#i will be glorifying weed in this

[dennylachancerights]

Me fr

lowkey this backs my college ponyboy part time stoner hcs so much thank you for your service brie

[sematarygirls]

🍃 ⊹ᡣ𐭩₊⋆ ─── getting high and making out with barry

   you huffed, making your way back to your bedroom as loud music pounded in your ears and practically shook the floor underneath your feet. you had tried to get your brother to turn it down at least a little, but he was drunk and probably high out of his mind—as he usually was when he threw these stupid parties—so your words had gotten you nowhere.

you should've known you wouldn't get a moment's peace when your parents announced their anniversary trip, leaving you and your brother in your big house on figure eight all alone for a week.

where your brother was always throwing or attending some big blowout, trying to impress his asshole friends and any girls that would look in his direction, you much preferred solitude. you liked spending your time in your room alone, bingewatching cheesy romcoms, gruesome horror movies, and any and all procedural dramas you could get your hands on.

even you could admit that it was a little pathetic, living life as a glorified recluse that had never even had her first kiss at the ripe age of eighteen, but sometimes, you preferred it that way. though, sometimes, when you were really getting into your own head, you found yourself lonely and craving adventure—not that you would ever go out and seek it.

"oh," a noise of surprise fell from your lips, your body reacting with a small jolt as you re-entered your room and saw a boy sporting a buzzcut, probably a few years older than you, smoking a joint on your bed.

The boy took a long drag, exhaling the smoke slowly as his deep brown eyes slowly raked over your figure, a smirk playing on his lips. "shiiiit, sorry," he laughed. "this your room?"

of course, it was just your luck that a handsome—and way totally stoned—boy would have stumbled into your bedroom during the five minutes you had abandoned it to go argue with your stupid brother.

"uh, yeah," you nodded, eyeing him warily as you hesitantly closed the door behind you to drown out the sounds of the party downstairs that had carried.

he hummed at your answer, nodding as he took another hit. "you mind if i hang out?" he asked casually, as if he wasn't a strange man in your bedroom, which you suddenly felt very uncomfortable in as you realized a man had never been in your room before. the room practically screamed lonely loser virgin with the way your stuffed animals were propped up on the pillows neatly.

"i guess not," you shrugged, your cheeks turning warm as you tore your eyes away from his piercing gaze, looking down at the fluffy pink carpet at your feet. you should have asked him to leave, but you didn't, instead allowing him to continue occupying your space.

he grinned, patting the space beside him on the bed. "come here," he beckoned, his voice low and smooth, almost hypnotic. "no need to be shy, princess. i don't bite...unless you're into that."

your teeth caught your lip, nibbling slightly as you considered his words. it probably wasn't the safest idea to sit next to a stranger on your bed with no one else around, but he seemed nice enough. either way, your body seemed to react before your brain could catch up and decide better of it, carrying you over to him and sitting on the edge of your bed beside him.

you looked over at him nervously, your fingers dancing over the stitching of your pink quilt, carefully plucking at it—a nasty habit you had that was slowly pulling the string out.

"you're so jumpy," he noted, his brown eyes following your movements with interest—his pupils dilated from the weed. "and quiet, like a little church mouse," he grinned, clearly teasing you as he took another drag and slowly blew the smoke into your direction. "you got a name, church mouse?"

you coughed a little, waving the smoke away as he blew it at you. his eyes bored into yours expectantly, willing you to give him an answer, and you did, quietly telling him your name.

he repeated your name slowly, letting it roll off his tongue, as if tasting it. "pretty name for a pretty girl," he said smoothly, his eyes never leaving yours as he shifted a bit closer, his thigh brushing against yours and making your breath hitch. "name's barry," he introduced himself.

you felt a little silly that something as small as eye contact and his leg brushing yours was having such a big effect on you, making your heart race in your chest as your eyes widened a fraction, but everything about this moment felt so surreal—like something straight out of those cheesy romcoms you loved so much.

he smirked, noticing your quickened breath and wide eyes, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on you. "relax, princess," he urged, offering the joint to you. "maybe some of this will help mellow your ass out."

"i don't smoke," you said, eyeing it warily. truthfully, you should've said 'i've never smoked' in the name of honesty. you'd be lying if you said you weren't atleast a little curious, but you'd always been too afraid.

"oh, come on," he coaxed, his tone softening as he held it out to you again. "just one hit. it'll help you chill out," he explained, seeming to know the exact right things to say as he patted your thigh comfortingly. "i promise it won't hurt you. i mean, it's not like i'm offering you meth or nothin'."

you bit the inside of your cheek nervously, contemplating his words. it wouldn't be so bad if you just did a little, right? besides, you couldn't live your whole life so sheltered and afraid. reluctantly, you reached out and took the joint between your fingers, your gaze darting apprehensively over to him.

"atta girl," he praised you, his voice low and encouraging as you guided the joint up to your lips. "inhale slowly," he instructed, his eyes locked onto your parted lips. you nodded, carefully placing it between your lips and sucking in. "hold it," he told you, licking his lips subconsciously as he watched you carefully. "there you go," he cooed, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your thigh as he watched your brows furrow in your attempts to hold the smoke in your lungs.

your inexperience was apparent when you exhaled, breaking out into a coughing fit that had your cheeks blazing with embarrassment.

he chuckled softly, rubbing your back as you coughed. "it's alright, princess, you did good," he reassured you, taking the joint back and taking a long drag himself before exhaling slowly, the smoke curling around his face. "you'll get the hang of it."

"thanks," you said softly, your stomach feeling all fluttery at how nice the boy was. you grinned after a beat of silence, feeling a little less shy and a lot more happy as your body buzzed, clearly affected by the small amount of drugs you'd ingested—it was just your luck that you were a total lightweight.

"see? i told you you'd mellow out," he said with a soft laugh, his arm wrapping loosely around your shoulders as he pulled you in a little closer to him.

"uh huh," you giggled softly, looking up at him. your eyes widened a fraction as you realized just how close your faces suddenly were, his warm breath fanning over your face as he smirked down at you.

he licked his lips slowly as he gazed down at you, his hand moving to gently cup your cheek. "you're pretty, you know that?" he murmured, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. "real pretty."

"thanks," you breathed out, looking up at him. you'd never kissed anyone before, and in any other situation, the rational side of your brain would probably be screaming at you to pull away, but he was awfully pretty and the way he was staring at you had your heart skipping a beat.

"you gonna let me kiss you, princess?" he hummed, his gaze locked on your lips as his thumb gently pressed down on your bottom lip, making you part your lips slightly.

you stared up at him, as if you were in a trance. your mind was slightly foggy, and all you could focus on was his hands on your skin as you nodded. you really, really wanted him to kiss you.

his eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled, and then, ever so slowly, he leaned in. his hand slid from your cheek down to the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he angled your head back gently. your eyes fluttered closed as his lips brushed against yours, so soft and warm. you leaned into him, letting him set the pace and following his lead as your hand curled into the fabric of his t-shirt.

he kissed you slowly, savoring the taste of your lips. his other hand slid down to the small of your back, pulling you closer as his tongue teased the seam of your lips, asking for entrance. you weren't quite sure what came over you, but you craved feeling more of him, tasting more of him, so you parted your lips, letting his tongue slip into your mouth and slot against yours.

he groaned lowly as your tongue tentatively slid against his own, deepening the kiss. his hand on your back slipped under the hem of your top, his fingertips brushing against the bare skin of your lower back. you hummed into his mouth, grip on his shirt tightening as you tried pulling him impossibly closer. the feeling of his warm hands on your bare skin had your head spinning.

when he finally pulled back, you were both breathing hard, and he smirked at your dazed expression. "we should stop," he murmured, his voice tight with barely-contained self control.

"right, yeah," you nodded, your body alight with desire, but as much as you wanted to, it probably wasn't in your best interest to lose your virginity to a man you'd just met. doing drugs and having your first kiss slash makeout session seemed like enough adventure for one day.

his heated gaze never left yours. "alright then," he said, his voice still rough. "we'll, uh, we'll finish this later, yeah?" he asked, his hand still resting on the small of your back.

you giggled at his phrasing, your stomach doing flips at the thought of seeing him again and the idea that he wanted to see you again too. "i'd like that," you smiled softly, nodding.

he grinned wolfishly, standing to his feet, your eyes following his movements closely as he headed to the door. "i'll see you around, princess," he winked, opening your bedroom door and allowing the sounds of the party going on downstairs—which had completely slipped your mind amidst everything that had just happened—to fill the room.

"yeah, see you around, barry," you nodded, your mind still reeling as you watched him leave and close the door behind him. a wide, stupid grin broke out on your face as you fell backwards on your bed, squealing excitedly to yourself.

[femsolid]

You know what I'm tired of seeing Snoop Dogg appear in memes and videos and movies and award shows like he's some endearing funny rapper who's cool and chill because he smokes tones of weed. He's a fucking rapist, a human trafficker and a misogynistic piece of shit.

"Snoop has an extensive criminal history, including convictions for drugs and weapons related offences and involuntary manslaughter, as well as by his own admission, pimping and trafficking women for sex. Snoop also reportedly lured two underage girls into exposing themselves on film by offering them marijuana and ecstasy.

Snoop’s lyrics glorify violence against women. He refers to women as ‘bitches’ and ‘hoes’ who ‘suck d****’. His songs include ‘Break a bitch ’til the day i die’ and ‘Can you control yo hoe? where he describes beating women who do not obey him, who need to learn their place."

Haha cute go fuck yourself

[sibsteria]

Where is my mind?

Mikey Way x Fem!Reader

Warnings/Content: smut, angst, fluff, fem!reader, abuse mention, minimally awkward virginity loss

Summary: mcr high school!au (appearances from fall out boy, later), Gee is your best friend and you are into Mikey. One faithful night, things come to a head and you make a choice, will you regret it? Does Mikey have feelings for you? Maybe a love triangle is to come…..

(this will be a multiple part series, i have really been missing the good old wattpad band fics lately, so this is imo a glorified reprisal of those days)

1 | 2 | 3

Sitting outside of the principle’s office after school, waiting for Frank, is not how you wanted your Thursday afternoon to go. He just had to throw that chair at Bob- I mean, the kid deserved it but, you had places to be.

You heard the door click as he walked out to the hallway where you were, 99% of people had already left to go home after school, his shoes echoed the halls as he walked out of the office.

''Hey, Y/n...'' His hand finds the scruff of his neck, he smiles and shrugs his shoulders.

''I-...I'm not even gonna say anything. Come on, the others are waiting in the van.'' You chuckle and scruff up his hair and flicking him in the nose before legging it down to the exit.

''Hey!'' He screams after you, trying to catch up.

The van door is open as Ray sits in the driver's seat, Gerard next to him and Mikey is in the back. The van itself usually smelt like a mixture of weed, gummy worms, god awful body spray, alcohol and a strong slight tinge of BO. It belonged to Gerard, but Ray was borrowing it this weekend having just become a certified driver.

You scream as Frank nearly catches up, ''Mikey, move!'', you dive into the van and shuffle to hide behind Mikey as Frank jumps in after you.

''Aren't you brave.'' Frank says to Mikey and smirks.

''Okay, enough now, I just got my license and I don't need you and your stupid self to get that taken from me.'' Ray rolls his eyes, this is the first time he has driven us, it's usually Gee.

You sneak a glance at Mikey, his head leaning against the wall, trying to drown out Frank's boisterous noise. He glances over at you, his eyes widen a small amount as he catches you, you swallow and dart your eyes somewhere else. A heat of embarrassment cups your cheeks and you just pray you aren’t that red in the face.

Mikey smiles a little, before turning back to look out the window.

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Friday morning you decide to once again, as usual, to get a ride to school from the boys.

You stifle a cry as you look in the mirror, there is no hiding it today.

You never let them see you cry, it’s not the perception of yourself that you like them seeing.

You’re supposed to be the tough and rough one, the edge, where cares don’t exist when you are around. What a load of-

You can hear the creak from his bedroom floor from the downstairs bathroom, that’s enough pity party for today, you gotta get out of here.

Waiting in your front yard, you bring your cigarette up to your lips shakily, placing it between them and letting them wrap around the end, you take a firm pull.

As it the smoke escapes you- stinging your eyes a little as the wind blows it back, you withdraw the cig from your mouth, the tip of it stained a burgundy from your lips. Mornings like this are serene as the water from the gutter babbles and trickles from the roof onto the porch. The neighbourhood is silent at this hour, just the homeless and school kids awake- by now they would already be at school- your group were always late.

Your next door neighbours and coincidental friends Gerard and Mikey are your saving graces, the latter watches as you smoke your shitty morning away with a moment of peace. They both hear it at night and in the morning, and whenever you are in your house, really. Even though you acted solid, they can tell just how much you are breaking each day.

You didn't know Mikey had been watching you as you brush at your nose and eyes, pushing away the sadness, messy eyeliner being your typical look on any normal day, it never starts out fucked up but it always ends that way- sometimes before you even left your house.

The air was brisk, you had forgotten your jacket inside but there was no way you were going back in. Goosebumps appeared on your arms, you torn tank top not doing any justice to the cold, rubbing your knees together as you pull down your denim shorts- your tights ripped- although that was a fashion choice. You rolled your feet around in your dirt ridden, worn out boots, trying to capture some warmth. You dug around in your fabric messenger bag, trying to find the fishnet layer you new you had in there, to go over your tank. Your hand rummaged inside- your lipstick, cigarettes, matches, hair tie, purse, ID, eyeliner pencil and half a bottle of vodka banging against each other as you struggle to find it. You did find a banana clip though, a couple of scratches in the plastic- basically brand new in Jersey- you hold your cig in your mouth as you clip your hair back. The unwashed knotty hair was not a cool look, you make sure your fringe swoops over your tender eye, a hair poking you in it, making you wince a little.

You didn't hear Mikey hop over the fence.

''Wanna wear mine?'' Hs jacket was already off, presented to you as his slight smile covers his face. He had on a long sleeve top with a graphic tee over it.

''Oh, Mikes, I couldn't do that- you'll freeze.'' You frown at him.

''Nah, it's okay, you need it more than me.'' The encounter is awkward yet sweet. ''Seriously, I won't let you say no.'' He titters out a small laugh.

You give into the generosity, shrugging on his oversized hoodie, it smells exactly like him- drowned in cologne, the air freshener of the Way house, and of course- his own scent. He was always a little stinky, but ever since you got to know him- he started to smell better and better, introducing himself to showers. You doubted it had anything to do with you, though.

You internally beamed at this, you can smell him whenever you wanted now, until you eventually give it back. Maybe he won’t notice it go missing?

''Thanks...'' You blush and smile, your feet moving against the gravel and rocks on the ground.

“Honestly, it’s no problem…” His sentence trails off as you hair uncovers a bruise on your eye, “He…he hit you again?” Mikey whispered, thoroughly angry, his face dropping, he was sure the silence meant good things this morning.

“Yeah, but-“

“-no, no buts. You’re staying with us, tonight, at least. Just wait until Gee hears about this.” You and Gerard had been friends for longer than you had known Mikey.

“Till I hear about what?” Speak of the devil and he shall appear, rather, my angel.

“Take a look at this.” Mikey tugs on your arm pulling you over to their front lawn instead of yours, getting out out of the view of your front window.

Gee pulls your hair back gently, the black eye revealing itself.

“Fuck.” Gerard breaths in through his teeth, tongue pushed to the roof of his mouth.

Your lips start to tremble as you pull Mikey’s jacket closer around you. You could always act unbothered by it all until Gee looked you in the eyes.

“Oh, little miss, you can’t go back there tonight. Give him time to cool off. Someday we’ll move out o’ here, once the band takes off, I promise i’ll take care of you.”

“We’ll. All of us. Take care of you.” Mikey mumbles, putting his hand on your arm, giving it a rub. Gee picks up your limp hand, rubbing a comfort over your knuckles, in an attempt to soothe you.

You swallow thickly, the taste of tobacco and stale soda from this morning swimming in your mouth.

“Don’t let Frankie know until we are off the estate, we can’t have another broken window, he already doesn’t pay for heating.”

The brothers chuckle a little, angst still present in the atmosphere.

“Probably for the best.”

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

You wait with the two until Ray and Frank pull up in the van, you take care in hiding your face from Frank as you climb inside, sitting in-between the Ways.

Pulling into the school parking lot, you finally put your guard down and let Frank see your face, Gee rubbing your arm as you do so in comfort.

“Are you fucking kidding me?! I’m gonna- gonna run him over, I really am- Ray! Start the van!” Frank is heaving, raving, screaming.

“Frankie, stop. He’ll just make it worse later.” You place a hand on his shoulder.

“Well, you’re not going back there tonight, I already called mom.” Gerard says, Mikey nods.

“I told her, she’s coming with us after school, and for the whole weekend now that I’m thinking about it.” Mikey recalls.

“You’re right. I just can’t- can’t believe it! Well, I can- but-“ You cut Frank off.

“It’s okay, i’m alive.” You shrug.

“Yeah, for now. Gotta smoke?” Frank huffs.

“Sure.” You giggle.

You and Frank lean on the side of the van across from the others, blowing your smoke into the air, and sometimes in each others faces to piss you both off. No one wants pure burnt tobacco in their face if it isn’t spiked with something more.

The bell rings, you quickly dab out your cig butts and all start running inside, taking a quick swig of your vodka bottle before you start the day.

“You better share that later.” Frank narrows his eyes at you as you reach it to class, late for homeroom anyways.

“Maybe I will, maybe I won’t?”

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

You got maybe about an hour of sleep last night? So falling asleep by your second class of the day was forseen, the smell of Mikey’s jacket helping to lull you off. You were sure to get detention for this, hey, at least you know you will be seeing Frank after school instead of waiting like yesterday. Ray sits next to you in mathematics, you aren’t sure why he isn’t in a smarter class.

The teacher drones on and on and acts like a lullaby almost.

As guaranteed by the end of class and many, many harsh berates for falling asleep- sure as shit, you had detention.

Leaving class was like a breath of fresh air, teenage, odourous, fresh air.

Nowadays, you hardly got bullied, having raised your status with Frank- he’s definitely not afraid to get in a fight, may it be for himself or on behalf of one of you. Which helped, people don’t touch him anymore- he’s a bit of a loose cannon.

You decided to take a page out of his book a while back, so people mostly left you alone.

That said…

There was a new clique, so to speak- on the rise, a couple of exchange students from a couple of states over grouping up the old hierarchy. You knew it wouldn’t take long until you had to reiterate just how much you don’t like to be fucked with, and instead of picking at you, they picked at someone much worse to mess with.

Down the hall you saw a vague scene, a group of girls and maybe two guys?

The closer you got, the more steam came out of your ears.

They stood there, laughing, picking on, humiliating Mikey.

No.

You took a moment to see how far they would take it, one of the guys decides to push mikey into his locker, making a loud tin crash. That doesn’t it, then.

You stormed over, standing in front of Mikey, forcefully shoved yourself in their faces.

“You think it’s funny to pick on someone who has done literally nothing to you?”

“Oh, please, nothing? He’s stood around all mopey like a little loser, someone had to take the top spot, we are sure not letting you losers have it. Freaks, I swear none of you have even heard of deodorant-“

You punch her straight in her nose, a spurt of blood spraying your knuckles along with her shirt, she stumbles back and one of her guy friends catches her. Tears form in her eyes and she tries to find a comeback but she is unsuccessful, clearly not used to her victims fighting back at her old school.

“If you wanna say something, say it. I would love to have a reason to punch you again.”

“Y-you’re psycho!” She pushes out, trying not to cry.

“You mess with my family, the people I love, ever again- I can guarantee I will break something else, and it won’t be as quick. Don’t you ever, look, talk, or even think about Mikey ever again. You got it? You look like the poster child for pro-choice, did your mother buy you condoms instead of a cabbage patch kid?” You spat at her, Mikey grabs your wrist gently from behind you.

The girl only swallowed before quickly swerving and walking away briskly.

“Y/n…”

“I don’t understand why she thought she had the right to do that to you, Mikes-“

“That was fuckin’ awesome.” His eyes are shining down at you, a smile gracing his lips.

“You don’t know how I felt watching them do that to you.” You pull him into a tight hug.

His heart picks up pace at this, he wraps his arms around you quickly, welcoming the contact.

He lets himself breath in the scent of your hair, quietly.

You allow yourself to relax into the heat of his chest, embracing the comfort he gave you. Your cheeks blushed up as his thumb rubbed against your back, affectionately.

You both pull away, you take a little longer to stare into his eyes, pushing up his glasses with your finger as you noticed they had slipped.

What? Why did you just do that? That’s weird, why would you do that.

Your eyes widen as you realise what you had done, you turn to leave before a certain best friend of your is walking up the hallway.

Mikey is stood there in shock. Was that weird? That was really intimate.

“I just saw Holly? Nice one, dude.” Gerard speaks up from behind you., saved by the Gee shaped bell.

“Thanks, Gee, really proud of that. I just wish she had said something else so I could have smacked her down again.” You laugh nervously, choosing to ignore the situation you had created out of your own feelings.

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

Let’s just say you got a hefty punishment, after school detention for a a month, the school decided not to call your dad after they had noticed the bruises and scrapes for years at this point, even some broken bones. They wouldn’t dare report the abuse but- they would never tattle on you to him, not wanting to worsen anything. You basically had free will with a few detentions, that you would share with Frank anyways. After all, there was no use detering fights in Jersey.

After school and yours and Frank’s detention the drive back was full of comfort and laughter, and not just because Frank had lit up a giggle stick and passed it around.

You all had taken a small rest just to chill in the middle of a forest near your estate to smoke a little more, the time turning late. You of course, did, share the vodka with Frank.

You and Mikey, through the hotboxed van, had locked eyes as you sat next to each other, no amount of magic grass could ever make you forget how much you want him, your biggest secret, your shame.

You let out a breath, blowing out the smoke that was in your system before passing it over to Frank. Mikey smiles before looking away, a blush on his face that you don’t really notice.

Another weird fucking moment for the books.

You eventually pull up at the Way house, parting ways with the others.

Your dad is sat on the porch, surrounded by empty beer cans, a bottle of whiskey in his hand half empty.

“Shit.” You whisper, ducking behind their front fence.

“Wha-“ Mikey shuts his mouth when he sees your dad on the front. He tugs at Gerard to do the same, all of you crouched, slowly shuffling along the fence wall.

You all manage to make it inside, through the back, going around the house so he didn’t see you walk through their front door.

“Fuckin’ christ. He has never waited like that.” You appear extremely stressed out, running a hand through your hair, pacing back and forth. “What if he looks for me? What if he comes here?”

“Hey, it’s okay, if he comes here- you hide yourself somewhere? You can hide, can’t you? Get mom to open the door? She knows you’re here tonight and she obviously knows what’s going on.” Gerard proposed a loose plan.

“Okay, okay. He can’t be violent to your mom, he wouldn’t do anything publicly. Always mumbling how he ‘can’t go back to jail’.” You nod and agree with rambling words.

A knock at the door startles you all and you all collectively scream, ducking down.

You let their mom open the door, it was just a neighbour after some milk.

“Fuck, maybe we smoked too much.” You giggle at your paranoia.

“Nah..not enough.”

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

You decide to have a private talk with Gerard, well needed, it had been a while.

After some tears and angry talk, you were ready to relax, you gave Gee a the biggest hug you could muster before deciding to go up to Mikey. You always swapped sleeping arrangements when you stayed for longer than one night, wanting to give either one peace. Tonight would be Mikey, tomorrow Gee, Sunday- Mikey and it goes on.

You tended to stay over on the weekends, your dad getting paid on a Friday- using his paycheque on the town and the dealers and usually a hooker or two, too busy and fucked up to notice your absence- he had things to occupy him. Once that money was gone when Monday rolled around- you face reality and put yourself back up for the abuse.

Bidding goodnight, you head from the basement to Mikey’s room.

You sit on Mikey’s bed, directly next to him, Gerard definitely already passed out in his basement room. Frank had left you a roll to smoke, he’s never usually this generous but after what you went through earlier, he felt kind enough. Sitting in Mikey’s shirt and panties of your own, his lanky frame making it more like a dress, you pull out the matches from your bag on the floor before sitting against the headboard.

You light a match with the nail of your thumb, Mikey practically drooling over you, before lighting it up, not that you notice.

“Fuck today has been…” You trail off, already tremendously baked.

“Intense?” Mikey finishes for you, subconsciously, he pulls your shirt down as a part of your abdomen is showing.

“Mhm.” You mumble as you take a drag, a large huff of exhaustion and annoyance rattles from your chest as you blow it out, up towards the ceiling.

“You know…I really hate seeing you like this, you don’t deserve it.” He adjusts his glasses, as he recites a small comment directly from his heart.

“Thanks, Mikes, if more than five people thought that- maybe things would be different for me.” You shrug.

“We’ll get outta here soon, promise.”

“Hope so.”

You press play on the stereo on his nightstand, tuning it to a low-fi rock channel.

“That is more like it, I’m done being down today.”

You take a rather large pull of Frank’s present, an idea springing to your busted mind, you don’t think about any possible implications that could render from it.

“Hey, you ever swapped smoke before?” The sentence passes your lips and you feel your body grow warm at the thought of doing that with Mikey.

“Uh-uhm no, not really. I smoke with Gee and the guys and well…not really something I do with my brother.” He giggles, nervous.

“Would you…ever try it?” You turn yourself on your side and prop up your head with you hand, looking down at him.

“N-now? With you?” He looks shocked, almost scared.

“I mean, if you don’t want to or if you’re uncomfortable it’s okay. I’ve only done it with Frank-“

“You did it with Frank?” You can’t tell if its jealousy, disgust or interest in his voice.

“Yeah, on a bored Sunday evening and he didn’t have a lot of smoke, dealers weren’t active that particular day- we thought of it as a way to make do.”

“Can- um, can I try it? With you..?” He tries to swallow, his lips and throat completely taken over by cottonmouth.

“Sure.” Too zoned to realise how intimate you are about to be together, you take a sizeable drag, before inching slowly towards his lips.

You’re heart, like it has its own mind, starts to hammer as you get closer and closer to him.

His glazed over eyes looking up at you- he looks so peaceful and perfect.

His lips are still closed, so you take your thumb and put it up to his bottom lip, opening them up.

You close your eyes as you start to blow your smoke into his mouth, your lips sometimes grazing his. There’s something so erotic about this moment, it makes your insides feel like a carnival ride.

Your nose bumps his as you pull back, letting him blow out his own smoke.

His eyes are darting around your face, his hand comes up to hold your hip gently, you escalate by gently straddling him, putting the smoke to your mouth once more.

All Mikey can do is pray his body doesn’t betray him right now, the last thing he needs is a boner, just because a pretty girl is on top of him.

But it’s not just a pretty girl, it’s her.

You lean down again, your nipples poking out of your shirt due to the breeze in the room, he can feel it as you connect your chests.

You cup his face with one hand as you bring your lips closer to his, for the second time, this time he instantly opens them.

You slowly blow the smoke into him, lips touching a little more than the last time.

The lyrics to a pixies song, long forgotten in the background, the air is thick, tension biting the air.

It’s hazy and you can’t think straight, you’re done blowing but you can’t seem to move, still hovering over his mouth.

His hand on your hip grips you a little tighter.

A small kiss is planted on your lips, he made the first move.

You rub his cheek with your thumb, kissing him back, it lasts a few seconds this time.

The temperature in the room switches as his lips slam onto yours, his other hand snaking up your back to hold your head, pushing it down into his lips. The smoke still in your hand, you quickly dab it out in the ashtray next to him, saving the third of it for later.

It’s the most passionate experience you have ever had, all you tasted was his tongue and his scent made your head spin, his fingers dipping under your shirt he fixed not only twenty minutes ago.

Mikey can’t stop himself from bucking his hips up, hard as steel now, so much for avoiding temptation.

He taps your clit with his actions, your mouth opening in shock.

Is this happening?

“Mikey…” You mumble, between your kisses, he migrates to your jaw, nipping slightly.

“Yeah? You okay?” He breathes out, licking a stripe up to your ear lobe before giving it a soft bite.

You can’t help the small moan you let out, that feels so fucking good.

“Are we? Is this gonna happen?” You heave, in a low whisper.

“Do you want to?” Mikey pauses and kisses you, deeply.

“I mean, I’ve only done it once…I don’t think I’m too good..” You nervously hum.

“I’ve…never done it at all. I want it to be you, though? If you-…please? Can we?” Well when he’s begging like that, what else can you think about.

“Take your fucking shirt off.” Your mind snaps, hands grasping the bottom of his graphic tee, pulling it over his head and throwing it somewhere into the depths of his room. He wraps his arms around the back off you, letting his lips meet yours again.

What the hell are you doing?

This is your best friends, brother.

But it feels so, so, right.

The kisses turn slow, agonising and almost romantic as his hands gesture you to lie down next to him. You comply, letting your hair splay out on his pillow, he stares down at you, his hand trailing down from your shoulder to your thigh.

Your heart is knocking against your chest as he lifts the shirt up a little, your underwear on show for him to see.

His hands are a little shaky, a mix of the weed and the situation you both put yourselves in.

“Should I, um, do you want me to put my mouth on you, or?” He scratches his neck a little, nervous.

“You don’t have to, you can use your fingers if you like?” You shrug, reaching to grab his hand, guiding his fingers to your clothed clit.

“I can take them off if you want?” You propose, he nods like a deer in headlights. “Take your pants off too, can’t do nothing with them on, Mikes.” You giggle, trying to make the situation less tense.

“Yeah, ‘course.” He scrambles of the bed, undoing his belt and letting his pants hit the ground, the sound of his buckle clanking as it connects to the wood.

You stay lay down, pulling down your underwear, before you can throw it- Mikey is on top of you again, kissing you like it’s his job.

You can’t remember dropping your panties out of your hand, and you don’t notice Mikey grabbing them and stuffing them under his pillow.

Whilst he moves his lips against yours, his hand starts to trail down again, a finger lightly pressing against your clit. You hum in approval as a spur for him to carry on.

He starts unsure circles, keeping a rhythm, however lightly pressured they may be- he is a bassist after all.

“More.” You mumble against his lips, bucking up into his hand, showing him what you want.

He starts to wind them a little faster, adding more and more pressure until it’s perfect and pleasurable.

“Mikes…” You whisper, as he kisses down to suckle on a spot of your neck.

“Fuck.” His eyes squeeze shut as you moan his name, lips trembling against you.

“Stick ‘em in.” You tap his fingers up with a hip move.

“O-okay.”

He does as told, putting them to his mouth, spitting a little before pulling them back down- this time to your hole.

He tentatively dips his fingers in, you encourage him, sliding down on them a tad.

His middle finger and his ring finger sink deep in until you hit his knuckles- recognising his middle finger due to the cold metal feeling of the ring he wore on it.

“Curl them, upwards.” You kiss his jaw, to him you look beyond beautiful.

Your cheeks are a dusty pink, eyes glazed over- a little red albeit from the previous activity. Your hair is a mess, well it always was but that’s what he liked about you. You lips a little raw from when he’d been kissing you, you looked gorgeous to him.

He starts to curl his fingers, his instrumental skills coming in damn handy, you arch a little with the perfect pressure he applied.

“Oh-“ You moan a little, grabbing his bicep thats holding himself up above you.

He bites his lip, staring at you a little too hard for his liking, but he just can’t help it.

This goes on for a few minutes, him adding his thumb to rub your clit and then removing it just to tease you- as he had found. Virgins can have fun too.

“Do it, Mikes, put it in.” You nod at him, and then down to his dick.

“You ready?” His cheeks redden, his excitement clear.

“Are you?” You chuckle a little, moving a piece of hair out of his face, it was a comforting act, he starts to gather some spit in his mouth.

Bringing himself up, he kneels, his cock screaming for attention, he’d never gone like this before- always relieving himself on his lonesome before it would get angry.

You decide to bring yourself up, leaning back on one of your hands, giving his tip a little kiss, looking up at him through your eyelashes- still adorning your mascara.

“Jesus.” He cussed out, the view of you, under the mercy of his own dick.

You smile softly, laying back down and opening your legs for him to slide in.

He positions himself, a simple missionary, sturdy and reliable.

The spit he was collecting in his mouth is spat into his hand and then onto his cock, he lather it around, giving himself some preemptive strokes, gasping at the feeling of finally being touched.

He spits again, this time bringing it to your pussy, making sure it will go in easy, after all it had been a while since you had experienced it- not that you needed the extra lubricant anyways.

His tip found your entrance, it was real now, this was happening.

You were taking Mikey Way’s virginity.

He starts pushing in, slowly, letting you breathe through the slight discomfort.

He looks you in the eyes as he goes deeper in, a feeling resonate with affection- it’s more tender than expected.

It’s almost uncomfortable as the feelings in the room aren’t proclaimed nor said, yet a certain understanding is there along with raging uncertainty. It’s a mess, and it’s so you.

Nevertheless, as he bottoms out, feeling you completely, he’s wrapped up in you. You’re warm and soft and so much better than his hand could ever be.

He pulls out a bit, pushing back in, repeating this until he’s sure he knows the motion.

He starts to become confident in his thrusts, his dick almost coming fully out before he shoves it back in.

He is a whimpering mess, hardly able to keep himself up with his forearms, you pull him close into your neck letting him hit you at a better angle more comfortably.

You lift your knees, wrapping lightly around his lower back, stroking his hair as he thrusts over again and again.

His pelvis bone is hitting your clit in sync with the thrusts now, boosting your pleasure.

You give out soft, breathy moans into his ear accidentally as he hits a particular spot, he combats this with a whine- continuing exactly what he was doing.

“Mmf’” He mumbles into your neck. “Agh, so good…this…so good…you-“ You grab his shoulder blade, anchoring yourself as his speed increases.

“Mikey-“ You moan out, head back into the pillow and eyes screwed shut.

“Fuck!” He grunts, his hand coming up to stroke your hair as he continues pounding into you. “Say my name, please, baby.” He whines, begging you for it.

Baby?

If that wasn’t the hottest thing you’d ever heard.

“Mikey, please, m’nearly there.” Mikey feels as if he is about to shut down.

He can feel himself coming to an end soon, and he wants you there with him, he really does.

“Want me- inside..or?” He struggles to comprehend his words as he’s thrusting.

“Yeah, yeah, inside.” You breath out, strangled moans following.

His pressure on your clit, the feeling of him hitting deep inside, the stroking of your hair. You can feel the quick build of your orgasm, it comes on fast and strong- like you just hit the ground after jumping off a skyscraper. It’s intense and perfect and you can’t help but let your fingernails scratch his back a little as you find a grip onto reality.

“Oh-“ He moans at the feeling of your nails digging in and scratching down, igniting his own release.

He speeds up, letting himself ride his high, before slowing down to a still.

He doesn’t pull out immediately, staying buried within you, covering your insides and his own dick with his come.

“Christ.” You breathe out, realising what you had just done, and at how it felt to melt together with your biggest infatuation.

Mikey is silent, his hot breath fanning against your neck, time standing still.

What do you even do about this now?

[doctoratecuddles]

I really don't understand why people treat KC like she's 14 and not... 24. KC doesn't need to be defended, especially by randos who bring up the same "evidence" (said evidence being incredibly parasocial with kit and bringing up several fandom words not really taking the situation with the sensitivity it requires) it's just like, there's several screenshots of ex-members and friends showing KC weeded out people who'd enable her and would admit "if something like this was leaked to the public they'd be weird about it" but, she still decided to show the people she cherry picked her incest and CSEM (namely the toddlercon and the Sly and Eve comic). there was never any "private" to begin with, KC really did just throw out what was "acceptable" to the public. What I deem as "private" is drawing something on a private canvas, maybe even a piece of paper and not showing that to anyone? I'm not sure going into someones DMs or "private server" (lol) is 100% private, relationships can deteriorate and people can come to their senses realizing their enabling behavior. At this point, KC shouldn't try responding or posting at all if shes THIS volatile and the only people left willing to defend squeak are equally as volatile and parasocial. Also as a side note, I find KC's bootlickers using bun's attempt as leverage to not criticize bun or have people affected by bun's lack of care and willingness to shield predators she calls her "friends" so incredibly vile. I need everyone to think objectively and not say "eeerm wellll dis iz a furreh yiff comix it only her fetish x3" and continue to enable an abuse victim coping in a way that is actively harming her, more or less keeping her trapped in her trauma trying to rationalize that the abuse that happened to her as a child was okay. KC is an adult, she should expect her actions to have consequences and no one wants her to die, and her as an abuse victim should not become the abuser. I think if KC was glorifying and romanticizing anything else like physical S/H people would tell her to stop, but since its something they jerk off to no one really cares and encourage her to keep going.

Well said anon! No further comment

[cryptotheism]

which greek god can I glorify by smoking weed and weaving scarves alone in my apartment?

Demeter duh

[hayakawalove]

Intertwined (Chapter One)

Best Friends and Better Halves, Chapter 1

Summary: You were in 10th grade when you first met Eren Jaeger. Enticing eyes and a big mouth. There was no way you could know how important he would become to you.

As the tendrils of your youth fade away you find yourself confused. Your relationship with him grows more complicated throughout the years, taking you by surprise at every turn.

A story of love, lust, and addiction.

A/N: This has been in the works for 13 months. We're so excited to finally share it. My best friend @zeninsama who is also the coauthor, and I have spent countless hours talking and thinking about this story. They coauthored this with me and we worked really hard.

I do have some warnings. This story delves into addiction and how it affects relationships. This by no means means we are glorifying it, we are only exploring it. Their relationship will be complicated, but it's supposed to be. If you find yourself no longer interested in it that's perfectly fine. It won't hold back, it won't be pretty.

There will be lots of flashbacks in this fic. We debated for a long time on how to go about it, but I think we settled on a way. Flashbacks will be sprinkled throughout the fic and will always be separated with "~~~" before and after. There will also be the time period before so as to not confuse you. The past is very important to their relationship so it needs to be included. It won't be in every chapter, and some chapters will be purely flashbacks. We will use "///" to indicate transitions in a scene. The flashbacks for the most part will be in order.

We love this story, and hope you do too.

CW: Drug use, alcohol use, violence, fem reader, AFAB reader

W/C: 8,043

Banner credit: @benkeibear

~~~

-Summer before Senior year-

Warmth. 

He always did run hot. His lips meld to yours, whispers of cherry gracing your tastebuds. Rough hands you had long been accustomed to held your face, keeping you still and pliant just for him. Eren’s tongue slips free, gently dragging along your bottom lip. You felt as if you were floundering, desperately trying to keep up. He pulls away and you’re met with forest green staring back at you. 

“Was that any better?” He teases. 

~~~

-Current-

Eren Jaeger is a lot of things. 

Punctual is not one of them. 

It’s not the first time, and it certainly won’t be the last – but it was, however, the first time Eren had been late to a party he invited you to. You weren’t much for large gatherings, or gatherings of any size for that matter. You would’ve opted to stay home if Eren hadn’t practically begged you to come with him.

“Come on, it’ll be fun!” He had said. 

Yeah, right. It reeks of booze and frat boys only have one volume – screaming their heads off. 

You sigh and push off from the countertop, not wanting to wait around any longer. If Eren was going to come he would’ve shown by now. Thanks a lot, Eren. 

You make it one step before an arm snakes around your shoulders. 

“Hey.” 

The scent of cheap beer is replaced by warm, woody cologne, cut with the pungent smell of weed. It’s so distinctly Eren Jaeger. 

He squeezes your shoulder in a half-hug. 

“Leaving so soon?” 

“Soon? I’ve been here for 30 minutes,” you grumble. 

Eren releases you from his hold and repositions himself in front of you, blocking you from the kitchen door. He’s dressed in all black, a worn brown leather jacket draped over his shoulders. Tucked behind his ear is a neatly rolled joint. It was a signature look for him. 

“Work ran late. Besides, I had a few deliveries to make.” 

“Deliveries? What, does the shop not pay you enough?” You tease. 

Eren’s mouth quirks in a smile as he pokes back, “I thought my best friend was supposed to support my passions. I’m a small business owner.” 

You roll your eyes, moving to pass Eren and finally be released from this hellhole, but his hand grips your wrist to pull you back. His touch is warm, grounding. 

“Heyheyhey, where do you think you’re going?” 

“Home? I’ve had enough of this place.” 

“But I just got here! Come on, just one drink and we can head out.” 

“Fine.” 

You allow Eren to drag you back into the kitchen and lean against the countertop for support, watching with your arms crossed over your chest while Eren fills a red plastic cup with a little bit of everything spread out before you. Vodka, wine cooler, some kind of fruit juice. 

“Gross, Eren!”

“Don’t knock it until you try it.” 

He takes a swig from your cup before handing it to you (“making sure it’s safe”, he says) and you accept, brow raised in suspicion before following suit and taking a sip. Besides the initial bite from the vodka, it’s really not that bad. It just tastes like juice – albeit a dangerously intoxicating one that’ll have you regretting tonight even more in the morning. Eren always takes his drinks like this, opting to get loosened up faster and not really giving a shit about the contents. 

Against your better judgment, you take another sip.

“Yeah, it’s not bad.” 

“See? I’ve never steered you wrong. Ever. Not even once.” 

You snort into your cup and Eren raises his brows, feigning offense. 

“I haven’t! Name one time.” 

“The time Mrs. Steven busted us trying to buy beer with your shitty fake ID.” 

“That wasn’t that bad.” 

“My mom grounded me for a month!”

“We wouldn’t have seen each other if I didn’t have the best climbing skills in town.” 

You both laugh and shake your head, watching the party ahead of you with a smile on your face while Eren watches you with a smile on his. 

“Okay koala man.” 

“Koala man?”

“They’re good at climbing, right?” 

Eren’s drink helps ease your nerves, along with your burning need to leave this party. You might even say you’re starting to have fun now that Eren’s here. He tends to do that – make anything feel fun and lighthearted. He doesn’t take things as seriously as you do. This used to make you skeptical when you first met Eren in high school. He seemed like a bad influence, if not just a nuisance, but you had to admit he really was a good guy. He’s still a little shit though. 

“So, who do you even know here? I thought all your friends were in Paradise City.” 

“This is Reiner’s house. You’ve met him, right?” 

Reiner, Reiner, Reiner… You mull it over. Eren has a lot of “friends”, so it’s hard to remember all of them by name. He’s always been so charismatic. 

“Blond? Muscles?”

“Bingo.” 

“Oh yeah, he’s nice.”

You throw his name around several times in your head. You hadn’t had many interactions with Reiner, but everytime you did speak with him he seemed nice. To be honest, you weren’t really sure what he and Eren had in common. Reiner was a jock through and through - even played for the football team. Eren on the other hand… Well, he was Eren. Your Eren nonetheless.

Your lips press against the plastic cup as you take another sip of Eren’s concoction, feeling a buzz start to come on already. Your senses feel dull as your eyelids slowly get heavier and heavier.

“Hitting you harder than I thought it would, damn you’re a lightweight.” Eren chuckles, tossing back his drink like it was nothing.

You click your tongue at him and roll your eyes. Maybe he had a point. It wasn’t your fault. Not everyone drank and partied it up in highschool like he did. You dread the day a doctor gets a look at his liver - or even worse, his lungs.

“Finish your drink then we can head out if you still want?” He offers, tossing his cup in the overflowing bin beside you.

You nod and swish your drink around in front of you, there was still half the cup left. Eren lets out a chuckle.

Eren hops off the counter. “I’m gonna go light up, you coming with?”

“I think I’m good.” 

He plucks the joint from behind his ear and heads towards the patio. “Suit yourself. At least try to make some friends while I’m gone. The thought of you being all depressed without me is gonna ruin my high.” 

“Yeah, bye, Eren,” you wave him off, a smile spreading across your face. 

You notice your body feels much more relaxed now than it did initially. Eren has a funny way of doing that to you. Most of the time, you’re polar opposites – you being high strung while Eren hardly took anything serious. You balance each other out. 

A light buzz reaches your head, heat creeping up your neck and ears. Eren really knew how to make an effective drink. Even the music sounds better, no longer blaring and rattling the house but mellowing into the background with a low rhythm and bass you could feel thumping in your chest.

~~~

-Fall of Sophomore year- 

“Everyone, we have a new student joining our class. Go ahead and introduce yourself, sweetheart.” 

“Eren Jaeger,” the new kid speaks, expression and tone heavy with boredom. His hair is brown and slightly overgrown, sitting just under his ears. “I transferred from Maria Reformatory. Go Titans.” 

Finally, something different. 

“Nice to have you, Eren!” The teacher welcomes. 

His eyes meet yours. They’re beautiful – a vibrant shade of emerald green you’ve never seen before. Only on movie stars, or models, same thing. You straighten in your seat, feeling perceived. 

“Do you have a girlfriend?” One of the girls blurts out, causing the class to erupt in laughter.

You return your attention to the assignment in front of you, silently groaning. The teacher attempts to quell the chaos while directing Eren down the aisle, towards the empty seat conveniently located beside you. 

You intentionally picked this seat because you wanted to be away from everyone else. 

“Hey,” Eren introduces himself, tossing his backpack under his desk and digging for a pencil in the front pouch. “What’s your name?” 

You grumble your name, eyes not leaving the worksheet. 

“I’m Eren.” 

“Yeah, I heard the introduction.” 

“Wow. Okay, attitude.” 

Eren slouches in his seat, his too-long legs extending beyond his desk, like a newborn giraffe. 

Focusing is hard when you feel his eyes bore holes into your side, analyzing you. It felt like a bug crawling up your neck, almost making you shiver at the weight of his gaze. You opt to ignore him, do what you’ve always done and keep your head down. You don’t need friends, they’re disruptive. Not like anyone here gets you anyways. 

Eren, however, had no intention of leaving you alone. 

“How do you like the school?” 

“I don’t know, I’ve never thought about it before.”

“You can’t tell if you like it or not?” 

“I’m trying to focus,” you admit, slightly exasperated. 

“Didn’t know there was a rush.” 

Eren turns forward, brows raised in amusement. You were quick to bite and maybe not the most friendly, but it only piqued his curiosity. 

You watch Eren adjust in your peripheral vision, like he’s just now realizing there’s nothing on his desk. Your finger taps anxiously on your own table. 

“Hey teacher, I don’t have one of those,” Eren points out, referring to your textbook. 

“You’ll get one soon,” the teacher interjects. Don’t say it, please don’t say it… 

Your heart sinks when she says your name. 

“You don’t mind sharing, right?” 

Your finger stills. 

“No, ma’am.” 

Eren smirks and scoots his desk closer to yours, metal legs scraping against the floor until the edges touch. The scent of Old Spice body spray wafts over into your space, with something skunky underneath that explains his red and lazy eyes. 

“This works out great!” Your teacher exclaims, eyes meeting yours. “Now that Eren has joined us, you’ll have a partner for the semester project!” 

The words on the book in front of you sear into your brain. Fuck.

You don’t need to look at Eren to see the expression on his face. Well, at least he was enjoying this. 

“Eren, you’re in luck. Your partner is the head of the class, I’m sure she’ll take great care of you.”

“Is that so?” Eren grins, stretching his long legs in front of him. “Are you gonna take care of me, partner?” 

Normally, praise for your academic achievements feels great. The circumstances were different in this case. You were certain Eren was going to slack off, let you do all the work and stamp his name on the finished result and take your credit.

You’d prefer that, anyways. Keep your head down. Do your best work. Just get through it.

///

You’re on your way out when a familiar voice calls out your name. 

“Hey! Wait up!” 

Naturally, you speed up. 

Eren matches your pace, walking beside you towards the front gate on campus. 

“Jeez, for someone kinda short, you walk fast.” 

You sigh in defeat. “Why are you following me?” 

“Well, we have that end of semester project, right? When should we go over it?” 

“It’s fine, Eren. I can do it and you can sign your name when I’m done. That’s what I was planning on, anyway.”

The brunet grabs your wrist, bringing you to a stop. Heat floods your cheeks, spreading to the tips of your ears. Who was he to just grab you like that? You turn around, ready to give him an earful, but the expression on his face makes you pause. It wasn’t anger, but something closer to determination. 

“I’m not gonna make you do it alone. What kinda guy do you take me for? Let’s just exchange contact info and we can plan something.” 

You wanted to argue back but you couldn’t find the words. Being around Eren steals the words right from you. 

“Fine,” you grumble, fishing around in your bag for something to write your number on – a convenience store receipt – and a pen to write it with. You print your number on the back and hand it to Eren, who studies the receipt curiously. 

He laughs from his chest. “Damn, how many bags of gummy worms do you need?”  

You groan.

“None of your business.” 

“I’m much more of a gummy bear fan myself. It’s a texture thing, and I like that they’re bite size.”

“Good for you.” 

Eren smiles and stuffs the receipt into his pocket, finally releasing his grasp on your arm and starting on past you. “We’ll be in touch, partner!” 

////

COULD BE: EREN JAEGER: Hey, it’s Eren Jaeger. 

You tap out a quick answer. 

You: When do you wanna talk about the project? 

Inviting Eren home wasn’t the best idea. Your parents were strict, and besides, you just met the guy. You weren’t exactly ready to invite him into your home, and who knew what would await you at his? Maybe you could set up at a park somewhere. 

COULD BE: EREN JAEGER: You hungry? I’m feeling like a burger.  

COULD BE: EREN JAEGER: Sent location.

COULD BE: EREN JAEGER: It’s not too far. Meet here?

You: That works. 

You remind yourself to text your parents about your plans. It shouldn’t be a problem seeing as it’s for school. 

COULD BE: EREN JAEGER: It’s a date.

You: It’s a study session. 

The walk wasn’t inconvenient – skip your usual turn, walk another block north, apologize a dozen times to the cars you weave through in the parking lot. When you arrive, you notice Eren already seated with a tray of food in front of him, a fry dangling from his mouth and gaze fixed on his lap. 

You help yourself into the booth across from him.

“You got here fast.” 

His lips twitch up in a smirk as he chows down on the fry. 

“Or you got here slow, shortstack.” 

“Let’s not make that a thing.” 

Eren gestures towards his food, silently offering it to you, but you shake your head. 

“So what do you want to do the project on?” He asks through a mouthful of fried potato mush. 

“Well I was planning on making a heart monitor. They’re pretty easy to make if you just do a cheap one. Then I was going to write a report alongside it explaining what it is and how it works.” You explain, feeling your shoulders begin to relax. 

You had already gotten started on the project so you were praying he wouldn’t want to pick something else. He listens intently while you explain to him how exactly it worked and what was needed still. 

“Sounds cool.” 

Eren picks off the rest of his food while you walk through the project together, pulling your notes from your backpack and explaining everything you had done so far, including a diagram you were rather proud of. 

Conversation lulls into a comfortable silence. You don’t realize your pen is missing until you notice Eren absentmindedly doodling on an unused napkin. 

“What school did you go to?” 

“Okay, Miss ‘I heard the introduction’,” Eren teases. “Uh, Maria Reformatory.” 

Your brow quirks. His expression remains concentrated on his masterpiece, bangs falling in front of his eyes while he gnaws at the straw in his empty drink. 

“Reformatory? What did you do?”

Green eyes flick up to yours momentarily before looking back down. For a moment, you kick yourself. Maybe it’s a touchy subject, don’t be nosy. 

Eren doesn’t seem bothered. 

“I wasn’t a good student. It’s nothing much, just got into fights, drank and smoked. Teenager stuff, you know how it is.” 

You shake your head. “I don’t, actually.” 

Eren laughs through his nose. “Besides, my grades were already shit. Those things were just the final straw.”

You wet your bottom lip, fingers idly tapping on the table. 

Eren took slight notice. He stops drawing and slides the napkin away from him. His expression remained neutral as he leaned back in his chair to fully face you. 

“Fights? Like, physical fights?” 

Eren laughs dryly. 

“Does that scare you?” 

You pick something that looks close to pride on his face. For being sent to a reformatory, it sure doesn’t seem like he learned much. 

“My best friend used to get picked on a lot. He’s kinda like you, actually. Short, bookish type. Anyway, it really pissed me off. I’m not the kind of guy that can just stand there while someone treats my friends like shit.” 

“So you stopped drinking and smoking?” You ask. 

Eren shifts, a mischievous glint in his eyes. 

“Just learned how to hide it better.” 

He really didn’t learn anything. You heave out an exasperated sigh, but keep pressing. 

“What are you doing here then?” 

“My mom wanted a fresh start for me, figured moving might help.”

You hum quietly in understanding. 

You chat idly for another half hour before your phone buzzes under your thigh. 

Incoming call from: Mom. 

Your heart sinks as it dawns on you – you forgot to text your parents. 

“Ah,” you start nervously. “I’ve gotta get home.” 

“Want me to walk you?” Eren asks casually.

“No, it’s okay.” 

“You sure? It’s getting dark out, what if some creep tries to grab you?” 

Against your better judgment, you give in. 

While the two of you gather your things, your eye catches on the napkin he was drawing on. It didn’t look half bad. It was a flower with designs around it, the art oddly calming after hearing his tales from his old school. You grab the napkin when he isn’t looking, sliding it into your backpack. As you pack up, an odd feeling curls up in your stomach. Would he notice you took the drawing? Would he care? As you make your way to the exit, Eren holds the door on your way out. 

////

You stop a block down from your house. Even from afar, you can see the light on in the entryway, and your parents’ cars in the driveway. Eren is rambling about some cartoon series when you interrupt him.

“Here is fine,” you murmur, refusing to make eye contact. “I’m just down the street.”

Eren raises a brow suspiciously. You answer before he can ask. 

“I’m already in trouble for being late. If my parents see me with a boy, they’re gonna flip.” 

“Alright, well I’ll see you tomorrow.”

////

You did not see Eren tomorrow. Or the day after. 

Everything was radio silent. 

The prospect of having to deal with a new kid made you nervous at first, but you felt more at ease after getting to know him better. It was sort of ironic, in a way. You learned that Eren was a bad kid who liked to smoke and drink. Why did that make you feel more comfortable? If anything it should stress you out even more. He’s a bad influence. Maybe it was because he was being honest. Honesty is hard to come by nowadays. 

It looked like you would end up having to do the project on your own after all. It wasn’t that big of a deal, you were planning on doing this alone anyways… So why did you feel let down? 

////

The project is due tomorrow.

You’re hunched at your desk in your room, bottom lip pinched between your teeth. The heart monitor was more or less put together, and the written report just had a couple hundred words left before it was ready to submit. 

You knew you could do it by yourself, but it still would’ve been nice to have help. 

You open your files, ready to hammer out the final details.

“Wait, where is it?” You hum to yourself, scrolling a little too far in your files for your comfort. 

You try typing in the file name, only for your screen to taunt you back: no files found. 

You could have sworn you saved it under that. 

Your fingers shake from anxiety. Frantically, you type variations, thinking you might have saved it under something else. It’s no use.

“You have to be joking. Where is it?” 

At first it was mere nervousness, but now you’re in a full blown panic. 

“No, no, no!” You chant to yourself. 

Weeks of work, all down the drain. Did you save something on top of it? If that was the case, it was lost forever. 

Hopelessness washes over you. What were you gonna do? 

You’re about to accept your impending doom, no doubt get a failing grade on the assignment and lose your spot at the top of your class when you hear something clatter against your window. 

Your gaze snaps to the window, confused, until you watch something hit your window again. 

A twig? What the fuck? 

You approach the window and slide it open, about to stick your head out when another twig narrowly misses your face. 

“Shit, my bad!” Eren calls out, voice a little too loud for your liking. 

“Eren?”

There’s no fucking way. 

You look behind you, expecting your parents to open your door at any minute but they don’t. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“The project is due tomorrow, I came by to help.” 

You watch in awe as Eren heaves himself up, scaling the trellis alongside your house until he reaches your bedroom window, his face inches from yours. Light work for him. No reaction. 

“What is wrong with you?” You yell in a hushed tone, hoping the rustling foliage and thump of his feet against the house didn’t wake your parents. 

Eren grins. 

“A lot of things, I thought you already knew that.”

Wordlessly, you step out of the way so Eren could help himself in your room. 

If you weren’t so pissed you would have been impressed. Your room was on the second floor, and he’s barely breaking a sweat. 

Eren looks around your room, noticing the aforementioned heart monitor sitting on your bedroom floor and an open laptop on your desk, alongside a ripped-open pack of gummy worms. 

“So, what’s left to do?” 

“You really think I would leave things left to be done until the night before it’s due?” 

His brow raises. “Uh, maybe?”

You sigh and cross your arms, eyes dropping to your feet. 

“It was almost done, but I lost the report. It needs to be rewritten completely.” 

“Okay great, I’ll do that and you finish whatever it was you were doing here.” He carefully steps over the monitor and settles in your chair. 

“You can’t just write a whole report in one night.” 

Eren meets your gaze, grinning. “I like a challenge. Sit back and watch, shortstack.” 

He starts typing at a quick pace. 

////

You pause your work on the monitor and look up at Eren. His eyes glide over his work, his chin propped in his hand. His other hand helps itself to your gummy worms – a small price to pay for his help. 

“What happened to you anyway? You totally disappeared on me, it kinda sucked.” 

“Got grounded.” 

“What’d you do?” 

“Left some weed in my pocket. My mom went to do some laundry and it made a huge fucking mess in the washer, so I lost my phone.”

You let out an incredulous chuckle and he turned from the screen to look at you. 

“Yeah, yeah. Get it all out.” 

“I thought you said you were better at hiding it?” 

Eren grins. You can’t help but mirror him. 

Sure he was annoying, but you liked his company whether you would admit it or not. 

////

You didn’t know you fell asleep until your morning alarm woke you up. 

You must have taken yourself to bed at some point in the night. Forcing your bleary eyes open, you notice Eren’s figure hunched over your desk, still snoozing. 

Bangs hit against your door and you nearly jump from your skin. 

“Honey? You’re still asleep?” 

You throw a stuffed animal at Eren’s head, waking him up with a snort. 

“I-I’m awake!” You call back. 

You sigh in relief that your door was locked. If your parents came in and saw a boy sleeping in your room, you were gonna be in a whole world of trouble, way worse than a failing grade on an assignment. 

“Okay! I heard you snoring. Maybe you’re getting sick. Breakfast will be downstairs.” 

Your mom’s voice trailed away as you hear her descend the stairs again. 

Eren’s awake by now, rubbing his tired eyes with a yawn. “I want breakfast.” 

“You fell asleep in here?” 

“So did you.”

“It’s my room!” 

Eren shrugs and checks his phone, the battery almost drained. “Shit, it’s almost seven. I don’t have time to go back home. Guess I’ll go straight to school.”

He rises to his feet and stretches, reminding you of a cat. “Want me to wait outside for you?” 

“No, I’ll see you in class. Try not to lose the report.” 

Eren reaches for the handle of your bedroom door. You smack his hand and look up at him incredulously. 

“Take the window!” 

////

It was almost kind of funny. You’ve spent these last few weeks so nervous about the presentation, but when the time finally came, you felt relaxed. Maybe it was Eren’s influence encouraging you to take a breath for once. 

Eren takes the lead, reading the report aloud while you attach the nodes of your handmade monitor for the demonstration. Once he was finished, you turn it on, the monitor instantly coming to life, projecting Eren’s steady heartbeat. You lean forward to reposition one of the nodes, not wanting it to slip. You don’t realize how close you are until Eren’s breath hits your face. He’s looking directly at you. 

“It works.” He says matter of factly.

“You didn’t have faith in me?” 

“Of course I did.” 

Of all the times you’ve seen Eren smile, you’ve never seen one quite like this. It felt softer, genuine. The kind of smile you can’t help but mirror back until the pace of Eren’s heart rate accelerates, filling the room with a racing thump thump thump.  

Your teacher claps, signaling the end of your presentation. 

You end up with an A on the project, not unfamiliar for you, but it felt more rewarding this time around. 

////

Eren meets you outside your last class. Immediately, you notice he’s holding something behind his back. Something he’s trying to keep secret as he pivots slightly when you approach him, wanting to obscure this surprise even more. 

“Hey, Eren,” you greet, mildly suspicious. 

“How was your day?” 

“I’m so ready to go home.” 

There’s a crinkle as he extends his arm, offering a familiar brightly colored bag to you. 

Sour gummy worms. 

“These are for you, by the way.” 

You snatch the bag of candy, inspecting it closely. “For me?” 

Eren cocks his brow. “You think I’m trying to poison you?” 

“Or drug me,” you tease, though your tone is dry. “Don’t they make candy edibles like these?” 

Eren laughs, a throaty chuckle rumbling from deep in his chest, and tilts his head in amusement. 

You really, really like Eren’s laugh.  

“I’m not giving you edibles. Shit’s expensive. I just remembered you like those, and you worked really hard on the project, so. You deserve it.” 

You stuff the bag in your backpack, finally deeming them safe. 

“I’m surprised you remembered I like them.” 

“Obviously.” 

Eren walked you home, babbling on about his day, about cartoons, sometimes picking on you. You found it a little annoying, constantly having this guy follow you around, but his presence became a comfort to you. You thought you’d be done with him once the project was over, but you quickly learned Eren had no intention of backing off. He wanted to walk you home. 

Guys usually weren’t nice to you. Unless this was all a ploy, which was possible. Maybe he just wanted to make you look stupid. Time will tell. 

As you sat in bed that night, you looked at the crumpled bag of candy, and something akin to gratitude bloomed in your chest. You tear open the packet, picking a blue and red worm first and popping it into your mouth. 

How odd, you think. 

Whatever. 

You ate the candy that night, and you could’ve sworn that it somehow tasted sweeter than usual.

~~~

-Current- 

“Hey there.” 

You open your eyes to find a man who is definitely not Eren standing in front of you. 

He runs a hand through his bleach blond hair and flashes you a mischievous look in his dark brown eyes. The kind that makes you clutch your drink closer to your chest. The buzz in your body becomes a shiver as you shift uncomfortably.   

“Hey,” your tone is curt, borderline uninviting. Eren said to make friends, but you were certain this stranger didn’t come to you just for a conversation. 

“What’s a cute thing like you doing all alone?” 

“I’m not alone, I’m actually–”

“So your friends just left you here?” He takes a step closer to you, backing you against the counter and grabbing the cup from your hand, ditching it on the counter. “Come hang out with me instead.” 

“I’m good actually, I think I’m just gonna stay here.” You put on a brave front, begging your voice not to betray you. 

“Oh come on, don’t be like that. I can show you a good time.” He grabs your now unoccupied hand and leans in closer, close enough that the acrid scent of beer, cigarettes and sweat fills your senses with his every exhale and you tilt your head away to escape the smell. 

“Hey man, she said she’s good.” 

You’ve never been more relieved to hear Eren’s voice. You look at him with wide eyes, silently asking for help.

The blond bares his teeth in a sardonic smile.

“Who’s this? Your guard dog?”

Eren’s brow twitches. It’s one of his tells, a sign that his patience is wearing thin. You know better than to provoke Eren with the temper he has. It almost makes you feel sorry for the blond if he wasn’t actively harassing you. 

“Yeah and I bite, now back the fuck off.” 

His sweaty hand tightens on yours. 

“I’m good, man.” 

“I said get the fuck off.”

Eren charges forward and shoves the man away from you by his shoulders. He stands between you like an impenetrable wall, towering over the man who fucked around with Eren Jaeger’s temper and was about to find out. 

The man staggers back, hitting the opposite countertop. He brushes off his wounded pride with a scoff. 

“Lay off dude, I’m just trying to get laid like everyone else here. You can have her, she’s a fucking prude anyways.” 

You could choke on the tension building in the air. Eren is seething. 

“What did you just say?”

“I said I’m just trying to get my dick wet but this stuck up bitch isn’t cooperating.” 

The insult might’ve stung if you weren’t so terrified of what was going to happen next. Eren’s gaze lowers, eyes intense like he’s contemplating something while fidgeting idly with the thick metal band on his middle finger. Like he’s making a choice. 

“Is that so?” 

You feel a chill run down your spine at the poison laced in Eren’s voice. 

“Yeah, have her to yourself. That is if you can get her to spread her legs for you-“ 

Eren made his choice. His fist connects with the blond’s cheek, skin splitting under his ring, making him stagger and clutch his face. It takes only a second for his expression to shift from shock to pure rage.

Not even a second after you get out of the way, the stranger charges forward and throws Eren onto the counter by the front of his shirt. His fist slams into Eren’s nose with an audible crunch.

Eren’s knee shoots up, nailing his opponent in the balls hard enough to make even you grimace. Low blow. The man swears loud, doubling over in pain, and Eren takes advantage by uppercutting the blonde in the eye. 

The quarrel gathers a small group of people into the kitchen, their murmurs drowning out the House music blasting in the other room. 

The man lands a hit on Eren’s brow, splitting the skin, bright red blood immediately gushing towards Eren’s eye. 

“Porco!” 

You hear another man shout from behind you. 

The man you now recognize as Porco turns around towards the voice. Eren pushes up, but Porco is too slow to react. Fists continue to fly while Reiner pushes his way through the crowd, nudging you out of the way to separate the two.  

“Galliard! Jaeger! Step off!” Reiner’s voice bellows. He grabs Porco by the scruff, like a kitten, yanking him backwards. 

“He’s fucking crazy!” Porco spits out, his face battered and bruised in mere seconds. 

Eren’s eyes still narrow in on Porco. 

“Ren, come on.” You murmur, grabbing onto his arm. 

At first, Eren doesn’t budge under your hands. It takes a couple of tries before he allows you to drag him out, eyes never once leaving Porco. You don’t let go of his arm until you’ve exited the house, when your feet finally make contact with the sidewalk, finally trusting that he won’t go running back. 

“What the fuck was that Eren?” 

His silence had never been so loud. His body heaves with every breath, adrenaline still coursing through his veins. 

“You can’t just beat people up!” 

“He was being a fucking dick!” 

You start down the sidewalk, choosing to ditch your car for the night. The last thing you need is to be pulled over for intoxicated driving, no matter how sober you felt after that altercation. Your hand remains tight around Eren’s. The neighborhood looks different at night but you piece together your location. The campus convenience store is nearby – you’ve been there countless times before with Eren, whether to get a quick lunch or to load up on snacks before horror movie screenings at the local theater. You could probably walk the aisles blindfolded. 

Eren’s forced to wait outside as you didn’t want to scare the shop owner, or track blood all over his tile floors. Antibiotic cream, bandaids, and a pack of frozen peas. You can make do with this. 

You leave the bodega, fishing through the plastic bag slung over your arm.

“Here,” you toss the pack of frozen peas over your shoulder for Eren to catch. “Put these on your nose, the cold will help with the swelling in the meantime. I’ll clean you up when I can find a good place to sit.” 

Eren obliges, trailing behind you, pouting like a scolded child. 

Just around the corner is a residential park, one you had spent countless hours in despite neither of you actually living in that neighborhood. It’s empty at this time of night, and a quiet spot to sit down was ideal. 

You force Eren to sit on a swing, standing between his splayed legs. Like a baby giraffe, you think. He trains his eyes up at you while you get to work, still holding the frozen peas against his nose. 

You uncap the antibiotic ointment and tend to the wound on his brow. It looks like it stings, you try your best to not wince at the thought, but Eren’s face remains unchanging. Just staring up at you with emerald eyes, looking almost a little reflective. You’re sure he’s still thinking about the fight, replaying it in his head like a highlight reel of Eren Jaeger’s best hits. 

Silence settles between you. There were so many words you wanted to say, but you had no idea where to start. 

Sighing, you settle on: “Why’d you do it?” 

Eren’s answer is unsatisfyingly simple. “He was being a dick to you.” 

“I could’ve handled it myself.” 

“Yeah,” Eren scoffs, tone laced with sarcasm. “You seemed to be doing a great job at that.” 

You bite your tongue and rip a bandage out of its paper to cover up the wound, then observe your handiwork. 

It’s late. You’re tired, the buzz has long since worn off. Wordlessly, you slump into the adjacent swing. 

“Touché.” 

Eren’s demeanor shifts into one more casual, his anger fizzled out. 

“Why don’t you stand up for yourself?” 

“Maybe I don’t wanna make a scene. It’s not a big deal anyways, it doesn’t matter.” 

“It matters to me.” 

You feel your stomach tighten. Ever since the day you met Eren, he was always so understanding of you. He looked out for you. 

You sigh, idly tracing marks in the sand with your foot. You had been to this same park countless times before, making these same shapes in the sand, but tonight felt different. 

“Why do you care so much?” You ask, trying to keep your voice steady. 

From the corner of your eye you see Eren’s long legs stretch forward in front of him. He produces a carton of pre-rolled cigarettes from his pocket and slots one between his lips. His thumb strikes the wheel of his lighter once, twice, before producing a flame that illuminates his face. You watch silently as he lights the end of his joint, exhaling that first cloud of smoke into the night air.  

“You’re my best friend. I’d do anything for you.” 

Your heart clenches in your chest. It wasn’t like you were unaware that you were his best friend, but Eren wasn’t the most sentimental person. He wasn’t one for vocalizing his thoughts, or being mushy about his feelings. You knew this about him, so his sincerity always struck you. Every once in a while he would say something that caught you by surprise, making your breath seize in your lungs. 

Eren was a lot of things – brash, impulsive, and annoying – but he also cared about you like nobody else. 

The pungent, earthy smell quickly hits your nose. When you first started hanging out with Eren, you couldn’t stand the smell. Your nose would pinch up in disgust while you watched him get high, but now the scent became familiar to you. It was something comforting, like late nights in the summer when you had no agenda. Like walks to the nearby store to stock up on candy, or deep conversations underscored by low music. 

It reminded you of Eren. 

It reminded you of home. 

“Wow,” you glance at Eren, lips cracking a smile. Your hands hold the swing chains tight, the cold metal biting into your palms. 

“What?” 

“Never would have pegged you for such a sentimentalist, Eren.” 

“You don’t peg me at all.” He responds. 

You try to hold back a smile but it shows through. No matter what, you’re determined to continue poking fun at him. 

“Who knew you had such a bleeding heart.” 

Eren rolls his eyes, a smile threatening to break around the joint. He plucks it from his mouth for a breath of fresh air instead, the silver of his rings glinting in the moonlight. “Oh, shut up.” 

“I’m serious. Did you pull that from a movie? Maybe overhear someone else say it?” You keep poking lightheartedly. 

“You’re the one who asked. Plus, you know you love me.” 

At this point you break eye contact, settling on the moon instead. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” 

You meant it too. 

You weren’t sure when Eren started to matter so much to you. At first he was unbearable – a delinquent who’s favorite pastime was pestering you – but slowly, he turned into a face you expected to see at every turn. Not having his presence felt unsettling, and you found yourself dreading classes without him. 

Eren extends the hand holding the joint. He still offers, knowing you always decline. 

“Want some?”

“No thanks.” 

“Okay. Just thought I’d ask. What with me being a sentimentalist and all.” 

The two of you laugh softly. It always felt like this with Eren. Easy. You had your habits and he had his, just like anyone else, but your friendship felt just as easy as breathing. It was hard to imagine what your life was like before him. 

Eren ditches his finished joint into the sand, squashing it down under his shoe.

“Wanna go somewhere else? I feel bad inviting you to that lame ass party. I think the lanes are still open, or the arcade.” 

The thought was tempting. You did love going to the arcade. It may not seem like much to anyone else, but it felt special to you. Good music, timeless classics, and an owner that hooked you up with extra tokens as a thank you for keeping the business alive. Not far from that was the bowling alley. Neither of you were good at bowling, if anything, you’ve probably watched Eren accidentally throw himself down the lane more than the actual ball. 

As nice as hanging out longer sounded, a feeling of responsibility gnaws inside you. 

“I shouldn’t,” you sigh. “I have a test coming up.” 

“A test on a Friday night?” Eren questions.  

“No, it’s in a couple days. I know you don’t know this but there’s a thing called studying that people sometimes do when they care about academics.” 

“Studying?” Eren plays along with your bit, sounding out the word like it’s unfamiliar to him. “I don’t know, I think my method works just fine.” 

“Just winging it? Yeah, right. It’s a miracle you’ve made it this far, Eren Jaeger.”

Eren is the first to stand up.

“Always so cruel to me.” He fakes a somber face.

“Sure I am,” you stand as well, smoothing out your clothes. “Walk me back?” 

///

The walk back is pleasant, though the cold is biting. There weren’t many students on campus around this time, with winter break quickly approaching. Anyone who wasn’t already home for the holidays was either tucked away in their dorms, or out partying. As for you, ending the semester meant drowning in a sea of tests. You were looking forward to a break. 

Eren walks beside you, hands in his pockets. He didn’t live on campus, so you appreciate him walking with you. Eren had a small apartment a couple blocks away, a graduation gift from his parents who were amazed he made it out of high school. It was a comfortable place for you to hang out, seeing as your dorm wasn’t exactly fit for hosting.

It wasn’t that your dorm was inhospitable to say, however it wasn’t exactly the marriott either. Eren referred to it as the pig sty, but you thought he was exaggerating when he said that. Sure you would occasionally leave some clothes here and some trash there, but it was under control. In your opinion at least. You didn’t have time to keep things spotless. You were running yourself thin between school, work, and Eren. He could be considered a full time job all by himself. 

Eren’s house was nicer anyway. The furniture was simplistic and things were never left out. It seemed like the opposite of what you would expect for someone like him. You had two theories on why things were spotless at his bachelor pad. One, his doting mother Carla raised him to be tidy. His house was never messy growing up so he got used to it. Two, Eren constantly had… how do you say, lady friends over frequently. Couldn’t get laid if your house was a mess. Either way, his place was nice and yours was not.

Your strides slow as you approach the dorm building, pulling your key card from your wallet and tapping it on the lock, hearing it whirr and click, the light flashing green. You reach for the handle but Eren beats you to it, holding the door open for you. The warm air flows from inside the building, fanning across your cold face, the sensation prickling your skin. 

“I’m sorry about tonight. I didn’t mean to stand you up, that was a dick move of me.” 

“Psh, it’s okay,” you shrug. “All things considered, I’d say I had a fun night.” 

You hear a ding further down the hallway where the elevator stood. Metal doors open to reveal two girls about your age chatting inside. Their eyes lock with Eren’s, and it takes everything in you not to roll your eyes. 

The girls pass by as you enter the building, whispering and giggling to each other when they catch sight of Eren. He flashes a grin and flicks his eyes up and down as they leave before returning his attention back to you. It’s nothing new. You weren’t blind, even you could admit Eren was good looking – and you weren’t stupid either. Eren’s love life is a never-ending story. A long list of girlfriends, and an even longer list of hookups. You had long gotten used to the shameless flirting. 

You and Eren make your way to the elevator. Your finger presses into the button, a comfortable silence falling over you as you wait. 

The elevator dings. Your feet only need to move so far before you find yourself at the familiar front door, decorated in construction paper cut-outs with your name written in sharpie. You lean against the doorway, arms crossed over your chest.

“Can I see you again tomorrow?” Eren asks. “I work from 10 to 2.” 

Eren works at a small smoke shop by campus. All of the other employees were students as well, and most of the customers were also students with drooping eyes. You weren’t sure how it began, but you had a tradition of going to Eren’s work to drop him off lunch when he worked. You didn’t go every time he had a shift, but often enough.

“Of course, I’ll bring you lunch. Want anything special?” 

“Nah, surprise me.” 

You pull Eren into a hug, eyes fluttering shut as his scent fills your senses. Spices, smoke with a subtle bite. His arms squeeze around yours before withdrawing, sending you off with a pat on your back. 

“Okay! Get home safe. Try not to get into any more fights on the way home.” 

“No promises!” Eren calls from over his shoulder as he starts down the hallway. You click your tongue, watching as he enters the elevator and disappears behind the doors, smiling the entire time. 

The lock clicks behind you. Tiredness hits you all at once, feet dragging the short distance from your front door to your bed until you flop down in it, pulling your laptop off your nightstand and squinting at the bright screen. Sleep was calling your name, but you were already behind on studying and didn’t want to spend your winter break making up for a failed test. 

At least 15 minutes. Yeah, that won’t hurt. 

You stretch a couple of times, trying to force the exhaustion from your body. 

You make it as far as logging into the student portal before your phone lights up beside you, and you don’t even try to resist the distraction. It could only be one person at this time of night. 

Eren: What’s up? 

You: I don’t know, you texted me. 

Dots appear on your screen, then disappear. You can picture him now, walking down the sidewalk with one hand holding his phone, the other probably holding a lit cigarette. You can picture the smoke and warm breath puffing into the air as he laughs. 

Eren: Do you miss me horribly yet? 

You accept that studying is futile and shut your laptop, instead flopping over and letting your back hit the mattress. Laying down has never felt so good. 

You: Yes, I’m beside myself right now. 

Eren: I can always turn back around. The night is still young. 

You: No, my bed is calling my name. Goodnight, Eren. 

Eren: I was gonna make something to eat but I’m not sure what. 

You: I said goodnight, Eren. 

Eren: You’re no fun. 

The screen starts to blur as your eyes droop, body succumbing to exhaustion. Your arm goes limp, dropping onto your chest. You feel your phone buzz once more before falling asleep. 

Eren: Goodnight shortstacks. 

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[siriuslyobsessedwithfiction]

Baghra Morozova is one of the most selfish fictional characters ever written. Not only she possesses no empathy, she has never had an aspiration or an ambition in her life. This is probably LB's fault because she didn't give her a personality except being a bitter nihilistic pessimist, but let's discuss the harmful ideology she lived by and tried to install into his son and Alina. And how Aleksander refused to learn that lesson from her.

Wanting doesn't make someone weak, nor it is a problem.

Darkling's infamous words "The problem with wanting is that it makes us weak" is purely an echo of his mother's teachings. Because Darkling's whole source of strength and motivation since he was thirteen was the want to make a better world for Grisha. Or at least a world where they wouldn't be hunted and shamed for existing. After centuries of loyal servitude to awful rulers he managed to create a safe haven for Grisha, but even there, they were serfs.

There is no denying that Baghra was an intelligent, ruthless, powerful, cunning and unfeeling woman. Unlike her son, who was prone to sentiment even though she did her best to weed it out of him, Baghra was not particularly emotional even when she was young. I don't know if she had some sort of mental condition or she was just that kind of person, but she lived for centuries and never had a dream to become anything. Creation of her son Aleksander served only one purpose to her - so she would have someone like herself. Someone she could share loneliness with. Because I cannot call Baghra's and Aleksander's relationship companionship. She made that decision when she was young, and after raising him, she often left him to his own devices, but never actually let him out of her clutches. She abandoned her other children because they weren't Darklings. She did not want a family, she wanted a reflection of herself who she could have a conversation with. Aleksander should have just brought her the mirror from "When water sang fire" which could create an illusion of a person's reflection being sentient.

Anyway, back to the point. Baghra was a part of a prosecuted minority for centuries and never tried to make a difference. Nor did she support her son when he tried. I can understand how at first she was solely focused on survival and that mindset stayed with her, but after both of them were centuries old, why didn't she do something? She clearly didn't fear death. She is content to sit in her hut, stroke fire and spit venom for eternity. Which is funny, because she's supposed to be inspired by Baba Yaga from Slavic fairytales, but she reminds me more of Nacarqeqia, a stereotype of a lazybones layabout lit ash-raker from fairytales, who has capacity to do heroic things by outwitting the opponents, but chooses to sit by the dwindling fire and complain and daydream instead.

When your kind has been subjected to genocide for centuries, it's not "greedy" and "corrupt" to take drastic action.

Tolkien pushed the narrative I agree with, that war is always horrible and it's not something to be glorified, which lots of works in fantasy tend to overlook. I agree with Baghra that power corrupts. But like @aleksanderscult and @stromuprisahat have already discussed in their analysis posts (check out their work), Aleksander did not want power for himself or to lift Grisha above other people. He wanted his kind to have basic human rights. I don't understand what LB was trying to say. That fighting for freedom of your people is bad? And Baghra is convinced it's best to do nothing, because humanity is already too messed up and there's no point in trying. Some wise ancient advisor she is.

What actual humanitarians think about not taking action to help your people survive

Nobleman Ilia Chavchavadze was a Georgian public figure, journalist, publisher, writer and poet who spearheaded the revival of Georgian nationalism during the second half of the 19th century and ensured the survival of the Georgian language, literature, and culture during the last decades of Tsarist rule. (A.k.a "Saint Ilia the Righteous". Ironic, I know. Like Baghra's father, Ilya Morozova in Shadow and Bone. But I wouldn't compare them.)

In his publication "Letters of a traveler", Chavchavadze writes his inner monologue, where he worries about his country and contemplates what to do, as he returns from Russia to his homeland. He writes:

"I went out from my room and looked over at Mqinvari, which they call Mount Kazbek. There is something noble about Mqinvari. Truly can it say: the heavens are my head-dress and the earth my slippers. It rose in the azure sky, white and serene. Great is it, calm and peaceful, but it is cold and white. Its appearance makes me wonder but doesn't move me, it chills me and does not warm me — in a word it is Mqinvari /frozen/. Mqinvari with all its grandeur is to be admired but not to be loved. And what do I want with its greatness. The world's hum, the world's whirlwind and breezes, the world's ill or weal makes not even a nerve in his lofty brow twitch. Although his base stands on mother earth his head rests: in heaven; it is isolated; inaccessible. I do not like such height nor such isolation nor such inaccessibility." This is Baghra's life in a nutshell. Not bothering to engage, standing still, isolated for centuries. Her connection to making at the heart of the world, her gift, her life, wasted.

Aleksander is different. He's constantly in danger, he is dangerous but in a different way, he stumbles, crashes, redefines himself, pushes forward no matter what to achieve his goal. -

"Thank God for the desperate, mad, furious, obstinate, disobedient muddy river Terek! Leaping from the black rock's heart he goes roaring and shouting on his way. I love his noisy murmur, its hurried struggle, grumbling and lamentation. The river is the image of human awakened life, it is a face mobile and worth knowing.

Stand still but a little while and dost thou not turn into a stinking pool and does not this fearsome roar of thine change to the croaking of frogs! It is movement and only movement, my Terek, which gives to the world its might and life."

I hope we can all understand this metaphor and what it stands for, I believe I have explained enough.

[daisyjonesgf]

songbird // billy dunne x f. reader

based off this ask

word count: 1.9k

masterlist

summary: your mood is down at a party when a girl decides to use the opportunity to remind you how little you really mean to billy dunne. although billy is quick to comfort you.

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, reader is a nepo baby and uses it to her advantage, talking down on groupies, some period typical misogyny, cussing, cigarette smoking, mentions of drinking and drugs, unedited, no use of y/n, insecure reader, mentions of speculated cheating, arguments, implied toxic relationship although not fully explored in this fic specifically, a happy ending though!

part of the museverse, but can be read separately

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱•⋅

Sometimes, when the sun went down, and the moon wasn’t shining brightly enough to echo back at you, the world feels like it’s about to stop. The days when all the work from the years before, all the things you’d put in your body, all the hurt you’d let yourself endure begin to catch up to you. The kind of nights where everything is simultaneously too loud, but also background noise, drowning out to your own thoughts. Nights, like tonight. Where, no amount of drinking or drugs even sounded like they would fix the problem. The longing for complete and utter darkness, to just let the numbness take over, to let your body shut down. That’s exactly what had you sitting on this couch while people shouted, and jumped, and laughed around you. Just let all the noise fade away. Billy was long gone, probably high off his ass and fucking some girl who would be far more entertaining then you anyways. That didn’t matter, you’re the one who let it get this far. Fuck, none of it felt like it mattered right now, just getting into bed, wrapping a blanket around yourself, and stare at the wall until the synapses in your brain would start firing off again. You’re not snapped out of your haze by the cushion next to you pushing down, no, it’s not until a finger is tapping your shoulder, and a voice is speaking directly to you, that you let yourself zone back in.

“Do you have a cig?” The girl asks, she reeks of beer and weed, but so does everybody else.

“Yeah.” You need one yourself anyways, and grab two out of your pack, feeling her looking at you, squinting as if she just can’t remember where she knows your face from. You hand it to her and she lights it up using the flame from the candle on the coffee table, a candle that couldn’t be working any less, and you follow suit.

“Oh my god, you’re that glorified groupie!” She finally explains, almost like she’s congratulating herself for remembering. “Of course you’d the one fucking moping around, I didn’t believe them when they said you were that much of a drama queen, but look at you. It is fucking pathetic, if you just got out there and had a drink maybe he’d actually be paying attention to you.”

You were long enough in the game to know that you could never let them know if what they said had any tear-inducing impact, “Excuse me, who the hell are you?”

“Oh, sorry, I forgot you thought you were better than us. Far too good to talk with the likes of me, you only buddy up with people who can get you somewhere, right? Even though everybody knows, at the end of day you will always be just like the rest of us. He will always go home with someone else the moment he gets bored of you, and then you’re really a nobody.”

Even if it stings, even if she’s reiterating things you’ve beat yourself down with over and over again, never let them know your weaknesses. Instead you laugh as you take a hit off of the cigarette, “What’s your name?”

For a millisecond she’s slightly taken aback, but she’s trying to hit back just as confidently as you appear to be doing. “Carol. Carol C.”

“Mmmm.” You nod, making each time you put that cigarette back between your lips create a pause. “So there’s more than one Carol then?” She nods, and you nod back. “What is it you actually want to do in L.A., Carol C.? Why’d you come here, I can bet it wasn’t to chase around rock bands.”

Carol is tossing her hair in a way she thinks looks chic, but it doesn’t look natural enough when she does it. “Everyone always told me I could be an actress, that I’ve got the type of face people want to see on the big screen.”

You’re nodding again, slowly, as you finish off the rest of your cigarette before stamping it out even slower, and then adjusting your position to face her with a smile. “And that’s never gonna happen for you, sweetheart.”

“What?” Her face is dropping again, and you can tell she’s right back to being pissed at you, which is exactly where you want her. If you know her words are picking at open wounds, why not get a few jabs in yourself?

“You’re never gonna be a Hollywood star. Maybe, you would have had a chance at being an extra in a couple things, but certainly not anymore. And you want to know why?” You don’t even give her a chance to try to answer, “Because I’m not Carol fucking C. I’m not one face in the crowd who can’t even be a groupie without having to use her last name to differentiate herself. I don’t have to fight for my chance to be on the screen, or to get attention from some stupid ass, goddamn rockstar. I’m just not you,and I never will be. You want to bitch and complain to all the other girls that I somehow both am not better than any of you, but also have everything handed to me on a silver platter? You’ve ruined your fucking career already with one comment, and I can mope or do as many drugs or throw as many tantrums as I want, and at the end of the day the industry is in my family’s pocket, not yours. At the end of the day, Billy Dunne can sleep with whoever he wants and yet I’m still the girl in his house at the end of the night. This world is being spoon-fed to me, sweetheart, I will never be just one of the Carol’s.” You grab the cigarette straight out of her hand and stamp it out before you’re standing up, “You better find a new dream, Carol C.”

You’re out of that house as fast as you can be. As good as it felt to snap back, to just say everything you could say to cut her deeper, it was still just self defense. Regardless of all the power you could have, all the attention, the influence, at the end of the day she was right. To Billy Dunne, you meant nothing until he snapped his fingers and decided you did for a while. You were no better than anyone else, hanging around, vying for his attention, for his love. No amount of reasoning could argue with the fact that you’d let your entire life now be defined by being the so-called girlfriend of a rockstar who didn’t even want to call it that. A man who couldn’t let him love you without trying to tear your life apart whenever it even so much as frightened him. You mindlessly walk past all the people drinking and chatting in the front, up the gravel driveway. You don’t even care where you’re going, you’re about to cry and you don’t need anyone else to see that. You don’t need any more fuel to the fire that will remind people how pathetic you really are. Letting some random girl’s comments get to you, even if they were the truth. You’re up the driveway, turning onto the road when your name is being yelled, you already know who it is, and you don’t have the energy to deal with it, with him. He’s probably pissed at you for making a scene, ruining his night, making it seem like he has some hysterical girlfriend that he’s tied down to and has to control. So, you keep walking, but the footsteps just start coming up behind you.

“Look, I’m sorry, I know, I’m ruining your night. I’m just tired, I’ll get home, you keep doing whatever you’re doing, Billy!” You turn around and he’s already a lot closer than you’d expected him to be.

“Hey, what’s wrong, baby?” Pausing you walking makes you realize the tears that were already streaming down your face, and you’re quick to wipe them off, as he takes a step closer. “Some girl started freaking out in there, saying you were gonna ruin her career or something.”

You can’t help but roll her eyes, “I’m sure she’ll get over it, I wasn’t actually going to do anything.” Before you can take a step back, his hands are on both of your arms, thumbs rubbing circles on your skin.

“What’s going on?” Billy is actually serious, sincere, and it feels like you’re just staring into his eyes for an eternity before you just start bawling. “Oh, hey, baby, it’s okay. I’ve got you.” So fast he’s got you in his arms, letting you soak his shoulder with your tears.

You don’t know how long you’re just sobbing there before you finally are able to choke out some words, “How long until you’re bored of this, Billy?”

“What are you talking about, baby?” He’s adjusting your head just enough to see your face, cold, calloused hands, rubbing your cheek in a way that makes you want to melt into him.

“The push and pull of it all, Billy. We’re a disaster, I’m a disaster, everyone knows it. How much longer until the cycle stops being fun for you?”

“You’re not the disaster, you’ve never been the disaster.” Billy takes a deep breath, shutting his eyes for a second, “I could never let my girl go. Okay? Do you understand me?” When you slowly nod he’s pulling you back into his arms, trying to hide that he wants to cry too. “I’m so scared that I’m gonna break you, but I’m doing it anyway. But, it’s you and me, baby. You are special. You always fucking will be.” He’s pressing your foreheads together when suddenly he’s laughing, just the smallest amount.

“What?” You can’t help but smile a little too.

“Nothing.” He’s trying to suppress it, but then he’s looking at you and laughing again, “Nothing! It’s just, um, we do have to go because I may have punched Richie Jarvis in the face for saying he’d be willing to “take you off my hands.”

“Billy Dunne!” You’re trying to scold him, but you’re smiling and laughing too. Ever so lightly shoving him, but immediately kissing him anyways. “Let’s go home, I’d never have picked Richie Jarvis anyways.”

“Good because we can probably never come here again!” Billy chuckles, arm around your shoulders as the two of you walk back to the car. He’ll always have you hook, line, and sinker.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱•⋅

thank you so much for reading, I appreciate all of you so much! as always likes, comments, reblogs, and asks are always very appreciated. thank you so much for the community and all the support ❤️

[ficretus]

*during Volume 7*

Ruby: General Ironwood, me and my team have some... concerns about your leadership.

Ironwood: *with his back turned* What's an issue?

Weiss: Well first you closed Kingdom's borders.

Ironwood: Necessary precaution. We must impede infiltration of Salem's agents with any means necessary. When Salem sends her people, she is sending her best.

Yang: Then you called Mistral "a shithole Kingdom."

Ironwood: That is not language I usually use, but I stand by my stance about Mistral. I assure you, nobody knows more about Mistral than me.

Blake: Then you claimed Robyn Hill is Vacuan agent sent to undermine Atlas. And you keep demanding to see her birth certificate.

Ironwood: And I am yet to receive those papers.

Ruby: But most concerning is... that cap you are wearing.

Ironwood: What is wrong with my cap, am I not allowed to make rash fashion decisions?

Weiss: You really shouldn't make rash fashion decisions.

Ruby: General Ironwood... turn around.

*Ironwood turns around revealing MAHA cap*

Ruby: Make Atlas High Again?! This was never about saving Remnant, you just want to launch Atlas into stratosphere and leave the rest to die!

Yang: I knew we couldn't trust you!

Ironwood: Wait what? That would be crazy and unsustainable plan. No, my plan is far more reaching. *reaches for his pocket*

Blake: He might be pulling a weapon!

*RWBY reach for their weapons*

Ironwood: This is the key to MAHA plan.

Yang: That's a... blunt.

Ironwood: You see, after I lost my limbs I was prescribed medicinal marijuana for my phantom pain. It seemed silly initially, but then it awakened my Semblance, Woodstock. Every time I smoke weed it clears my mind and I get brilliant ideas.

Ruby: I'm confused.

Weiss: So every time you had a secret meeting with your inner circle... you were... you were... smoking weed?!

Ironwood: Yes. Your sister is way more pleasant and honest conversationalist when she is high.

Yang: Wait, how? I tried it while I was in Branwen bandit camp and it only made me more cranky.

Ironwood: You didn't try the good stuff. And this just confirms my stance on Mistral.

Blake: Nothing beats good catnip.

Ruby: Look, I am gonna ignore this whole post has been hijacked by weed jokes. What exactly is your plan General Ironwood?

Ironwood: Before Atlas gets high, it needs to get low. We are gonna land Atlas before using Relic of Creation. With it, we are gonna create a massive eternal blunt. Using the Winter Maiden power, Specialist Schnee will spread its fumes across the Remnant.

Weiss: How will that fix... ANYTHING!?

Ironwood: It will work as a double protection. Salem and her agents will be neutralized by relaxing effect of the blunt. Grimm are immune to it, but they'll have nothing to latch onto since everyone will be spreading positive vibes. It's a foolproof plan.

Yang: Have you lost your mind? That will never work!

Blake: Subjugation through hedonism. That's a gross violation of free will!

Weiss: I said no to drugs long ago! I am not gonna be defeated by glorified second hand smoke!

Ruby: I'm afraid we have to stop your plan General.

*RWBY pull out their weapons*

Ironwood: Stop me? Did you really think I would parade around with this cap and tell you about my plan if there was a chance of you affecting its outcome? I did it... 35 minutes ago.

*smoke enters the building*

*5 minutes later*

Yang: *giggling* You know what, I loooooooove you Blake!

Blake: Really, just like that?

Yang: Why not, did you expect me to confess while hanging over chasm or something.

*Bees kiss*

Weiss: *giggling* Great, I took one whiff of it and I immediately find myself in indecent company. Mom was so right about drugs.

Yang: Oh, it's gonna get even more indecent. Where is Ruby?

Weiss: She is zooming around the building. Do you think this plan actually worked?

*elsewhere*

Cinder: Maiden powers are so lame, it's the exact same power repeated four times. Such a dumb thing to obsess over. Screw it, I'm getting laid.

Emerald: Me, me, me.

Cinder: Someone loyal, bold, responsible...

Emerald: Me, me, me, me, me.

Cinder: Blond...

Emerald: Sigh, not even with weed.

Salem: I feel like everything I have done just keeps spreading... negative vibes.

Tyrian: Whatever you say my Goddess.

Salem: I am cancelling this whole end of the world thing and getting back with Ozma.

Tyrian: Aw...

[r4nc1drain]

💵Money Saving Tips and Tricks for an Ed 💵

Please bare in mind I'm British (unfortunately)

Walking is free, so what if its raining? Skins waterproof and you burn more calories being cold. If you live by some moors go say hi to some sheep or smthn.

Cup soups > Canned soups they're cheaper and lower cal

Frozen fruits and veggies are also cheaper and easier.

Keep some dry stock (cupboard food) so rice, soups, pasta for OMADS, canned tuna, Ramen etc and it's cheaper to buy in bulk.

Those high protein low cal microwave meals can be expensive but go to your supermarket after 7pm and a lot of it is marked down.

I'm not sure if it's a thing in the US but in the UK there's a "Too good to go" App that gives you food nearby the sell by date. Even if its a day or two off its still good they just do that to make room on the shelves most of the time. Save money, stop waste. If you get something high cal give it to your neighbors, friends etc.

Vinted is great for selling clothes that might not fit anymore (losing or gaining) and its a lot more sustainable.

As a brit we all know its customary to have a cuppa. It's the one thing we do right aside from colonising. If you wanna avoid milk and sugar bring your own teabags wherever you go and ask for hot water. In Wetherspoons you can get unlimited refils on your cup. Sit in there, read, chat bollocks with the local alcoholics etc.

"Fake away" recipes are gonna be your new friend if you meal prep. Takeaways makes me fat and poor.

Try and get diet coke in one of those box deals rather than a quid each in the shop.

Forage your own Dandilion tea. Not only are you losing weight by weeding but it's free and you can get some on your walks.

Save the gym membership money by jogging on the spot if you have limited space, dancing in your room is fun, tidying your room/apartment will burn a lot of cals.

Those 10 cal jelly packs are usually on offer (at least where I am) and they can curb sweet cravings.

Bottled water is glorified tap water but if you live in an area with hard water invest in one of those purifiers it'll save you some cash.

Heard somewhere watching horror movies burns calories (due to raining heartbeat if scary enough) save on the Netflix subscription go on Tubi, Effed up movies etc and use ad block.

If you're a jogger, with running shoes I'd say it's worth the splurge as you'll get more wear out of them.

This one is for my HW girlies who love boots but struggle fitting them around your calves/breaking them in. Place your new boots in a plastic bag, pour hot water into a wash tub and submerge them. After a few minutes pop them on your feet and it'll stretch the leather.

Most diet pills are a fad don't waste your coin. Same with those slim shakes.

Canned tuna is cheap and packed full of protein.

If you have fresh produce that's about to go off, blend it for a soup/smoothie or use it to make veggie stock.

Manifesting stuff like "I'm skinny and rich" wouldn't hurt affirmations are fun.

You can get cheaper seasonings in the "Foreign Isle" of the supermarket rather than the spice section.

Heinz mac and cheese for an OMAD>> even better its pretty cheap for a can.

Lidl not only do dupes for Halo Top but lots of other food places too and their typically lower cal.

Macro friendly cooking and putting really small portions in tupperwear for the week>>>

If you tend to have lunch pack your meal the night before if you can. It'll stop you trying to grab a fast food option.

⭐That's all for now thanks for reading. I'm from a more rural area so some things might not apply. Best of luck to you all. ⭐

[azuremayscarlet]

I need help trying to find a ao3 (I think it is also cross posted here) fan fic about Danny going to Gotham and essentially becomes a glorified weed fighter. I believe it is bad reveal but don't remember, I believe it is also Danny/Jason or at least Danny & Jason. Danny helps Jason fight as well. It was in a tab to read but not bookmarked and my mom accidentally closed it(her phone died and I let her use mine to look something up). I was able to find the others in the tab (there was only 2 others) but not that one, I hadn't read it yet so I don't know much about it and am hoping someone knows what I'm talking about as I really wanted to read it! Any help would be appreciated.

[zivazivc]

I'm gonna take some time to digest and think about that comic before I come to a decision. The decision being whether to continue to support you or just leave you be.

If I decide to leave you be, just know that there are no hard feelings, okay?

You are on anon so I don't know if this is someone who I've talked to before, but either way, yes, no hard feelings. I completely understand. It's the internet, anyone can unfollow anyone for any reason, but also I know this is an uncomfortable topic and even triggering to some, and some people are just not here for that. I was contemplating posting it for a while for this reason.

I do kinda want to point out that the purpose was/is not to fetishize a relationship with a minor and I will never fetishize or glorify that ever. It's wrong and unhealthy even if there's no malicious intent present. (am pointing it out because I got a bunch of asks about it and I'm 🧍) But this is fiction, and I portrayed the scenes the way that I did mainly because I made the comic from Floyd's perspective and I wanted to get in his head and show what exactly he was feeling in that moment. If the end result makes you feel uncomfortable or "flustered" (I don't think I'm using the right English word) in a certain icky way, that was kind of the point and I believe should be a normal reaction from an adult.

I spent my high school years (normally 15-19yo, but it was more like 14-22+) living in a dorm in the country's capitol and I attended a vocational school for visual arts that is pretty notorious for having a drug problem (I'm talking about mostly weed) and being full of weirdos (students free and comfortable expressing themselves and experimenting with expressing themselves but weirdos is the used term lol). The dorm is also located very near the city's subcultural center (look up Ljubljana Metelkova if you want, it's kind of what I imagine the underground scenes the bandmates visit looking like) which is like a hangout place for subcultures like punks and metalheads and the lgbtq. Anyway coming from living my whole life in a rural village where I still played with toys to somewhere like that was an insane shock to me. I sometimes felt like a toddler around young adults in a big city. And it was whiplash for many other teens too, some of whom quickly fell into bad crowds and spiraled, often those who came from bad home situations or controlling parents (heck some even came from elementary schools already doing problematic things). The amount of rumors of things happening in that dorm and school (drugs, sex, messing around with older teens/adults, whatever)... (I'm not saying it was like a concerning percentage of students but it was happening) Some of these people who made some bad choices were and some still are my friends, some of whom still struggle with some things today and it's heartbreaking.

Anyway where I was going with this is that in high school I was always kind of the anti all of that (to the point it had the opposite effect on me where I didn't even try out the normal teenage things) and just thinking "what the fuck is wrong with these people?" And recently, when my headcanons for Floyd started going in the direction that they have, I started wondering the same thing. Just not in a judgemental way this time. More like I want to dissect this situation carefully and understand it from everyone's perspective and see what lead up to it. I've always been very fascinated by morally gray and dark fiction for this reason and this is right up that alley.

So yeah, this isn't for everyone, and I can't hold a grudge if anyone unfollows me for it. But what I'm doing here is inspired a lot by real life situations and my weird deep dives into articles about trauma and its effects (also pretty sure I'm also processing some of my own personal emotions through these blorbos but I am not going into that), and I feel like I'm taking a pretty realistic approach to it (if you ignore the fact that this is fucking Trolls). I'm just slowly exploring how a relationship between a teen who comes from a sheltered almost cultish upbringing (pop trolls live in a concentration camp and are dealing with the horrors by singing and enjoying every minute of their every day like life is a ticking time bomb) and a young adult who never got a chance to grow up because he never experienced a childhood and is suddenly being liked by someone for the first time in his life (I'll talk more about Les some other time), would develop into hopefully something okay for both of them. Because I do want them to both be okay in the end. And I'm sharing some of my brainworms online for anyone who's interested. I just can't share ALL of my brain worms and sometimes I forget that people don't have a view of what's going on in my head. Yeah... This answer became long for no other reason except that I can't sleep because I posted that comic, damn. That's what I get for dropping that bombshell on top of what was mostly fun "comedic" posts about the AU so far.

[louisisalarrie]

Hello love. I like sending you asks because you’re always great at responding. This one is a bit sensitive. Don’t post if not appropriate.

Louis and alcohol. You’ve worked with him and seen him a little more closely than most. Is he a massive drinker (like, every day) or is his alcohol consumption a little exaggerated? I’ve seen other posts referring to him as having a problem, which seems a cruel assumption when people don’t know the guy.

It looks to me like there’s a ton of boozing on tour (lots of stories from other artists who’ve worked with him confirm they all drink a lot when they’re all together) but L never looks as though he goes on stage p*ssed. He tends to have beer on stage with him but never drinks the whole thing (I kind of feel like it’s a bit of a nervous habit, to have a drink there he can grab but not to be necessarily knocking it back show). I mean he definitely looks like he drinks a lot post show but we never hear of him turning up to meet fans drunk or smelling of booze (and there dont seem to be any major boozy stories about him doing something bad because he was drunk - oh apart from breaking his arm!) so I’m on the fence about whether or not he does have unhealthy drinking habits or not. He seems pretty controlled and put together with the occasional post show drunken/stoned selfie!

What are your thoughts?

I guess I just want a healthy Louis.

Hello anon! Apologies for the hold up on this, I wanted to do a good and thorough job at responding because it is a sensitive topic, for sure. I’m not sure how much you dabble in substances, your age, or your experiences with said substances, so what I say may feel like it’s still too much, but yeah, I hope I can provide you with some reassurance. So, lovely anon, welcome to the show!

TW for alcohol and drug use

Drinking and drug use is heavily glorified, over indulged in, and used as a crutch in the entertainment industry, but often times you only hear the worst of it. You’ve got the stories of overdoses, media analysing stars because they look drunk performing on stage, and artists having a bad/shocking image because they partake in alcohol/drugs depending on who their demographic is (zouis weed video, for example).

It’s often used as a coping mechanism, to just take a bit of the edge off. This doesn’t mean that all artists use it to an extreme extent to where they can’t perform/can’t live without it (like it’s portrayed in A Star is Born), and don’t get me wrong, some do, but from what I’ve seen and my pals and colleagues in the music industry have seen, Louis doesn’t overindulge.

I mean, they’d have a drink (or multiple) for the same reasons as we do, to just… chill out the nervous system, or carry on the energy. Dissipate some anxiety before going on stage and while on stage, calming down your body and mind from the adrenaline afterwards, partying and carrying on a bit more heavily if you’re celebrating. I’ve toured, not to the same extent as L or H, but it becomes quite normalised within people from the artist’s direct team, their direct touring crew, to the promoters, to the artist’s personal friends. It’s SO much work putting on these shows and travelling and when everything goes well, it’s a huge relief and time for a beverage or a joint. It’s just kinda… very normalised, which is also really bad, but Louis, from what I’ve seen and heard, is smart with it.

You’re correct in saying he isn’t drunk on stage, he doesn’t smell like substances (only cigarettes but that’s a whole other story), and only has 1 beer on stage.

His rider is pretty standard too. Artists over order so they don’t need runners to go get them stuff causing a delay. And then they take whatever they don’t finish to the hotel with them or whatever. If you were famous you’d wanna milk the free stuff 100%, so yeah, if that is a cause of concern for some fans seeing the leaked LATAM rider, I can assure you that it doesn’t go that far between the amount of people in his band and crew. It’s just… very normalised, but doesn’t happen every night.

Louis also just loves to dabble in the devils lettuce (im super annoyed that I have a story about this that I can’t share but he’s fucking hilarious) and loves a drink. Alcohol is also super normalised and encouraged in the UK, and here in Australia too. So I see a lot of it and it’s just kind of a thing you… do. It’s more so if you don’t drink, people are like ????? Hahaha.

So growing up in a country where it’s very normal to drink a beer or get pissed, it’s kind of engrained, and then being in an industry where it’s also normalised, it’s 100% natural to lean into it. When I drink on tour, it’s certainly less often than artists, but it’s just a social celebration thing and it’s kind of expected to a degree. In my opinion, and from what I’ve seen of him going on tour, he doesn’t have a problem nor loses any professionalism on or off the stage. He’s very serious about making these shows good and proving himself.

When I was backstage with him at one of these shows, he was in a green room that wasn’t too far from my office. He is so LOUD and hearing his giggle and talking shit was so wild hahaha. I could smell cigarettes, and heard him and his band/crew do a shot before the show, but apart from that I think maybe they had one or two beers in the late arvo together. I don’t clean/service green rooms so I can’t tell you 100% how much they drank, but it was pretty lowkey. I also don’t think he gets stoned before going on stage (I would’ve smelt it). I think it’s purely an after show fun time which also helps him sleep from jet lag/adrenaline etc. like I mentioned earlier.

He eats well, and while not as healthy as H, still filling food and has an appetite (im talking during the day, not the wild amount of munchies he orders post show), so he’s not letting alcohol/nicotine curb his appetite to that point. He did have bottle service at his hotel on a couple of those nights, too. But again, the bigger indulgence seems to be post show. He’s overall still healthy.

From what we’ve seen, it would be very easy to spot if he was going too far. He’s 100% in control and uses it as a small crutch like a lot of us do due to the intense stress of our jobs. Tbh he also just likes a drink and a joint or two and there’s no reason to worry. Hell, I like a drink or a joint or two and im good at my job, know when to stop, and uphold my professionalism to a high standard. There’s truly no reason to worry, he’s just louder about it than the other boys (I’ve heard that Niall gets on it just as much, but we don’t see it).

Now, it may seem like im making excuses for the industry or for Louis or whatever, but truly, it kinda is what it is. There has been a small but significant shift in the industry around drinking and drug use though, and how it affects mental health, which is great. In Australia, we have a resource called “Support Act” which is an organisation that now has a 24/7 wellbeing hotline for artists, industry folks, and crew, and while it has been around since 1997, it is obviously far bigger and more accessible now due to technology etc., and has great resources. The UK similarly has “Music Minds Matter”, and there are multiple around the US. So there is definitely a larger awareness on the toll touring and an industry career can take on you, and I have no doubt that Louis is aware of his limits and has supportive and wonderful people around him.

Wow okay this turned into a whole other thing. Sorry!!! Hahaha. Look, in short, he drinks nowhere near as much as other artists I’ve worked with (8 bottles of top shelf whiskey in one night thanks) and unless we see any cause for concern, im sure he’s okay, 100% in control, and just living his best life as a 32 yr old successful rockstar. Try not to worry!

[credince--writes]

Deep In Those Woods: Chapter 5

Keegan P. Russ x Fem!Reader

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4

AO3

You find a strange man in the woods, no doubt running from the federation. He seems, well, in simple terms beat to shit. May your act of kindness not go unpunished.

A/N:

I'm BACCCCCKCKKKKKKK BABY. More Keegan content and I'm so sorry it's taken so long but it was a FUCKING STRUGGLE to pivot from the Keegan is a glorified injured vegetable so time skip to him being a bruised fruit! Thank you all for reading!

Tags:

@dindjarinsmeshla @tessxq @ladyvlolypop @tiny-kasper @konigsleftkidney @mykneeshurt @katsufairies

Days pass, and his condition improves. The bruises on his body begin to fade into dark purples and sickly yellows as the flesh tries to cope with the trauma and heal.

Pulling the clothes off the line and finally dressing the near-naked man who'd been camping out on your couch and floor for nearly two weeks.

When he'd needed to finally wash the one set of clothes he'd shown up in, you'd given him a few sets of your brother's clothing.

What were you doing?

Taking care of some stranger when your brother was out there- God knows where, maybe in danger.

Maybe he was dead-

You didn't want to think that.

He'd- much to your dismay- had begun wandering around the house. Almost like a misbehaving puppy, any time you would let the man out of your sight he would be somewhere he wasn't supposed to. Wandering around outside of the house, milling around as if he didn't truly believe he was alive.

Much of your time was dedicated to catching up on chores, tending to the garden, and making sure that your animals were alright. The never-ending list of maintenance to make sure that you would be alright- ensuring that you'd be able to survive.

It was getting hotter, even now, earlier in the day- before the sun rose high enough to signal it being noon, sweat beaded on your forehead. Humidity be damned, the bright blue sky with little puffy white clouds dotting the sky and the bright, burning sun warmed the surrounding land.

"Where is my radio?"

Keegan's voice startles you, nearly jumping out of your skin ten feet into the air. You'd never heard his footsteps approaching, you didn't know that even if you were listening for them you'd be able to. You were wrist deep in a garden bed pulling out weeds from between your plants, the little green shoots sprouting up and around into dainty little green ladders reaching for sunlight.

"Fuck!" Little bits of the soil fly up into the air as your hands reach up on instinct from the scare. "What? What do you want?" The anxiety shines clear through your voice, desperately looking at the quiet man for an explanation.

He'd been doing this shit to you for days.

Hiding behind in the shadows, popping out and asking you for something small, minuscule, irrelevant.

And scare the shit out of you in the process.

You didn't have his fucking radio.

Did you?

You'd have to look.

You sigh in defeat, brushing off any remnants of dirt from your hands and washing them off in a bucket next to you.

"If I help you look, will you stop asking about it?" You ask.

He nods in response.

With a grumble, you get up off of your knees and leave your task in the garden forgotten. Trailing back into the house with the man in tow- hitting the door and making a break to grab the items you'd pulled off of him in his gear.

He still hovered behind you, watching intently as you dragged the bag out and started searching through it. Pulling out his vest, then various knives, empty magazines...

Then your hands wrapped around the dinged and damaged black plastic.

"Here?" You pulled it out, the antenna snapped off, hesitantly handing the broken radio to him and leaning back onto your hands and sitting flat on your bottom. "It's broken."

Keegan grasps the radio, looking at you and without even speaking, saying 'I can tell'. He smacks the radio a few times against his hand, letting out of huff of disapproval before turning and walking into the kitchen.

"Where are you going?" You stand, following him into the kitchen as he opens a drawer and pulls out a fork, turning it onto the radio and starting to pop off little plastic pieces until the guts of the little machine were exposed to his eyes. "You know, I could grab you a screwdriver- you don't need to use my forks."

"It worked, didn't it?" He asks, taking a step over and wincing as he bends to the side.

He'd never admit it, but he was still hurt.

He'd bare through it, if it was up to him.

"You need to sit." You gasped out, reaching for his arm. Your hand wrapped around his bicep in an attempt to get his attention back on you while you tried to lead him to a chair. His body stiffened underneath your touch as your fingers grasped onto the muscle of his arm.

"I'm fine." He replied bluntly, turning back to the radio. Widening his stance but making no move to remove your hand.

You faltered for a moment, hesitantly releasing your hand- the feeling of warmth from both of your skin touching dissipating into the air around you. Moving back and sitting down in the chair you'd originally tried to get Keegan to sit down in, you watched.

Watched as he messed with the radio, inspecting the electronics for things you couldn't see- things you didn't understand.

"Do you think you can fix it?" You ask, curling up into the chair, pulling your legs up to you, and crossing them. Resting your arm on the counter and intently watching as he once again took your fork to poke and prod at the internals.

"More than likely." He replied, a calm, quiet tone as he leaned more of his body weight into the counter.

You were sure it was because his ribs were bothering him.

He'd never admit it.

But, they were.

Any time you had tried to question the man in the last few days- once he'd become considerably more lucid- on why he had been out in your neck of the woods. Where he would've been injured- you hadn't come into contact with any Federation, well, ever.

You didn't tell him that part.

For all he knew, you had them fertilizing the orchard.

But any attempt you had made had quickly been spun around and shot down. Pivoting into new conversation or him picking apart your questions until you no longer wanted to be around him.

"Why were you out here?" You questioned him, hand gripped onto the counter as you held a knife in your other hand. Half an onion behind you- staring up at the ceiling furiously blinking to get the tears out of your eyes.

"That's classified, princess." The slight drawl of his voice, the southern twang in his words as he threw in the princess just to get on your nerves.

He'd gone through a few other nicknames-

Sweetheart, Angel.

But he knew that Princess struck a nerve in you. The sassy bastard tactically threw it into a sentence whenever he wanted you to lose your footing.

"Classified?" You'd asked, groaning. "Give me a break, I drag you out of a creek, nurse you back to health the least you could do is tell me why you were out here."

"If I told you I'd have to kill you." He replied, a smug grin curling up on the edges of his lips.

"And all I'd have to do is hit you in the ribs." You bit back.

"Oh, come on. That's fighting a little dirty don't you think?" He tilted his head in question. His large hands opened and pressed against his chest before hissing and wincing.

Your head snaps over at the sound of his pain. "Are you alright?" You ask, concern laced into not only your words but your features.

"Don't worry about me Princess, I'm just a little tender."

You hadn't really thought about what would happen if the radio started working again- he wasn't exactly in the best shape to be heading back off the mountain to presumably around the same place he'd been injured in the first place.

"Are you trying to talk to your team?" You asked, breaking the silence between the two of you.

Keegan looks at you for a moment, as if debating on releasing the smallest bit of information.

And he nods, once.

Yes.

"Are they here too?" You question, picking at a stray thread at the end of your t-shirt. Anxiously trying to navigate the conversation- keeping him responding while feeding you little crumbs of information.

"No. I came here alone."

You hum in acknowledgment. Resting your elbow against the counter, your chin into your hand, watching him glare at the broken electronic.

"Dosen't seem very smart to come out here by yourself." You reply, finally standing and grabbing your bottle of water and taking a sip. Pointing out what you felt to be a major flaw in his logic.

He was just one man.

"Could say the same about you." He replied, setting the radio down on the table and turning to look at you.

Your posture stiffened, grip tightening on the bottle.

"I wasn't always alone."

Keegan's face was stoic- but for a moment, for a fraction of a second, she could see something flicker in his eyes. As if he were asking for more- to know.

To care.

"My-" You falter for a moment. "My brother, he left... Four months? Maybe Five- I don't even know how long he has been gone- before I found you. He went to go investigate something weird a few miles away from here"

You take in a shaky breath.

"He never came back..." You look out the window, watching a chicken scratch at the earth and peck. "I know he can handle himself- but he's never been gone this long. And he told me to not come looking if he didn't come back- we all know what would happen if I was found."

Keegan listened, intently. And he understood, even with the disgust rising in the back of his throat at the thought.

"What was he investigating?" He asked.

"There are these... erm." You pause. "Fires- on the four mountains. They are other settlements, other farmers, and even maybe a town now on one of them. The smoke from the fires means either something is really, really wrong, or they had made contact with the government- that people were here to protect and save some of us." Your grasp your arm anxiously, rubbing at the skin. "So he went to investigate- but didn't come back."

He nodded, steel blue eyes fixed to your own.

"I just..." You trailed off.

"Want to make sure he's ok?" Keegan finished.

"Yea." You nodded. "Or at least have some closure. Sometimes just knowing- as much as it'd hurt. To know he is dead, would be better than to wait- to expect."

"I'll help you." His voice was soft- quiet. As if his words came out just above a whisper.

"Why?" You questioned.

“Keegan, you’re safe alright?”

He was silent, glancing around the cabin as if he hadn’t really looked at it before. “You took me in?”

“Y… Yea?” You questioned, wondering if it was the wrong thing to say. “You were hurt…”

“Why are you helping me?” The question left, the exhale of his words and the dissipation of them into the silent room-filling little cracks in the walls with a deep voice you’d only heard of in the books you kept by your bedside.

 “You were hurt, and you needed help.” You explained carefully, eyes focused on his hand still locked onto your arm.

Keegan stared, mouth opening and trying to speak but nothing coming out- his mind rushing a million miles a minute.

"Because you owe me?" You teased.

He releases a breath. "Yea, Princess. Because I owe you."

[hunterssm00n]

Find You

One month after the events of SOTL but before Hannibal (2001): Clarice Starling is an FBI agent on the hunt for one Doctor Hannibal Lecter, and she reflects on their strange connection. | Hannibal Lecter/Clarice Starling |

also on my ao3: here

*cw mild language*

౨ৎ

hunterssm00n © All rights reserved by me. I do not allow this work to be used or adapted in any way without my permission.

I look for you in the center of the sun / I took a pill but it didn't help me numb / I see your face even when my eyes are shut / But I never really know just where to find you...

"You're dancing circles around me You're fucking crazy Oh oh, you're crazy for me Oh oh, you're crazy for me..." ~ 'Cruel World' - Lana Del Rey

X.x

"Starling. Starling. Starling. A bird with strong wings and feet, capable of flying great distances. Often bears a dark complexion with a vague, metallic sheen coating it's feathers... as if it were dipped in oil. Wouldn't you agree, Clarice?"

"Well, of that I'm not sure, sir. I don't think I've ever seen one; none that I would be able to identify, at least."

"An interesting creature - most phylum cordata usually are. Are you at all interested in the study of species?"

"Sure, I guess, but not of the animal variety, Doctor Lecter."

"Ahh, because there are different species of human, right you are. Is that why you chose to become a figure of law enforcement, Clarice? To study the sea of moral defecation around you, and to try to cleanse the world of it?"

"Mm, when you say it like that, it sounds more like you're describing a scientist, to me. Or maybe a doctor."

"But we are all scientists to our own right, aren't we, Clarice? And doctors are really just glorified scientists, schooled to understand the inner workings of something and to try to find medically accurate compensation where there is a lack. Officers of the law do this as well, but not in the biological sense - more so in the social sense. They weed out those cancerous forms that attempt to spread evil unto the world; cut them out with the steel scalpel of To protect and serve. This requires some science, Clarice. You have done your own studying of the world."

"I have. We all have, sir."

"Sir. Doctor Lecter. So polite. Society lacks manners, nowadays. It's only gonna get worse from here."

"Not a very positive outlook for the future."

"I have hopes, but not high ones for society. Can you really blame me, Clarice? What with people like Buffalo Bill wreaking havoc in different parts of this cruel world?"

"With all do respect, Doctor, one could look at your actions and say the same."

"Mmm, clever girl. Too clever. You don't agree to fight violence with violence? Survival of the fittest? You'd likely lay your body down to form a bridge for those less fortunate, Clarice, and they would end up collapsing you to climb their 'lil selves on up that laddah."

"But you can't fight fire with fire, either, sir. There has to be some sort of balance."

"And if they're not willing to compromise, Clarice? If they are not as sympathetic as you, then what?"

"I guess I'll have to cross that bridge when I come to it."

"Starling. Birds are quite impressive creatures, aren't they? The starling itself isn't widely known, but it is a clever little creature indeed. Strong little wings, sturdy feet with which to stand. It also has the ability to mimic the sounds of other animals that it hears - sometimes even the vocal sounds of humans."

"This is very interesting, Doctor Lecter, but I'd really like to get back on topic."

"Does it sound like I'm describing you, Clarice? Do you repeat the things you hear from higher-ups in the department? Has Jack Crawford made you his puppet?"

"What do you think, Doctor? You've studied me at every meeting. Do my words sound like they've been scripted? Do they sound like they would ever come out of Jack Crawford's mouth?"

"No, Agent Starling, they do not. You are indeed a creature all your own."

"So if I am a Starling, sir, what are you?"

"That depends on you, Clarice. I am either the cage keeper, or the one who opens the door and sets you free. The choice is yours."

X.x

"Clarice?"

Her face hurt; felt like it was being mushed against a hard surface. The voice broke through the darkness she had fallen into, and now she was slowly coming back to the world of consciousness, very slowly.

"Clarice,"

She groaned with the effort of opening her eyes; her head felt as heavy as a bowling ball on her thin neck as she tried to raise it. When her eyes fluttered and focused, she noticed the light brown of the smooth top of her desk to the right of her vision. Lifting her head more, she realized it had been resting on the black and white mug shot of Hannibal Lecter in an old newspaper. She'd actually fallen asleep while working. All throughout school she hadn't even done that.

"Jesus," Came a female voice from behind her - probably Ardelia wondering where the hell her partner had been.

Clarice lifted her head all the way up off the desk, wisps from her ponytail sticking to the side of her face that had been covering the newspaper. She absently wiped a hand across her cheek, wondering if it would come away with gray smudges from the newspaper that were probably printed onto her face. Being so close to Doctor Lecter's mugshot on the paper, she noticed that the two dimensionality of the black and white photo did nothing to diminish his stare. It was as if he was staring into the soul of whomever was holding the paper - like he was staring into her soul once again.

Clarice turned around in her chair to face the woman whom she roomed with, Ardelia. Ardelia had graduated the academy shortly after Clarice had, and until they could each afford their own stable homes, they decided to share an apartment to help build their individual savings. They knew each other well - they'd survived the academy as roommates and knew they could live with one another (and only wanted to kill each other on rare occasions). They were now best friends, and knew almost everything about each other, so Ardelia was probably not surprised that even on their day off, Clarice was still working.

The other woman would have only been surprised if it was any other case she was working on.

"Girl, you look rough," Ardelia commented, not unkindly. Rather than suggest food or rest (or a therapist), she knew Clarice well enough to know that those questions would not phase her. Instead she asked: "Any leads?" Clarice appreciated her for everything she said - she knew the other woman was only looking out for her.

"Um," Clarice looked down at the small drool stain slowly seeping into the paper right next to Doctor Lecter's mug shot. "Not yet, today." She rose from the chair and stretched, groaning as her neck cracked from being at the odd angle when her face rested against the desk. How long had she been like that? "Any idea what time it is?" Apparently she'd removed her watch at some point too. God, she was never this disoriented.

"A little after twelve," Ardelia had checked her own watch, peering around Clarice at the desktop. She, herself, was all dressed up - dressy casual in nice black pants and a sweeping flowery top. Clarice had known she had a date this morning - brunch at a little diner in town with another agent that had graduated from the academy.

"How'd it go this morning?" She'd been out with this guy a few times, and Clarice could sense a brewing romance.

"Great," Ardelia replied, picking up the newspaper that lay flat on the desktop, "We're gonna catch a movie later tonight too." She moved the paper closer to her eyes, then brought it back down almost as soon. "He's one hell of a creep, huh?"

Clarice nodded, remembering back to the first time she had met him; the way he calmly stood in the middle of the cell, staring through the glass like he'd been expecting someone. The way his eyes lit up when they settled on hers - like he'd been expecting her.

Ardelia gave an exaggerated shudder and set the paper back down on the desk. "How do you not have nightmares?"

Clarice glanced at the photo, shrugging non-committedly, "I guess I'm just used to it now."

The truth was, she did have nightmares - she just didn't believe that he was the source. Most of the time it was the death of her father; the lambs screaming in terror as they were lead to the slaughter. It didn't happen every night, but enough that she had become used to waking up in the middle of the night, the blankets drenched with her sweat and tears rolling down her cheeks.

The only one she'd ever told about that was Hannibal Lecter. He was the only person in her life who'd ever thought to ask such dark questions.

What she also hadn't told Ardelia was that she did dream of him. Every single night. Not all of them were nightmares, though he somehow wound up in those as well. Sometimes it was simply her walking down the long stretch of concrete in the basement of the asylum; past the jeering, howling inmates in their cells. Some of the cells had lambs in them - some of the inmates were holding little lambs, and that was why they were screaming. Clarice knew he was at the end of the hallway; she just had to walk past this chaos to get to him. Finally, as always, he was waiting there, much like he had been the very first time she'd seen him, except he was much closer to the glass this time. He was awaiting her arrival, and she was anticipating the sight of him. He would smile salaciously at her, and raise a hand to the glass, pressing his palm against it. Stepping closer to the glass, she would raise her own hand and mirror his movement, placing it over his as though there was no glass between them. They would stay like that for three seconds, looking each other right in the eye. He would smile, and she would feel her lips begin to do the same. And then she would wake up.

At the moment, that dream was the most recurring in her mind. She couldn't remember what she had just dreamt about when she'd been asleep a few moments ago, but she would bet her life he had been in it.

She had to find him.

She had to find out why he occupied her every waking thought.

"Christ, I'd never sleep again if I had to be the one to talk to him. You've got nerves of steel." Ardelia commented, kicking off her shoes. "I'm gonna jump in the shower real quick. Do you wanna come to the movie later on too? We could grab one of the other guys to come, keep you company." The woman winked at her, and Clarice rolled her eyes with a smile.

"No thanks, I'm actually gonna go out myself; run some errands, exercise a bit."

"Oh great!" Ardelia looked relieved that her friend was actually leaving the apartment for a reason other than work. Clarice felt bad that she worried her so, but she couldn't stop what she was doing. It had become a mania. She had to catch this man.

Clarice padded into her bedroom to get dressed - she wanted to put her most comfortable workout clothes on. She didn't tell Ardelia that she was still hoping to find something to point her in the right direction. She had searched high and low, found a few things along the way but nothing very significant. She couldn't let him disappear anymore than he already had.

She stripped off her clothing - just an FBI t-shirt and a pair of matching sweatpants she used for pajamas. She was pulling a long sleeved shirt over her head when she saw it - something out of the ordinary. It lay on the top of her comforter, a folded up piece of paper. It wasn't white printer paper, but a cream colored thick paper, like something artists used. Clarice swallowed hard, moving across the carpeted floor to her bed. There is no way... Or was there? There was only one person that she knew of that would leave a note for her with that kind of paper. Artists parchment.

"You sonofabitch," she whispered, reaching out and gently grasping the paper as though she feared it would crumble between her fingers. Her hand trembled slightly as she brought it up off the comforter, but not out of fear. She would never admit the emotions that stirred within her - not in a thousand years. Not even to herself. Slowly she opened the two flaps so that the page was expanded to its fullest extent. It was only folded in half once, and when she opened it she could see why. There was a graphite drawing of a woman holding a baby lamb. The amount of shading and detail that was on the page, which wasn't bigger than 8x5 inches, was incredibly impressive. Not that she was surprised. The artist once told her that his memory had been all he had during his imprisonment. She knew he had an incredible eye for memorization and detail.

What did startle her a little was that the woman in the picture was her. The likeness couldn't have been more accurate - it was like she was looking into a mirror. It momentarily stunned her as she stared into her own eyes, her own arms cradling the tiny lamb to her chest. In the drawing she had what looked to be a cloak wrapped around both of them, leaving her shoulders bare but modestly covering every other part of her.

The second clear thought was that the person who had so carefully placed the note on her bed had to have snuck in sometime within the past two hours, because that was about how long she'd been asleep for. The person who had snuck in had to have meticulously calculated when she would be alone in the apartment - was he trying to time it so that she would be asleep? Had he thought he could catch her while she'd been awake? A million different questions ran through her mind, all at once, leaving her breathless.

The third thing she noticed, the most telling feature of all, was the short inscription on the bottom left side of the page, written in thin black ink.

"Liberty for wolves is death to the lambs."

~H.L.

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AN: I do not own the SOTL/Hannibal franchise or any of its characters. I also do not own the song ‘Cruel World’ by Lana Del Rey, or the song ‘Find You’ by Nick Jonas. The above photos are from Pinterest, and attached are the links to the original images.