moments that he might start bawling there in the street, bent over a hedge, with his friend as an audience.  He felt like he wanted to be done talking about his ex forever, but he didn’t know how to say that without sounding overly dramatic or caught up in the moment or some other stupid thing.  It felt like she was there, like she’d piggybacked along with them because she wanted them to talk about her. Dan heard himself make an anguished sort of moan, the kind anyone might if they were suddenly violently ill.

“Okay there?” Jean-Paul’s hand on his back, the hand of a friend who has been right beside countless other early-morning street-puking fools, and been one many times besides.  It made Dan feel a lot better about life in general, somehow.  Not just that someone was there but the way Jean-Paul was there.  He felt himself sag almost all to pieces, and let Jean-Paul walk them back to the groundfloor unit where it was warm and bright, and sit him down on the couch and make him tea.  Jean-Paul made himself a hot toddy and the two of them talked about nothing for a while, until Dan fell asleep under the heavy silk afghan draped over the back of the sofa.

[hannahindie]

Hannah & Manda’s 200 Follower “Punk’s Not Dead” Creative Challenge

Hey everyone! It’s me, Hannah! And over there is my lovely Manda! We both are excited and very thankful to announce that we have both hit 200 followers. We were so excited that we decided to have a special challenge to celebrate!

The name of the challenge is “Punk’s Not Dead”. Why’s that, you ask? Because Manda and I both grew up with and love 2000s pop punk, and it’s one of the great things that we have in common! We decided to pick out some of our favorite lyrics to inspire you all to create amazing things. The rules are listed below! We hope that you are excited to join us and we can’t wait to see all the awesome things you all come up with!

WHAT IS THIS?

This is a Creative Challenge! We know there are so many creative people with amazing talents in the SPN fandom and we want to give you a chance to share yours! Anyone is welcome to participate!

Do you write fanfiction? Awesome, write your heart out!

Are you an incredible aesthetic designer? Yes, please!

Is art more your thing? Fantastic - make all the things.

Love making compilation videos? We have a great list of songs you can use for inspiration/background!

Got another totally awesome talent that you want to utilize to participate? Sweet, we can’t wait to ohh and ahh over it!

THE RULES:

Following both of us is NOT required but would be appreciated! Pick a prompt from the list below (you can click the song title to hear the song if you are unfamiliar)

Send an ask to either Hannah (@hannahindie) or Manda (@pinknerdpanda) with the number of the prompt that you would like and if you will be creating a fic, aesthetic, art, video or whatever your clever little selves would like to do! (messages and reblogs won’t count so we can keep track of them easily)

Any pairing except NO WINCEST please! :)

SPN only

Any Genre, length, format (Fic writers - just be sure to use a “Keep Reading” break if your fic will be more than 500 words)

The lyrics you choose should inspire your work in some way. If you choose to use the lyrics in what you do, be sure to bold them and give credit to the artists

Be sure to tag both @hannahindie and @pinknerdpanda in your work

Use the tag #HanPan Punk’s Not Dead Challenge

Entries are Due June 5, 2017 (If you need more time or need to back out for some reason - that’s fine, just let one of us know!)

THE LIST OF PROMPTS:

“When I was younger/I saw my daddy cry/And curse at the wind/He broke his own heart/And I watched/As he tried to reassemble it” - The Only Exception by Paramore

“The faster we're falling/We're stopping and stalling/We're running in circles again/Just as things were looking up/You said it wasn't good enough/But still we're trying one more time” -  In Too Deep by Sum 41

“But now this broken soul of a boy/Falls in pieces with no choice/At the sound of her voice/He falls apart/But now this broken soul of a boy/Falls in pieces with no choice/At the sound of her voice/He falls apart, he falls apart, he falls apart” - Sincerely Yours by Hit the Lights

“I'm troublesome, I've fallen/I'm angry at my father/It's me against this world and I don't care.” - The Young and the Hopeless by Good Charlotte

“Simple words we never knew,/The power behind what they put us through,/Now it's all begun,/what it takes to make it real./We're standing on the edge of this,/When our soul is gone,/what will we miss?/We lost what it takes to really, really feel.”  - Save Us by Cartel

“I watched the smoke, as it grew darker and blew up through the roof/I watched the fed, saw them panic, as the fire grew/I saw virginia, get rid of langley, and its secrets too/I held your hand, and sat there knowing, that we'd make it through.” - Watch the World by Box Car Racer

“Is it still me that makes you sweat?/Am I who you think about in bed?/When the lights are dim and your hands are shaking as you're sliding off your dress?/Well, then think of what you did/And how I hope to God he was worth it/When the lights are dim and your heart is racing as your fingers touch your skin” - Lying is the most fun a girl could have without taking her clothes off by Panic At the Disco

“As for now I'm gonna hear the saddest songs/And sit alone and wonder/How you're making out/But as for me, I wish that I was anywhere with anyone/Making out.” - Screaming Infidelities by Dashboard Confessional

“And the record won't stop skipping/And the lies just won't stop slipping/And besides my reputation's on the line/We can fake it for the airwaves/Force our smiles, baby, half dead/From comparing myself to everyone else around me” - I've Got A Dark Alley And A Bad Idea That Says You Should Shut Your Mouth (Summer Song)  by Fall Out Boy

“Wait, they don't love you like I love you/ Made off/Don't stray/My kind's your kind/I'll stay the same” - Maps by Yeah Yeah Yeahs

“Well if you wanted honesty, that's all you had to say./I never want to let you down or have you go, it's better off this way./For all the dirty looks, the photographs your boyfriend took,/Remember when you broke your foot from jumping out the second floor?” - I’m Not Okay (I Promise) by My Chemical Romance

“I remember the look in your eyes/When I told you that this was goodbye/You were begging me not tonight/Not here, not now” - Ocean Avenue by Yellowcard

“Your sins into me/Oh, my beautiful one/Your sins into me/As a rapturous voice escapes, I will tremble a prayer/And I'll beg for forgiveness/(Your sins into me) Your sins into me/Oh, my beautiful one” - Silver and Cold by AFI

“Laying in the summer grass, you told me not to talk so fast,/As I told you how I feel,/You made me feel right at home,/You told me I was not alone and you knew just how I feel,” - Seasons by Good Charlotte

“life is/only/as good as the memories we make/and i'm taking back what belongs to me/polaroids of classrooms unattended/these relics of remembrance/are just like shipwrecks/only theyre gone faster/than the smell after it rains” - So Long, Astoria by The Ataris

“Back then it meant so much to have you by my side,/I always had your back and you always had mine,” - Let Me Go by Good Charlotte

“feel your fire,/when it’s cold in my heart/and things sorta start/remindin' me of my last night with you/i only need one more day/just one more chance to say/i wish that i had gone up with you too/and i'm sure the view from heaven/beats the hell out of mine here/and if we all believe in heaven/maybe we'll make it through one more year/down here” - View From Heaven by Yellowcard

“I don't care about a thing today /I used to but I'm fed up/And I can hear the words you say/I wish that you would shut up” - Festival Song by Good Charlotte

“Light breaks underneath a heavy door/And I try to keep myself awake/Fall all around us on our hotel floor/And you think that you've made a mistake/And there's a pain in my stomach from another sleepless binge/And I struggled to get myself up again” - Globes and Maps by Something Corporate

“you see, it's never bad enough /to just leave or give up/but, it’s never good enough to feel right” - This Photograph is Proof (I know You Know) by Taking Back Sunday

“Days swiftly come and go./I'm dreaming of her/She's seeing other guys/Emotions they stir/The sun is gone./The nights are long/And I am left while the tears fall.” - Swing, Swing by All American Rejects

“And when it all goes to hell, /will you be able to tell me sorry with a straight face.” - The Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes - by Fall Out Boy

“But I’m too tired to go to sleep tonight/And I’m too weak to follow dreams tonight/For the first time in a long time I can say/That I want to try to get better and/Overcome each moment/In my own way.” - Even If It Kills Me by Motion City Soundtrack

“Oh don't mind me I'm watching you two from the closet/Wishing to be the friction in your jeans/Isn't it messed up how I'm just dying to be him?/I'm just a notch in your bedpost/But you're just a line in a song” - Sugar We’re Goin Down by Fall Out Boy

“I'm gonna tear your ass up like we just got married/And you're all mine now/Tonight is the night we've been waiting for all our lives/Or maybe for just tonight” - Bedroom Talk by The Starting Line

“I tried to be perfect/It just wasn’t worth it/Nothing could ever be so wrong/It’s hard to believe me/It never gets easy/I guess I knew that all along” - Pieces by Sum 41

“And the mindless comfort grows/When I'm alone with my 'great' plans/And this is what she says gets her through it/"If I don't let myself be happy now, then when?/If not now, when?" - For Me This Is Heaven by Jimmy Eat World

“I've given a lot of thought to the nights we use to have/the days have come and gone/our lives went by so fast” - There Is by Box Car Racer

“Forgive me, I'm trying to find/My calling, I'm calling at night/I don't mean to be a bother,/But have you seen this girl?/She's been running through my dreams/And it's driving me crazy, it seems/I'm going to ask her to marry me” - Remembering Sunday by All Time Low

“Are you gonna live your life standing in the back looking around?/Are you gonna waste your time?/Gotta make a move or you'll miss out.” - A Praise Chorus by Jimmy Eat World

“I just can't look, it's killing me/And taking control/Jealousy, turning saints into the sea/Swimming through sick lullabies/Choking on your alibis/But it's just the price I pay/Destiny is calling me/Open up my eager eyes/'Cause I'm Mr. Brightside” - Mr. Brightside by The Killers

“Hey, you know they're all the same./You know you're doing better on your own, so don't buy in./Live right now, just be yourself./It doesn't matter if it's good enough for someone else.” - The Middle by Jimmy Eat World

“The angry boy, a bit too insane/Icing over a secret pain/You know you don't belong/You're the first to fight, you're way to loud/You're the flash of light on a burial shroud/I know something's wrong/Well everyone I know has got a reason to say/Put the past away” - Jumper by Bedlight For Blue Eyes version

“Since the day I met you/And after all we've been through/I'm still a dick/I’m addicted to you” - Addicted by Simple Plan

“I got a couple addictions/But I swear that I'm coming clean/I got a new way of thinking/Yeah, you're bringing out the best in me” - Chemicals Collide by Boys Like Girls

“I can't remember the time or place,/or what you were wearing,/it's unclear about how we met,/ all I know it was the best conversation that I've ever had,/to this day I never found someone,/with eyes as wide as yours” - The Story So Far by New Found Glory

“What if I wanted to fight/Beg for the rest of my life/What would you do?/You say you wanted more/What are you waiting for?/I'm not running from you” - The Kill by 30 Seconds to Mars

“Your eyes were covered in sunglasses /When they first met mine/I sat there and stared at you /You didn't seem to mind” - I Don’t Wanna Know by New Found Glory

“We drive tonight,/and you are by my side./We're talking about our lives,/like we've known each other forever./the time flies by,/with the sound of your voice./its close to paradise,/with the end surely near./and if i could only stop the car/and hold onto you,/and never let go (and never let go)/i'll never let go (i'll never let go)/as we round the corner/to your house/you turned to me and said,/"i'll be going through withdrawal of you/for this one night we have spent."/and, i want to/speak these words/but i guess i'll just bite my tongue,/and accept "someday, somehow"/as the words that we'll hang from.” - Tiger Lily by Matchbook Romance

“Think i'm dying without you here/so i drink myself to sleep/and then i hide beneath the sheet/and i try to disappear” - Dumb Reminders by No Use for a Name

“First my car broke down/So then I had to hitch a ride/I was almost there/When the motor died” - My Life Story by MxPx

“Now here I sit, so far away./Remembering all our memories./It's times like these that I miss you most,/Remembering when we were so close.” - Jaded (These Years) by Mest

“Well there's a million other girls who do it just like you./Looking as innocent as possible to get to who,/They want and what they like, it's easy if you do it right./Well I refuse, I refuse, I refuse!” - Misery Business by Paramore

“We're traveled like gypsies/Only with worse luck and far less gold/The kids you used to love/But then we grew old/We're the lifers here til the bitter end/Condemned from the start/Ashamed of the way/The songs and the words own the beating of our hearts” - Sophomore Slump or Comeback of the Year by Fall Out Boy

“She/She's figured out /All her doubts were someone else's point of view/Waking up this time to smash the silence with the brick of self control/Are you locked up in a world that's been planned out for you?/Are you feeling like a social tool without a use?/Scream at me until my ears bleed/I'm taking heed just for you” - She by Green Day

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