#if you 'need' to smoke to be less afraid of driving then don't fucking drive!!!

[thestarmaker]

jfc why do so many people think smoking weed and driving is any less dangerous than drinking and driving??? It makes me both mad and scared, and yep I definitely know not to be in the car w you behind the wheel

[buckysmith]

MW2 You're pregnant with his/her baby + birth (Keegan included) Part 2

Includes: John Price, Phillip Graves, Valeria Garza and Keegan P Russ

Warning: mention of miscarriage, slight nsfw in Valerias Headcanon

Captain John Price:

- You would notice it because of your period

- well- your non existing period

- you and price tried so many times to get pregnant and the last time you saw him was over two months ago

- You only saw him less than one hour, well at least it was a good one hour

- that one time you both just enjoyed the body from one another, couldn't be the time he gets you pregnant, could it?

- it could

- you're pregnant

- of course you're over the moon and back

- you would prepare your announcement about your pregnancy

- you would buy a cute military onesie and put it into a gift box

- the moment he comes home you would be way too nervous to tell him anything, mumbling bullshit to get him to sit on the couch and if it wouldn't be already awkward enough you would simply smack the present into his face

- he ofc would ask you if you're alright or if you have a stroke or something

- The only thing you would respond to him would be „gift"

- he would roll his eyes, not because of annoyance, no, because he finds it absolutely adorable (you don't know what about being an idiot from time to time is adorable)

- he would open it, just to close it again

- he wouldn't look at you, would open the present again and close it a few seconds later

- he would start to sob uncontrollably

- hug your big bear immediately

- he would cry so hard and pull you even more to him

- the whole pregnancy he would try his best, he would even stop to drink and smoke just for you and your baby

- he would be the one that drives you to Wendy's or

711 or McDonald's just to get whatever you want

- he once tried your pickle chocolate cake with bbq and ranch

- well- that would be the only time he's afraid of you

- honestly you scare him, what kind of iron stomach do you fricking have

- you both wanted a normal birth but your baby decided it wouldn't want to turn to the right position even with help so you would need a c section

- he's there the moment you fall asleep and the moment you wake up again

- he takes good care of his little ones :)

Phillip Graves:

- You both knew you both wanted kids, it was one of the things you both agreed on, on the first date

- He wouldn’t have dated you if you wouldn’t have wanted kids

- But you even though you both wanted kids you would wait at least to have children till you’re married

- after that, you both would try to get pregnant but somehow you wouldn’t get pregnant

- He would test him first to see if he’s the infertile one and after the test negative you would test if you’re the one

- He wouldn’t leave you after the doctors tell you that it’s almost impossible for you to have children

- He would comfort you, telling you that if you want you could adopt a kid

- you would see yourself as a failure, not able to bear his children

- He would try to tell you otherwise

- after a while you would feel very sick, you kept throwing up, you got annoyed easily, you had pain in your limbs and you wouldn’t know why

- you would ofc tell your husband about it and he would be very worried about you

- he would tell you to go see a doctor and you would do it after he got home (you had to wait a few days)

- after all the question the doctor asked you, he would ask you to lay down and to roll your shirt up so that he had access to your stomach

- he would tell you that you may have a tumor

- Phillip would held your hand in the minutes of uncertainty if you have tumor

- You would look at the monitor, shaking your head to what you can see

- the doctor would look at the monitor shocked

- graves would stand there not knowing what the fuck you both saw to get a reaction like that

- the moment the doc congrat you both he would understand

- he wouldn’t react to it, no smilie no tears, there would be just nothing just a stone cold Phillip graves

- he would open the back door of the van he owns, pushing you gently in it before closing the door and wrapping his arms around you just to bury his head in your neck

- that’s the moment he starts to sob and cry unconditionally

- you both would stay in that position for quite a while

- he would tell you how much he loves you and would tell you that over and over again

- he would love to lay his head against your tummy or to place his hands on it while standing behind you

- when you’re asleep he talks to his baby’s

- he would make a video tape for your baby, he would take a one minute video every single day, telling them anything that comes into his mind

- he wouldn’t only make it to have something to watch with you and your grown up kid

- no, sadly not. He would especially do that for the case he dies on one of his missions so that you and your baby has something to remember him

- but back to the cute stuff

- whatever you want he gives you. You want feet/back rubs? He’s got you. You want ice cream and French fries from McDonald’s in the middle of the night? He’s the first one to drive you there or to bring it to you

- he was protective over you way before but now with you pregnant it’s a whole new level

- You already owns two guard dogs thanks to him but now he wouldn’t allow you to leave the house at least not alone

- he is a workaholic but for he would try to give as much of his duty’s to someone

- he starts to pack the baby bag over three month before your due day

- he has every single thing planned, and for plan A there’s plan B and for plan B there’s plan C and going on

- He wouldn’t leave your side for one Second, no matter how long the birth takes place

- expect a lot of praises

- after the long and complicated birth he would hold you into your arms, with the baby laying on your bare chest with a light blanked covering you three so that no one would see you like that but him and god

Valeria Garza:

- She knew you wanted kids but ofc she can’t get you pregnant and she couldn’t imagine you being pregnant with someone else’s child

- you would whimper into her ear that you want her baby inside you and that would be the moment she realizes she can get you pregnant

- she would tell you her idea the next morning

- she can’t get you pregnant but she can give you one of her eggs

- so you both would decide which Baby daddy you both want and with some special docs and a whole fucking bible full of preparations to get you pregnant the doc’s would put her eggs inside you

- you prayed that at least one egg would make it

- yeah, not only one would make it, three would make

- so yeah, you’re the (un)lucky one with nig only one baby inside of you but three

- she would take good care of you the whole pregnancy

- not one of her henchman would see you the whole nine/ten month , only some very very very good “friends” of her and her family

- the moment you develop a baby tummy she would love to put her hands on your tummy or to lay her face against it

- while she does that she would mumble sweet things against it

- she would definitely “hit” your tummy playfully with one finger if one of your baby’s decides to kick you and scold them to not hurt you

- when you’re asleep she would talk to them

- she kisses your tummy a lot

- the birth would be quite complicated and very very long

- one of the baby’s wouldn’t lay correctly but because there’s three inside of you it’s a bit complex to turn it the right way

- but after a lot of trying, tears and her threating to kill the nurses and doctors the first baby would come out

- after 24 hours all three baby’s would lay inside their crib and you exhausted in Valeria’s arms with your head burried in her chest

- she would praise you a lot

Keegan P Russ:

- he wouldn’t have wanted kids in the first place

- he just couldn’t imagine himself to settle down even though you’re the one he loves the most

- he would tell you that he doesn’t want kids and even though you want one you would stay with him

- thanks to his job he isn’t at home most of the time but he would write you at least once a day and you would send him messages/ pics or videos

- a lot of your friends would start family’s so you would be around of baby’s most of your free time

- you would send him a lot of videos or pics that your friends made while you feed or played with the baby’s/ toddlers

- when he’s at home you don’t meet your friends to enjoy your time with him but somehow you would meet one of your heavily pregnant friends with their spouse

- he would quietly watching you both interacting with each other

- that would stay inside his mind for days

- in these few days he would imagine you with a tummy too

- Somehow it would warm his heart

- the last evening he has with you till he has to work again he would tell you about it

- you would tell him that if he doesn’t want kids that’s okay for you but he would shush you telling you that he wants kids

- you wouldn’t understand why he changed by you wouldn’t complain about it

- that evening would be the start of you having a baby

- you would get pregnant that time but sadly lose your in your forth month cause of a car crash

- no matter where he is when it happens, he’s home in less than 12 hours

- he would knew how much that loose affect you and would try to give you all the support you need

- he wouldn’t leave your side for months

- he’s sad too but ofc can’t imagine the pain you go trough and he knows that

- he would make your baby a little shrine

- he would ask you if you wanted to continue on having a child and at some point you would

- the second time you get pregnant he would try to stay as much with you as he can

- he would do anything for you

- there’s nothing he wouldn’t do to make you feel better

- the moment you both know that it’s in fact not only one child but two would make you speechless

- after a bit over nine months you would go into labor

- your pregnancy was easy compared to other ones and so is the birth of your baby’s

- he would stand by your side, but would ask you at some point not to break his hand with a smile on his face

- after “only” three hours you both would lay with your baby’s in the hospital bed

- that would be besides the day you married his happiest day

[monimccoythings]

Mama Wolf

Woah, I've been wanting to write f!Logan since I first saw a drawing about her. She is so butch and gruff and dreamy... And I love the fics where Logan is a dad.

tags: f!Logan and m!reader, pregnancy, Logan has animal traits, a bit of nsfw, chaotic pregnancy because Logan has a very nasty temper. Logan can be a bitch to anyone but you.

It wasn't really a surprise when you two saw the two lines on the pregnancy test. Given how horny and hormonal she had been lately.

Logan had many animalistic traits, her senses were as sharp as the deadliest predator, which was great for tracking missions. But that biological advantage also involved having to deal with less practical animal traits like heats that stroke twice a year.

Oh, you were always so eager for those times of the year, she was unsatiable. You barely could keep up, almost coupling to the point of exhaustion, but you would gladly die just to be buried between her legs one more time.

At first, she didn't know how to react. Her? a mother? Fucking Godzilla had more maternal instincts than her. But you knew better.

Despite her gruffiness and callous exterior, despite how annoyed she seemed to get with the younger mutants, deep down inside her was buried the urge and need to protect them at any costs. There was zero doubt in your mind that Logan would make an excellent mother to your child.

The first months were hard, morning sickness didn't go easy on her, and given her extra sensitive nose, any smell could really send her crawling towards the toilet with you tailing close to gently rub her back.

If anybody at the mansion thought that regular Logan was short tempered and harsh, they just hadn't met a hormonal pregnant Logan. Her already volatile temper grew in unison with her belly. Everything seemed to set her off, claws out and fangs ready to tear anyone and anything apart; some lights were too bright, some whispers where too loud, her highly developed senses were constantly going overdrive and it was driving her insane.

Despite the hormonal changes, Logan did not cry, ever. She would rather vent her pent up frustrations as she had always done: through alcohol. When Hank told her she wouldn't be able to smoke or drink for the entirety of the pregnancy, she threw an epic fit that left the medbay unusable for weeks. Only your reassuring presence and gentle kisses were enough to soothe her down.

When she started showing, Logan also felt the need to start nesting. Soon your shared bed had become a bundle of clothes, cushions, sheets and towels. She reluctantly told you that she felt calmer if she was constantly surrounded by scents that reminded her of you.

The first time she felt her baby kick Logan was stomping through the mansion, in one of her moods. It was so sudden that for a couple of seconds she didn't know what to do, her anger long forgotten. With trembling hands she slowly caressed her belly, afraid that if she made any sudden movement, the magic of the moment would be lost. That was when reality hit her like a ton of bricks. She was going to be a mom, she was going to build a family with you, her partner. That was really happening. Logan was at loss for words, but surprisingly, she didn't feel anxious, in fact, she felt extremely happy.

Logan found herself becoming more protective of her cub as the months passed, always with a hand on her swollen belly and the other arm extended, just in case she needed to use her claws. The animal in her only recognizing you as a non-threat towards the baby.

Don't think that just because she is with child she will want to stop training in the danger room or working out at the gym. She wants to keep herself in shape in case someone attacks the mansion. It takes a lot of convincing on your part (and Hank's, Charles', Jean's, Scott's....) to make her take it easier.

During the third trimester of the pregnancy Logan was more than done with feeling so swollen and out of control of her own body. Everything ached, everything sucked and she was hornier than ever. And believe me, if she gets horny, nothing will stop her from feeling satisfied. She will shove you against the bed, with impressive strength for a pregnant woman; well, this is Logan we are talking about, and have her way with you. Not that you're complaining obviously, your main concern is that she doesn't overdo it and accidentally harms the child.

It was a hard pregnancy for everyone involved, but specially Logan. It pained you to see her so uncomfortable, knowing there was little you could do to help her feel better. Yet you did everything you could to take that weight of her shoulders.

Everynight, when you two laid together in the safety of your improvised nest, with a hand on her swollen belly and her nose nuzzling your neck, you knew that you would die a thousand deaths and endure the cruelest of tortures just to hold the woman you loved in your arms and feel your baby moving inside her.

[strangerqueerthings]

Billy hates the rain.

In San Diego, it rarely rains. The climate there is often called "American Mediterranean," due to the warmer winters and cooler summers, with only 40 days or so of rain a year.

Billy hates the rain because it means being stuck inside. It means not being able to escape Neil, being stuck in the house with him- or later, being stuck inside with him, Susan, and Max. He can only play his music so loud without being yelled out, and it's never loud enough to drown out the screaming between Neil and Susan, and it's always loud enough to bring down Neil's wrath.

It rains a lot more in Hawkins. Not a lot, compared to other places, if you ask around, but it's a lot more than Billy's used to, and he hates it, because it's more time under the same roof as Neil.

Which is why he finds himself in the woods, sitting in the back of Eddie Munson's van, the doors open to let in fresh air as they smoke and share a beer.

He'd just wanted to buy some weed, then drive to an isolated place to smoke in his car and ride out the rain, sober up, then drive home in time to crash, avoiding Neil altogether.

Eddie had surprised him, though.

When Billy had asked for indica, Eddie had lifted a brow.

Everyone asks him for sativa- they want the mind high, the giddiness and the "everything is funny," kind of high that makes them feel good without making them want to faceplant into the floor.

Yet here's Billy Hargrove, the newest bad boy, the new King of Hawkins High, standing in the rain, asking for indica, wanting the full-body stone that makes one sleepy, content, and agreeable before sliding into a well needed sleep.

And he wants to smoke some, sleep it off, then go home.

"Have you ever smoked indica?" Eddie asks.

"It makes you drowsy," Billy shrugs. "I've always had sativa, but I want something a bit more mellow."

"Yeah, sorry, man. I don't know if I can give you a strain you've never smoked- especially if you're gonna drive somewhere by yourself, when you don't know how you're gonna react to it," Eddie replies with a frown.

Billy wants to punch him. He's taking a risk, coming out to buy weed, and from what everyone says about Munson, the less time spent around him, the better. But he sure as hell doesn't want to drive away empty handed- and he sure as fuck doesn't want to go home, or be sober.

When Billy sets his jaw, the tendons in his neck going taut, Eddie expects a swing at his face, but it doesn't come. Billy simply shoves his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and turns to go back to his car.

"Hey," Eddie says. "Hold up."

Billy glances over his shoulder at him, and when his hair falls off his cheek, Eddie sees the barest hint of a faded bruise, and it clicks.

Hargrove hasn't gotten into a fight- not yet. It'd be all over school if he had- especially since everyone knew Tommy Hagan was the first one to talk about any fights.

"What?" Billy asks, his voice tight.

At that moment, he looks like a sad, wet stray dog afraid of getting kicked, and Eddie can't stand it. He might be a hard ass, but he looks so pathetic, despite the clenched jaw and hard eyes, that Eddie can't send him away. Eddie motions for him to come over, patting the blanket he's spread over the back of his van. "Come on. Free sample, see if you react to it alright. If you do, I'll sell you some, and you can be on your way. How's that sound?"

He can't really say no to that, and sharing a joint with Eddie Munson is better than going home.

So here he is, feeling the tension drain from his body as he leans against the inside of the van, watching the rain fall outside as he and Eddie pass the joint back and forth in companionable silence.

Eddie doesn't ask any questions, doesn't even make small talk, and Billy appreciates it- especially since he can see that Eddie is full of curiosity.

He's also glad Eddie let him have a free try- indica hits him like a sledgehammer. He's not about to fall asleep- his natural anxiety is too strong for that- but he's so relaxed, his limbs so heavy, that the thought of getting up seems like such an insurmountable task that he can't even fathom driving home.

But for the first time in a while, he feels relaxed enough that he can unclench his jaw, lie back against the panel of the van, and just listen to the rain pattering on the metal roof.

Eddie moves to the front of the van and puts the engine in accessory, the tape deck crackling to life. Metallica fills the air, and Billy hums in appreciation as he recognizes the Ride the Lightning album.

"Sorry, was a bit too quiet for my liking," Eddie says, settling back into his spot beside Billy- close enough to pass the joint, but not close enough to touch.

"No, I like it," Billy replies. "Love Metallica."

Eddie gives him a small half grin, and rummages in a cooler beside him. He pulls out a beer and cracks it open, handing it to Billy, who blinks, surprised, but takes it with a soft murmured "Thanks," and he takes a long quaff. It's cold, and smooth, and tastes even better with the indica coursing through his veins.

He and Eddie sip their beer in silence, listening to the rain and Metallica, watching the world start to darken as the sun the sets behind the clouds.

For the first time, Billy doesn't mind the rain.

[peaktora]

𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐃, 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓? ˚◞♡ ⃗ shuji hanma

𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙬 ┊where there’s no better way to begin the winter months than by saying goodbye to the warm days with a drive-in movie

𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 ┊0.7k words. no pronouns used or specified gender.

a/n. — big thanks to char AND @creativepromptfills prompt who/which helped me out with this !!

hanma’s gaze briefly rested on the cherry at the end of the cigarette, a glow in the shadows that pulsed crimson in his view. his mouth and throat were filled with acrid smoke as he took a long breath. the tightness in his chest was relieved by a deep exhale of a sigh, there was nearly a tickling of cough.

your faint but distinct voice jolted him out of his daze. he looked across the field, beyond the hundreds of strangers gathered at the drive-in cinema, only to see you yelling over something he couldn't understand.

he was watching your every move, and even when you drew close to him, his attention never left you.

"okay so," you said out of breath to hanma, "I grabbed pizza, candy for you, and water. they didn't have soda, so I couldn't get that."

laying the bag of treats on the hood of your car, you spread out a variety of hanma's colorful sweets. he wasn't a big candy fan, but on special occasions like tonight, he'd go all out.

"baby," he murmurs smugly, leaning towards you on the hood, cigarette in hand. “what if I don't share because there's too much for me and not enough for you?”

you roll your eyes. yet, you smirked as your gaze met his.

"what if I just take all the blankets and lie on the cold, grassy ass ground? will you join me or leave?" you pulled the cigarette from his grip and extinguished it.

"I'd leave, but you could ride with me." when his eyes glisten, you know the discussion has shifted, "it could be like those cliché horror movies when the characters are about to fuck but they di—”

"so you want us to fuck and die?" you went along with it, gently shoving him back.

"even if we did and there was a serial killer, you wouldn't die.” he slid down from his perch on the hood and made his way to the trunk. “wouldn’t let ‘cha.”

you opened your mouth to say something, but he spoke faster.

"now- before the movie starts, you need to make a decision, pretty. would you watch this movie with me, absolutely freezing outside?" he spun around and came to a halt in his tracks. "or would you rather be riding and—"

"we're not hooking up in the car. not where hundreds of people can have another show to see," you interrupt, as he pouts, dragging his hands across his face.

but, after a little more scolding, he gathered the blankets and made you and him comfortable on the top of the blue car hood.

the scent of oil and fresh flowers lingered in the air, the wind gently stroked your skin.

hanma’s arms tightly wrap you as you elevate your head to rest on his shoulder. despite the fact that the movie seemed to be fascinating, your boyfriend actually took home the prize.

his features seemed incredibly striking from this position, and the moonlight and vibrant colors of the movie just serve to highlight how attractive they are. has he always looked this way at night? when you were teens and climbed into each others windows? you lean in and kiss his jaw without giving it another thought, lips lingering longer than necessary down to the end of it.

maybe, just maybe, if you'd accepted his offer, you could've kissed it more.

he gives you a longing look from the corner of his eye, and you return his gaze.

he murmurs, pointing to his lips, "you missed a spot."

“I haven’t gotten any kisses,” you remarked.

"i'm afraid i won't be able to stop if i do so, darling." he moved his body so he was face to face with you, close enough to cup your face without restrictions.

"so don't." you murmured, your breath caressing his.

you close your eyes, and in less than a second, his lips are on yours. the mild taste of cigarettes leaves an imprint on your lips, giving as a reminder of past events. he presses his left hand against your left cheek, keeping your head up and emphasising that he will not and cannot let you go.

some people called him soft, but he didn't care. you'd barged your way into his heart and had no intention of leaving.

and best of all?

he was more than okay with that.

[batsarebetterthanpeople]

blorbo question: what kinds of drugs do you think ed would be into? which ones would help him and which ones would make him feel worse?

Ok so I project onto Ed so this might be colored by my own drug experiences, but I'll do my best. I'll tell you generally what I think he'd like and the I'll put up a cut and go through all the ones I've done and tell you how I think Ed would be on them.

General before I get into specifics. Canonically he uses stimulants during the Kraken era and weed socially. However I do kinda feel like Rhino Horn is not his favorite drug just the most manageable way to get a hit of endorphins while also being able to oversee raids so he can break Ned Lowe's record. I am biased because I'm a psychedelic enjoyer, but Ed's a pretty confident guy who doesn't really second guess himself until after he acts (lbr the man did not second guess fucking knife parade for like multiple years and he doesn't apologize). Of course he also hates himself but I don't think that makes him not confident, which being confident and not immediately second guessing yourself is a great personality for producing good hallucinogenic experiences. Hallucinogens are usually great if you're not afraid of them. And I also think that Ed wants to be taken out of his life for a little bit and hallucinogens are conducive to that. I think he and Jack probably did a bit of P&P back in the day and I think ecstasy was probably their favorite because Jack is a tweaker and Ed is a psychedelics guy. Now that he and Stede are together he's doing poppers.

Onto specifics. What makes him better, what makes him worse

Ok here's the drugs I have experience with: Meth, Mushrooms, Weed, Coke, LSD, GHB, and DMT. So I'll just give you those.

Let's start with coke and weed because we have canon evidence for those.

Cocaine Rhino Horn- ok so for me personally coke kinda ain't shit. It's the best stimulant by far (ecstasy is a stimulant/hallucinogen so I'm not counting it because it's also something else) but it's still just sort of me but faster. I've said many a time that Coke is my ADHD meds but horny and Meth is like my ADHD meds but evil. I can drive on the shit literally better than I drive sober because I am less distracted. And before someone accuses me of micro dosing I can pack the shit away, I do twice as much as whoever I'm with and get half as high, every ounce of coke ive ever done was waisted on me. I have fun on it it's not a bad feeling but I it's like if coffee was poppers rather than a real drug. I think Ed probably has a similar experience here with being relatively coherent because we see him doing raids while high on the stuff. I think coke is giving him that little euphoria bump he needs to be passively suicidal instead of actively suicidal and not much else. That said once I did like three lines and then went to the wrong bus station subsequently missing my bus (I ordered my Uber before doing the coke so it was not the coke's fault) and I had a tantrum but I did not cry or start doom spiraling over the 200$ I was forced to pay, so I'm gonna go with a tentative better? For how coke makes Ed.

Weed- Ed also displays a high tolerance here, given that he shares a blunt with Mary and then he's sober in the next scene. That being said I think if he had more than half a blunt he would get emotional very quickly. If he's in a good mood he gets clingy and everyone around him is his favorite person and if he's in a bad mood he starts crying. Weed would make him worse and I know this about him

Meth- Tina is my enemy I hate her. They told me it was highly addictive and would make you crazy and then it just gave me insomnia and a weird bowl movement. Did you know while on meth you don't get hungry but you do get hangry? You can't sleep you can't eat but your body doesn't stop needing to eat and sleep. I've done meth exactly twice and once was on accident (the idiot I smoked shrooms with didn't clean his fucking pipe and I did not realize I had imbibed methamphetamine until about 24 hours later when I had been trying and failing to sleep for roughly 10 hours). Anyway I think given how hangry Ed gets meth would make him worse in every conceivable way. Meth also makes me more focused so I think he would invent some diabolical scheme and it would be a genuinely good one and then he would also lose his fucking mind and pulverize the next thing to surprise him after not eating for 18 hours (imagine the snake scene from 1x07 but on... Well on meth I guess) and cry because he is so so tired.

GHB- for those of you not in the know this is a depressant but not an opioid that is sometimes used as a daterape drug because it's got an incredibly dangerous interaction with alcohol but is mostly manageable on its own. It's not entirely dissimilar to high doses of alcohol in its high ill be honest, but maybe I just haven't had enough depressants to be able to tease apart their distinct personalities. I enjoyed this one but I think I'm gonna let my experience diverge from Ed's a little bit here. I don't think he would be a fan. He might be alright with it if he and Stede were doing it together as a sexual aid, but it tastes really bad, like putting bitterant directly into your mouth levels of bad, and we know Ed is a sweet tooth. The poor old man would also get tired on it a lot quicker than I did, and I remember laying there like I was asleep with a pleasant buzz in my brain and not really wanting to get up for quite a bit of it.

DMT- So dmt isn't good unless you're doing a near death experience type breakthrough trip otherwise you see some fun colors for 20 minutes and then it's over. I cannot speak to the breakthrough trip because I did it with a Grindr date and I did not want to be at his mercy for a half an hour while I was experiencing The Tunnel. However from what I've heard of the breakthrough trip, that shit is a mental game. You don't want to do that third rip but you've gotta. Ed loves to win at games and he's got some mental fortitude so I think he would flex how much he likes DMT. It would make him WORSE

LSD- I love her everyone loves her Lucy is my best friend. She's a bit... Lovecraftian but certainly not in a bad way. I think acid would really depend where Ed was at mentally. Like Ed when Stede is around would have a good time taking to the universe. I think that talking to the universe during the Kraken era could go really well or really really horrendously. On the one hand I wonder if ego death might actually be good for him? Like feeling like you're one with everything and like you aren't real could be either freeing for a guy who hates himself that much or it could end up making him hate everything because his self hatred could get as expensive as his dissolving ego. I think immediately pre Stede however acid would not be the best idea this is a vibe I'm getting. Acid has the potential to go either way on the better worse question.

Mushrooms- mushrooms have always been really nice to me but I need to be up and doing something while I'm on them. Totally a club drug for me. I know that's an insane thing to say but I think my brain chemistry may be fucked up. Anyway this does not make Ed better or worse but it does make him look at stuff and giggle which is objectively cute.

[vronism]

For the couple questions, for Jesse and Johnny: 6, 11, 15, 25, and/or 30? Any or all of those that you'd like to answer. <3

Nora coming through as always dshsdhjdshj ily

6. Do they have pet names for each other? Do they like them?

Funnily enough, I don't think any of them is big on pet names, to be honest, especially not Jess, but what they are is calling each other names but (affectionate) you know? Ie. "You absolute fucking buffoon (affectionate)"

11. What good do they bring out in each other?

I'm gonna preface this by saying they are both rather... not great people who both had rather similar struggles from the get-go, even without digging in each other's minds and seeing their respective memories. Just had different ways to deal with, and reasons for being terrible, I guess. I guess what Johnny sort of learned, was to settle down a little. His emotions do not instantly translate solely into blind rage anymore, he's a little calmer, I guess. When it comes to Jess, I'm afraid Johnny is not designed nor equipped to bring good in anyone, but, like... however cringy it sounds, she loves him, y'know, and I guess his sole presence is somehow comforting to her, and drives away a lot of bad habits he had before.

15. What habits or characteristics have they picked up from each other?

Well smoking's the most obvious one, even though Jess used to smoke from time to time, then tried to stop, she was roped in back again by johnny, and from "smoking from time to time" she landed in more or less a chainsmoking territory.

25. Who said "I love you" first?

Johnny, but it wasn't exactly a breakthrough information, they both knew, Jess just needed to be informed about it very clearly.

30. Where is their relationship the strongest?

They are the definition of just... doing laundry and taxes with each other, y'know. Like, they just... work? So I suppose, There's a lot of strength in this relationship overall, mostly because it has a strong basis of them both being able to tolerate each other, lol

[catsnuggler]

It's strange how I'm strong in some ways, but weak in others.

I generally avoid substances, and those I take, I take in controlled doses. I'm not an alcoholic, I have drinks on occasion - maybe 3 in a single night, at the very most, but usually only 1 or 2 drinks a night when I have drinks, which is maybe a few days out of an entire month. And these are light drinks, usually, like beer, or hard lemonade. I usually have food beforehand, too.

I used to be on Adderall. The highest dose, actually, eventually. I took it as prescribed, and no more. I decided to stop, partially because production was getting fucked, anyway, but also because it was keeping me up at night by raising my body temperature absurdly, making me sweat; yet I couldn't sleep if I didn't have a blanket, still can't, because my body wants some kind of comfort around it, something soft to make me feel "safe" enough to sleep. Adderall, as y'all might know, is chemically very similar to methamphetamine. In fact, anyone who's ever had meth can't take Adderall, because it drives them right back to addiction. So, the fact I just walked away from Adderall, no intervention, just out of my own free will, says I'm pretty resistant to substance abuse. Not totally, of course - there's surely something out there that would hook me if I took it, which is why I don't go out looking for anything to do - but I'm generally pretty resistant.

Despite what pot users say about it being non-addictive, it sometimes is. It's far from the worst drug - it's often pretty great - and it's certainly one of the least addictive. But it can be. No hate, just saying is all. I've had it less than 10 times in my life. Wouldn't mind using it occasionally, if I had or was getting into a job that wouldn't disqualify me if I had the occasional pot, but since so many do, I figure it's a risk I'd rather not take.

I've smoked before. Once. The only reason was that I was out drinking with someone close to me, and she had gotten plastered, and some guy started putting the moves on her. I asked if I could go out with them to smoke, even though I wasn't and am not a smoker, only because I wanted to keep my eyes on those two, and make sure she wasn't going to get swindled or anything by the guy. So, the cigarette was passed around, I took a puff, I passed it on, but after that night (where she wasn't messed with, but gosh was she sick from drinking too much), I never smoked a cigarette again. I didn't smoke even a single full cigarette that night, and I haven't put one in my lips since.

So. Substance-wise, I'm resilient. I say no, or I partake of a select few occasionally, and carefully.

That said, I often succumb to hopelessness, to anxiety, and to feeling like my very existence is "in the way" of others. I often get in my father's physical way in his house. Given he's fat (not hating, just stating), that isn't hard. He has a lot of struggles with his own body, and I feel for him, I really do - but when I happen to get in his way, he gets so fucking mad, you wouldn't even believe. He'll sometimes tell me I'm useless, ask what I'm good for - fuck, it's awful. I also feel I'm in the way on a societal level. I'm not rich, but I'm a white guy. I haven't had very much luck getting jobs, honestly, but I was afraid years ago, when I first started looking in 2018, that I might get a job because I'm a white guy, that I didn't immediately need, while some mother of color might need the income a lot more. I felt guilty when I briefly had a job in 2018, which stacked on top of my other job anxieties and frustrations. I still, even as I live with an unemployed father who depends on his inheritance, even as we would be homeless without that inheritance, even as we both need to get jobs ASAP so we won't be fucked when his inheritance runs out - I still fear that I might get a job that someone more disadvantaged than me needs more. That, even as a poor person who needs to secure some kind of income to maintain my existence, I would be maintaining injustice, by prioritizing the life of a white, able-bodied colonizer man (myself) over someone else. Sure, it's the colonial capitalists that are running things, I don't have power over the system as an individual, but... I dunno, I just feel like my very existence is in the way of others.

I also fear that I'll let my partner down. Their biological father, that scum of a human being, is a blue-eyed white with light brown hair. I'm a blue-eyed white man with light brown hair. Their maternal line has a long history of tragedy regarding how the men treated the women, as well as a history of being colonized - though by the Mexican government, incidentally, not the American government.

After every breakup, there's been some point, after being totally rejected, told we won't talk ever again, where I've hyperventilated to the point I nearly lost consciousness. That's also happened to me on at least one occasion when my father was saying something to me, I forget what it was, but it was something incredibly emotionally distressing to me, I think it was something alone the lines of him completely and utterly rejecting some group of people I care about, going on some tirade about them. Or maybe he was going directly after me and who I am. I don't know, I don't remember, I only remember that hewas only infuriated when I begged him to let me lay on the ground and stop yelling at me until I caught my breath, because I really was becoming lightheaded, starting to lose consciousness, yet he refused me, thought I was putting on an act, which was why he was so enraged by how lightheaded I was acting...because I was genuinely lightheaded.

There are so many things I don't know what to do anything about. At least I'm resistant to substance abuse, I guess.

[two-red-lungs]

Please give us just any, any of your Eric Draven headcanons, the people need to be fed 💜

Thank you for this ask ILY so muuuuuch, Eric Draven is my favorite person of all time, legitimately. I wish more people knew about him.

Eric Draven Headcanons:

He's cold. He's always mildly cold.

Not just cold to the touch, his skin icy, but shivering as well. He can never seem to get truly warm. It's a reminder of his state: the grave wants him back.

Eric walks silently. It's eerie: sometimes he seems to teleport across the room. He tends to startle people, when he doesn't make himself known.

His psychic contact is like, insanely strong. He can't touch anyone's skin without getting flashes of them, of their history. He usually sees their pain.

It's excruciating. He avoids it. Touching over fabric when he can.

Like it shows in the comics, cats have an uncanny affinity for him. All sorts will come up to him, winding around his boots, rubbing their heads on his leg.

It's pretty common for one or two alley strays to just... follow him as he walks. Like a funeral procession.

When he smiles, it breaks your fucking heart. There's just something in his eyes...

His vibe is very, how do I put this, ghostly? Off-putting? Most normal people feel mildly uncomfortable around him even if they don't know why.

He's kind. God, he's so kind. Too kind for his own good. He helps on impulse, and them he disappears into the shadows before people even really register he's there.

Eric loves kids. He loved them in life, and loves them in death. The man would have been a phenomenal father: he sort of was, to Sarah. He's excellent at talking to children.

Funnily enough, kids are always less afraid of him than adults.

He's always smoking. He's dead, now. What harm can it do? It helps him think. But if he sees you with one between your lips, he'll gently pluck it from your mouth and tell you to not make your precious time shorter than it already is.

In life, he was the singer and guitarist for the Hangman's Joke, but he was also a bouncer. Dude's got muscles. It brought in the money he and Shelly needed to make rent.

Speaking of Shelly. Eric is... was... the most romantic man on earth. His buddies would rib him over it, call him 'whipped', but that never stopped him from buying big bouquets of roses, or getting in good with a chef to secure a table at a fancy restaurant.

He has never experienced wealth. He was born in inner-city Detroit and raised by the streets and musical subculture. He is quite used to living check-to-check.

Despite the care he puts towards others, he's slapdash with himself. What's that, he ripped his shirt? Whatever. He's got some electrical tape: he slaps it on. Good enough.

He and the crow talk to each other mentally. The crow has a hoarse, grating, irritating voice: it cajols and demands, driving him forward. It calls him 'boy'. "Look boy!" This and "Hurry boy!" That.

His hands are icy and calloused and dry. They can be incredibly gentle. They can be incredibly violent.

Eric has two parts: the Crow, manic and dark, for killing. And Eric, soft-spoken and shivering, when he allows himself a moment of reprieve.

He is very, very tired. He sits up on the gargoyle overlooking a dark Detroit, rain slicking down his hair and wetting his dull leathers, and he thinks about much he wishes he could sleep.

He is lonely. God, Eric is so lonely. Sometimes it feels like a hole punched through his chest: he caves, he doubles over, the agony endless and screaming and hungry.

That hole never closes. He just has to keep walking.

I think Eric often falls victim to nostalgia. Standing outside in the rain, looking in the window to the diner he used to go to after gigs. Watching children run around outside the middle school Sarah attends. Trailing his hands across the dusty floor of his loft.

TLDR: If you meet him, your skin gets goosebumps. If his appearance doesn't scare you, his smile will haunt you forever. But still, he's so... soft. Kind. He'll tell you something poignant that will stick with you for the rest of your life, and then you blink and he's gone.

Like he never really existed in the first place.

[necros-writing-stuff]

Maintaining an orphanage was a difficult, time consuming job. It didn't help Bailey that he also ran an underground crime ring. It left him with little to no time for himself, much less time to deal with repair personnel. He usually left it to one of the older orphans or an associate to handle trivial tasks like that. He was busy and time was money. Avarice was his only true companion in life and he would sacrifice nothing for it. He didn't need anyone or anything else. Couldn't trust them either. Money opened doors for you, and could lock others out. Everything he did, he did for profit. It left him with a long list of enemies. So many that he slept with a gun under his pillow, if he slept at all. Working the way he did, it wasn't unusual for him to work late into the night, and by the time he finished, find that it was morning and time to wake the lazy orphans for school.

So when he was halfway through some administrative work and his computer shit the bed, he was less than pleased. The usual hum of his ancient computer had been silenced. For a moment or two, he sat there, staring at his own reflection in the now black screen. They say you could feel an icy wind blow through the orphanage at that moment. That he had popped a blood vessel and the sound rang louder than any alarm. Like the gates of hell had opened and the demon that inhabited Bailey's mortal body screamed for blood. Yet he sat quietly at his desk. The orphans were right to be afraid, because he had just lost four hours of work, and that was a lot of money.

As Bailey reached for another cigarette and his lighter, he contemplated his options. Buying a new computer meant losing everything he had on his current one, and spending a shit ton of money, so that was right out. A long drag filled his lungs, smoke billowing from his lips like a dragon ready to breathe fire. Calmly, Bailey pulled a burner phone from his drawer and began calling some people. He needed his computer fixed, and fast. A few of his charges were savvy enough to get things done free of charge, but he couldn't trust them not to fuck with anything. He could hire someone to fix it, but not only could he not trust them, he'd have to pay them. He needed someone who didn't know him. Someone he wouldn't have to pay. Who did he know that had access to a large selection of potential computer experts? One name in particular came to mind.

Cigarette snuffed out like the hopes of the orphans he cared for, Bailey pulled on his coat and made his way out the door. The drive to the school was an uneventful one. As uneventful as things could be in rapechester anyway. It had been a while since he last needed to actually go to the school. He didn't care what the slimy bastard, Leighton, did to the orphans. Unless it lowered their inherent value that is. Fucker took one of an orphan's virginities once. Once. He learned real quick what he was and wasn't allowed to do to them. Really, one would think he wouldn't have risked anything with how Bailey bullied Leighton in their school years. Little Toad never could help himself though. Always had to stick his nose, and his camera, where it didn't belong.

But you don't get ahead in life without breaking a few legs, and Bailey missed breaking Leighton's. The thought filled him with a pleasant, nostalgic feeling. Pulling up next to the school, Bailey parked his car and took in the sight of the school. It looked the same as ever. Dreadful. The security was just as bad. Bailey just walked right into the building. No one watching the unlocked gates, no security cameras and no one monitoring the halls. This place was a disaster waiting to happen. It better not be one of his charges that gets killed. Feigning concern for them made him want to vomit. The caring and loving caretaker act was a pain to keep up, even if he was a fantastic actor.

The headmaster's office was in the same place it had been when he attended the school all those years ago. Leighton was so predictable it hurt. Door unlocked and left open, Bailey welcomed himself into the empty office space. Clean and deceptively professional, it was almost exactly the same from their school days. Disgusting. The desk was neat and orderly, a computer sitting on top. It was old, but newer than his, making it look alien by comparison. A shitty desk chair sat unoccupied just behind the sad excuse for a desk. Bailey welcomed himself to sit down and began digging through Leighton's things. What had the fucker been up to? A drawer full of unhappy, undressed students answered that one right away. More than one of said students lived under his care. Leighton never asked to take photos. Bastard owed him money.

In front of the computer monitor sat a letter from a nearby university. That wasn't anything special, Leighton was a headmaster, he probably had to write recommendations to schools. With all the head injuries he'd inflicted, it would make sense he had trouble remembering addresses. What interested Bailey was the name on the letter. It looked suspiciously like it was addressed to the parent(s)/guardian(s) of someone. The paper had been open and left skewed, covering the name. Leighton was currently in custody of a college aged individual? How unfortunate for that poor son of a bitch. And what's this? An engineer? With a minor in computer science? Well, wasn't that lucky? They had a full ride to boot, there had to be something they could do for him. Choked, frightened stuttering caught Bailey's attention and alerted him to Leighton's presence. A shit eating grin spread across the caretaker's face. He pushed himself back, so he could kick his feet up on the desk.

"Afternoon, Toad." Leighton was pale, almost ghost white seeing Bailey. Probably having flashbacks to one of the countless horrible things he'd done to him. Stripped him nude, then tied him to the gate. Beat him senseless and broke all his bones at least once. It wasn't that bad. At least he hadn't been an orphan. How pathetic. Then the headmaster's eyes locked on the paper in his tattooed hands.

"Looks like you got a prodigy on your hands, slime ball." The letter was set down in favor of picking up a pencil and writing something down. He didn't need to look at Leighton to know he was on the verge of tears. That sniffling noise was music to his sadistic ears. Like a song you forgot the name to, but heard once again.

"You ought to send them over to the orphanage along with the rest of my charges today. I'm having a few technical issues that could use fixing." Setting the pencil down, Bailey stood and kicked the chair away from himself. It hit the wall with a bang, making Leighton flinch. He stalked towards the trembling man.

"M- M- My child?" The coward's voice wavered, he was sweating bullets now. Bailey clapped Leighton on the shoulder, while seemingly innocuous and maybe even friendly, it was far from it. He'd hit him hard enough to bruise, and picked a spot he'd broken a few times in the past.

"That's right. I'd better find them in my office, or your little hobby is going to slip out to some parents." Leighton nearly fell over, holding himself up against the wall as Bailey walked out. The toad was muttering something and covered his mouth in distress. Maybe he felt sick. He should, because he was. Leighton was a sick motherfucker. He shuffled over to his desk chair and collapsed in it. Next to his child's acceptance letter was a bill for eighty-thousand pounds for taking pictures of the orphans.

Mission accomplished, Bailey went back about his day. He couldn't let a minor road block get in the way of the rest of his obligations. He had manual back ups he could work off of for the time being. Time always seemed to fly by when he was buried neck deep in work. Whether that was collecting debts, meeting and screening clients, or dealing with some unruly individuals that thought he was joking when he said he'd kill them if they damaged the merchandise beyond repair. Some people never learned. It wasn't Bailey's job to teach grown ass adults that a man carrying a weapon and saying he'll kill you, may actually kill you. So they had to be taken care of permanently, like crushing a bug under his shoe. It felt like he'd only just gotten started again when the telltale sound of orphans returning let him know it was late afternoon. He groaned and rubbed his eyes. He had guests he was expecting.

The day was finally at an end. Classes were over, and you didn't have to worry about anyone picking on you anymore. For the most part anyway. Most of the school hated you because your father was the headmaster. They avoided you like the plague and whispered about you being… Abused at home. You agreed he could be strange sometimes, and insisted on sheltering you away from your peers, but he wasn't a monster like your classmates made him out to be. He was an attentive, if overbearing parent that put your safety and education first. You'd seen what some of the students did to each other in the halls. Frankly, that Whitney kid scared you. A lot. So you didn't mind your dad bringing you to and from school. It was rare that he would let you go home alone, which meant it was rare you left with the other kids, but today he ushered you out like his life depended on it. He had told you that an acquaintance of his needed help with his computer, so he was dropping you off to help him out.

That was fine. You liked getting out of the house every now and then. You'd probably just have to unplug something and plug it back in. If this friend of his was anything like your dad, he was probably technologically illiterate. You'd expected to maybe see that businessman your dad hung out with, the one that eyed you like an object he was appraising, but instead you were brought to the orphanage. Your first thought was that he was abandoning you, but your dad got out and walked you in and to the caretaker's office. Sitting behind a heavy looking, mahogany desk, was one of the scariest people you'd ever seen. He looked like he walked right out of a gangster movie. Scars, tattoos and a cigarette hanging from his lip, everything! How did your dad know this man?

"I appreciate the punctuality." The dark haired man addressed you, not your father. It was like your dad didn't even exist to him. He stood and rounded his desk to lean on it with his arms crossed. He looked up and down. Not in a sexual way, but like he was sizing you up for a fight. You fought the instinct to shrink in on yourself when the man approached you and offered a tattooed hand.

"My name is Bailey, I'm the caretaker here." Sheepishly, you shook his much larger hand. Just from that, you could tell he was terrifyingly strong. It made your heart skip a beat, your face flushing hot. You struggled to maintain eye contact, your voice shook when you introduced yourself. Your father was saying something, but you weren't really listening. Eyes trained on Bailey, you watched him take another drag of his cigarette. The way his lips wrapped around the filter, how his chest expanded and the way the roll looked balanced between his fingers. You jumped when your father put his hand on your shoulder.

"Isn't that right?" He asked you and you felt your face get redder. You hadn't paid any attention to what he was saying.

"I- I, uh, wh- what?" You winced when Bailey barked out a laugh, one that made his shoulders shake. Confused and embarressed, you looked between your dad and the caretaker. Your father looked terrified. He fidgeted in place and cleared his throat, but was cut off by Bailey waving his hand dismissively.

"Forget it. Thanks for the laugh, kid." Bailey said, smoke spilling from his lips.

"Get going, Leighton." Bailey's tone went from casual, to harsh in an instant. Like your dad wasn't a person to him, but an animal. Your father began to stutter out excuses while the caretaker sat back down in his chair and gestured for you to come closer with his head. Leighton desperately didn't want to leave you alone with Bailey. You weren't sure what the warm feeling building inside you was, but it compelled you to obey the caretaker and leave your father's side. With you standing next to Bailey, Leighton felt his world shatter. His only child was fully at the mercy of his childhood bully. Crushed and defeated, he slowly showed himself out. Once the office door clicked shut, Bailey turned to you.

"I have a lot of important, confidential information that I need to recover from this." Bailey pointed to his ancient computer and monitor. It looked like it was ripped from a nineties movie. A dull gray that yellowed from time and his chain smoking. Something that old was bound to fail, and you were amazed it lasted as long as it did. You started with some basic troubleshooting to see what might be the issue. You narrated what you did, as you did it, and explained to Bailey what it is you were looking for. Most of it was nonsensical gibberish to him, but you were pretty cute and had a nice voice, so he let you keep talking. He watched you work and focused more on you, than your work. Your mother must have had an affair. There was no way you were related to Leighton. Sure, you stumbled over your words and struggled to meet his eye, but you weren't pissing yourself. You were acting more like you had a crush than you were afraid.

Taking another drag, he sat back and let his eyes roam over your figure. He started making small talk, wanting to keep the mood light and you comfortable while you worked. Things like hobbies, goals and interests. Easy things like that. He even shared some of the more embarrassing stories about your father being bullied. By other people of course, he wasn't stupid but his remanising made you laugh at your father's failings as a human. Really, he enjoyed your company more than he thought he would. So much so, that when you finally managed to get the fossil of a computer up and running again, Bailey invited you to come back.

"I can teach you some things." He offered, and ever the curious one, you were happy to accept his vague invitation. You never really told your father you were visiting Bailey, especially when you started fucking him. At first, it was because you didn't know how to tell your dad. Then you decided you didn't want him to know. He wouldn't let you see him anymore. Spending more time there, and less at home, he was getting suspicious. You told him you were going to the library, or staying at a friend's house to work on a project. Which wasn't entirely untrue? You were working for sure.

Focusing was becoming increasingly difficult. Tears blurred your vision, rendering your homework illegible. It felt like you'd been at this for hours, and you didn't know how much more you could take. Even as you squirmed, Bailey held you firmly in place against his lap with one arm. His other hand was busy in your soaked panties, teasing your sex. His thick fingers slid from your clit to prod at you needy hole, only to slither back to your abused bundle of nerves. A high pitched keed left your throat.

"Hush, you're almost done. You can solve it." Bailey brushed his lips against the shell of your ear before biting your earlobe. You moaned softly as the pain mixed with pleasure. Maths had never been this difficult for you before. It was simple accounting too. If Bailey wasn't insistent on teasing you, you'd be finished already. You squeezed your eyes shut to clear away your frustrated tears, letting them glide down your cheeks. Okay, so if X is--

Bailey licked a path up your throat, collecting your tears and sucking a dark hickey high on your neck. It was going to be hard to hide that one from your dad, and even harder to explain. As you desperately tried to refocus on your homework, Bailey began grinding his erection against your plump bottom. Your whimpering went ignored. He was going to play with your body until you finished the work in front of you. It really took everything you had to get the other seven problems finished. Here you were on the last one. So tantalisingly close to being finished and having Bailey fuck you raw till you were dripping cum and couldn't walk.

"You're doing so well," Bailey spoke in a hushed tone, making you shiver. With a shaking hand, you wrote down the answer. When you set down your pencil, Bailey leaned over to check your work, pressing his hard on more firmly against you. Of course it couldn't just be any answer. You needed to get it right. You sobbed in relief when he hummed approvingly and shoved you over his desk. A pocket knife made quick work of your panties. As Bailey unbuckled his belt and pulled down his fly, you bunched your skirt up around your waist, giving him a spectacular view of your ass and drooling quim. Pressing yourself further into his desk, you pushed yourself up on your toes to better present yourself to him. Hands firmly on your hips, Bailey might have laughed if he wasn't as needy as you were.

He gave no warning and no time for reprieve. With one harsh thrust, Bailey was balls deep inside you. He set a rough, quick pace from the start. His office filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, with the wet squelching of your slick being fucked out of you and your own whorish moans drowning out Bailey's grunting and harsh breathing. Focused entirely on getting off, he didn't care that you drooled on or scratched the shit out of his desk. He needed a new one anyway. This one shook too much when he fucked you on it and made too much noise. Of course, he could always start taking you home and having you in his own bed, but this was more convenient. Even less convenient but incredibly appealing was the thought of ruining your tight little pussy all over your home. Maybe he'd time things so that your father would get home to find him emptying his balls into you, right in his bed. Bailey had Leighton's sweet, little virgin kid now as his own personal cocksleve. A little whore that wanted nothing more than to be bent over and fucked stupid. He had corrupted, tainted and deflowered you and you loved every second of it.

It was funny to think you'd been hesitant when Bailey first started to take things further with you. Touching became caressing, became kissing, and that ultimately became him using you like a flesh light. He'd been your first and you couldn't imagine ever wanting anyone else. His cock was enormous, stretching you more than you thought possible. Every ridge and vein along the shaft felt glorious rubbing against your tight, gummy walls. The first time was unspeakably painful, and not entirely consensual, but he had you crying his name in ecstasy by the end of it. He didn't need to aim for your sweet spot. It was like he was made to fuck you, or you were made to be fucked by him. Either way, each time he bottomed out he would hit that spot that made you see stars. Again and again he struck it till your eyes were rolling back in your head.

Legs shaking, his name on your lips like a prayer and Bailey knew you were close. That was fine, he was too. He may have taken the teasing too far and left you both more worked up than intended. Which again, was fine. He was learning your body like one would learn an instrument, and he planned on getting you to the point you'd do anything for him. You were well on your way there already. Bailey leaned over you, pinning your body to the desk with his. One of his hands released your hips to wrap around your throat. He squeezed enough to make you gasp, to give him more control, but not enough to threaten your consciousness.

"Come on-- Fuck! That's it. Cum on my cock." Bailey let go of your hips entirely to bring his hand down hard against your ass. The sharp, sudden pain was enough to push you over the edge. You cried out loudly as you came. Bailey bit hard into your shoulder, drawing blood, so as to hide his pleasured groan. The tight convulsing of your inner walls had done him in and it wasn't long before his thrusts became sloppier, less coordinated. Just as feeling awareness returned to you, you felt him bury himself as far inside you as he could, the hot flood of Bailey's finish spilling inside your abused cunt.

The pair of you stayed like that for a while longer, taking the time to catch your breath and revel in the afterglow. You had been so afraid the first time he came inside you. Thankfully, Bailey was the kind of person who thought ahead. He told you he'd gotten a vasectomy when he was eighteen. About your age. It took a huge weight off your shoulders to know you wouldn't have to worry about anything like that. You really liked Bailey, maybe too much. He was the same age as your father, and if the rumors you heard from the orphans under his care were true; he was sick and evil beyond words. He was involved in some dark and dangerous shit, and maybe you weren't quite as well adjusted as you thought you were, because that just turned you on more. While more attached to your lover than he was to you, that didn't mean he wouldn't keep you. You belonged to Bailey now, and he wasn't going to let you go. Not when he knew he could use you to hurt Leighton for the rest of his sick, little toad life. Would he kill himself if Bailey got you pregnant? He might have to get his vasectomy reversed and find out.

A pretty little thing like you would make for a good trophy spouse, he could kill two birds with one stone there. Take Leighton's kid and flaunt you in front of that status chasing prick, Avery? Too tempting to not go for. You didn't need to go to university. You were already a good cum dump, he might as well put a ring on it. It helped that you were smart and knew your place already. Bailey didn't have to waste time in training you. Hell, maybe at some point he could probably trust you enough to let you manage the orphanage and take on some of his workload. If nothing else, you could handle his technical issues. Free of charge, of course.

(- anon 🚩 Bailey taking his bullying of Leighton to a whole new level is funny to me.)

Once more we bully Leighton. As he fucking deserves.

Yet another great piece from 🚩 anon! Everyone come read!

[playinonaloop]

Chapter 4: Save us

Warning throughout the series: (mentions of) smut, violence, drugs, alcohol, guns, maffia stuff, ya know!

Story masterlist

A warm wind blew onto Daniels ‘s face as he ran out into the garden. He blew out air through his nose while he crouched down. To torture you was one thing, but to kill you? Daniel knew that only would bring death and destruction to his family. His body became hot as the world started to spin around him. Daniel’s heart started to race, blood pounding in his ears. He sat down and tried to grab the small stones of the gravel path beneath him.

Thoughts were spinning through his head; his mother had really gone mad. She was really planning to kill you, for something as simple as money. Daniel knew that there was more to it than just money. He knew his family was tied up into something bigger than he could ever imagine. Why did you get left behind? Was this a way to get underneath the skin of his parents? Why didn’t they leave Joey? Were you something your family thought of as less, just as his family did?

Everybody in the Ricciardo family knew that his sister, Michelle, was going to be the next one to lead the family. Her being older, and perhaps more twisted, aided to that. She fitted right into the way his family portrayed themselves. Daniel didn’t use drugs like they did, he didn’t drink alcohol. He didn’t enjoy torturing like they did. In every aspect he was different than them. Joe, his dad, was in many ways like him but, because he married Grace, he changed to her liking. And with that, Joe didn’t hold her back in the things she did.

Daniels ‘s breath slowed down again as he got a grip of the stones beneath him. He threw them away from him as he took deep breaths to calm down again. After a short moment, he stood up and turned around to take a look at the house. His brown eyes scanned the house, taking it in. The big windows, balconies with lounge sets on them. A curtain that blew out of a window. Daniel walked back a bit to see the enormous roof with some small towers on top of it. He knew that it wasn’t normal to live in such a mansion. With that thought on his mind, he walked back inside.

--

Soft whimpers left your mouth as the pain became unbearable. The sun was now high up in the sky which meant that Daniels ‘s visit had been a few hours ago. You hadn’t had food or something to drink in a while now, in combination with being tortured it made you feel awful. The smell of dried blood was starting to make your head spin. As you looked down you saw that your jeans were drenched in blood. This made you close your eyes shortly; you knew you had lost a lot of blood.

When you opened your eyes, you knew you had slipped out of consciousness for a bit. The sun was starting to set. It marked the end of day four, making it almost five days since you saw your family. God, you hated this situation. A frustrated groan left your mouth as you thought about the last moments before you went on this stupid mission. Eating breakfast with your parents and Joey, giving your dog Katy a last cuddle before leaving. Tears started to well up in your eyes. You knew that you were going to die here if your family didn’t show up tomorrow. As a family you had mutually decided that, if there wasn’t an option to save one of them within the first five days of being kidnapped or left behind, you didn’t get saved. It took too much risk to come and save someone who might actually be dead due to starvation, torture or even murder. Yes, it was a very hard choice to accept. But it had to be done, to save the family.

The door behind you opened. It made you sit up, hoping someone came to bring you something to eat and drink. You realized that it wasn't a food delivery by the way the person moved through the room. Another set of footsteps joined.

"We're giving you another chance to 'fess up"

Michelle her voice cut through the air, a shiver running up your spine as Grace walked towards the windows. You quickly saw the gun she was carrying. It made you realize this could end in two different ways. You could either tell them or die. A smile played your mouth as another idea popped up in your mind.

"Okay"

"Okay?"

It made Michelle walk towards you, Grace turned around with a frown on her face.

"Yeah, I'm dying either way"

Grace scoffed and smiled. She let go of the gun.

"Clever girl..."

You told them this big story, how your parents decided they would legalize weed as they grew it on the farm back north of Queensland. To what degree they went to flood the now legal market. How they profited of it, making them become wealthier than they had ever been. You told them in detail where the farm was, Michelle left the room to send an investigator up there. Grace just stared at you. In dismay.

“I can’t believe you would betray your family like that.”

“Well, they left me here to die. Didn’t they?”

Hatred fueled your eyes, and they believed your story.

“I’ll make sure they get your regards”

Grace left. You took a deep breath in, shaking your fear out of you. The farm you talked about was an empty shell. Your family didn’t use it, as it used to be an old family home. It was completely empty. A giggle left your mouth, it was all a lie. The Ricciardo’s weren’t going to win in any way. You were going to die anyway, now or in 80 years.

You looked out of the window, staring into the abyss as a few hours passed by. It turned completely dark outside. The door behind you opened but you were too tired to respond.

It was Daniel that sat in front of you. A knife in his hands. You knew it was time. A tear slipped out of your eye, making you nudge your shoulder to your cheek. He didn't look at you.

"So ironic that you are the one to..." You scoffed softly.

Daniel looked up at you. Your eyes met and it was electrifying. Now that he was sitting here in front of you, you had time to take him in. Thinking that he would be the last thing you would see because you weren't sure if there was anything like an afterlife, your eyes slid over his head. You could see how messy his curls were, almost identical to how they were this morning. A number of curls had slumped to the side, as if they were too heavy to hold. You would always remember his sun-tanned head, that's how he used to look. The wrinkles around his eyes that no doubt came from laughing all the time. The beard that made him look older than he was. You looked further down. A muscular body, dressed in a simple black t-shirt and shorts. Daniel didn't wear socks, also something he never did. You now saw the rose on his hand, you recognized it from somewhere.

"How long do you have that rose?"

"I don't know, since 2018 I think, why?"

"No, it's nothing, thought I recognized it"

"Oh"

The silence came back, and it became unbearable.

"If you aren't going to kill me, just do it"

He stood up, playing with the knife. Daniel looked back and forth between you and the door. It made you want to cry, because he made your ending so much longer than it needed to be. That also made you angry. You could feel death lingering over you, his hands were playing with the knife as if it was a lego block, something as innocent as that.

“Can’t you see how fucked up this is?”

“Well how am I supposed to go on then?!” You looked up at him, despair in your eyes. This was the moment that would break or make your or his family.

Drawing blood from his hands as he twists the knife in his hands and looked away at the closed door.

You were starting to get annoyed with him. He was prolonging your life for what?

"Daniel, look at me damn it!"

He finally looked at you. Really looked at you. His eyes weren't blank anymore. Instead, you saw something you didn't recognize.

"I remember swimming with you and your brother, you know. Almost every summer behind the cliffs where we used to ride to from your house."

You raised an eyebrow as he started talking about something from the past. He continued.

"I remember playing hide and seek while our parents had meetings together. I recall sitting with you on the swing."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"A few years ago, I had the most wonderful night. It was a night out with friends. After a few drinks I decided to get on the dance floor. The club played the greatest hits but also a few from the past. While dancing, I saw the prettiest girl. High heels, a sleeveless dress, just up to my liking. Long legs, long hair and smelled like freshly cut watermelon with a hint of smoke but it didn't overwhelm me. "

You knew where this was going. Daniel was now face to face with you, close. Now you recognized the smell, sweet like a candy shop but also the saltiness from the sea.

"We danced for quite a bit, my hands roaming her body freely. Kissing her neck. She grabbed my hand, where I had a rose. A rose just like this one."

He shows you his hand. Not too close to your face to make sure he didn't cut you with the knife he held.

"It was a fake tattoo at the time, you know, some a temporary tattoo that you stick on with a wet cloth."

Daniel smiled as he bent down.

"My friend whispered to me that I was dancing with the devil."

A chuckle left his mouth. He sat on the floor in front of you.

"I was dancing with you, he had seen your face and made me leave. Again I was disturbed in being who I wanted to be. I wanted to be carefree, to live without the responsibility of being a member of the fucking maffia!"

His hand drove the knife into the wooden floor. It cracked. You tried to shuffle your chair backwards, afraid he would drive the knife in your leg next. Daniel looked up at you.

"My parents do not find me important enough to take me with them in most of the family meetings. They take Michelle. But in the last few days I've realized something. It's okay that they don't. Because I do not want to be like them."

Daniel pulled the knife out of the floor.

"I. Want. Out!"

He spoke through gritted teeth, moving the knife towards your leg.

"So, this is the plan. I will act like I killed you but obviously will not kill you. Then I will wrap the blanket, that's laying by the door, around you and I will carry you to the car. I'll go back inside to tell my parents that I am going to dispose of your body. I'll show them a picture of you in the blanket. In my car I have two fake passports, because we need to talk."

Daniel cut all the ropes around your feet, body and wrists. You were speechless to say the least. He walked to get the blanket and grabbed another bottle of something.

"Can you lay on top of it, I've got some fake blood I will put on your chest and onto the knife and then some on the blanket so it will be realistic."

You just looked at him, rubbing your wrists. The wounds on your stomach hurt.

"Why are you saving me?"

"Because, I reckon, you want out too. Now lay down, we don't have much time"

Daniel put a hand on your shoulder and softly pushed you towards the blanket. You sat and laid down carefully. He put some fake blood on your chest and on the knife. A little pool of blood was quickly created, but it was mixed with your own. Some of the cuts on your stomach opened, making you groan.

"Okay, okay, eyes closed; just a second."

He took the photo and put it in his back pocket.

"So just lay there for a minute. I've got some medical stuff to help you with the.. duh.."

Daniel looked visibly distressed.

"You don't have to talk about it"

Your voice was soft, making him look at you instead of the cuts. He grabbed Betadine and some bandages.

"It might hurt"

"Just do it, the proces of making them hurt even worse"

He looked hurt at the way you snapped at him.

"Sorry"

"No, it's okay"

Daniel gave you his hand before he put the Betadine on. You squeezed it hard, making you clench your jaws as he cleaned it a bit. He then bandaged it.

"I'm now going to wrap you up and carry you to the car"

Before you knew you were in the trunk of the car. It was dark, cold and to be quite frank; scary. You laid there for a bit, refueling yourself with small bites of the sandwich Daniel made and drinking a bit of water. The car started to drive away, making you grip the flooring of the trunk to hold on. You rest your head against the bag that laid in the trunk too. After a while, you slipped into a nap.

"Hey, you still with me?"

You opened your eyes and met Daniel who was very close to your face. It made you shuffle backwards. "Sorry, I'm just glad you're awake. Shall I help you get out?" "Yes, uh, please." Daniel grabbed your hands and helped you up. He briefly shielded your head as you came up and nearly hit the edge of the trunk. "I brought you some clothes to put on, because what you're wearing now can't be called clothes anymore." He handed you a bag and then walked away to the lookout point where we were parked. You looked around briefly before opening the bag. The bag was full of clothes, short-sleeved shirts, long-sleeved shirts, sweaters, jeans, sweatpants. You name it or it was in there. The cold had now crept into your bones, so you opted for layers. A short-sleeved shirt with a sweater over it. Jeans with a sweater over it. Daniel had even thought of clean underwear.

"You can turn around now, I'm dressed."

Daniel turned back to you and took you in.

His face showed signs of complete horror. "I'm so sorry." A tear rolled down his cheek. He collapsed, causing you to walk right up to him. He cried. Tears also slowly streamed down your cheeks. He put his arms around you. You cried together. After a while the tears were gone.

"What now?" "I need to let my parents know that I'm fine and that I'm free." "And after that?" "After that we'll see what we're going to do"

He smiled at you, it made you smile back. You were free, you were safe. Daniel saved you and himself in the proces.

"Can I suggest one thing we can do?"

You looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"What?"

"Can I kiss you?"

His voice was soft and nervous. Daniel kept smiling a little, with a little blush on his cheeks.

"Yeah"

"Yeah?"

You nodded.

"Okay"

Daniel stepped closer to you, the space between you now almost non existent. His hot breath fanned over your face. He looked down at you, scanning your eyes again. You took in that rich smell of cologne that he wore. It was as if the night at the club continued. But then in silent. His eyes looked into yours. They seemed lighter in color in the moonlight. The dark ring around his iris was a great contrast to the amber color inside. His pupils were large because of the lack of light in the area. Daniel surprised you by letting his lips gently touch yours. His hand found its place on your cheek, he gently rubbed it with his thumb. He tasted fresh, almost like he just brushed his teeth. It made you realized he had a mint before. Daniel had planned everything which made you giggle against his lips.

[peanutxparker]

A (very long) list of all of my favorite AJJ lyrics because why not

Candy Cigarettes and Cap Guns (2005)

“Well my great grand-dad he died of cancer, from smoking too many cigarettes. But I must confess that he did quite profess to being the coolest motherfucker I ever met.”

“And cocaine is essentially vegan and they don't give a fuck anyway.”

“And I can't help but miss him even though he hit me everyday.”

“So fuck white people! (fuck white people!)”

“Heaven is a special place in hell where you can watch the people you hate get hurt.”

“You find me quite charming and I find it quite alarming ‘cause I'm gonna take your life. You find me quite charming and I find it quite alarming and I'm sad you won't be my wife.”

“What makes you think you can be so pretty? And what makes you think you can be so great? And what makes you think you can be so intelligent? And what makes you think you can be so far away?”

“What makes you think you can be so wonderful? And what makes you think you can be so keen? And what makes me think I can be so hurtful? And what makes me think I can be so mean?”

“Sometimes I feel like a cigarette, I'm wrapped in paper and I'm suffocating to death.”

“I don't want to be a cigarette anymore. I'll go to hell in my self death all day and night, so please just put me out.”

People Who Can Eat People Are The Luckiest People In The World (2007)

“Rejoice despite the fact this world will hurt you. Rejoice despite the fact this world will kill you. Rejoice despite the fact this world will tear you to shreds. Rejoice because you’re trying your best”

“I'm afraid to leave the house. I'm as timid as a mouse. I'm afraid if I go out I'll outwear my welcome. I'm not a courageous man. I don't have any big lasting plans. I'm too cowardly to take a stand, I want to keep my nose clean. And it's sad to know that we're not alone in this and it's sad to know that there's no honest way out. In this life we lead, we could conquer everything if we could just get the brave to get out of bed in the morning.”

“And I give a thank-you to my father for not raising me, and I give a finger to my step-father for beating me, and I give props to myself for achieving, and god damn I’m glad that I survived, and god damn I’m surprised that I survived.”

“So I looked into your eyes and I saw the reflection of a coward you and I both hate very much and then I grabbed the knife and I let the blood out of your throat and I smashed those tiny mirrors inside of your skull.”

“If I don’t go to hell when I die I might go to heaven, might go to heaven. But probably not.”

“Just happy times and half assed rhymes and mimes because mimes are dears, but most of all I want no more tears.”

“No more racism. No more discrimination. No more fat dumb fucks keeping people out of our nation.”

“We’re all one big band across this land and we should sing in tune. Let us grow the balls to break the walls, we’ve got to do it soon.”

“And I hope our candles flicker and die so that our hearts don’t burn to the ground.”

“First we were babies, we're birthing and dying. Then we were children, we're playing and crying. And then we're teenagers and smoking and fucking. But now we're all grown up and we're sadly sighing.”

“And your manic depression, it comes and it goes. Your parasympathetic nervous system reacts and you're in fight or flight mode.”

“How's the world so small when the world is so large? And what made the world? Could I please speak to who's in charge? Everything is real but it's also just as fake. From your daughter's birthday party to your grandmother's wake.”

“I've tried to know which words to sing so many times. I tried to know which chord to play and I tried to make it rhyme. And I tried to find the key that all good songs are in. And I tried to find that notes to make that great, resounding din.”

“There's someone in your head waiting to fucking strangle you.”

“I've got essays, I've got finals due. I have got lots and lots of problems.”

“Welcome to this world, have as much fun as you would like while helping others have as much fun as you're having. Be kind to those you love and be kind to those you don't but for God's sake you gotta be kind.”

Can’t Maintain (2009)

“I wanna pick up the pieces and plant them in the ground. When a tree grows there I want to chop that tree down. Build it into a boat and float it in a lake. And with dynamite I will explode the thing that makes me make mistakes.”

“Sometimes I get so lonesome I can't breathe. Sometimes I get so scared that I can't speak. Sometimes I get so worried I can't hear my heartbeat. Anyway…”

“I wanna tear out my heart and give it away to a person more deserving one day. If all I see is the worst in everything that's all I'm gonna get, that's all I'm gonna get, that's all I'm gonna get.”

“And people freak me out. People make me scared. People make me so damn self-aware.”

“I get bronchitis twice a year at least. My lungs aren't the way they should be. And I smoke more than a mother fuckin chimney. I declare war on my body.”

“You will cough up crows that peck my eyes and I will do nothing but go blind.”

“We could live there together or I'll live alone, less happy but I'll live... unfortunately.”

“And no one will know how I truly feel ‘cause I can no longer differentiate between what is fake and what is real. I don't know how I feel.”

“And I will always appreciate bad days like this because they grant me a point of reference in regards to my happiness.”

“If the bridge that I was driving over collapsed while I was driving over it that may not be such a bad thing. I would finally meet my maker, I could meet the great creator, and I'd punch him for teaching me how to sing.”

“Don't know if I believe in god but sometimes I pray because the way I was raised keeps me afraid.”

“I hope I can forgive me for having the nerve to exist. I hope someone can help me make some sense of this.”

“Sense and sensibility and peaceful productivity, a pretty girl with broken wings is all that I desire. But there's so much hostility in all the things surrounding me. The awful glow of enmity is trying to stop my shine. So I try to look inwardly at all the things inside of me but sodomy and buggery keep bubbling to the top.”

“I met you once over the phone, you sounded sad and you seemed alone. You left me but I never left you. I never had the chance to.”

“If you spend all your heart on something that has died you are not alive and that can't be your life.”

Knife Man (2011)

“There's no one to blame. People are just fucking mean.”

“So if I see a penny on the ground, I leave it alone or fucking flip it. I'm a straight white male in America. I've got all the luck I need.”

“I've got a pile of broken mirrors and I'm walking under ladders and I'll spill a ton of salt because to me that doesn't matter.”

“You were dead by the time that I had found you. Your blood was spilled on the couch where we had first kissed. So I carried you west to the sea so I could wash you. Your body felt just like a back pack.”

“I hate whiny, fucking songs like this but I can't afford a therapist. Sorry guys, here's a solo.”

“Some days I feel like I'm the weakest and others the strongest. These days are the longest and I've got the weirdest feeling about this and I wanna go away for a while.”

“I wish I had a bullet big enough to fucking kill the sun. I'm sick of songs about the summer.”

“When you have no one, you are no one. Like I said, I used to work at the people pound. All these no ones clumped together, just like a human lost and found. If they left them all be someones there wouldn't be enough to go around. It's better for us all us if there are no ones. And I knew a lot of no ones round that time. They used to all be someones until something took their life and all their someones disappeared while they're stuck there waiting in a line. And for them now, no one seems to have the time.”

“They say ambition is an enemy of weakness and greatness is an enemy of fame.When I pick up my guitar and I try to write a song, I think of what my mentor used to say… “Who fucking gives a rat's ass Steve, just write a love song. Cus they'll keep your belly full and your wallet lined. Don't bother these nice people with your sad sack songs. If you ask me I think they're just a waste of time.””

“Inspiration is the best friend of my sorrow and sorrow is the best friend of my drink. Well I want to look myself in the eye tomorrow but I'm too worried of what other folk's will think.”

“And the troubles in my heart need to get let out. And the troubles in my heart need to escape. And I never liked writing poetry and I never liked doing pottery and God knows that I never learned to paint. So every now and then, I'll sing sad songs. Cus it keeps my spirit light and my conscience clean. And if you don't care to hear I don't mind if you go out for some air. Cus I'm happy that you're happier than me.”

“So I wish I had a cigarette for every time a perfect stranger asked me for a cigarette but I wonder what a cigarette will really do to help that person out. I wish to God I had some spare change for every time a perfect stranger asked me for some spare change but there's not enough spare change in the world to make such an empty gesture count.”

“You can hope it gets better and you can follow your dreams but hope is for presidents and dreams are for people who are sleeping.”

“You don't have it any better and you don't have it any worse. You're an irreplaceable human soul with your own understanding of what it means to suffer and that’s a huge bummer.”

“I'm afraid of the way I live my life. I'm afraid of the way I don't. I'm afraid of the things that I want to do but I won't. I'm afraid of God. I'm afraid to believe and I'm afraid of all the loved ones that I've made leave. I'm afraid that my dog doesn't love me anymore. I'm afraid of the social laziness that let Kitty Genovese die. And I'm afraid of the mob mentality that makes otherwise normal people go blind. I'm afraid of the way that the world works and I'm afraid of the words in my notebooks. I'm afraid that you all know that I am a pervert.”

“It's harder to be yourself than it is to be anybody else. I wish I were a little less of a coward but the big red bird that lives under the city doesn't give a damn about me and it dies every night. So I bought a knife. I am a knife.”

Rompilation (2012)

“I used to be a spiderman, I used to be a cowboy from hell, but not anymore. Now I'm just a clam and I live inside this shell inside this shell I am. God damn I hate my brain.”

“I'll dip my brain in medicine so that you can stand to be with me.”

“Give me your tired, give me your tired, give me your poor. When our government acts like this, I wonder what World War II was for and the rest of the country hates us more and more. Lady Liberty is not a whore.”

“This is not a protest, it's a tortoise slowly pushing through a race. I hope the tortoise keeps its patience while the hare continues to pepper-spray its face.”

“There is no enemy, there's only people that also love their families and they're scared that they won't have enough long after they are deceased. But how much money do they need? Love turns into fear, and fear turns into greed. There is no enemy, there's only dummies that also love their families.”

“And this is not a phase, it's just a matter of time, with diligence and peacefulness, you will reach them and you will change their minds. If you stay there long enough, they'll start to see you.”

“And when you pushed my face in shit how could that have made you feel like a man or like a monster. It's your fault that I can't tell the difference.”

“In the evening I try songwriting. I'm self loathing, but I love singing. I'll try escaping these evil feelings but they keep coming, they keep coming…”

“So the baby's gonna have a daddy, that's wonderful news. He won't be the greatest parent but neither will you! Gotta get out while you can, otherwise you're screwed. Your legs are broken and your eyes are black and blue.”

“And smoking is like hiring a hitman for five dollars a day, and as cool as that is, I don't wanna keep dying this way.”

Christmas Island (2014)

“Shoot him again ‘cause I can see his soul dancing.”

“If you give it to me I’ll give it back much harder. If you treat me like a son, then I’ll treat you like a daughter. Everyone has a future, everyone has a soul, everyone has a heart, they have a mind, they have control.”

“The Coffin Dancer dances like he has something the prove because he does. He sleeps a couple hours in the morning, hates the morning when he wakes up.”

“The Coffin Dancer dances like he wants to make a friend, but he does not.”

“Getting naked and playing with guns. There's a gerbil in the microwave, a baseball bat in everyone. Sharing kisses and building a bomb. We'll set it off like Microsoft in '94.”

“McDonald's PlayPlace before the Xbox, cake frosting, sweet talking, bedroom wall, covered in knives, touching God, burning shit. We'll make a wish and take a trip to Future Town like our daddy did.”

“Have you ever wanted to be, have you ever wanted to see someone better in the mirror? Have you ever wanted to go, have you ever wanted to know somewhere greener, somewhere cleaner. I bet you got something beautiful in mind.”

“I can’t handle astounding works of beauty. I think I like my pretty pretty ugly but the beautiful soul I witnessed in that movie was an entirely different kind of overwhelming. It was a dog that won’t stop barking. Like a cut that never stops bleeding. Arizona sunsets in the early evening. Or a grown man inconsolably weeping.”

“I am the Kool-Aid stains on the mouth of a kid whose name is most likely Cody. He had a juice box for breakfast and he carries a stick that he most likely found in the alley. Cody doesn't have friends and his parents hate each other and he wants to find a better way to love his family and after school he hangs out in the abandoned house behind the Arby's.”

The Bible 2 (2016)

“Oh, I love you cause I love you cause I can.”

“On your last night at Saint Mary's you were way too intoxicated to breathe. So I used your ribs as ladders and I climbed up on your chest and I jumped up and down just like a trampoline.”

“Confused and rude. Such a special kind of way to be cruel.”

“If I were one of the things, I'd be american garbage. The most beautiful thing. The most beautiful american garbage you have ever seen.”

“No more shame, no more fear, no more dread.”

“And if you don't want to feel the feeling, no one should ever make you feel the feeling.”

“I thought I saw you before I knew who you were.”

“I just wanted to rage but all I got was tired”

“I showed him all the books that I was raised on. Your Madeleine L'Engle(s) and D'Aulaires' Mythologies.”

“And his eyes became a beacon, an LCD projector, broadcasting all my memories in a clear and vivid picture. His tongue became a staircase, his uvula - The knocker of an ornate wooden door that lead me straight into my future. His throat became a hallway with a thousand baby pictures and I became forgiveness, I transformed into the closure that I lost when I learned about the tragedy of all of us. I lost it when I learned about the tragedy of all of us.”

Good Luck Everybody (2019)

“If you don't give it to them they'll starve to death and that's alright.”

“I've got the normalization blues, this isn't normal, this isn't good.”

“I'm detached and I'm distracted, all keyed up but unproductive, vacillating between being all excited and disgusted and then dozing lackadaisically in this bubble where I've made my mental home. Connection's more important now than it ever was, but I'd rather be alone.”

“And when we talk about the president, we're either pissed off or we're giggling about an atrocity he's committing or some stupid shit he's tweeting. He's a symptom and a weapon of the evil men who really run the show. The ones who melt down human beings into money like a cruel Sorcerer's Stone.”

“This is the golden age of dickotry, probably the last golden age of anything, and the ugliest word in the English language is anthropocene. Good luck, everybody. Good luck.”

“But before that, you'll be a doormat, for every vicious narcissist in the world. Oh how they'll screw you, all up and over, then feed you silence for dessert.”

“I'm sorry that you have to have a body, filled with infection, one hundred scabs singing in unison, eyes and hands, sometimes bullets, uninvited, passing through us.”

“Oh to be awake for such a shitty dream. A bullet in the head of every decent thing.”

“The lake of dead black children that America created is getting fuller than the founding Fathers even wanted. The ghost of great America was underestimated and now it rages like a cold sore on the lip of this dumb nation. Again we've slipped inside a pit of absolute despair. That's where we live.”

“Rewarding our worst cruelty, they destroyed our shared reality, and now they upsell us our dignity like some fucked VIP package.”

“There is no absolute, these days there's no such thing as truth and you don't need to be a dick about it.”

“I'm a burnout and a fool, oblivious to all I do. I move my lips when I read and breathe with my mouth open, wide open. Timid, meek, and cruel, this is the best that I can do. I need to speak my truth, yet here I'm broken wide, wide open. My resentment, big and strong, and all the things that I can't change. They'll buckle me beneath the weight. I will drive myself insane with all the things that I can't change. I hate all the things that I can't change.”

“You're a loudmouth and a tool, and as it turns out I am too, and you don't need to be a dick about it.”

“Because I know that you know what I need more than me and I know that you need me more than that.”

“For all the pussies you grab and the children you lock up in prison, for all the rights you roll back and your constant stream of racism, for all the poison you drip in my ear, for all your ugly American fear. I wrote you this beautiful song called Psychic Warfare.”

“I hate you with all of my heart. I hate you with all of my art.”

“I went back to the desert, little Midwest in me, and now I am colder than I used to be. I live in a fortress the shape of my body, and now there's a coldness, and it's shaped like me. Now I don't suffer any more bullshit gladly. Even though everything's bullshit now, here in 2019 and you can bet it's gonna be a bunch of bullshit too out in sweet 2020 or whenever this album's released.”

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Hiii can I request a oneshot where the other other Shelbys never really approved of Tommy and reader's marriage even though she's nice (idk maybe because she seems like she doesn't fit into their life? or seems naive, whatever reason works tbh) but they start to realize they were wrong when they see how much she cares for him when he's really injured and how happy they are sometimes or just when they see that she's not as weak as she seems. Does that make sense? Idk I just thought about it and I can't write but you don't have to! 🥰

//This was one of my favorite one shots in a while. I had a lot of fun with it so if you ever want a continuation I would LOVE to do so.

            Tommy came in like a storm. “Alright, everyone’s on their best fucking behavior, right now.”

            His family was all sitting in the open part of the betting shop as Tommy had requested that they be there.

            “Why-”

            “No.” Tommy held up a hand to stop John from speaking any further. “No questions. Just do as I say.” He said before going back to the door connecting the shop and Six Watery Lane. He returned arm in arm with a beautiful young woman who had bright eyes and a friendly smile.

            Polly looked a little surprised but was quick to welcome the woman. Tommy, while he’d been in London on business, called his aunt about a woman he’d met. He said she was a socialite daughter of a long line of blue-bloods. But that didn’t concern him. What did was she had a love for charity work, especially regarding orphaned children.

            One night and she’d captured Tommy’s heart. It was quite a remarkable thing. And now he was bringing her to meet his family for the first time.

            “Everyone this is Eve, Eve, this is my family.” Tommy introduced with a tentative tone.

            “How do you do?” She greeted.

            Only four words in and Arthur and John were about to burst out into laughter. The combination of her posh accent with the greeting made them almost doubled over. And they didn’t make it conspicuous either.

            So much that Eve’s face fell and she looked self-conscious.

            Tommy wasted no time whacking John upside the head. “These are me idiot brothers and my aunt, Polly.” He glared at Arthur.

            “It’s good to finally meet you.” Polly stood up to readjust the mood and shook Eve’s hand. “We’ve heard a lot about you.”

            “Oh.” Eve forced a small smile. “Well, thank you. Tommy has spoken very highly of you all

as well.”

            “Might’ve been speaking too soon,” Tommy muttered under his breath. “C’mon. I’ll show you my uncle’s yard.” He took Eve’s hand to lead her out of the shop, throwing his brothers one more deadly glare as they left.

           ~~~~~~~~~~~

            Later, when Eve was freshening up for a night at the Garrison, Tommy went downstairs to tell off Arthur and John.

            “What did I say when I came in?” Tommy snapped.

            “Oh, Tom, c’mon.” Arthur protested.

            “She’s a fucking toff.” John threw a hand up. “You honestly think she belongs ‘round somewhere like here?”

            “You nearly made her cry, you bastards.” He snarled. “She’s a good woman, it doesn’t matter where she’s from.”

            “Yeah, then what happens when you get into trouble and she’s clutching her pearls running back to London,” Arthur replied. “We’re only tryna protect you, Tom.”

            “I don’t care what either of you thinks. But she wants you to like her. So, you both better start acting nicer ‘round her.” He spoke in a threatening tone.

            Arthur sighed seeing how upset his brother was. “Alright, alright. We’ll be nice.”

            “’Long as her family tosses us some money,” John muttered under his breath.

            “Enough.” Tommy hissed as he heard Eve coming down the stairs. He smiled as he saw her wearing a flashy gold dress.

            “I hope I’m not overdressed.” She apparently had taken the Shelby brothers’ reaction to heart and was self-conscious about her appearance and demeanor. Truthfully, she felt out of place in Small Heath. Eve had been raised in the highest echelon of society. For the first seventeen years, she lived in the countryside, where the nearest neighbor was at least a mile away. She had horses and toys, nurses and tutors to raise her, and practically anything else she desired. When she turned eighteen, she began to live part-time in one of her father’s properties in London. It was the first time she’d truly seen poverty and it made her realize her privilege. With her father’s blessing, she began a charity to help build and fund proper orphanages that took care of their children.

            She became of trying not to come off as snobbish. But being in Small Heath, she was hyperaware almost to the point that she came off as shy and awkward.

            “You look beautiful,” Tommy assured her. “The Garrison’s got a bit of a makeover itself so you’ll fit right in.” He linked arms with her and guided her toward the door, away from his brothers to avoid any other contact.

~~~~~~~~~~ 

            The party was in full swing and Eve was starting to feel less out of place. She found Tommy’s friends and family to be amiable and enjoyed their company. Class didn’t really matter when it came to having a good time with plenty of drinks.

            Halfway through the night, Tommy left Eve at a table while he went to get another round of champagne. She decided to take a breather and left the pub. There were a few people mingling outside, talking and having a smoke.

            “Tommy said we made her cry. Fuck’s sake.”

            Eve heard a familiar voice and saw Arthur talking to a woman who Tommy introduced Eve to earlier that night.

            “I didn’t think Tommy would want someone so sensitive.” She replied with a shrug.

            “Maybe he just wants a leg up. Wouldn’t blame him.”

            Eve had heard enough, she went back into the pub and found Tommy waiting for her. He frowned when he saw her face.

            “What’s wrong?”

            She shook her head and tried not to look upset. “Do you mind if I go back to the flat?” Her voice trembled.

            “Ev…what happened?”

            “Please, Tom, I just-I’m tired.” She felt like everyone was looking at her. “Please.”

            “Okay, okay.” He stood up, leaving the champagne flutes on the table. “I’ll get our coats.”

~~~~~~~~~~ 

            Tommy refused to back down. Arthur and John apologized to Eve who accepted the apology with a smile. She said she didn’t care but Tommy still wasn’t happy. His brothers were still doubtful of her and made jabs at her upbringing.

            She couldn’t load a gun. Didn’t know how to drive a car. Didn’t smoke. Asked too many questions about their operation.

            Eve felt like a child, naïve and so out of touch with the way they lived. But her true test of strength came in when a few weeks after she originally visited Small Heath.

            Tommy was ambushed, and a bullet grazed his side. Arthur and John managed to get him to safety, half dragging him back to Watery Lane.

            Polly and Eve were sharing a chat in the parlor when Arthur burst in with his brother hanging off his arm, bleeding a profuse amount. John still had his gun drawn, afraid they had been followed back home.

            Eve, shockingly, didn’t go into a panic. Arthur thought she might’ve become overwhelmed or even faint at the sight of blood. But immediately, she went into a work-like mode.  

            Paired with Polly with Arthur’s strength, they got Tommy onto the table. Eve hurried to get Tommy’s layers off to find the wound. “Get some towels and water.” She ordered the eldest brother in a strong voice he hadn’t heard from her before.

            He didn’t even hesitate, always a soldier he responded to firm direct commands.

            “Ev…” Tommy moaned, his vision spotting.

            “You’re okay.” She said softly. “It’s not too bad, just need to stem the bleeding.” When Arthur returned, she made quick time, disinfecting, washing the wound, and bandaging it tightly. “Doesn’t need stitches.” She reassured Polly and the boys who were watching her with a bit of surprise. Usually, they were the ones who had to put Tommy back together again after an altercation. But she had worked so quickly that there was no need.

            Eve pressed a cold cloth to Tommy’s head and dabbed the sweat from his brow. “Take it easy and rest.” She said softly and kissed his cheek.

            “Where’d you learn to patch up gunshot wounds?” Arthur asked, still unsure of what he’d just witnessed. The posh girl had taken command and very well could’ve saved his brother’s life.

            Eve looked a little shy, tucking a curl behind her ear. “My friends and I all took red cross courses during the war. They enlisted as nurses but-” It felt like a terrible admission to make to a veteran. “My father talked me out of going. I was his only child and he said he couldn’t bear it if anything happened to me.” Her brow wrinkled as she rinsed the bloody cloths in the water basin. “I always regretted it. One of my friends lost her life in France because of a grenade. Every so often I’ll take a course just to make sure my skills haven’t gone rusty.” She smiled weakly. “Especially now that I know Tommy treats everywhere like a battlefield.” She affectionately touched his hand as he was still recovering from the shock of being shot.

            Polly gave John and Arthur a side-glance and a small smirk.

            Arthur cleared his throat. “I s’pose we misjudged you then, Eve. That’s very erm-admirable of you.”

            She smiled; a bit relieved she had proved herself to Tommy’s brothers. “Oh, it’s nothing. It’s good to put some of the things I learned to good use. Although I do hope none of you encounter another bullet.”

            Polly rolled her eyes. “Don’t hold your breath with these three.”

            They shared a chuckle and Tommy began to stir again. He grasped onto Eve’s arm, his head still spinning from the blood loss.

            “Ev?”

            “I’m here.” She sat down beside him and stroked his hair back. “You’re alright.”

            “Yeah, glad the red cross taught you well.” Tommy smiled as he stared up at the ceiling.

            “I told you those classes weren’t for nothing.” She teased him gently, weaving her fingers in with his.

            “Was all her, Tom. Fixed you up good as new.” Arthur chimed in.

            “Yeah, no surprise. She’s good at a lot of things you bastards aren’t.”

            “Oh, Tommy, hush.” Eve scolded.

            “Well, once we teach her how to shoot a gun, I think she’ll be on her way.” John took a seat with a good-natured smile.

            “That’s right.” Arthur tousled John’s hair. “We’ll turn her into a Peaky girl soon ‘nough.”

            Tommy shook his head and closed his eyes to rest a bit. “I like her the way she is now.” He mumbled.

            Eve squeezed his hand. “I’d like to learn how to shoot, though.”  

            Tommy just laughed weakly before nodding off.

[shutup-sorry]

A flower for every petal [1]

A/N: Sooo this is my first fic like ever! I hope you like it and if you do, let me know if you want me to tag you :) P. S. english is not my native language, so if there are some grammar mistakes I apologise haha

Words: 3.7k+

The wind was strong that morning. Only sound breaking the silence on this, unusually, still street, was the angirly roaring wind. They said that the big storm is coming tonight and mother nature is preparing us for that.

For Iris, London was always such a depressing city, she for sure didn't like it here, never knowing why. So many unhappy people, lost souls that are just trying to go back to the right path, afraid of a little bit of risking. She wanted an adventure. She wanted to travel the world. But she knew well-enough that that's not going to happen any time soon, so she had to deal with that, that's what her mother used to tell her.

But on this particular day, it was even sadder. Everything seemed to be in black and white, like other colors didn't exist. The sky was so gray and misty, it almost looked like it was about to cry, his tears representing drops of rain. She never liked rainy days, or even worse, storms. It always reminded her of her lonliness and how she didn't have anybody by her side. Her family was far away, all of her friends and people from hometown had probably already forgotten her, and she was nostalgic. She missed her home, the happiest and safest place on this planet.

She tried to light her cigarette, but the damn wind wouldn't let her do it, so she put her hand up to protect a little flame that was coming out of her lighter. After few more attempts, getting even more annoyed, maybe by the fact that she was already so late to her first lecture, or maybe by the fact that it was so cold outside and she had to walk to university, she finally succeeded and shoved her lighter back in the bag. She took a long drag before continuing her 20 minutes walk to university, cursing the fact that she still doesn't have a car or someone to drive her there.

After few minutes of walking the rain started. Great, that's exactly what she needed at that moment. She instantly hurried up and threw her jeans jacket on her head, to protect herself from wetting her hair.

When she arrived at the university, after what seemed like forever, she started fast walking towards her classroom. She could only imagine how she looked like, and in every way was negative. Her hair was probably a mess, so she quickly combed it with her hands, trying to make it seem less bad, and then wiping her a little bit smudged mascara, as she mentally prepared for judgemental looks when she walks in almost more than half an hour late.

She entered the lecture, murmirng a little 'sorry I'm late' under her breath, and quickly taking her seat in the first free chair that she saw. Some students whispered something looking at her, probably gossiping, and the teacher just sighed and continued talking.

After some time of trying to focus on the actual words that the proffesor was talking about, but failing miserably, and then giving up, the class has finally finished. She packed her things and quickly exited the classroom, rushing into the hall of uni.

The hall was crowded with students, some with their friends, talking, laughing, and some alone just walking or sitting and reading their books.

She stopped walking when she saw a big poster on noticeboard that had big "Queen" written on it. It said that they are perfoming at the local pub on Saturday night.

"You coming?", someone said behind her back, snapping her from her thoughts and scaring her. She turned around and saw a young man with big, curly, hair and beautiful smile looking at her, then at the poster. "Oh sorry, didn't mean to scare you", he said nervously, noticing her scared expression on face.

"Oh no, I just wasn't expecting anybody that's all", she smiled truthfully and he nodded. "And, uhm, I don't think I'll come. Don't wanna go alone.", she shrugged her shoulders.

"I think you should come, they are pretty good, you'll have fun", very familiar curly boy, that she thinks she shares a class with, told her smirking.

"I suppose that you've seen them play, when you say that like it is a fact?", she laughed.

"Well tehnically, yes", he nodded smiling, "I am in the band, a guitarisst", he said proudly and she raised her brow. "Oh yes, and I'm Brian by the way", he hold his hand to shake and she took it, still smiling.

"I am Iris, nice to meet you guitarisst", she smirked sarcastically.

"So you coming or not? I would love to see you there", she put her index finger on her chin, pretending like she's thinking about it and he laughed, "Oh come on, why not? You won't be alone, I'll be there"

"Well I don't know you, for all I know you could kill me there", she joked and he scoffed at that, "I'll see, but probably won't come"

"Okay, but have this incase you've changed your mind", he gave her a piece of paper, that probably had the address of the pub or his phone number, "Goodbye Iris", and then he left.

She stood there looking at him leaving, thinking about the offer he gave her.

It was the Saturday afternoon, she was cleaning her apartment from the mess she made over the week, when she accidentally found that piece of paper that that Brian guy gave her the other day. She had totally forgotten about it. It was this Saturday. She looked over her clock and it was 7:17pm, she had an hour to get ready. She bit her lower lip, thinking about it.

Was it good idea going there alone? But if she didn't go, she would probably regret that, always thinking about what-if.

Fuck it, she thought to herself, throwing her cleaning gloves, making her way to the bathroom.

She wanted an adventure, this is the closest thing to the adventure that she can get.

After 20 minutes of showering, she did her makeup and styled her hair the way she wanted it to be. The cab arrived and she started her way to the pub, feeling anxious.

She never liked going anywhere alone, even though she lived alone. The irony of that. She always wanted company in anything she was doing, even if it was just going to the market or just walking around town, and this lonliness was killing her. Not that she wanted to admit that, but deep down she knew that.

Her thoughts were interrupted when cab stopped, giving her money to the awfully quiet driver, and then turning towards the pub. Outside of the pub was suprisingly crowded, so she could just imagine what was inside. Surprised that this band was so popular, she entered the pub, scent of smoke and alcohol hitting her right in the face.

There were a lot of people, and she immediately regreted coming here alone, but she for sure didn't have intention on going back home. She sighed, making her way to the front place so she could have a better look at the band. She thought about Brian, if he would be happy that she came, but then quickly realised that he had probably forgot about her and that it was just a stupid thought.

Some people were talking, some people were already drunk, some people were making out, and some people were alone there, just like her. She felt a relief that she wasn't the only one, miserable. Lights went off and the crowd started yelling. First row were just girls, clothed in small pieces, big enough to cover the most vulgar parts of their bodies, and Iris rolled her eyes at them. They were groupies. There's nothing wrong with being a groupie, she just couldn't stand them. She looked at what she decided to wear and her body, feeling a little anxious. All of these girls were so much prettier then her. She was an average looking girl, with average body. And they were all like models, beautiful and smoking hot.

Her thoughts were interrupted by four young men filling in the stage. They had huge, wide, smiles on their faces as they were looking at the crowd infront of them. The crowd wasn't huge, but for a small band full of young students, it was more than enough. The lead singer, who she learned was named Freddie, had black fluffy hair, then there was Brian with his guitar, and two unknown guys. One with fluffy brown hair with his guitar, or bass, she couldn't tell, and then the blonde behind his drums. The blonde looked chaotic, he had angry look on his face, only one not smiling at the crowd. He just took his drumsticks in his hands, swirling them anxiously, waiting for Freddie to stop talking so they could start playing.

She knew that she was staring at him, but she just couldn't keep her eyes off of him. It's like he felt her deep gaze at him and he looked her right in the eyes, unfazed by it. She didn't know what had gotten into her, but she was confident enough that she didn't look away, and got even more confident when she noticed that he didn't look away either, sending him a flirty and playful wink. In response he just licked his lips, before the first song began and he focused on playing his drums.

The way he looked when he was playing his drums, with that chaotic blonde hair falling everywhere, with his button up shirt that was unbuttoned showing off his bare sweaty chest, turned her on. She bit her lip at the thought of him. Now and then, he would look for her in the crowd, and when his eyes finally found hers, he would send her a seductive smirk.

After several songs, the band, had finished their gig for tonight. Freddie thanked the small audience as they all clapped their hands, because truth to be told- they were wonderful. Probably the best show she had ever attended, they had the most breath taking energy. Everybody did their parts perfectly. Freddie's voice stood out the most, this band is going places.

She decided to sit down at the bar, who could know that dancing, singing and having this much fun could be so exhausting? She thought to herself. Or maybe she just got so used to boring life of just studying and doing nothing over the days that she forgot how it felt to loosen up sometimes.

It took her some time to try and avoid, now very drunk people, praying to get home safely, when she finally saw the bar. She looked over and saw a free chair. She sat at the high chair by the bar, looking through her purse for the pack of cigarettes, and when she finally found them she realized that she had forgotten her lighter. She sighed, with cigarette between her plump red lips as she continued trying to find a lighter, even though she knew that it wasn't there. She cursed under her breath.

"Here ya go", she heard a soft male voice next to her speak, making her jump from her seat a little bit. _Can people stop scaring her like that?_She thought to herself. She looked up and there he was, the drummer from the band, standing infront of her, grinning and before she had any chance to reply to him he had lit her cigarette, that was still between her lips, his big ocean blue eyes never living her deep green eyes. She just sat there, feeling her cheeks turning red, she blushed and that rarely ever happened, and seeing that made him smirk.

"Thank you", she said, shyly, trying to cover up the fact that she had just blushed at him, puffing the smoke from her cigar.

"No problem, love.", he said still smirking at her. It made her feel tingly, and she didn't like that feeling at all. The way he looked at her, practically undressing her with his eyes, picturing things he could do to her. The way his eyes focused on hers, then, as she puffed smoke, he would focus on her lips, but then, again, on her eyes. He still looked sweaty from his gig, hair sticking on his neck and forehead. That made him look even hotter, If that's possible.

Stop being so fucking horny and stop imaging things Iris.

"You don't look like a type of girl to be here, or to smoke too. ", firstly he pointed at the place they were in and then at cigarette in her hand, lighting his that was between his lips. She was taken aback by his statment, making a weird face in confusion.

She raised her eyebrow at him. "What's that suppoused to mean asshole?", she said with bitterness behind her words, not caring if the nickname she gave him would offend him in any way. And it didn't.

He chuckled. "Easy there, love. I was just saying. You're new here, I've never seen you before.", he said as he raised his hand so bartender could notice him. "Want something? It's on me", he winked and she rolled her eyes at him, shaking her head no in response, as he murmured 'why not'.

"I don't drink", she said taking his lighter of the table, without asking for it, and lighting a new one.

"See? Told ya you don't look like a type of girl to be here. You just proved me right. ", he smirked and she rolled her eyes, again. "But, I must say, you're a one hell of a smoker"

The more he talks, the more she regrets thinking about him in the way she was while he was performing. She found him really annoying and wanted him to leave.

"What can I say? We all have our addictions", she raised her eyebrows dramaticly and he laughed at this shaking his head and murming little 'I guess you're right', before she spoke again. "And by the way, what if I'm not new here and you just haven't noticed me before? I mean, you have a lot of fans here. Especially girls, I mean you couldn't possibbly notice every girl that enters this place, now could you?", she stated matter-of-factly, pointing at all the girls that were now looking at them, making angry faces at her for taking their 'man', and a little bit of sarcasm behind her words, but not too much.

"Oh, trust me, I would notice. ", the bantender interrupted his words as he gave him what he had ordered, this misterious drummer drinking whatever liqour in one shot, and then continuing, "Ugh, rough. ", he laughed, "Where was I, oh yes. Trust me I would notice a smoking hot girl like you anywhere. I have seen the way you looked at me while I was playing, and I would lie if I told you that that didn't turn me on just a little bit", his voice turned into whisper as he was now close to her ear, sending shivers down her spine. But of course, she wouldn't admit that and feed his, already, big ego.

She snorted at his cockiness, rolling her eyes, for the, probably, hundreth time tonight. "Don't even bother drummer boy, I know what you're doing. I know the guys like you, I have dated them. That's what devils look and sound like", he laughed at this biting his lower lip. That turned her on even more_._

"Oh really? So what am I doing, misterious girl? Hm? Tell me", he is still whispering, and that amused her a little too much. She didn't know where was her confidence coming from, but she liked this version of her, not afraid of saying wrong thing, being relaxed. Maybe it's the fact that this night, she felt so good after such a long time that she just didn't care. It was an adventure.

"You, mister drummer, are trying to get me to bed", she leaned in closer, tempting him as she knew exactly what was she doing to him. He just kept looking at her lips, not caring about her noticing that, as she bit her lower lip, in intention of seducing him even more. She succeeded in that as he quitely groaned at that act of hers. "And you were right. I'm not the type of girl who comes to places like this, as I'm not a type of girl who's just gonna be one of your groupies, so I advise you to just forget about it blondie and maybe find other girl to hit on and bore", she leaned back where she was before and he just snorted, now looking infront of him into unknown space.

"Tease. I like that", he admitted truthfully and she proudly smirked at herself for how amazing she was. Who would know that she had it in her? She was always an uptight person. "And could I get your name, love?"

"Does it matter? It's not like we're gonna meet again", she teased and that being said made him roll his eyes, playfully.

"Oh, darling, I think we will", he teased back and she giggled.

"And why's that?"

"Because", he leaned in, putting his hand on her thigh, making her have goosebumps all over her body, "I'm not that easy to get rid of. You're gonna see more of me, darling", he winked at her and just as she was about to come with the comeback, the yelling was heard and the drummer quickly moved his hand away from her tigh, that was travelling higher and higher, to her inner tighs, making her even more desperate. She silently groaned at the loss of touch.

"Oh here you are, you idiot! Roger, I've been looking for you for the past half an hour, you said you were just going to the bar quickly! Freddie is on the parking lot being hysterical as he always is and needs your help with the van and the instruments. You need to hurry up and leave that groupie alone. ", the curly, furious looking guy, that invited her here, named Brian spat at the blonde boy. His words hurted her a little, but she ignored his comment about her being a groupie as she annoyingly looked at him. Brian, realising who she was, looked guilty about his choice of words. "Oh hi there Iris, I didn't see that it was you. Uhm sorry for that nickname, I didn't mean it. I see the two of you have met already", Brian spoke just too quickly and she laughed at him, as he continued rambling, "I'm glad you made it here-"

"Oh so Iris?", Roger interrupted, earning a glare from Brian, but complety ignoring that, smirking as he had just found out her name, teasingly looking at her, already, annoyed facial expression, as he continued. "Nice name, very meaningful. Do you know that, that in Greek mythology, Iris was the goddes of rainbow, a messenger for Zeus and Hera, who rode the rainbow as a bridge from heaven to earth? Iris is actually considered a symbol of power and majesty, representing faith, wisdom and valor. Are you called after a goddess? ", he said, putting his index finger on his chin, pretending to be thinking about it, as he continued his philosophy, while she stood there, vividly, shocked and without any words, and that's a rare thing. This man is well educated, or just too good with his words, or maybe just lucky. "Or are you named after the flower? You know, they come in a lot of colours, and you remind me of some purple or blue just like your deep eyes that seem to hold in just too much sadness in them. Even though, in most of the cultures Iris means happiness and summer. "

Her eyes never left his as he had just put her in some sort of trance. She blushed at his words, and cursed at herself for letting herself blush just too easily, quickly trying to cover her cheeks, but failing. He already saw what he did to her and smirked, proudly, knowing he had won this conversation.

"What's wrong, love? Did I say something wrong?", he grinned at her, taking a drag of his cigarette and leaning back against his chair.

Brian just stood there, confused to what was happening, carefully watching Roger talking. He seemed to be, just as she was, in some kind of trance.

"You're full of shit, drummer boy", she laughed at this whole situation, as she tried to pretend that this actually haven't affected her, and he joined in her laughter. Brian still stood there confused and bored, as he didn't find this funny at all. He looked annoyed, but they didn't seem to care at all. "Do you say this to all the girls you pick up at one of your gigs, or should I feel special?", she raised her eyebrow, waiting, patiently, for his answer.

"Don't flatter yourself, love. I'm just good with my words. I've made your heart melt, didn't I?", he asked, but it wasn't a question, because he already knew the answer and he knew that she would never give it to him.

"If that would help you sleep at night then okay, blondie", she winked.

"You can call me Roger you know, not those ridiciolus nicknames you have." , he said and she nodded. He stood up starting to walk past het but for the second he stopped. "And I'm gonna call you Petal, that sounds cute. Right Petal?", he smirked at creative nickname he gave her.

"Why Petal? Most people call me by my name, or my usual nickname, Izzy", she said facing him with confused look on her face.

"Well that's a bit boring, don't you think? Mine is much more creative", he put his hand on his hip, letting her know how proud he is for making that up and she laughed.

"Yeah, okay. Whatever, blondie. ", she shrugged and he laughed.

"See you soon Petal", he just left and she watched him go until he disappeared behind the door that led to a parking lot, Brian disappearing with him as well.

Taglist: @killer-queen-ofrhye @magicwithaknife @rogertaylordome @yourlifeuniverse @pyrotechnic789 @supersonicqueerace :)

[exolstice-blog]

Interlude | Sehun

Genre: Fluff af ; Proposal AU

Description: Sea-salt and sunrise, mayhaps a question of faith, it was an interlude, one he couldn't say.

Word Count: 1600

Warning: You might stan Vivi.

Author's Note: I did this for Vivi.

Sehun was onto something. You felt it.

It was certainly a surprise that your sweetheart—ever the not-so-much-an-early-bird—set himself to drive you to the nearest pier to catch that morning's sunrise.

"—every day waiting for you, darling don't be afraid, I have loved you for a thousand years, I'll love you for a thousand mor—"

More so with all the gimmicks being pulled.

Click.

"What are you—"

Click, click, click.

"---so wHAT WE GET DRUNK, SO WHAT WE SMOKE WEED, WE'RE JUST HAVING FUN WE DON'T CARE WHO SEES."

"What the hell," your sweetheart almost failed with the steering wheel as you screamed, head swaying to the beat and a pup barking in your lap.

"Did I scare you, baby?"

"Well, if you're going to scream like that—"

"I'm sorry, Vivi-ah," you lifted the doggy and buried your face in his fur, side glancing a scoffing Sehun to your left.

"Will you lower the volume, I'm going to have a headache," he patted your thigh with a soft smile, which was really something closer to a grimace.

Yes, he was really onto something.

"But you really liked this song," you whined, reaching for some more 'clicks' upon the radio to soften the music.

"I do, it's just so early morning," Sehun gave you only a few sleepy glances with squinty eyes that appeared more hooded, the air turbulent against his hair and the open window, playing little slap slaps against its momentum.

"Which is exactly why I need playing it loud," you retributed with puckered lips, picking at Vivi's curls and swirling them on your fingers. "I can't handle ballads or anything of those fluffs right now, I might fall asleep."

"I would wake you up, then," he offered, cherry plump lips molding into a soft gesture,l landing his hand first on the puppy's head and then on your knee, where he kept it.

"And miss this view?" You threw your arms open so as to motion to the far-stretching sea banks and sand—only to nestle your head upon your hand as you rested your elbow against the window and took your sweetheart's profile like a shot of firewater, giddy and rebellious.

"You're looking at me," Sehun posed a cool facade, one that emulated the nurtured looks he'd fashioned in the months of playing a game of 'look an don't touch', during which you'd renunciated to any of your prides and prejudices and resolved to pursuing him. He smiled, "Why?"

"Because you're beautiful," your hand reached to brush back a strand of hair from his eyes—that really only made him the more handsome—so fast Vivi jumped alert, paws on your tummy. Giggles intensifying when you stretched his cheek out more and more, so that it became squishy, "Aren't you so beautiful?"

"Hmhm." Sehun had his eyes on the road still, though you know it was quite the labor to keep them from rolling back on their sockets.

You weren't much a romantic spirit (dates were fine, so long as it would take you less than thirty to be ready, of course), and neither was him. But times like this were a treasure, something to be found and kept, locked away from prying hands. It was only Sehun and you and nothing more and that was fine. He liked it that way, you knew well, knew him enough to know. And enough to know something was up.

"Is there something bothering you?" You asked, unwilling to let go of his cheek as he'd rather leaned more into your hand, neck craning.

"Why would there be?" He switched his eyes over to you slightly, before taking a turn into another road.

"Your eyes crinkle when you smile, but you're not smiling. They do that too when you're worried about work or when you have a fight with someone, did something like that happen?"

Sehun did smile then, "You really do stare at me too much, don't you?"

You made a face, stretching and releasing his cheek when he cried his apologies. By then you'd reached the pier, there were some paths of vast stones that were flat and provided good footing. You struggled with Vivi a few when he kicked around to be set free, totally reluctant to get his collar on, and more when the sea-salt colored wind blew your hair around and into your eyes.

"Fucking—"

"I got it, don't worry," Sehun weaved his fingers into the tangles of your hair and combed it down, chuckling whenever you cursed at a particularly harsh pull. It was taking longer than it should have, tying your hair, and you felt him closer, breaths intertwining with the kiss of the ocean on your neck.

"Are you trying to braid her hair, or what?" You laughed at your own mockery, setting Vivi's head on your shoulder and playing a voice that in your little game would be his.

"Uh, not really, I'm just," Sehun stammered, unfaced by the made-up talking dog, hurrying his movements and caressing your back when the job was terminated, smiling once you settled the puppy down and did a double take at the sea.

"It smells amazing."

"It does," Sehun's palm lingered on your hair, and his happy-mouth widened. "You do—"

"LOOK AT THAT FUCKING WAVE, WOW," You dashed for the small current, shivering when the ocean reached your ankle. You looked back at Sehun to find his hand outstretched, as if in mid-motion. It was incredibly funny, "What?"

He retracted stiffly and took his hand onto the other, massaging it as if it stung, "Nothing. I'm going to, uh, see what's for breakfast."

You frowned. Something truly was fucking up. Sehun wouldn't remember to pack breakfast in, like, any situation, no bloody exceptions. He was too much of an (and you were allowed to say it) irresponsible fool to even fathom the possibility of being human and having a tendency to, you know, just survive—

Oh.

You stared at him in panic. Were you forgetting something? An anniversary? His birthday? Good lord, heavens knew how that went the time you took eleven minutes longer to text him that night. But, no, it wasn't the twelfth. Then—

Squee.

It flew at you, full force. It was unavoidable, the damn squishy. It struck you square in the chest, quite near your boob, and heavens bloody knew how much that hurt like a bitch.

"Sehun, what the fuck?" You collected Vivi's toy as the pup came running up—it was the one with hard material, too, the one that kept treats inside—and yanked it at your sweetheart with a fury.

"I'm sorry, oh my God, I'm sorry," you heard him yell back embarrassed, and you didn't quite look at him and he didn't quite look at you. Good, let him think you're mad. You loved the way he became whenever he tried to appease your tempers, ever this soft malleable thing that would become a doll if you so wished to, clad in butler's getup and—

Squee.

Vivi's squishy broke through your fantasies, and you kneeled to give him a lecture, only to be immediately softened by his heart-fluttering antics. You were mush.

"You need some help, huh?" You tickled his head until his whole body shook, the metal piece of his collar jingling ecstatic. It was a new one, you noticed, one you hadn't seen the moment you put it on him. You were curious, alright, so you shivered and read it's new tag.

Will.

Your immediate thought was 'what the fuck', and when you turned it over to read the following word—You—your next to immediate thought was 'what the fuck' too.

Squee.

Your forehead wrinkled in thought, your fingers agile to open the treat toy. And you saw it.

It was a pure band, simple an untouched, somehow an emblem for every one thing you'd be able to put into it. There was a cord attached to it, made of silk, with words that finished the beginning of a promise, but just the interlude of a song. Will You Be—

"—the sunrise I wake up to every morning?"

His steps had been so quiet but he now stood before you. You raised slowly, craddling the ring in your palm like a baby, like something that needed to be cared for and loved.

Your sweetheart held your eyes. Oh Sehun saw you.

"Will you..."

Say it.

"W-Will you..."

Come on.

"W-WILL YOU."

"Will I what?" There was only a blurred sun and moon and sky and Sehun Sehun Sehun, forever only Sehun.

"I-I-I—"

"DON'T YOU TRY TO OUTCRY ME, YOU..." You were covering your eyes with your fists, the band digging into your flesh and essence. You needed him to hold you because, fuck, you couldn't stop shaking. But what could be done when he found himself in a similar situation.

"I'm not crying, I-I'm not," Sehun scrubbed at his eyes and cheeks, coloring himself in spring blossoms and dew. "My eyes just got too happy."

"What the fuck are you saying," you managed between sobs and beating your chest, so as to prevent the perhaps nearly unpreventable hiccups.

"Alright, fuck. What I'm saying is. Will you marry m—"

"Yes," you jumped when your legs could hold no longer, clinging to his neck and almost bringing him forth with you had he not reached for you down at the same time.

So there you were, crying, whispering, molding into each other's skins, screaming for providence. Promises infused in salt and sand, reaching no end and coming from no beginning. A sunrise that was an interlude. Just him and you.

[notladylikes]

it's raining, of fucking course it is. the brunette hunkers down underneath the hood of her jacket and races inside after tucking the newspaper clipping into her pocket for safe keeping.

once she's inside the bar, she lets the hood down and shakes out her hair, watching as droplets fly and begin to cling to random surfaces.

woops.

that was not what she intended, but as she shrugs her shoulders she pulls dries her hand on a few napkins before retrieving the tattered piece of paper from her pocket.

it's the same man, the one she seeks, currently behind the bar on the opposite end serving drinks. she takes a breath, flagging him down shortly after. she's had this pitch on her brain all evening, worked up the courage in the mirror to speak to him.

god almighty she needed this to go well.

tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, the brunette orders a vodka cranberry, a little liquid courage might only help the situation. when it's placed in front of her on a napkin, she slides the piece of paper towards him.

"this you?"

she says, although she knows it is - unless he's got like an evil twin or something out there in the wilderness. then she's made the biggest ass out of herself. he huffs out a breath and snatches up the paper, a simple 'yeah' leaving his lips.

"mr. ranger, i heard all 'bout how you fixed up that drive thru down south, and i was wonderin' if you'd have it in your heart to help me with mine." this time she pulls a different photo up - on her phone no less, and shifts it towards him.

it's definitely in need of some sort of tlc, but the bones are pretty solid, at least - that's what she was told by various inspectors who were looking to demolish the place.

"this was my granddaddy's legacy. he used to love hangin' out there and putting on a good show, but he died a couple years back and i ain't had the time to give it the love that it deserves. i can't let it get turned into another shoppin' center, there are already a buncha those poppin' up in the outskirts and we don't need another. but i could use the revenue stream, and i figure a movie theater is always a nice place to visit, 'specially one that's out there in the country where you can watch somethin' underneath the stars."

she gets a wistful look in her eyes, remembering the times in her youth when she either was brought to the theater by her granddad, or snuck in under false pretenses with her friends. sitting high on a hill eating too much candy and drinking soda pop - smoking cigarettes and going on dates with boys, it was the place of her childhood.

the sound of him clearing his throat is enough to snap her out of her reminiscing, and she glances up towards him with wide eyes, not afraid to go the route of the whole 'batting her eyelashes' thing if it should come to that.

"i can pay you, a'course. got some money saved up for the place. few donations taken and things like that to keep it functional. but if you're willing, maybe we could be.....partners?"

she's pulling out the big guns, dimples and all to try and win this man over. he hadn't spoken more than a few words to her before she was shoving this information down his throat, but she had a tendency to spew out word vomit when nervous.

"don't....don't answer yet. here's my number, call anytime. just...take a few days an' consider."

she places a business card down in front of him, pays for her drink and leaves a large tip. three days pass and she's wondering if she made a stupid decision trying to seek out this gus ranger fella.

is her grandpappy's legacy going to just fade away into the dust, or is she going to be forced to sell and call it a day?

another two days pass by and nothing. at least, not until shortly after lunch. her phone starts to ring with an unknown number, and she gives a minute to talk herself up before answering. before she can get a word out there's three thrown in her direction, and she's damn near squealing at the response.

"i'll do it."

"thank you, thank you, thank you!"

she says, shouting into the phone with an overly excited demeanor. the brunette can't stand to sit still, starts pacing back and forth in her apartment. she finally takes a breath when she reaches the kitchen, glancing out the back window towards the street.

"so what time should we meet?"

the next few months are nothing short of hard work, but eventually, they completely reconstruct the beauty that was her grandfather's vision. the starlight theater is now back in action, with all new gadgets and gizmos that weren't part of her old man's time, but are bound to bring in new customers by the dozen, she hopes.

she walks over to him with a smile on her face, placing a series of lifetime passes in his hand.

"i couldn't have done this without you. thank you, gus. you don't know what this means to me."

she sees the hint of a smile on his lips when he speaks the words in return.

"it was my pleasure."