#empty vape carts

[gypsy-vapes]

The GV CCELL TH210 vape cartridge has closed-cell ceramic coils with an aperture of 2.0mm. They are ideally suited for thicker oils.

[bibleofficial]

yea i’m 100% certain this batch of carts are straight up spice lol

[professional-dragonsandmemes]

fuck it im drinking a warm beer on a monday afternoon. no reason not to its fuckin summer babie!!!

[emilylew2929]

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[lovelytsunoda]

sweet sounds of heaven | logan sargeant

summary: for two rival bookstore employees vying for promotion, a freak snowstorm trapping them inside the small bookstore may just show them that instead of screwing each other over, maybe they should just be . . . screwing.

pairing: college!logan sargeant x college!female reader

warnings: 18+ for smut, rivals to lovers, sex in a book store, freak weather event or act of god? im a sucker for stories about adorable nerdy girls getting (lovingly) railed by equally sexy nerdy guys. there may or may not be inappropriate use of a wool scarf (read it and find out!)

the cozy store was calm and empty, snow falling rapidly outside. the radio was humming the old bing crosby version of 'white christmas' and the fire in the reading room was pleasantly roaring. she watched the last few customers leave , closing and locking the front door behind them. after flipping the sign from open to closed, she set off towards the break room, knocking on the locked door.

"logan, you better not be vaping in there! not only is it a fire hazard, it will piss mrs. christodolou off to no end. you should be out here helping me clean up after story time."

inside the break room, logan rolled his eyes, exhaling a cloud of passionfruit vape smoke. "gimme a second, hot stuff. someone left their mug full of caked on hot cocoa in the sink."

he'd gotten the mug clean ten minutes ago, and now it was sitting on the drying rack. truthfully, logan just wanted to watch her squirm.

"fine, sargeant. don't help. see if i care."

the pair had been at each other's throats since they'd started working for helen christodolou. the elderly greek woman ran a thriving independant bookstore, which she had started back in the eighties as a horror bookshop and pulp fiction retailer. over the years, it had morphed and changed, becoming the cosy little discount bookseller that y/n knew and loved.

logan had come later, likely because he knew someone who knew someone and really needed a job. he was a slacker, and spent mroe time vaping in the break room than he did helping. but alas, they were the only two full-time employees, and with a promotion on the horizon in the new year, she felt the need to prove that she was better than some blonde trust fund boy who was probably only employed here to keep him out of trouble.

brenda lee was playing now, and y/n was tempted to shout 'bah humbug' and turn the whole thing off. there was only so much christmas music she could take before she needed to listen to something of substance again.

after gathering the broken, dull and smeared crayola crayons off the small craft table that had been set up for children to decorate ornaments, cards and coloring pages at, she unceremoniously threw them into the clear plastic storage tote they came from, and went behind the desk to the desktop that controlled the music. she signed in to her spotify account, navigating over to her winter playlist rather than the compilation currently playing from youtube.

the calming classic rock took over the speakers, but did little to ease her irritation as she continued to clear up the table. the snow was falling harder outside, and she hoped she'd be able to hit the road and be most of the way home before it got any worse.

she heard the break room door open and close, creaking on it's old hinges as logan exited the room, his appearance announced by the lynx deodorant that seemed to follow him everywhere.

you would think that a boy with as much money as he had would make and effort to smell better.

"of course you show up now, when all the work is mostly done."

logan rolled his eyes, grabbing some forgotten books from the shelving cart and putting himself to work at refiling them. "it's not a big deal, y/n. everybody knows helen is giving you the job. its like i'm not even here."

"maybe if you did something other than suck on your fucking flavoured air all day and contributed to the day to day operations of this place, you'd have a shot at that job as well." she scowled up at him, closing cheap coloring books and stacking them on top of the storage tote.

"hey, i suck other things too! things that would make you feel fucking euphoric, if you catch my drift." logan winked from behind a chest-height bookcase housing sci-fi releases.

"i don't want to hear how good you are at giving head, logan. its been a long fucking day, and i just want to go home. so if you could please help me out here, it would be much appreciated."

all the fight was out of her voice now, and logan felt bad. this was no longer the banter that he looked forward to every morning, and the smile he enjoyed seeing was no longer mapped out on her face. instead she looked weathered and sleepy, like a day of working retail and listening to christmas carols had sucked all of the energy out of her.

logan stayed quiet, but y/n noticed the marked effort he made at helping her get the store in closing order, especially when it came to shutting down the point of sale system (which unfortunately cut out the music right in the middle of an inxs song that logan didn't want to admit he was enjoying).

"i'm sorry for being so hard on you." y/n sighed, pulling on her scarf. her tote bag was half packed, resting on the counter behind her. "i'm always in a sour mood once it starts getting darker earlier. something about the end of the year coming up this quickly is making me rethink every choice i've ever made." she tried to smile at logan, let him know she was fine, but her smile didn't quite meet her eyes.

after all, she would just be going home to an empty apartment, with a small and sad looking christmas tree that she bought at a charity store sitting on her side table.

"don't worry about it. i was being a dick for no reason. you didn't deserve it." logan said gently, patting her on the shoulder. "go home and get some rest, i can lock up here."

"thank you." she fished in her bag for the keys to her kia, excitedly walking towards the door. at this rate, she'd be home with enough time to make a small pot of pasta and watch a few episodes of santa clarita diet before she went to bed and slept through her alarm this morning.

except for the fact that she could hear the wind rattling the windowpanes. she couldn't even see out of the side door to where the employee parking lot was, her kia rio a dark cloud behind the wall of snow. she paused, hand on the doorknob as she looked outside. the wind rustled up a forgotten newspaper on the sidewalk, plastering it against the window in the door.

"i just got a message from kyle," logan shouted from behind her. "they've sent out a weather alert, and people have been advised not to leave their homes. i hate to break it to you, but you're better off staying here with me tonight."

"fuck." she cursed, throwing her tote bag at a display of christmas romance books, each looking like it stepped out of the hallmark studio head offices.

from his place behind the counter, logan winced. "i'm really sorry. but i don't think you should be driving right now."

"no, you're probably right about that." she said it calmly, but the more she sat there, the more she seethed with rage. "you know what, if you had gotten off your ass and actually helped me sooner, i could have been home right now!"

"don't get mad at me, please. i had a fight with my dad this morning and i really don't have the energy to fight with another person i love today."

she paused, some of the tightness leaving her chest. another person logan loved? did he really mean her? "i'm sorry." she said softly. "i didn't know."

"he was mad at me because i took my name out of contention for the promotion." logan announced, coming to sit in the doorway with her. his back was against the wall across from her, their feet almost touching.

"why did you do that?"

"because i don't deserve it." logan shrugged, broad shiulders shifting under his cable knit sweater. "i'm just here to prove to my parents that i'm responsible, and i can't even really do that right. you deserve that promotion more than i do. i talked to helen this morning. its yours as long as you still want it."

she smiled at him, nudging his foot with her own. "so there is a heart under there."

"its always been here, y/n. just for you. but you've ignored it, or you've mistaken it for arrogance." he sighed, messing with his collar. "but i guess i deserved it."

she laughed, head tilted back. logan loved that sound, and he swore that he would do anything to hear that sound again. "yeah, you did. but you're really pretty, and it wasn't bothering me half as much as i let on. a little bit of rivals to lovers never hurt anybody, right?"

"we could have been lovers a lot sooner if i'd been honest with you sooner. i really like you, y/n. i think you're fantastic. i love seeing your face light up when you're running activities with the kids, or watching the cute little faces you make when you're reading on break. and don't get me started on your reading glasses," logan gushed, a blush rising on his neck. "which i have had some very impure thoughts about-"

"logan? stop talking."

she leaned across the tile floor, pressing her lips against his as she basically crawled into logan's lap. he pulled her closer as she deepened the kiss, biting gently on his bottom lip.

"what if i told you i fantasized about this?" logan blushed. "hooking up with a sexy librarian after hours." he bit his lip, tugging it between his teeth before i could blurt out that eventually, that librarian had morphed to have y/n's face.

"and what if i told you that i had a fantasy about being fucked by a sexy, blond, muscular librarian?"

"then i would say that we're at an impasse. we can't both be the sexy librarian."

"you don't even read. it's no contest." she giggled, kissing him again, shifting so that she was straddling his lap instead of sitting side-saddle over his cock. "but i can't do this if i'm not absolutely certain that you can see a future with me. that you're not just trying to get in my pants."

logan's face softened, one of his warm, soft hands coming up to cup her face. she looked scared, and a little vulnerable. he wasn't sure if it was the nightmarish weather outside that was doing it, or if it was the shifting of their professional relationship.

"y/n. i have loved you since the first month we started working here. i was just too chickenshit to tell you. and if you won't listen to me tell you how incredible you are, and how much you make my world go around, then please, i am begging you, let me show you."

she sucked in a deep breath, chest rising and falling underneath her tight knit sweater. logan was looking at her with a tender face, a soft expression.

one that somehow reassured her that he was all in. that he didn't think she was weird, or beneath him like so many jocks tended to think. and maybe he wasn't too far out of her league after all. it still felt almost too good to be true. boys like logan sargeant never looked at girls like her.

but with the way he was looking at her now, she deserved to treat herself. to stop playing it safe for once.

her hands found the lapels of her trench coat, gently sliding it off her shoulders. the silence was deafening as it fell to the floor. she reached for her scarf, but logan's gentle hands over hers put a stop to it. carefully wrapping the ends of the scarf around his large hands, logan used the wool to pull her closer, placing a few kisses on her jaw before moving to her lips, relishing in the way her body responded to him.

he tucked his hands under her stockinged thighs, gently rising to his feet. she buried her head in his neck, gently nipping at the skin on his neck.

"easy does it, pretty girl. we're just getting started." logan breathed with a gentle laugh, voice husky. she was clinging to him like a koala, and he used that opportunity to move one of his hands from her thigh to her ass, giving it a gentle slap. her breath caught, and from where her crotch was pressed against his, logan could feel her getting wet. testing a theory, logan smacked her ass again, grinning as her hips bucked forward and against him.

"someone likes that, huh?" he whispered in her ear, sucking on her earlobe before kissing the skin behind her ear, and placing her down on the wingback chair by the electric fireplace.

he sunk to the floor, his knees against the scratchy rug in the reading corner, tugging his tommy hilfiger shirt over his head. he tugged at her scarf, letting it fall to the floor. hestiantly, she rested her legs on his shoulders, slowly undoing the zipper on her sweater, exposing the seafoam green cups of the lace bra she was wearing.

"i didn't expect to get laid today." she blushed, averting her eyes.

logan reached up to caress her face, using her chin to guide her eyes back to him. "look at me, princess. you're beautiful. just as you are." he pressed closer, lips brushing against her stomach twice before he placed an open-mouthed kiss right above her navel. "the other day, when you were explaining how the micheal connelly literary unvierse is all connected, it turned me on so much, pretty girl. i just wanted to bend you over the checkout desk and show you just how insane you make me."

he continued to kiss up her stomach, loving the way she squirmed and arched into him.

"on a scale of one to ten, how attached are you to these tights?"

"like a four, they've already got a run in the crotch, wh-"

she didn't get a chance to finish her sentence before the sound of tearing nylon made her eyes fly open. she stared down at logan in shock. the blond between her legs looked at her with a sheepish grin as he attempted to pull her torn pantyhose off her legs. "i've always wanted to do that. i'll buy you a nicer pair."

"they'll get stuck on my boots, jackass."

"no they won't." logan insisted, reaching for the zipper on the side of her winter boot, before pulling the whole thing off and dropping it on the floor next to him. "see?" he grinned, kissing her ankle. "not an issue."

the blond kissed up her leg, slowly stripping off what remained of her tights as he went. his lips were warm against her cool flesh, and as his head dipped under her skirt, he could feel the warmth radiating from her warm, hot center.

he gently nuzzled his nose against the wet spot forming on her cotton panties, relishing in the sweet, gentle moan she let out.

"logan." she breathed.

"i know, darlin'. i know."

he slipped one finger under the seat of her panties, pushing them aside before his tongue darted out to get a taste. he audibly groaned as he got that first taste of her slick, cock standing to attention. he dove back in, kitten licking at her slit as he pushed her legs wider.

"oh my god, logan." she whined, hips rutting against his face, coating the bottom half of his features in arousal.

his nose nudged against her clit, sending her nerve endings into overdrive. she writhed against the chair, both hands above her to grip the backrest. logan's tongue darted inside of her opening, and he flicked up and down a few times before quickly withdrawing.

"you taste so fucking good, pretty girl. i could come right here, right now, without even touching myself. just from eating you out."

she looked down at logan, who's eyes were closed in bliss as he continued to grip her thighs, head buried between them. he was so close, yet still felt too far away.

because what was the point of it all if not to find a way to be as close as physically possible to another person?

not really sure what she was thinking, she hooked the middle of her scarf around the back of logan's head, and still gripping either end, she used it to pull his head closer against her sweet pussy, moaning heartily as his tongue dove into her center again.

"jesus christ! yes, right there, yes!" she arched her back off the chair, feeling her hard nipples press against the lace of her bra. sweat was forming on her skin, and her chest was heaving.

"that's it, sweet girl." logan's voice was muffled. "keep making those pretty little noises for me, love."

her knuckles were starting to ache from how tightly she was clutching the scarf, the muscles in her arms sizing from the effort of continuously pulling him closer with the woolen fabric.

he raised his head, meeting her eyes and winking at her before ducking under her plaid skirt again to suck at her puffy clit. he slipped his pointer finger inside her opening, finger-fucking her as he pleasured her bundle of nerves. she was falling apart above him, crying out his name as tears of pleasure pricked the corners of her eyes.

"logan, i think i'm gonna-"

"do it, baby. make a mess for me, love."

she came with a cry, a few stray tears creating a bit of moisture around her eyes, slick spilling out over logan's fingers, hand and wrist. her own hands went slack, the scarf falling out of her grip as she fell back against the chair. she could still feel logan's lips on her, leaving gentle kisses along her thigh, his fingers running up and down her calves to help bring her down to earth.

"logan?" she hummed, looking down at him while she carded her fingers through his silken hair.

"yes, my love?"

"i want you to fuck me now."

logan slowly got to his feet, discarding the scarf and scooping her out of the chair in bridal style. he kissed her again, softer this time, and she could taste herself on his tongue. it was a sweet taste, something that had her moaning so sweetly into her lover's mouth.

he sat her down on the edge of one of the display tables, and she watched as he shoved an entire table's worth of christmas romances to the tiled floor. giggling at logan's enthusiasm, she stripped out of her sweater before reaching for the half-zip on his. getting the hint, logan took of his cable knit, revealing a sculpted chest that was still half hidden behind a white wife-beater tank top that was tucked into his jeans, his cock straining against his crotch.

she pulled him into her arms, hooking her legs and arms around him as he began to softly kiss and nibble at her neck. she hummed in contentment, resting her head against his shoulder. she couldn't deny the throbbing between her legs. she was raring to go again, but wanted to enjoy the quiet intimacy before she allowed him to bend her over the table and make her see stars.

his lips were soft against her skin, his hands large and comforting.

"you ready, baby? we don't have to do more if you don't want to." his voice was gravelly and soft, his breath heavy against the shell of her ear. he pulled back, searching her eyes for any signs of hesitation.

"i'm ready, logan. you don't need to worry about me."

she slipped off the edge of the table, gently turning around. she sighed into logan's arms, his warm hands ghosting over her stomach, his lips along her shoulders.

and then she slowly bent over the table, hoping she appeared seductive as she curved her spine, brushing her clothed core against logan's bulge, her plaid skirt riding up enough that he would be able to peek at her panties.

all that could be heard was the roar of the wind outside and the reverence in logan's voice as he ran his fingers along her naked back, deftly unclipping her bra. her trailed open-mouthed kisses down her back, and she felt her heart swell with love and threaten to burst out of her chest at how gently he was handling her.

"you're so fucking beautiful. now that i've gotten a taste, darling, i'm very reluctant to let another man do the same, even though i know i have no say in the matter."

he gently slipped her panties down her legs, watching them pool around her feet on the floor. his large hands undid the top button and zipper on his jeans, and she couldn't resist a look behind her to watch his dick spring to attention.

"jesus, mary mother of god." she mumbled under her breath, only vaguely conscious of what her aunt would refer to as sacrilege.

logan beamed down at her. "like what you see, pretty girl?"

"of course i do. now put it in me, please."

chuckling, logan pushed her skirt up with one hand, guiding her body back towards the table with the other. "your wish is my command."

logan slipped inside slowly, inch by aching inch as her opening widened to welcome him home. he bit his lip, head thrown back and eyes sewn shut in pleasure. she felt like heaven around him, and he had to count to ten to make sure he didn't come prematurely.

"you good, baby?"

"perfect." she purred underneath him, bucking her hips back. "take me, librarian."

"technically not a librarian. just a humble bookseller." he laughed, drawing out and thrusting his cock back in again. "but its not like that matters when i'm making you feel this good, does it?"

he loved watching the way she moved as he hammered his rock-hard cock inside of her sweet hole. the way her spine rippled under her skin, beautiful and strong. hearing the way she breathed and gasped and whined his name, small hand reaching to grasp his behind her back, fingers interlaced as he pounded her against the table.

"you feel so fucking good, baby. you're taking my fucking cock so well." he praised, vaguely aware of the table legs creaking as it jutted forward with each thrust. "so good for me."

"fuck, logan. i feel so full." she attempted a weak laugh, too overcome with how he was making her feel. "so good." the hand that wasn't squeezing the life out of logan's lurched forward to find purchase on the underside of the table as a particularly hard thrust pitched her forward. "jesus, right there! yes, yes!"

"that's it, baby. don't be afraid to tell me exactly what you want. let me make every dirty thought in your mind come true. anything you've ever read in one of those smutty little books of yours, just tell me, i'm your guy. i'll fuck you on the rolling ladder, eat your pretty fucking pussy between stacks of books. anything you want me to."

"logan, i'm coming-"

"that's it, baby. you can do it. give me another one. good girl, that's it." logan stuttered, feeling his own release draw closer, triggered by the feeling of her come all over his bare cock. "christ!" he blurted, pulling out as quick as he could, watching his release spill all over her plush ass, even seeping below the hem of her skirt. "motherfucker." he furiously pumped his cock, trying to squeeze out the last few stubborn drops before slumping against her body, reconnecting his hand with hers.

"i'll clean that up." he mumbled. "sorry about the mess."

"don't worry about it. i have a good shower at home." she giggled lazily, spent and content. she felt the table rock beneath her, and turned to face logan. "log-"

she didn't get a chance to finish her sentence before she felt the table give out underneath her. she spat out a curse as she hit the ground, feeling all of the wind get knocked form her lungs (along with her bra off her chest).

"shit, are you okay?" logan laughed, trying to do up his jeans as he sat up. "give me your hand, let me help."

"can i put my bra on first?"

"i mean, i wouldn't mind if you didn't, but it is kinda cold in here. let me grab your sweater."

getting to her feet and on slightly shaky legs, she managed to laugh at him. "what a gentleman."

logan shrugged, draping the sweater over her bare shoulders. "it's the least i can do after i tore your nylons to shreds and came on your ass. you really should let me clean that up. i don't want to stain your skirt."

she cut him off with a soft kiss, her underwear stuck somewhere underneath the fallen table. "logan, stop talking. what are we going to do about the table?"

"run away and blame the weather?"

[dearjoons]

🛹 SKATERBOY!JIMIN HEADCANNONS

warnings: rodrick heffley-anna coleman (freaky friday) crossover. set somewhere between 1994-2006. he’s also never beating the bitch allegations (no version of jimin is). mentions of smoking, etc. IT GETS A LITTLE SPICY DOWN THERE! reader discretion is advised.

lulu speaks: aka what boredom and loneliness does to a girl. also yes ik vapes weren’t popularized until later but the sentence sounded good 💔

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★ skaterboy!jimin who is rarely ever spotted in class.

★ skaterboy!jimin who always has some stupid little injury. bruised hip from trying to ollie a shopping cart. split knuckles from a rough landing off his stolen skateboard.

★ skaterboy!jimin who grins with blood on his teeth like it’s a flex, the painful aftermath of a stupid fight.

★ skaterboy!jimin who drives a beat-up hand-me-down car that smells like weed, sweat, and cinnamon gum. it’s a mess inside—burnt CDs everywhere, ripped seats, duct-taped glovebox—but it’s so him.

★ skaterboy!jimin who once kissed you in a gas station parking lot while Nirvana blasted from his car stereo. it tasted like peach vape and rebellion. you swore you wouldn’t let it happen again. It happened the next day.

★ skaterboy!jimin keeps a polaroid of you in his wallet, maybe half-naked. when you ask, he just shrugs and says, “you looked hot. why wouldn’t I keep it?”

★ skaterboy!jimin who once showed up at your window completely drenched from the rain, hoodie soaked through, bruised and breathless. no explanation. just, “i needed to see you.”

★ skaterboy!jimin who climbs through your window like he’s never heard the concept of a door.

★ skaterboy!jimin who keeps his helmet covered in stickers. you put a sparkly heart one on it once. he pretended to hate it. never took it off.

★ skaterboy!jimin who’s flicking a cigarette off the curb one second, the next he’s curled up in your lap like a cat, nuzzling into your tummy with his busted-up knuckles holding your thigh. “only sleep good when I’m with you,” he murmurs.

★ skaterboy!jimin who loves when you’re laid out on his bed in his band tee, legs over his shoulders, his grip bruising your hips as he devours you—eyes dark, lips slick, hair messy from the way your hands gripped for dear life.

★ skaterboy!jimin who had crawled in through your bedroom door at midnight on a school night. his excuse? he just “missed you”. bullshit. he had you laying down on your own bed, chain dangling from his neck as his arms propped himself up form either side of you.

★ skaterboy!jimin who was very obviously hated by your parents.

★ skaterboy!jimin who is kinda dumb in other subjects, brilliant in art class.

★ skaterboy!jimin who will doodle on his desk, your hand, or his jeans—skulls, roses, hearts with your initials in them.

★ skaterboy!jimin who would turn the world upside down for you. mention someone giving you a hard time? he’s already cracking his knuckles. doesn’t care who it is—he’ll throw hands and come back grinning with a split lip like it was worth it.

★ skaterboy!jimin who steals little trinkets just to give them to you. a cutesy keychain, a lighter, a lollipop. he offers it to you like it’s precious, saying, “this made me think of you,”

★ skaterboy!jimin who only shows face at school so he can be around you. carrying your things for you, doodling you from the other end of the classroom, begging you to skip class with him—only for you two to sneak into an empty bathroom stall to makeout.

★ skaterboy!jimin who is a little rough around the edges. not everyone’s cup of tea, but he was yours, and that was all either one of you cared about.

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lulu speaks (pt2): ok it’s official i’m in love w this loser. cai bot coming soon bc unfortunately i’m such a slut for him 💔

cai bot. masterlist. navigation.

[dalusional]

Rip🙏

Rip Ponyboy Curtis you would’ve loved Booktok and The Cranberries

Rip Darry Curtis you would’ve loved life 360 and Facebook market

Rip Sodapop Curtis you would’ve loved taking Buzzfeed quizzes and cracking brainrot jokes

Rip Johnny Cade you would’ve loved fire extinguishers (i’m sorry 😭🙏 )

Rip Dallas Winston you would’ve loved selling kids empty carts and vaping

Rip Two-bit Mathew’s you would’ve loved being a Disney adult and spamming the gang group chat

Rip Steve Randle you would’ve loved trolling kids on fortnite and rhinoplasty’s

Rip Cherry Valence you would’ve loved making grwm’s and Taylor Swift

Rip Bob Sheldon you would’ve loved watching fight videos and making tiktok thirst traps

[meltedbluecaterpillar]

L’appel Du Vide

you are here! - ch. ii - ch. iii - ch. iv - ch. v - ch. vi - ch. vii - ch. viii - ch. ix - ch. x

A/N: The notes on tumblr will be different than the ones on Ao3. I pulled this from within the pit in my heart. I made this for a reason. And I hope that you hate and enjoy it.

tags: Rook Hunt x fem!reader, aged up au (both characters are 20+), kidnapping and imprisonment wc: 2.8k+

Your janitorial equipment rattles slightly in its cart as you turn the door knob to the now vacant hospital room. The rays of daybreak peek through the curtains on your last room for this shift, your shoulders relaxing knowing you were so close to going home.  The man who once occupied this space had finally been discharged. You hadn’t ever seen him but apparently he had been asking about you. A lot. One of the on staff nurses wanted to gossip tonight. She told you about the oddball staying in the now desolate room. Apparently the patient had seen you come into the hospital before your shift started one night and hadn’t stopped talking about you until he was finally released. He claimed to have fallen madly in love with you, saying you looked exactly like a rabbit he was trying to catch in his recent dreams. However, he had come into the hospital a few days ago due to a bad head injury. The person that brought him in said he was fond of climbing trees and a branch he was sitting on snapped. 

It was strange knowing someone had been that hyper focused on you. You didn’t interact with patients at all. You only cleaned the empty rooms and the lounges late at night. But you couldn’t let yourself feel bothered by it. He was injured and confused. You never saw him, and the nurses would never give up important information to a stranger. You shook the thought away as you turned up the music on your airpods and finished cleaning the hospital room. The woman at the front desk wished you a good morning as you waved goodbye with your jingling keycard in hand. 6am on the dot. Now you could make a quick breakfast and head to sleep. You had the next three days off to recover and get the things done that you had been putting off. 

It was hard to juggle a night shift job and your normal life. But you always made it work somehow. You had to, you lived alone after all. You opened the door to your tiny apartment, slipping out of your shoes with a light kick of your feet. It was another day of proving your parents wrong. They didn’t believe you were capable of independence. They wanted you to stay where they could see you, regardless of how old you were. But being 21 meant that you should have all the freedom to do all of the adult things you could dream of. Drinking a cold beer under the summer sun, buying a strawberry flavored vape like your favorite coworkers, and even just owning your own apartment. You just wanted to finally be recognized as an adult. You packed up your things and surprised them with the announcement. Right before taking off the next morning with the last of your things. It has been six months since you’ve been on your own. You loved it. Decorating your apartment how you saw fit. Eating what you wanted when you wanted. Staying up late and sleeping all day. And complete privacy to do whatever you wanted in your rented space. 

You turned on the light with a quick squint of your eyes from the brightness. Your apartment was tiny. A neat little studio on the fourth floor of your complex. Usually you wouldn’t mind taking the stairs, but today you felt so tired that you caved and used the often desolate elevator to take you up. It was always quiet since you worked late night shifts cleaning at the hospital. You loved the peace and your neighbors did too. You bumped the door to your apartment shut with a yawn and stretched your arms over your head, causing your joints to pop. Entering the kitchen to make a slice of cheesy toast before you showered with your keys tossed haphazardly onto the resin coated counter. 

Your appetite dwindled significantly in favor of sleep the longer you stood in the kitchen space. The ‘after work high’ never lasted as long as you wished it would. But you could always clean and make a snack when you woke up in a few hours. You finished your toast and slowly undressed, dropping your clothes to the floor as you entered your bathroom for a quick rinse. 

Your skin always lingered with the scent of lemony cleaner and Lysol spray. It used to make you nauseous when you first started cleaning overnight. But after a few months you stopped gagging at the overwhelming aroma. You lathered yourself in soap, making sure to watch your hair and face. You brushed your teeth with heavy eyelids as your hair started to coil at the ends, dripping with water. You finished up, drying yourself with a towel and shutting off the light to your bathroom. You slipped into your comfortable pajamas and made sure your curtains were drawn tightly as you eased into bed. Your blankets hugging your body as you sighed with content. When you woke up, your days off would begin. You could wash your laundry, go grocery shopping, make plans to see your friends when the sun came back up, whatever you wanted to do. Your parents always fussed over the world being scary and dangerous but you always saw them as just paranoid because of social media telling them there are monsters and fiends that live online. They didn’t want anything bad to happen to you. But they were just too overbearing. You could take care of yourself just fine.

You’re fine. 

You were fine. 

You didn’t remember falling asleep at all when you settled into bed. 

You remember a haunting dream. Or maybe it was a terrifying memory considering what was happening now. 

The feeling of being folded into an impossible shape and crammed into a wooden box. Your wrists and ankles are bound with plastic zip ties that dug against your skin, something soft and cottony was stuffed in your mouth with an adhesive you assumed to be tape covering your lips. You were staring up at the orange and purple sky with exhausted eyes that never seemed to close. You watched the sky devoid of soft, white, cottony clouds go from the orange sunrise, to the delicate blue of the day. Soon transitioning to the violet and orange sunset, then pitch black with not a single star to be seen. All of this was witnessed through a tiny, circle shaped hole above you. Your body remained folded like origami paper into that impossible shape. Aching painfully to be freed from the suffocating wooden box you were stuck in. Slowly drifting and rocking to an unknown place before you had closed your eyes again. The smell of salt water, the sound of crashing waves. This was supposed to be an odd dream. A very uncomfortable and traumatizing one. Not a memory. You wished it wasn’t a memory.  

A crunching sound caused your eyes to snap open. Like something being cut. Your eyes slowly adjusted to the new scenery around you. It was an unfinished basement, completely empty. Wooden steps leading upwards to a doorway you couldn’t see. A small window where pale yellow light came pooling in, and a dim, orange lightbulb above to illuminate what the natural lighting couldn’t. Dust particles floated around the air, giving an odd feeling of normalcy. 

The oddest part was the man sitting only a few feet away. He sat on a wooden chair, balancing a white ceramic plate on his knee with a hum as he carved an apple slice into the shape of a bunny with long, apple skin ears. He looked strong. Pale, muscular arms exposed, lightly speckled in pale brown freckles. His black t-shirt pulled taut over his chest. Khaki cargo pants that stretched over his strong thighs. He was wearing black combat boots and he would occasionally tap his foot as he hummed and carved. His hair was short and blond, pulled back into a ponytail as he worked with those same light brown freckles spotting the bridge of his nose. The oddest part was that he was doing this with his eyes closed. 

This was a skill he practiced enough to do without being able to see. 

Your expression became troubled as you noticed the difficulty of moving your body. Your arms were bound behind your back and so were your ankles. Thick, scratchy rope dug into your skin, replacing the plastic zip ties. It rubbed the flesh raw and bruised as you laid on your side against a hard cement floor. The part that made you actually panic was the fact that you were completely nude. You wriggled around, trying to sit up on your knees as the cutting sound halted. “Vous êtes maintenant réveillé.” It was the man not too far from you. “Bonjour, mon lapin.” You didn’t speak French. 

Tears of panic welled in your eyes as you lifted your gaze to meet the strange man. “I-I’m sorry do you speak english? Do you know what’s going on?” You wanted to reason him as you pulled your knees up towards your stomach the best you could. At least for some form of modesty. His eyes opened. A vibrant green, something that would usually entrance you with the soft and hypnotizing shade. But they held no light. No warmth. Empty and hollow. The man didn’t see you. 

He saw ‘mon lapin’. 

“Ugly American-English,” He chuckled and pointed the knife at you, bobbing it in his hand with a soft tsk of disapproval. “I teach you, eh, comment dire mes objets préférés.” His accent was a little thick. But you could understand him enough to not ask him to repeat. He didn’t seem much older than you which made this all the more frightening. “To have you imported was difficult. I feed you now.” He beamed happily and tucked the knife into the belt of his cargo pants. He grabbed the plate and moved to stand from the wooden chair as he approached you. Imported? “N-No there’s a misunderstanding-”

“Non, no misunderstandings. You are… Rabbit! You look just alike.” He chuckled as he stood over you, looking down at your naked body bound with rope as you struggled not to tremble and burst into tears. You wanted to go home. You wanted to go home now. Tears started to roll down your cheeks as he kneeled, setting the plate gently on the floor with a clack. He reached around to roughly tug you by your bound arms into a sitting position. You yelped and cried, stress sweat collecting on the back of your knees and under your arms. You tried to kick away from him out of fear with a shake of your head but he softly shushed you as he picked up the plate and showed it to you with another tug on your bare body. Pristine, lined in rabbit cut apple slices and stray pieces of dark red skin. “You eat, or you die.” He continued to smile as he took one of the slices between his pointer and thumb. “Ouvrir.” He instructed sweetly. 

Your eyes darted anxiously from his fingers to his face. Eat or die. Not an intentional threat. It didn’t feel like a threat, just him genuinely saying you needed to eat. “Ahhhh.” He sang as he pressed the sliced fruit towards your lips. Your body was shaking, tears continued to fall as you awkwardly parted your lips and looked downwards. You accepted the sliced fruit. It was sweet and slightly bitter on your tongue. The odd man seemed to be pleased with your response as he watched you slowly chew and look around the basement with a meek sniffle. 

You’re playing house with a disturbed person. If you could earn his trust, you could get out of here. You finished and swallowed, looking sadly at the plate and then the smiling man. “I… I can feed myself…” You didn’t want the stranger’s fingers so close to your mouth. “Non, I do it for you. For now.” His tone was still kind, yet firm. He would feed you this time, and probably the next before you would be allowed to eat with your hands. He pressed another slice to your lips and watched you eat. The process continued until you had finished all of his little carvings. You felt full and a little calmer now. But that didn’t change the fact you were still a captive. The man rubbed the top of your head and gave you two small pats before moving to stand with the now empty plate. “I will bring water.” He assured as he turned and walked away, heading towards the wooden stairs with a soft hum. 

You listened to each step and counted silently. Following along with the pounding of your heart. You counted 18 steps in total before you heard a door swing open and shut. Your mouth was cotton dry now as you blinked away the last remaining tears you had. You used your feet to push you towards the wall until your back was flat against the cool, stone surface. You didn’t hear any voices from upstairs. For now, you assumed the stranger lived alone. 

He didn’t seem upset with you asking him questions. But if you were too invasive that could change. You weren’t in a position to make demands yet either. You could only wait for now even if you felt like you wanted to vomit from anxiety. All of the survival skills you had seen online and in thriller movies had faded away like a worn shirt print. You had no idea what to do except stay calm and think. He seemed familiar somehow. But you didn’t remember ever meeting someone who spoke French the way he did. In Highschool you had friends that took a class, saying it was such a stupid language. None of the words sounded the way they were spelled. You would have better luck understanding Morse Code before you could learn French. The door swung open again, then shut. You counted 18 steps before the man appeared again. He was holding a glass of water in one hand, and a yellow book in the other. “Je suis revenu! Je t’ai manqué, mon lapin?” He was cheerful as he approached you slowly, mindful of his speed so as to not startle you. But you could see he was thrilled to interact. It was extremely odd. You really were playing house with this guy. He kneeled again, placing the book in front of you. “French for dummies?” You read the cover out loud, wanting to force an amused laugh. But you could only guess your captor was growing sick of using English. “Relationships need, eh, communication? We speak your Ugly American English, we speak mon romantique françias.” He cooed as you nodded slowly in understanding. “It’ll be hard to read with my hands tied.” You joked awkwardly as he cupped your chin in his hand and showed you the clear glass with a delicate shake to swish the see through liquid inside. “Not poison. It is water.” He was clearly trying to gain your trust as well.

This whole situation felt bizarre. You had read books, watched TV shows and movies, even listened to TrueCrime podcasts about how kidnappers were willing to throw you in a basement and leave you for days. Torturing you for fun and doing whatever they pleased with your body. But the worst you’ve experienced so far is being tied up and naked. He hasn’t threatened to hit you or kill you yet. It really feels like he sees you as a pet and not his captive. If he wanted to rape and kill you he already would have. Unless this is just a fucked up mind game?

He repeated the phrase ‘Ouvrir’ and you parted your lips. He helped you drink, allowing you moments to catch your breath before giving you more. “I will make hands useable. After you finish water. You may read.” He explained as you went to get another sip. “You will eat again and drink again when I am, eh, returned? When I come back to you. You eat your lunch.” He was having trouble explaining in english. This could be why he also needs you to learn French. Usually captors don’t care about stuff like that right? You finished the glass still craving more water. “You’re leaving me here?” You tried to sound anxious. Hoping to be as convincing as possible. “Oui,” He nodded with a grin as he began to grab you by your arms again. “to get lunch.” He explained with a chuckle before raising your bound legs and twisting your body around until your hands were no longer tucked behind your back. “Please be good while I am away. I will leave you more water.” He offered kindly before rubbing the top of your head and giving you two firm pats. He took the glass as he climbed the 18 steps and closed the door. 

You refused to sit and wait for him to come back. You needed to get out of here one way or another.

[cowboygreeting]

𝚊𝚌𝚝 𝚒. 𝚜𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚎 𝚒. 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚍𝚞𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜

cw: drug mention

Canvas saddle bag. Mnemosyne steno pad – A5, of course. Two LEUCHTTERM1917 Drehgriffel – ballpoint pens, black and red ink, moss and orange barrels. Extra-firm Blackwing pencil. Steel Blackwing pencil sharpener. Travel-sized Neutrogena Norwegian hand cream, half-empty. 16oz water bottle, insulated, with a little sippy straw. Loop earplugs, case hooked onto one of the straps. Vape. Vape charger. Extra juice cart. Protein bar, in case he's hungry. Two extra protein bars, in case someone else is hungry. No cellphone, not allowed that here, but his Discman and his earbuds fit inconspicuously enough, so he slides them in as well. He can wear them for the walk over. It might help to soothe his nerves a little.

He still has two hours before the orientation starts. So at least one and a half before he's reasonably allowed to leave his room. And hypothetically, he could leave his room at any time, he doesn't think they lock them in at night; it would be nice, maybe go for an early morning stroll — early, early morning stroll — hit his vape (he's not about to test the smoke detector sensitivity on his first night, thank you) in peace and try to stop his chest from thudding like it's been since he'd arrived, but — he hasn't. Nobody's told him the rules, and if there's one thing Seth likes, it's guidelines. Acceptable parameters. Or something to gauge off of — someone else to make the mistake, ask the question first. He will if he has to, but if he doesn't have to —

— well. The time passes anyways. He fixes his hair in the mirror twice, combing the pomade through and fussing with it until it looks bad enough that he has to take a do-over – Blind Barber, for the record. Smells like amber and tonka. Delicious. He loves the notes of almond. Leaves a little earlier than he told himself he would to give Rohan a little wake up call; he yanks the blanket off the bed like he did when they were in college, and tosses a bar at his head, only wincing a little when it actually hits him. It's soothing and familiar enough that, for a moment, when he slips his earbuds in and starts down the hall, it feels a little more like a university dorm than it does a hospital wing.

The feeling carries him through the door and into a chair with an empty seat beside it. His bag lands in the seat next to him, which he hopes his colleagues take as a hint, because it's never stopped feeling embarrassing to be an adult saying sorry, saving this for someone, but he is, so. He pulls his notepad and pens from his bag, lays them out on the table in front of him, and dates the first page, ORIENTATION in big block letters at the top. He's one of the first, and only pulls his earbuds out and shuts his Discman off as more of the others start filing in. The room starts to swell with sound and movement — just shuffling and murmurs, but it's enough for the wind to fall from his sails completely when he raises his head and starts looking around.

Not a lot of familiar faces. Some too familiar, but impossible to place. Enough to give him the lightheaded, dizzy feeling that's plagued him — most of his life, but flares any time anyone at the Foundation has him doing anything but minding his own business. Ro's explained the difference between amnestics and dissociatives a million times, but the shit they dose them with just feels like ketamine with tendrils. And, God, are people talking already? It's all ringing in his ears and the RBF he knows he's making and wishes he wasn't – eye contact and smile, goddammit – he'd to stop his lip from twitching first. It takes him a second. He's used to it. Hopefully, the smile that follows – once he feels like a person again – isn't as alarming as it feels.

Rohan's filled the seat beside him at some point during his little episode, slung his bag on the back of his seat, and between the jab at his ribs and the water bottle he's retrieved for Seth, he's able to check back in, with enough time to start sketching down names and impressions — chicken scratch that can't be read over his shoulder and an inconsistent shorthand that'd be harder to decode than it's worth if they could, but the sounds of pen on paper is unmistakable. He watches for people's reactions to the fact of his note-taking. Sorry, folks. That's what he's here for. Studying you.

God. Do any of these people want to be here?

It's almost a comfort, the grimness emanating from so many corners of the room. The assurance he's not the only one with concerns, and the — freedom from being the biggest buzzkill of the pack. He might be sour on the assignment, but he can sit through an orientation like a professional, more than — the operatives among them especially — seem to be able to manage. A kick under the table seems to signal his turn and he refreshes his smile, fully human and mostly authentic this time – trying to be, at the very least.

"Hey everybody! I'm – Cowboy Greeting?" It's half a question when he says it, call sign still foreign and gaudy in his voice. "But Seth's fine, whatever you prefer. It's, uh – well. I'm looking forward to getting to work with all of you; most for the first time, I believe, though I know I have one or two past co-conspirators in the room."

The chuckle he chases that with is half-hearted, maybe more artificial than the overhead LEDs, and painfully social worker-coded. Jesus Christ. And his mouth is even drier, almost as dry as the room. A fucking mess. A debacle, no saving it. "I'm a junior researcher, currently under AEED.. I haven't been here long, but I've bounced between a few different departments and facilities as part of my work — kind of big-picture policy review? Are people doing what they're supposed to do, do we want them doing what they're supposed to be doing right now, looking at outcomes, that sort of thing. My background prior to starting with the Foundation was in social work and nonprofit policy, so."

Definitely the most long-winded description of paper-pushing legitimacy-bestowing bullshit he could give — and maybe that would've been a better approach for some of his new colleagues, but he's never been in the business of giving his bosses a reason to eliminate his position, and he's not about to start.

"Anyways. Again. Really excited to work with all of you. And if anyone's looking for a gym buddy for their time here, definitely hit me up. Know that's gonna be my first stop after we're done the official tour."

First stop. Definitely. Right after a vape break. He's going to need it.

[bibleofficial]

yall they’re scamming the british now by telling them the d8 & alt cannabinoid vapes are d9 😭😭😭😭 oh naurrrr

[milo-is-rambling]

I love you drugs and smoothies and taking out the trash and having a clean bong and six dead vape carts that you’re swapping between over and over even tho they’re very much burnt and empty it’s about balance

[imeverywoman420]

my only friend in the world is the bottle of cbd vape juice i bought when i was 16 that ive just been using to refill empty weed vapes when im like completely out of all THC. Omg when i find an old ass cart in my room that i hadnt refilled yet i swear to god its like Second cart..

Its like just barely become half empty and im almost 22 bro.

[primarining]

who wants to be buried in my tomb with me along with an obscene amount of empty weed carts and my dead vape, fat paulie

[godsperfectwomanforreal]

I am in the room where we keep the mop buckets vaping off this Cake Baby 1G cart I got a week ago. It’s almost empty. Im half an hour early for work so im chilling til I can clock in. I am nursing an Arizona Green Tea

[chewwytwee]

Shit like this is why everyone in America hates addicts. Imagine genuinely believing someone consuming drugs entirely on their own, or just having to even *see* a needle or syringe is somehow detrimental to pursuing an education. If I’m pounding on peoples doors at 2 am while high on something then that’s a different story, I’m specifically frustrated with the insinuation that people consuming drugs entirely on their own (which is what I was doing) has like a debuff AOE on intelligence. All the kids on the floor can sense heroin or weed or meth or coke or ANY DRUG and it makes them stupider and scared. It’s infringing on their rights to pursue an education that I smoke weed alone in my room. It’s infringing on their rights if someone leaves a heroin needle out or a dime bag with traces of coke or an empty DMT vape cart or whatever else they’re afraid is going to bite and instantly OD them. Oh the humanity of the poor people who have to be around something they don’t wanna be around :(((((