#literally what’s my age again blink 182 we’re really in it now

[adhdandcomics]

happy aren’t you 24 tuesday

[clumsyclifford]

OKAY. how about "This wasn’t meant to be a date, but we’ve had such a good time and now it’s 2 a.m. and I should really go home…" with ur teacher alex/ambiguous office job jack? (or any version of jalex) (we just love jalex in this house)

well hello, she said casually, nine months later. thank you for the excellent prompt, sorry it took me so long to get to it, but you can thank yourself for that too considering going to ssf is what inspired me to finally write this one. bellawritess clumsyclifford pictures is proud to present: the tshirt jalex meet-cute :)

read here on ao3

-

Later, Alex learns that the boy at the barricade who’d elbowed Alex in the face trying to snatch the thrown guitar pick out of the air is named Jack.

“I’m so sorry,” Jack says for the millionth time, even though Alex has laughed it off every other time. He laughs it off this time, too.

“Seriously, it’s fine. And hey, you caught it.”

Jack holds up the guitar pick, triumphant. “I did catch it,” he says. The blink-182 logo flashes its dead and frozen smile at Alex. Alex finds himself smiling back, though not so much at the pick.

The leaving crowd parts around the two of them. Headlights flood the night, filling the street before them with light and noise. There’s a line of cars backed up further than Alex cares to imagine. Those at the front must have left the show significantly before the set was over. Quitters.

“What I didn’t catch was your name,” Jack adds. His lips quirk, like he’s proud of such a smooth line.

“Alex,” says Alex. “We should probably get out of everyone’s way. Are you waiting for someone, or…?”

“No, no, I came alone.”

“Yeah, me too. Was supposed to have a friend but he bailed on me last-minute.”

“Seriously? Bailed on a blink concert?”

“I know, right?” Alex grins. “Eh, whatever. If he’d been here you probably never would have elbowed me in the face and then we’d never have met.”

“But I would’ve never elbowed you in the face,” Jack says. “Don’t you think you’d have preferred that?”

“Not if it means we’d have never met.”

Jack’s smile slowly grows. “Fair enough. Did you know there’s a 24-hour diner literally five minutes from here?”

“Oh, man, I like the way you think,” Alex says, shoving his hands into his pockets to protect them from the cool late-night breeze. “I didn’t want to sit in this traffic anyway.”

“And I don’t blame you.”

“Well, lead the way,” Alex says, nodding down the sidewalk, and he falls into step with Jack as they both start to walk.

-

The Tastee Diner is charmingly diner-y — neon lights, stools at the bar, the whole nine yards — and, more attractively, it’s mostly empty at this hour. It’s past midnight, later even than Alex’s usual bedtime, but between the buzz from the concert and Jack the attractive stranger across from him, he’s not really feeling tired. If he’s going to flush his sleep schedule down the drain, a post-concert Friday night seems like the best time to do it.

And Jack is really cute. So that helps.

“Breakfast,” Alex says reverently when they’re seated. “Oh my God, a fucking giant waffle.”

“Wow, everything you say makes me like you more,” Jack says, leaning his elbows on the table. Alex glances over the top of his menu but Jack’s eyes are focused on his own menu on the tabletop. He’s smiling a little. So is Alex.

“It’s a giant waffle, Jack! How the fuck do I say no to that?”

“You don’t. This table is pro-giant waffle. At the exclusion of anything else.”

“You’re damn right it is,” Alex says. “Do we also happen to be pro-chocolate milkshake?”

“We’re pro-vanilla milkshake.”

“Ew, seriously?”

Jack rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I know, how can I like vanilla when chocolate is right there—”

“Yeah, how can you?” Alex reaches over the table and covers Jack’s hand with his own. Their eyes meet. Very seriously, Alex says, “How do you look at yourself in the mirror, you monster?”

A beat. Jack chews his lip, clearly trying not to smile. “With great difficulty,” he says. He’s humoring Alex, but sincerity sparkles in his deep brown eyes. His earnest gaze holds Alex’s and he doesn’t pull his hand away. After a moment, Alex does.

“Well, if I looked like you I’d never stop looking in the mirror,” he says instead, and brings his gaze back to the menu. A laugh escapes Jack.

“You can’t turn it off, can you?”

“Turn what off?”

“Your flirty brain-to-mouth pipeline?”

“I could,” Alex says breezily. “I choose not to.” It feels like a subtle rejection, a quiet dig, but it’s hard to be sure. Jack’s smirk seems to suggest otherwise.

The waitress comes by to take their orders of two giant waffles and two milkshakes — chocolate for Alex, vanilla for Jack, though Alex is sure to give Jack a judgmental look as he’s ordering. When she goes, Jack laces his fingers together and leans back in the booth. “So,” he says. “Your name is Alex, you’ve got fantastic music taste, and you seem to be more or less my age, but that’s about all I know about you. Are you from around here? What do you do? Likes, dislikes?”

“Are you trying to build me a dating profile?”

“That wouldn’t be very opportunistic of me, would it?” Jack smiles innocently. Alex’s heart gives a little leap. “I’m trying to get to know you. You know, like any normal stranger would if they found themself at a diner with another stranger.”

That’s fair. They are effectively strangers, although Alex can think of a shorter word to describe what they’re doing right now. He glances around at the jukebox-esque machine bolted to the wall next to their booth, at the empty swivel stools at the bar, at the marble tabletop where Jack is absently tapping his fingers. The decor of the diner is very classic, and he and Jack, both dressed in blink merch and black jeans like the perpetual emo teens they’re no doubt trying to emulate, stick out like sore thumbs.

However unintentional, it sure as hell feels like a date to him.

“I’m from Baltimore,” he starts. Jack lights up.

“No shit! Me too.”

“Really? Whereabouts?”

“Well, I work by the harbor.”

“No shit, I work in Highlandtown,” Alex says excitedly. “Highlandtown Middle. I’m a teacher.”

Jack whistles lowly. “That’s fucking awesome. What do you teach?”

“Music,” Alex says, and Jack groans, although he’s smiling as his hands move to cover his face.

“Of course you do,” he says.

Alex tilts his head. “What, are you not a fan of music teachers? That’s insane.”

“No, no, it’s not that, it’s just.” Jack laughs. “Of course the hot guy I meet at a blink-182 concert is a middle school music teacher. I feel like God is punishing me for refusing to play anything but bad drums in middle school band.”

Alex also laughs. Being called a hot guy by a hot guy is making his stomach do gymnastics. He’s too old for his stomach to be doing things like that, but his stomach clearly doesn’t care. “Well, if I’d been your teacher, trust me, you’d have been playing solidly mediocre drums. But I’m sorry you feel that way.”

Jack’s hands fall to his lap. “I’m sure I’ll get over it,” he says with a slanted smile.

Alex swallows and grins. “So did you look up surrounding diners before you came, or are you just…inexplicably familiar with Silver Spring geography?”

“I come to a lot of concerts here,” Jack says, nodding in the general direction of the venue they’d just vacated. “Venue’s awesome.”

“Yeah, it really is. Honestly, I’m still amazed that you caught that pick.”

“I have a lot of practice. From aforementioned many concerts.”

“I can see that.”

“Trust me, it’s a very specific skill. I’ve got awful hand-eye coordination,” Jack says with a chuckle. “My dream of being the youngest Oriole inducted into the Hall of Fame was crushed at a young age.”

Fizzy champagne fills Alex’s chest. He can’t stop smiling. “Fuck yes, you’re an Orioles fan?”

“That’s my team,” Jack says, looking excited. Possibly at the prospect of meeting another person who’s equally interested in both music and baseball. That’s why Alex is excited, anyway.

“It’s my team,” he says enthusiastically. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, they fucking suck—”

“Oh, no, yeah, they’re the worst—”

“But I’d take a bullet for them. I happily go down with ‘em every year.”

“Yeah, they’re my boys,” Jack agrees. “Here’s hoping this season is better than every single other one.”

“Yeah, all my fingers are crossed, but between you and me I don’t have a lot of faith.”

Jack shrugs and nods. “It’s good for my ego to be so loyal to such a bad team. Keeps me humble.”

“That’s the best attitude I’ve ever heard,” Alex says, and Jack’s smile is so radiant Alex could swear he can feel the glare off the shiny marble tabletop.

-

“Between ‘All The Small Things’ and ‘Going Away To College’ how the fuck am I going to choose ‘Small Things’?”

“Yeah, but it’s such a classic! ‘College’ is, like, emo and…emo.”

“No more emo than ‘I Miss You’ —”

“That one is a classic—”

“I’m not saying it’s not, I’m just saying ‘College’ is their best song and it deserves its spotlight.”

“That’s ‘Feeling This’ erasure and you know it.”

“Besides ‘Feeling This,’ but they always play ‘Feeling This.’ I stand by what I said. I’d swap ‘Small Things’ for ‘College.’ Deal with it.” Alex tongues his milkshake straw into his mouth. “Your turn.”

Jack glares at him for another long moment, like he has to properly make his point about it. “Fine,” he finally huffs. His gaze shifts sideways, off into the distance like he’s thinking, and he swirls his own straw around his milkshake cup. Alex can kind of see his reflection in it. While Jack is thinking, Alex quickly checks his phone.

(21:47) Rian Dawson: How’s the concert? Fuckin bummed I couldn’t make it :/

(21:48) Rian Dawson: Hope you’re having a good time anyway. Text me whenever you get home so I know you didn’t die or get trampled by a mosh pit or whatever the case may be.

Alex smiles and turns off his phone again.

“I feel like I can’t choose a song off Enema now that you did,” Jack mumbles.

“You can,” Alex says. “It would just be kind of a lot of Enema.”

“No, but Enema is a legendary album. I’d go to a show that was literally just all of Enema.”

“Why were you complaining about ‘College’ then!”

“I’m not complaining about ‘College’ itself, I just would never trade it for ‘Small Things’!”

Alex scoffs. “They play ‘Small Things’ all the time. I’ve never seen ‘College’ live. I’d literally kill.”

“Oh my God, I know what I’d do,” Jack says. “‘Shut Up’ instead of ‘Down.’ That’s the only thing that could make this set list more perfect.”

“Ohhh,” Alex says, “that would be fucking sick. Imagine two thousand people just shouting ‘shut the fuck up, she said’ at the top of their lungs.”

“I cannot think of anything cooler than that.”

Alex hums thoughtfully. “So you went with Take Off Your Pants instead of Enema in the end.”

“Alright, don’t get it twisted. If I could add the entirety of Enema to the set list, I would. But if I only get one song, it has to be ‘Shut Up.’ More Enema is never a bad thing.”

“Why wouldn’t you trade ‘College’ for ‘Down’ then?”

“Because that was your set list move, and this is mine,” Jack says. He slaps the table. “Yeah. This is the answer. Someone get Mark Hoppus on the line, stat. I have to tell him I’ve figured out the formula for the perfect set list.”

“‘Shut Up’ live would be awesome,” Alex concedes. “Good move.”

“What can I say, I have extremely good taste,” Jack says airily.

Alex snorts. “Okay, Vanilla Milkshake.”

“You’re just afraid to taste it because you know deep down that it will be better than your chocolate one,” Jack says, pointing his straw accusingly at Alex. Drops of milkshake fall onto the table. Alex sweeps a napkin over the mess.

“You had an advantage over me, though,” he observes. “You said your favorite blink song is ‘Feeling This,’ which was already on the set list. My favorite song wasn’t, so my hands were kind of tied.”

“It’s among my favorite blink songs,” Jack says. “I have many. Most of which are set list staples, yeah. But that’s on you for only having one favorite song.”

“Wait, what? You can’t have many favorites, that defeats the whole point of having a favorite.”

“I can have multiple favorites, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“No way, man. You only get to have one favorite. You can have second-favorites or close favorites but there’s always one that’s better than the rest.”

“Sorry to burst you bubble, Al, but I have more than one favorite blink song,” Jack says, shrugging. “I also have more than one favorite color and more than one favorite food and more than one favorite song.”

Alex shakes his head through Jack’s speech. “I reject this out of hand.”

“You can’t.”

“Well, Clearly Enema is your favorite blink album.”

“Tied with Take Off.”

“Seriously?” Alex narrows his eyes. “Come on, there must be one thing you have just one favorite of.”

“Yeah, there is,” Jack says. “My favorite movie is Home Alone. No other movie comes anywhere close.”

Of course it is. Alex grins and inclines his head in accordance. “That…is extremely good taste.”

“Thank you,” Jack says graciously, and slurps loudly from his milkshake.

-

The next time Alex checks his phone, his brain takes a moment to catch up. “Holy shit, it’s already one a.m.?”

“Oh shit,” Jack says, checking his phone as well. “Time flies when you’re having fun.”

That adage has never felt more true. Slowly working through giant waffles and milkshakes while exchanging questions and random conversational topics with Jack has been the most fun Alex has had in a long time. Diners, he muses. There’s something about diners. Time feels frozen within these walls, and Alex kind of wants to stay in the time bubble forever, laughing with Jack until the sun comes up.

He could do it. Tomorrow’s a Saturday. Nobody works on Saturday, not even Jack at his “boring office job” (his words).

But he knows there’s a reason that nothing gold can stay. It wouldn’t be valuable if it lasted forever. The night will crystallize as something special in Alex’s memory, but it can’t do that until it ends. And it has to end eventually.

“We should probably go,” Alex says reluctantly. Jack nods once.

“Yeah,” he says. He signals for the check and looks back at Alex. “My treat.”

“Uh, no way. I’m paying.”

“Nope, not happening. I will elbow you in the face again if I have to. I’m paying this check.”

“Jack—” Alex wavers. Jack looks so insistent, eyebrows raised like he’s daring Alex to argue, and there’s nothing to do but smile. “Okay. If you insist. We’ll call it even for you assaulting me earlier.”

“Exactly,” Jack says, and he happily accepts the check when the waitress hands it to him.

“Did you guys get everything you need?” she asks the two of them.

Alex glances at Jack, but Jack’s scanning the check. “Pretty much, yeah,” he tells the waitress. She leaves them with the check, and they vacate their table to go pay it at the front.

Alex wonders what someone might think if they saw this table. Whether anyone could even begin to illustrate the story of the night using only two empty milkshake cups and two plates that formerly held waffles. It would be impossible. Not even Sherlock Holmes could work this one out.

Alex smiles. They’re a fossil in amber, preserved in memory. Even if it turns out not to be a date, Alex knows he’ll look back on tonight fondly, and he can count on this exact same smile every time he does.

Jack finishes paying and turns to face Alex. One arm outstretched, he says, “Shall we?”

Alex links their arms. “After you, good sir.”

They’re laughing as they leave in a glow of neon light.

-

“This is me,” Alex says, gesturing half-heartedly at his car. They both stop short behind it.

“Ah,” Jack says, nodding. “So I guess this is where I leave you.”

Alex swallows. “I’m glad you elbowed me in the face,” he admits, which sounds strange to say out of the blue. “I had a good time tonight.”

“What, at the concert?”

Jack is obviously teasing, but Alex doesn’t mind being more clear. “Actually, I think I had more fun after the concert,” he says, smiling a little. “You’re good company, JB.”

Jack smiles, and if Alex isn’t mistaken, he’s also blushing. “Same to you,” he says. “Despite your wrong opinions about the set list.”

“I hate sounding like a cliché,” Alex says, ruffling a hand through his hair. Jack cocks his head. “But, um, I’d like to see you again. If that’s okay.”

“So okay,” Jack says. “And totally plausible, considering we apparently live within twenty minutes of each other.”

“True,” Alex says. “The universe really wanted us to meet, I guess.”

“Thank you, Universe, for putting Alex in harm’s way,” Jack says solemnly, looking upwards. Alex laughs. “Can I have your number?”

“Yeah, yes, of course.”

Alex recites his phone number for Jack to enter into his contacts. “I promise I’ll call,” Jack says. His gaze flits around Alex’s face like it can’t find a good place to land. He drags his index finger diagonally over his chest. “Cross my heart and everything.”

“I have to ask,” Alex says, shifting on his feet. “Were you— was this supposed to be a date?” He hesitates; maybe that’s the wrong question. “Was it a date?”

“For the sake of anniversaries, let’s say yes,” Jack says. Immediately his face puckers in regret. “Pretend I didn’t say that. I’m— my brain gets ahead of me.”

“No, it’s all good.” It’s more than good; there’s a horde of butterflies in Alex’s ribcage that won’t fucking quit, not now that he knows Jack is thinking of anniversaries when this is only maybe their first date. A person who is not only anticipating a future for them but preparing to celebrate it. So far, so fucking good. “You’re a practical thinker. I can appreciate that.”

“And I appreciate that you aren’t deleting your number from my phone even after I just said that to you,” Jack says, grinning. His grin melts away when he sighs. “I should go. It’s late.”

“Yeah,” Alex echoes. “Late.”

“Please drive safe,” Jack says seriously. “If I’m the last person to see you before you die, that’ll make me look really bad.”

Alex laughs. He likes that Jack keeps making him laugh. His friends make him laugh, too, but Jack makes him laugh in a different way, like he can’t stop himself. Like the delight refuses to stay trapped.

“I promise to drive safe,” he vows. “I owe you a date. I would hate to lose the chance to impress you.”

“Oh, wait, that reminds me.” Jack reaches into his pocket and presses something into Alex’s hand. It’s the guitar pick, warm from Jack’s pocket. “You’ll probably use it more than me,” Jack explains, ducking his head. “You know, being a music teacher and all.”

“Oh,” Alex breathes, flipping the pick in his palm. “That’s, um…thank you. Thanks. I’m…”

“Yeah,” Jack says, licking his lips. “Of course. Um, okay, now I really should go. But like I said, I’ll call.”

Alex nods, still staring at the guitar pick in his hand. His head snaps up and he breaks from whatever trance he’d fallen into. “I’m counting on it,” he says, stepping closer to Jack. He hears Jack inhale as he leans closer, brushing his lips to Jack’s cheek.

When Jack speaks, it’s a hoarse whisper. “I had a good time too, you know.”

Alex leans away and starts walking backwards to the driver-side door. “Good,” he says, smiling warmly. He’s not really trying to smile so warmly but he can’t help it. “Get home safe, Jack.”

“Yeah,” Jack says. “You too, Alex.”

[buckyscrystalqueen]

Meant To Be: Part 6

Pairings: Machine Gun Kelly x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, drug use, smut

Word Count: 3,253

A/N: Y’all can thank @wings-of-a-raven for this one….

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5

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

“Alright close…”

“Colson, I am not closing my fucking eyes with the baby in my arms.” You snapped before he could even finish as you headed toward the front door with a shake of your head.

“Do you have any fucking idea how much of a buzz kill you are sometimes, bitch?” He asked as he stopped at the door. “Alright, so I called some people… and I hope it all works for you ‘cause I didn’t know what the fuck half the shit was.”

“What did you do, Colson?” You sighed as you hiked Gage up on your hip a bit more and quickly caught his hand before he could pull on your hair while he babbled away.

“I fixed it.” He said with a shrug as he pushed the front door open and stepped inside. You instantly noticed the stair case, which now had plexiglass along the banisters, and a decorative baby gate at the top and the bottom that matched the black wrought iron, perfectly.

“Babe.”

“You wanted a medium.” He said with a shrug. “I mediumed.” Your head bobbed slowly as he turned you to lead you toward the living room, where some of the crew were hanging out along with a woman you hadn’t seen in almost two years.

“Sawyer!” You cried, making her whip around toward you, sending her half black, half red hair flying in an arch behind her.

“You’re here!” She screeched as she jumped to her feet and handed Slim the joint in her fingers, that you realized you hadn’t smelled the way you normally did when you stepped into the house. “Did he tell you?”

“Tell me what?” You asked as you gave her a one armed hug, but Kels quickly pulled you away.

“Not there yet.” He said as he pulled you a couple steps over toward the entertainment center. “Look, straps and shit so it don’t fucking fall, drawer locks that apparently keep JP at bay, too.”

“Hey!” Rook shouted from the couch as the rest of the group taunted him.

“We got these things.” Kels continued as he tapped a knee high box beside you with his toe. “Air purifiers or some shit. Dude said they were the quietest shit on the market so each room’s got one.” Your heart melted as he brought you around each room of the house, showing off every little thing he had had done to ensure that Gage was absolutely safe in the typically wild household. Every door handle and outlet had a cover, every drawer was latched closed. He even went as far as making sure there was a table that was about five feet tall and had a four inch plexiglass lip around the edge to ‘keep the drugs in one spot.’

“Colson.” You said as you looked over at him with a stunned expression as you tried to come up with the words.

“Not done.” He said as he spun you back toward the stairs. “So as you saw, Rook got moved.” He started as he held the gate open for you. “And let me tell you, fixing up his damn room cost me an arm and a fucking leg. But… Gage now has his own room.”

“Jesus.” You gasped as you walked in and looked around the ‘rockstar’ room that you were honestly a little jealous of. “How the fuck did you do all this?”

“Text messages and phone calls when you were napping.” He said as he shut the door and sent someone a text. Your brow furrowed and you looked over at him while setting Gage down to play as the floor beneath your feet started to vibrate the slightest bit. “Sound proof.” He said as he pointed up to a camera above the door, one in the far corner facing the crib and the door, and one on the crib facing the bed. 

“Baby monitors. So you can have fun and keep an eye on him at the same time. And Sawyer has agreed to be our nanny of sorts for the low, low price of rooming with Rook, some first class seats around the world, and some weed as payment. I’m working on fixing up the bus so you guys can come with me to fest and when we go on tour here in the states next year after we all go to Europe and…” His thought was cut off as you cupped his jaw in your hands and kissed him with tears in your eyes. He smiled against your lips and slid his arms around your waist as the tension he was carrying in his shoulders slipped away. 

“Thank you.” You whispered when you pulled away to rest your forehead against his. “Baby…”

“You two belong here.” He said softly as he carded his fingers through your hair. “Not in your own fucking place. Not out of my fucking arms. I won’t fucking lose you again, baby girl. I won’t make it…”

“I’m not going anywhere.” You whispered as you pulled back to search his eyes. “We’re a family. We’re here, together.”

“Fuck yes we are.”

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

“Ba-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na.” You sang loudly, changing the lyrics to ‘All The Small Things’ by Blink 182 the slightest bit since you were feeding your 10 month old a banana for dinner. “Ba-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na.” Gage squealed, took the cut up piece of banana out of your fingers and shoved it in his mouth, completely ignoring the last few pieces of shredded chicken and rigatoni on his high chair tray for your much more entertaining food of choice. “Ba-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na!” You screamed as you threw your hands up and danced in a circle in the rented RV, until your eyes landed on a cell phone and the person that was holding it in the doorway.

“So this is the fun I’m missing out on.” Colson teased. “Well fuck, baby. I wanna join!”

“Well here’s the ba-na-na-na.” You laughed as you handed your boyfriend the banana and the knife. “Small bites. I’m gunna finish getting ready…”

“Late night! Come home!” Kels said over you in a forced horse tone as he handed Gage the next bite while head banging to the music on your phone. With a giant smile, you headed back into the bedroom and pulled off his shirt to reveal your fest outfit that was thankfully banana and pasta sauce free thanks to your mock apron. Your head bobbed the slightest bit as you double checked your hair was still messily decent before grabbing your Doc Martens and heading back out toward the bathroom.

“The fuck is that?” Kels demanded as he almost instantly stopped dancing and stood up straight to look at you. “Oh no. Fuck no, you’re not wearing that!” You stopped dead in your tracks and cocked your eyebrow at him before slowly looking down at your outfit.

“You’re really gunna fucking say that to me.” You said simply as you looked back up at him, pointedly.

“Yea, cause you look like a stripper… is that my shirt?”

“Not any more.” You hissed as you stepped into the bathroom.

“Babe, you’re a fucking mother!” Colson shouted as he handed Gage a slice of banana and stormed over toward the bathroom where you were starting to do your makeup.

“And what, a mother can’t wear a cut off shirt and…”

“And fucking underwear!? You’re wearing fishnets and a fucking garter belt…”

“And what, you think you can tell me what to wear again all of a sudden, asshole?” You snapped as you turned and shoved him out of the bathroom and into the wall.

“Yea, when you dress like that!” You took a step back and popped your jaw in aggravation.

“OK.” You said with a nod as you tossed your makeup on the counter and grabbed the edge of his shirt, which you had cut up and tied to the point where it barely covered your breasts. “Here, I’ll just go like this.”

“The fuck you are!” He shouted even louder as he looked at the XX tape that you had strategically placed over your nipples before he saw the back of the high waisted bathing suit bottoms you had on that left little to the imagination. “WHAT THE FUCK, HOE?!”

“Come on, baby boy.” You cooed with a smile as you pulled the tray off the high chair and set it on the table since he was done eating anyways. “You and your slutty Mommy are going home because I am not putting up with this shit again.”

“No… fuck. OK, wait, hold on.” Colson said as he quickly ran around you and stood in front of the door. “OK, you win.”

“It’s not about fucking winning, Kels.” You sighed as you pulled some chicken out of Gage’s hair. “I’m my own fucking person and I make my own fucking decisions, right? Which means, that at my age, I can discern what is appropriate to wear to a fucking music festival, where I do not have my son with me, and where I’m going to be doing drugs for hours on end while someone else parents for the night. So yea, mama’s gunna be a fucking skank for the night. Mama’s gunna get fucking drunk in the skimpiest outfit she can because I fucking can. 

And if you don’t fucking like it, you can stay here with our son and give Sawyer the night off of nannying and editing books and shit to party with me. Or, you can shut the fuck up about what I’m fucking wearing, give your fucking son a bath, and come get fucked up with me. Appreciate the fact that your baby mama still fucking has it and appreciate the fact that you’re the one tapping this ass. Bath time, baby boy.” You leaned forward and kissed the slightly annoyed look off Colson's face and passed him Gage with a huge smirk. “Tell me what to fucking wear again, and there will be no discussion. I’ll just punch you in the fucking throat.”

“Bitch, I fucking dare you.” He growled as he stood where he was and looked at your only partially covered ass. “You do look hot as fuck, though.”

“I know!” You called out over your shoulder as you grabbed your shirt off the floor and stepped back into the bathroom to do your make up. “Bath, Colson. I wanna get fucked up with my pain in the ass, control freak baby daddy.”

——

The music in the dome was so loud, it was almost literally rattling your bones, but you welcomed it with open arms. Your heated skin was covered with a sheen of sweat as you danced, mesmerized by the strobing colorful lights that were flashing in a random pattern across the white tent and PVC pipes that created the structure. Colson’s fingers traced your side like a feather, creating electric tingles trail in their path, as you danced with Ashleigh with your ass on his hip. You knew, just by the way he subtly shifted away then toward you and 

by the way his fingers would grip your hip periodically as you danced, you were driving him crazy, but he was still acting like ‘Kels’ and not the ‘Colson’ you wanted.

“Colson.” You whined as you turned and pressed up against his bare chest between songs, distracting him from whatever it was that he was saying to the crowd about some movie you didn’t care about. “I need you to please, PLEASE bend me over fucking anything and make me forget my own name. Please Daddy…”

“Movie now.” He said a little quickly as he pushed you past him toward the stairs. “I’ll be out in tent city later on. Diaper duty and shit…”

“Colson!” You hissed from the bottom of the stairs because he was taking too long.

“Fuck you, I’m coming.” He barked as he passed the mic off to Mod without a second glance. You grabbed the edge of your shirt and playfully pulled it up in the darkness behind the tent, which made Colson growl at you as he stepped out behind the tent. “Just fuckin’ asking for trouble.”

“So worth it.” You yelped as he picked you up and tossed you over his shoulder like a rag doll, which simply turned you on even more. You whined and slid your hands down his back to grab his ass as he headed down the short row of RVs. He retaliated by slapping your ass and thigh as hard as he could a couple times, guaranteeing that you would not be able to dress so risqué the next day.

“Show everyone whose ass this is.” He growled as he yanked the door to your RV open, startling Sawyer who was sitting at the table, working.

“And that’s my cue.” She said quickly as she gathered all her things and leapt to her feet.

“Thanks Soy.” You said from your upside spot with a small smirk and wave. “Got him from here.” She nodded her head, tossed her work on the bed above the drivers seat where she and JP were ‘sleeping’ and glanced into the pack and play that was set up in front of the couch before hurrying out the door to go party for a while. You squealed as quietly as you could when you were tossed on the bed and smirked up at the love of your life.

“You’re in so much fucking trouble, bitch.” Colson growled as he put one knee on the bed and reached up to snap the strap holding your fishnets up against your inner thigh. “Fuck… you are one sexy mother fucker, babe.”

“Why are you talking?” You asked as you used the edge of the bed to kick off your boots. “Daddy, please…”

“Say it again.” He groaned as he quickly pulled his jeans and boxers off and tossed them to the side. 

“Daddy.” You cooed with a smile as you took off your shirt and tossed it to the side.

“Fuck, I missed that. No, fucking leave ‘em.” He said as he whacked your hands before you could pull off the tape on your nipples. “You’re in fucking trouble. Making me watch men stare at your ass all night long. And then you started fucking dancing.” You whined and squirmed on the blankets as he snapped the other side before quickly bending down to bite the red spot he had made. Your whine caught in your throat as he scraped his nails down the back of your thigh, knowing you loved the pain as much as he did.

“Colson please…”

“Fuck you.” He barked as he snapped the strap again. “Teasing me all night.”

“I’m gunna fucking kill you if you don’t…” You yelped as he quickly reached up and ripped off one of the strips of tape before covering your mouth with his hand.

“Bitch, I fucking dare you to try to act like the fucking boss here.” He said, as he fit his hips between your thighs. “We both know I’m the fucking boss between these thighs. Isn’t that right, bitch?” You nodded your head and squeaked again as he popped the straps once more before he pushed your bottoms to the side and pushed himself in. Your jaw dropped and you cringed when he scratched the back of your thighs harder while hiking your legs up on his hips.

“No foreplay at all here, huh?”

“You had plenty of fucking foreplay on the fucking dance floor.” He said as he leaned down and kissed you roughly. “And I don’t think you can not wake up Gage if I go down on you…”

“Fine just shut up and fuck me.” 

“Getting fucking bossy again.” He cooed with a devilish smirk as he spanked the side of your thigh and your ass. “Daddy’s not liking the…”

“He’s gunna be really fucking pissed if he doesn’t fucking fuck me.” You groaned as you tried to roll your hips against his, but with the way he was laying, you couldn’t move much at all.

“Oh, no…” He tisked with a shake of his hand as he dug his nails into your left thigh with one hand and placed his other on your throat. “Who’s the fucking boss?”

“No.” You said, daringly as you grabbed his wrist with both hands, begging him with your eyes alone to give you more than the torture he was giving out currently. “Please…”

“Who’s the fucking boss?” He growled lowly as he leaned forward so that his mouth was right beside your ear. His grip tightened around your throat and your whole body tensed. “Answer me.”

“Daddy…” You whispered as you moved your hand to cup his jaw so you could gently push his face above yours. “Daddy, please.”

“Tell me, baby.” He said as he searched your eyes, loosened his grip for a moment, and steadily started to pick up his pace. “Who’s your fucking Daddy.”

“You.” You gasped between gasps as you tangled your fingers in his sweat dampened hair. “Only you.”

“Damn fucking right.” He said with a giant smirk as he pulled your leg up on his hip more so he could pick up a bruising pace. You nodded your head and stretched so that you could capture his lips to conceal your moans. Colson molded you like putty, taking his time to add bursts of pain to your pleasure with the garter belt straps and the tape on your chest, just as you did every time you clawed at his shoulders and back, needing him closer and deeper.

“Baby please.” You begged when you hit the edge you needed to sail over.

“Stay there, baby girl. I’m almost there.” You nodded your head and slid your hand down his back to just above his perfect ass.

“Come with me.” You whispered as you dragged your nails across his tats, which made him him tighten his grip on your throat even more.

“Fuck yes…” He growled out as he found your clit with his thumb and threw you over the edge.  Your whole body tensed and your fingers and toes curled as he buried himself deep and came with you. He let his grip on your throat go and buried his face in your hair to muffle his swearing as you took a deep, shuddering breath and slid your arms around his back.

“Damn, baby.” You sighed as he pulled out of you but rolled you both on your sides. “Fucking love you.”

“Fucking love you.” He huffed with a smile as he tilted your chin to look at the handprint he almost purposely left on your throat. You can see the satisfied smirk playing behind his eyes as he brushed his thumb across the forming bruise as the lie formed on his lips. “Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.” You giggled as you unsnapped your garter belt from your fishnets to take them off. “You stayin’ with me and the baby or are you going back out?”

“Probably gunna smoke a joint with you, and go out to tent city for a bit.” He sighed as he rolled onto his back to find his jeans.

“OK just help me move the play pen in here before you go so that Rook and Sawyer don’t wake up Gage.”

“Will do, baby.”

Part 7

[werezmastarbucks]

Whitmore guy - the boy in a shirt with a bat

Part One

Part Two

Kai Parker x fem!Reader slowburn

whatever gifs I’m going to use on this one, I hope the creators are okay with that

The Mystic Falls team decide they want to get rid of Kai Parker for good - and in a way that would ensure he won’t be able to come back. Death is not secure enough this time, so they go with Malivore. Who knows what the poor bastard is doing down there, but six months later, a new guy comes to work at the college - and meets the reader seemingly for the first time.

word count: 2987 ish

warnings: none

music: blink-182 - down, blink-182 - always, green day - the last of the american girls; Y/N quotes don’t leave me by - you guessed it - blink-182

MAY

Y/N was almost done. Almost-almost done, and the clock was only showing half past seven. It’s still half an hour until full sunset, and she has every chance to wrap it up and go rush to the football field in the town, perch herself on the seats and watch.

It’s just that all the troubles of all the Whitmore students were hanging like dead weight on her, and realistically, if she worked all day, every day, with a five hour sleep, and a twenty minutes lunch break, Christmas included, she would finish reading and delegating all student complaints and applications by the year 2098.

She threw herself back in the chair and pressed her palms against her eyes, letting the green specks poke the darkness. Then she realized that the music she’s been hearing for the last hour wasn’t playing in her head – the sound has been coming from the outside world.

Y/N opened her eyes and listened. Yup, she was sure it was her own brain because nobody’s listened to that reeeally old stuff in years. There’s just nobody left in the whole state of Virginia who’s openly a blink-182 fan.

She jumped up from her chair excitedly, happiness striking in her head like a flare gun; somebody was listening to their song! At the college! Somewhere on the floor! And it wasn’t her!

Y/N left her office and walked down the quiet corridor, following the sound like a thread. What a song it was, too.

Tidal waves they rip right through me

Tears from eyes worn cold and sad

Pick me up now…

The epic teenage angst made you want to go get all the bad tattoos you could possibly spend your money on.

Y/N knew she loved that song some time ago, but couldn’t remember why. It pulled on a surprisingly sturdy thread in her heart and made it bleed in a second; like she was a teenager again, like she was on the verge of a breakdown, and the whole world was full of amazement and bursting, vivid sensations.

Y/N almost ran to the sound, holding her lip between her teeth and never noticing it. Her face was lit with anticipation as she paused in front of the door. Somebody was playing music in the gatherings hall, where the acoustics were crazy, and all the space all but welcomed all kinds of dancing, prancing and hopping. The song ended, and another started to play; and yet she knew it again.

It went like this:

I’ve been here before a few times,

And I’m quite aware we’re dying…

 Y/N pushed the door and it gave. She saw the hall, lit by all the lamps, although she was quite sure that the maintenance had already turned everything off except her office.

A guy was crouching on the floor next to the window, and a big sports bag was lying at his feet. Weird, he looked like a schoolboy, and the next second he stood up and she saw he was a young man. The guy didn’t seem to notice her at first, so Y/N had a couple of seconds to stare at the stranger. He was all jumpy, tall, boyish in a way; his dark hair was a little messed up, as he probably ruffled it with his hands; she’s never seen him here before. Being the welfare office worker, Y/N knew pretty much everyone in this huge place, - which was scary, by the way, - but this one was probably new. She couldn’t really place him neither with students nor with the staff. So she just placed him with the good music lovers. She already liked this dude. He was wearing a grey shirt with a stupid drawing of a cartoonish bat, green blood spilling out of its mouth. And Converses. Again, who still wears Converses in Whitmore or Mystic Falls?

He looked up, watching her for a second, and then waved his hand. They couldn’t really hear each other over the music, but the guy still said something. Y/N motioned towards his portable speaker which was spitting out the fast chords and energetic drumming. That was the best. That was the best song in the world, and she was almost sorry when the bat guy ran towards the speaker and turned the volume down.

“Hey- woah, I didn’t realize there was somebody alive here!” he exclaimed.

“Are you having a party?” she asked instead of a hello. They stared at each other for a mere second before letting out the air from their lungs.

“Does that bother you?”

“No way. I was drawn here like a rat by a flute. Man, I haven’t heard Blink on speakers or even on the radio, for ages”.

He smiled, and Y/N melted. The guy was approaching her slowly, walking like he owned the place. His smile was white, and his eyes, in contrast, seemed completely black, but, as he came closer, she saw they were dark blue. It’s just his pupils - so enlarged they covered almost everything, trying to devour his eye. He sure looked like he was high.

Something hit her, and backed off immediately. There was something about him, something weird, outlandish, not Mystic Falls at all, neither Whitmore, but hey. Everything in the closest vicinity of Mystic Falls is completely consumed by its spores. Everything was Mystic Falls color, the people, the nature, and the college; people spoke, walked and loved in such a way that you could tell they all come from the same place, full of scandals and vampires.

This dude, though. He looked a bit mad, Y/N reckoned, his wide smile never touched his dark eyes, and they shone with something that made her look just a little too long. He smelled like trouble. After all these years she’s been rubbing elbows with all kinds of bad, Y/N could tell who’s what. She could tell a beast when she met one. Vampires looked different to her, call it intuition or habit.

But this dude… he just looked different. He was like ink, like milk, like blood. His face looked perfect all-American beautiful, with lean triangle chin and strong jaw line. And yet, it was crooked somehow. He looked youthful, but the look about him said old. The fact that he was keeping silent a second too long, was standing an inch too close, looking at her too closely, all said trouble. It was blinding how quick she felt all that, in a flash, and against all odds, she smiled.

She didn’t know what he was.

“Ha, you’re staring”, he said, amused.

“Dude, I’m trying to remember if I’d seen you before”.

His sharp eyebrows, like two eagle wings, were drawn together in mocking concentration.

“Well. Have you?” There was an inviting smirk on his lips, showcasing two things: he had a very nice mouth. And. There was a reason enough to keep distance.

“No. I have excellent memory for faces”.

He shrugged like nothing in his easy, carefree life, mattered.

“Yeah, me neither. This is the first time my eyes are on you”.

“Wow”, she nodded, “you’re weird enough”.

“I’ve been said that”.

“How dangerous are you?”

“Uhm…” he pretended to ponder, poking his chin with his right index finger. Y/N saw a large steel ring on it, with a pretty, strange scattering of tiny dark dots. A very unusual marking, too, but she said nothing. He had a face of a TV star. She could very well picture him in a sitcom with a lame title like “My crazy family”, in which he would be the geeky, but sexy, smart oldest son of a little bit absent-minded parents.

“Like… eight out of fourteen. I’ve been to a camp once… it was a type of… you know, like a summer camp?”

Y/N found she had to actually focus to follow his thought. She looked straight at him attentively, feeling bright magenta giggle rising inside of her.

“Uh-huh. The Crystal Lake type? Or the Sleepaway Camp?”

“Get out!” he exclaimed, stretching his vowels. They laughed exactly at the moment for Billie Joe to yell about the Last of the American Girls.

“No, more like a concentration camp”, he offered, “but like, you’re alone there, so you have to do all the torturing yourself”.

“God’s sake, what kind of camp was it?”

“I literally just told you”, he replied with a pause, and his articulate face went blank. Y/N couldn’t hold off a sniff. She felt like she was a bit drunk, but that was more of overworking, late evening, lots of coffee and that everlasting feeling of despair one gets upon realizing that work will never end.

“Anyway, I learnt a lot of useful stuff there”, the boy said, “how to start a fire, how to make a knot, you know, the type you’re not getting out of, ever. A-and, like, how to make stakes out of sticks”.

Alert reddened Y/N skull from the inside. She tilted her head. Reading him was in vain. This dude was misty, he was shut off like a persona that’s uncrackable simply because it never really existed.

“What for?”

“Oh, you know, grilled sausages and stuff”.

She reprimanded herself silently for being a basket case. Yeah, sure. Grilled sausages, and only then – killing vampires; that’s how it works in the normal world.

“What about you?” he asked suddenly.

“Huh?”

“How dangerous are you?”

“Ow, extremely. I mean, look at me”.

She stretched out her arms, displaying herself (like a complete sellout, she thought. There goes the very first male who listens to Green Day and blink-182 and you’re already opening your ribcage for him, what a piece of work).

Diligently, the guy took a step back to get a better view. It was all very comical, with a very characteristic soundtrack.

“I am really looking, and I have thoughts. What exactly do you mean?”

“Small. Disproportional limbs. Frail muscles. Do you see? Very angry as a result. Very angry all my life. So, very dangerous”.

He smiled joyfully, wide, bright sparkles exploding in the dark of his eyes.

“I got it. Not gonna piss you off. Actually, I guess, since I’m new here, I should bond with the strong ones, right? I’ll be working as your computer guy. You need something fixed, so that you owe me a favor and don’t kill me when you get mad?”

Y/N scratched her temple, thinking if she needed anything in her laptop fixed. Ridiculously, there was something.

“Funny you should ask. I have the stupidest problem… I… what’s your name again?”

“Oh, my manners”, the guy sighed gravely, and outstretched his hand, “Mal. And you..?”

She considered his palm for a second before shaking it. A light buzz stung her which she barely noticed. Mal’s shirt was probably all synthetic fabric. She told him her name, and he gave a nod.

“Are you really an IT guy?”

“Why would I lie?” he asked, puzzled. He pointed behind his back, turning a little:

“You see that wall? I’m tearing out the old wiring right now. That’s why I’m here so late. Tomorrow you’re gonna have new wi-fi, with the dopest name and the password you’ll never guess”.

Y/N could instantly think of a thousand passwords that were puns for punk rock songs’ names. She abstained from vocalizing them all immediately.

“Alright then”.

“What stupid problem are you having? Have you tried to…” his eyebrows moved suggestively, like he was about to say something R-rated. “…you know?”

“Nah, it’s with the browser. The default search engine is Yahoo for some reason, and I hate Yahoo with burning passion… I’ve no idea how to make it Google again”.

“Are you for real?”

“Yeah. I’m the college sociologist, not a bloody programmer”.

Mal couldn’t help laughing. He headed for the doors, hopping a little in the rhythm of the song.

“Perhaps I made a mistake in detecting you as one of the leaders of this pride”, he mumbled, “where’s your office? You’re the sociologist here?”

Y/N followed him into the corridor.

“Yup”.

“What exactly does it mean?”

“If they need somebody to listen to how they’re closeted gays, I listen. If they need me to fill out the forms for their loans, I fill them out. If teachers had a party the night before and can’t come in now because they’re hungover, I come in instead and take their classes. If…”

“Gee, how much do they pay you for that?”

Y/N felt her face move, all parts of it separately. Just thinking about it was unnerving. But that’s the job she asked for. That’s the responsibility she’d grown into. She’d been a teacher herself for some time, and then got tired of the creative pressure of coming up with the new ways of explaining one thing every day; she thought this position would bring some diversity in her everyday thinking style. She was being silly. However, when she realized she was worked up, it also brought a strange taste of satisfaction in a way that she was giving all of her, and her conscience was clear. She explained all that to Mal. Then she pushed her door and they found themselves in her darkened office. The first pink flames of raspberry sunset were trying the sky.

“Damn it”, she swore, “I’m late for sunset again”. How the fuck long did she spend in the gatherings hall?!

“You like watching it?”

“Sure. It’s like the doorframe syndrome, have you heard about it?”

Mal smiled, sprinting to her laptop that’s been waiting for her on the desk, abandoned.

“Oh yeah”, he sneered, “I was just thinking about it, but then I entered this room and forgot”.

Y/N sat in the armchair on the opposite side of her desk, thinking to herself, he’s probably gonna die really soon. Like Brandon, the last interesting dude she’d met in Mystic Falls back when she was on the haul, working at the Grill. Brandon was the best bartender the place had ever seen in its prolonged history, and he was also very clearly interested in Y/N, too. They worked together a lot, and drank at night even more. They got to know each other pretty well, which made it even worse when someone came in, in the broad daylight, and broke his neck. Just when Y/N thought that the Mystic Falls curse has been lifted and normal people could feel safe. It’s been two years, or even more, since then, and now she sat there, cynical and certain, that such a cool dude like Mal wouldn’t last here long. The place consumes people like him – those who wake up her desire to live again.

“Oh-kay, I’ll just close all this porn here”, Mal looked at the screen. Y/N has been writing a report when she heard the music, and left the document open. “You wanna Google by default?”

“Yes”.

“Come here and learn while I’m alive”, Mal said solemnly, not noticing the look she gave him, stunned at the sinister coincidence of thinking.

She circled the desk and stood at his shoulder. Mal smelled of candy (literally this time), so sweet it was almost suffocating. Did he fucking rub it in his hair?! Y/N thought of tricksters casually, the Scandinavians like Loki, whose only downfall was in that extra sweet smell of all kinds of sugar poison that gave them away. Could Mal be a malevolent spirit, luring her into a trap? What’s he gonna do? Eat her insides?

“Are you looking?”

“Yes”.

“It’s two seconds. See?”

“Oh”.

Mal turned to her in her own armchair like he owned it and looked up without a shade of awkwardness.

“You seriously didn’t know how to do that? I don’t even need to be an IT specialist to be able to fix that”.

“What are you getting at?” Y/N barked defensively. She prided herself in not understanding anything about computers, like it made her old in a wise way.

“I gotta tell you before we kick it off – I have a girlfriend”.

Y/N digested it for a second.

“Oh, you smug face”, she spat out, “you think I’m hitting on you?”

“I mean…” his innocent-wild eyes acted very well.

“I don’t know shit about this computer crap, I thank God every day I manage to even turn it on…”

“You’re cool and very nice, but…”

“I don’t hit on people”, Y/N banged herself in the chest, “people hit on me”.

Mal puffed with laughter, still looking up.

“Okay, sorry. I’ve never met anyone like you. Quiet so… helpless”.

“There. Don’t you ever assume…”

“We’re gonna be friends though, right?”

Y/N shrugged.

“Sure. Emos gotta stick together, or else we commit unspeakable things. Now, get out of my office”.

“I prefer to think of myself as a broke-free treasure hunter, thank you very much”.

Mal was smiling like a cunning happy brat as he walked out of the door. He stopped half way, catching himself on the handle. Having crossed the line of the doorframe, he must have recalled something.

“What did you say about the sunsets? And the syndrome?”

“Oh, yeah”, Y/N uttered, propping herself back at the computer. She could feel evening migraine coming, together with the song blasting and echoing from the hall down the corridor. “When I see that, you know, the bloody pink when it’s just ending, I feel like I’m remembering something I’d forgotten. It’s a weird feeling. Kind of like a déjà vu backwards. You ever had that?”

Mal blinked, thinking. Seriously, this time. Looking at him, Y/N decided, that yes, they were going to be friends. He was making her feel something. Something good about all this job, and all that was in her past. All that she thought she outgrew. He was clear, black and white, sturdy, holding on to her door like he was keeping it in place.

“You have to have your head checked, Y/N. It might be terminal…”

“Get out, Mal. Don’t let my door hit your ass”.

“Jesus, you’re really obsessed with blink-182, aren’t you?”

Y/N felt no shame.

[nooneaskedme-but]

We’re Back, and So Is the Music! Music Surge + Triple Track Review!

Okay so, I had this beautiful post typed out, right? Well, it was about a quarter of the way typed out, but still — good old fucking Tumblr completely trashed what I had written and I had to start from scratch. It was actually surprisingly coherent too, considering it’s 2:30 AM and sitting up feels like a chore. So, I just wanted to take a moment and preface this post by saying: fuck you, Tumblr. Luckily, I still have a pretty solid idea of what I said/was going to say, so there’s that. I’m still out for blood, though. I reiterate: fuck you, Tumblr. I honestly cannot wait until I find a better means of uploading my reviews that can yield this sort of following.

Anyway, what a joyous time, am I right? Of course I am.

Seriously though, this is a great fucking time for music between skate punk legends blink-182 keeping us up to date and at the edge of our seats as they wrap up their ninth studio album and prepare to set sail on another set of festivals (one of which the Back to the Beach festival, during which they played their prized 1999 record Enema of the State from front to back, doing a damn fine job if you ask me) and new music dropping from the likes of Lana Del Rey, Taylor Swift, Sum 41, and Angels & Airwaves with the announcement of a new summer tour. Having been dormant since early 2016, the coveted space synth rock pioneers of AvA have come fresh out the gates with their newest single. ‘Rebel Girl’, a delightful ‘80s synth throwback meshed perfectly with a nitty gritty underlying post-punk backing track after a couple of weeks of very cryptic updates (mainly updating their tour pages and changing their logo and band photo for the first time in years) along with multiple teasers, all labeled ‘4_30’.

This post was originally meant to go along with said teasers, but with life happening as it does, it just didn’t play out that way. But now, since so much has happened lately in the world of music, I have not one, not two, but THREE track reviews comin’ atcha! Yeah, you heard right, three hot and sizzling reviews including Rebel Girl by Angels & Airwaves, ME! by Taylor Swift and Brendon Urie of Panic! At the Disco, and Out for Blood by Sum 41. There’s so much more happening right now, but these releases in particular were just so iconic that I couldn’t not cover them.

But before we get into any of that, can we take a small detour and talk about how Lil Peep’s underground SoundCloud tracks are finally seeing the light of day as they begin to hit major streaming services? I never thought I’d see the day, but I’m so excited that this is actually happening. I’d always said that his best work had never seen the mainstream, but that’s thankfully starting to change. Although, I will still stand by that statement until I see ‘Hellboy’ on Spotify.

Anyway! Here we go, let’s get this show on the road. Time for the one and only beloved track by track review!

ME! featuring Brendon Urie of Panic! At the Disco by Taylor Swift: Okay, now I have to be brutally honest about two things here. One, I was 100% not looking forward to Brendon’s feature on this song. No offense to Brendon — I grew up on Panic, and he’s always had an absolutely godlike voice. That being said, I can’t stand newer Panic! At the Disco, and I cringed a little when I saw he’d be on this song.

Although, I can’t say I was disappointed with how it turned out. He complimented the song as well as Taylor’s voice very well, and it actually made for an incredibly cute and swooning combination. The other downfall I saw with this song was the lyrics, particularly with how overly saccharine and repetitive they were. Though they were cute, and oddly charming, I really felt as though Taylor could’ve done better — she definitely has in the past. Having said that, I still very much enjoyed this song. It’s fun, it’s warm and pleasant, and it showcases the best of both Taylor and Brendon in a lovable duet reminiscent of an ABC Television Holiday Special (I didn’t name a specific broadcast, but at least one came to mind). This song almost reminds me of something off of Taylor’s 2017 effort Reputation just without the edge. -- 7/10

Out for Blood by Sum 41: I’ve admittedly never been the biggest fan of Sum 41, but I’ve started to warm up and enjoy them more as time goes on. ‘Fat Lip’ and ‘The Hell Song’ will always get me out of my seat along a few others, including a few select songs from their last studio album 13 Voices (which I absolutely hated upon release). This track, though. This track fucking kills! Right off the bat, you’re taken by a daring dramatic drum roll into an electrifying guitar line. You’re immediately grappled in and strapped in for the wild ride that is the rest of the song, consisting of Deryck’s trademark grit and a series of guitar chugs, a gnarly solo, and even a brief moment of synth exploration in the bridge. I’m normally not too big on their signature heavy metal-pop punk arrangement, but it’s rather balanced in this song and it’s done very fucking well here. Needless to say, this is a certified banger. — 9/10

Rebel Girl by Angels & Airwaves: I’m honestly at a loss for words, which is ironic considering I couldn’t wait until I got to this review. I’m just simply blown away. It may take space daddy Tom nearly a fucking century to put something out, but when he does, he fucking delivers. I’m on my thousandth listen of this song, and somehow, it’s still getting better with each and every listen. The synthesizers are so beautifully laced between the pounding drums and the dirty guitars (god bless dirty guitars) and it’s such a dream. I know AvA’s been famous for this for over a damn decade, but it’s done especially well in this song, and Tom’s voice has aged like a fine wine. I literally cried in the elevator when this song came on the radio; I was just so overwhelmed by not only having new music from Angels & Airwaves in the first place but also how beautifully enchanting and loving Tom’s lyrics were on top of such a gorgeous instrumental. It actually makes me want to cry again just thinking about it. This is by far my favorite release of the year so far, and I honestly don’t expect that to change. — 10/10

In short, the music scene is booming at the moment, and I’m fucking ecstatic. It’s like 2016 all over again! And, the best part is that there’s still more to come! How amazing is that?

There’s so much happening right now, and rest assured I’ll be here to cover it all.✨

Stay Tuned for More!

[gendryw4ters-blog]

aight fuck it. here’s young speirs.

i was gonna wait before doing this but!! i am feeling speirs a lot tonight and so here is this thing i hope you enjoy it and that it makes sense somehow too 

you can listen to the list here

a tracklist as well as some type of analysis of both the tunes and my interpretation of him in relation to them beneath the cut <3

bad reputation - joan jett (courtesy of @kuurihn!! thank you for the idea omg <3)

oh my god - ida maria

stockholm syndrome - blink 182

lithium - nirvana

basket case - green day

smells like teen spirit - patti smith

man - yeah yeah yeahs

i just dont know what to do with myself - the white stripes

creep - radiohead

i miss you - blink 182

At first glance, young Speirs seems like a stereotype. Typical teen angst. Pop punk, grunge- he’s evidently trying too hard. You can picture him; skinny jeans and band tees and maybe a piercing or two. You knew him in highschool, I knew him in highschool- he’s a trope as old as time.

And in many ways, he is that stereotype. Misunderstood. Angry. Messy hair. It all points in the same direction; but there’s this other level to him too- why he’s come to embody this stereotype in the first place.

I’m not gonna equate myself to Speirs in a big way because we’re pretty different, but if there’s one thing we both struggle with; it’s identity. I grew up on dad’s music, I thought it was the coolest thing ever- I used to think I was a goth (turns out! I meant punk but didn’t understand at the time) and loved Blink 182 and Green Day and bands like that because I was desperate to be somebody. The music was cool (still is, Blink 182 are a band that I know are gonna be with me for my entire life), and I wanted to be cool too- I wanted to be interesting, wanted to be liked.

Ron Speirs is the youngest of five kids. Imagine that- four older siblings, each with their own personalities, their own vibes, and you- the youngest, still finding your feet. Each of his family members already has a reputation, especially if the age gap is kinda big. There’s a kid in my year with who has an older sister that went through our school years before him, but she was incredible and all he got for years was “how’s your sister doing? She was so smart!” and she’s hyper-successful and now he does drugs. I don’t know if those two points are related but I feel like they might be a little bit. I don’t think Ron would get into drugs, not until he was older. Ron just entering highschool? He has to separate himself from them and he has to do it fast. He’s been building up a steady music collection over time as it is (being the youngest of five? Id imagine your parents being a little bored by then, and that he’d be kinda lonely. Not to mention the amount of fights there’d be in such a busy household, he’d probably want to drown them out as often as he could). It seems the kids are liking pop punk these days. He wants to branch out from his family but he wants to fit in with the kids- a puzzle, because how does one become an individual but still remain in with their peers?

Pop punk, strangely, turns out to be the answer. Sure, the kids like it, but not TOO many of them do. It’s in, but it’s not quite mainstream. And as it turns out, he quite likes the music. It’s loud, loud enough to drown out the fighting at home, and it speaks to him (he inwardly cringes at the thought). He can’t even explain why it speaks to him in the first place, it just does- summarises a lot of his insecurities and makes him feel a little less lonely, cause god- god he is lonely. He’s tried on so many different personas that he’s not even sure which one is the real him anymore, and even though he’s got friends it’s like there’s this glass wall in between him and them- they don’t understand. He hates that, hates how pretentious it sounds, but it’s true. He doesn’t even understand, so how on earth could they?

It’s around the same time as this, aged 16ish, that he realises that he’s gay. It comes to him (quite literally, as crude as that is to say) one night when he’s home alone and daydreaming about this boy- this boy who’s cool and edgy and a little dark and he’s grungy. He’s grungy and Speirs wants to impress him and so he becomes grungy too- finds he doesn’t even mind it that much, Nirvana and Radiohead? They’re good bands. He can dig it. Starts wearing flannel over his band tees. Gets talking to this boy. They end up dating, and it’s nice at first- until it’s not. It starts with the boy devaluing pop-punk, making Speirs feel stupid for liking it (even though he does, it still holds a place in his heart because it is his heart), then devaluing Speirs’ image (he calls him out for trying too hard, makes fun of his clothes and plays it off as a joke), and then devaluing Speirs himself. It ends, difficulty and painfully, and music once again becomes Speirs’ best friend. He didn’t mind the grunge so it sticks around, it’s little bittersweet since it reminds him of the boy, but hey, it’s music and he likes it. He goes back to his Green Day and his Blink 182 and his Yeah Yeah Yeahs, but gets a little darker.

He struggles, after what happened. Struggles to trust. There are other struggles too, but this one hits him the hardest. He hates that most of all. Hates that he’s going to be defined by what this boy did to him, vows that won’t be the case but doubts he’ll ever be able to escape it. The doubts begin to manifest, he isolates himself for his own protection. He knows who he is now. He’s Ron Speirs, he’s heartless- ruthless. Doesn’t need anybody but himself. His music grows with him. Retains his origins, but matures too- Nirvana becomes Patti Smith covers of Nirvana, The White Stripes really get him with their Dusty Springfield cover. Ida Maria gets it- he’s not in control, he never has been. But he can convince people that he is, and that’s got to get him somewhere.

This all then continues to grow and mature, until he reaches current Ron. He doesn’t fear the reaper. He’s ruthless, dark, and unapproachable, and he wants to keep it that damn way too. He might start to let some people in, might start to mellow out with PJ and Nick, but it’s still there. Still in his heart. The doubt, the mistrust. He won’t be burned again.

[asianadjacent]

What’s the worst that could happen?

At the age of 14, I was told by a lovely lady named Maggie that “if you don’t ask, you don’t receive.” That line stuck with me throughout my teens, where I selfishly pushed boundaries further and further (and further) with my parents. 

I’m not sure how they put up with me but I’m glad they did. (Shout out to my moms and dad!)

Somewhere along the way, I grew up a wee bit, became more considerate of others and tried to help people out whenever I was able to. This doesn’t mean that I couldn’t be an asshole, which I definitely still was am at times.

Somewhere along the way, I stopped asking the questions that I was afraid of being rejected from. This definitely includes asking members of the opposite gender out.

As I attempt to learn how to be single again after continuously swapping significant others since 2009, recent events have made me realise that I need to just nut up and ask because what’s the worst that could happen?

This is a retelling of three random encounters that led me to this realisation. 

Encounter 1 - The Shop Assistant

It was a sunny Saturday. My flatmate Pearl and I decided to head out, walk around and soak in the sun - even though I was slightly hungover. Despite my state, I was in one of those really ridiculously confident good moods. We ended up walking into Fenwick, a uber fancy department store for the really rich. 

I was generally being an annoying goofball, trying on big hats and head scarves in the women’s section. There was a particular head dress type item which confused me. I didn’t know what it was, or why it costs £275. 

In comes The Shop Assistant.

She had flowing blonde hair with semi-curls at the bottom and a really pretty smile. There I was, having a conversation with her about how to wear this thing, who typically buys this thing and whether if she thought I could pull this thing off. 

Somehow, she’s buying into the drivel I’m spouting and was actually laughing. She also had a really pretty laugh.

I didn’t think much of the conversation at the time so we left. Half an hour later, I thought to myself, “Fuck, I should’ve asked her out, why didn’t I ask her out? FUCK.” 

At this point, I’m frantically trying to justify to myself why I didn’t just ask her out. So I brought The Shop Assistant up to Pearl, asking about her opinion on how to tell whether a person in a service role (e.g., bartender, server or The Shop Assistant) is being nice because it’s their job, or if they actually find you to be funny, witty and charming.

My lovely flatmate said that she agreed that it is their job to be nice to people so I exclaimed with relief, “Yes! I can now not regret not asking her out.”

Pearl then turns to me and said, “…But you were definitely vibing with her and I thought you should’ve just asked her out.”

Oh fuck. I really do have great timing in life.

Encounter 2 - The Girl From The Underground

The time is 7pm on a working day and I’m on my way home from Paddington on the Bakerloo Underground line. I’ve got my headphones in and my book out - the two most common social barriers Londoners use to prevent any type of interaction with anyone on public transport because god forbid actually having to talk to another human being.

I was reading The Sellout by Paul Beatty, a satire about race relations in America. It’s a pretty difficult read because it contains a lot of cultural references innate to Americans. However, it's still a pretty funny book nonetheless. As I was reading, there was a particular line that ticked my funny bone enough for me to laugh out loud.

Opposite me sat a woman, who heard my obnoxious laugh through her headphones and gave me a WTF look. She was wearing #activewear on the tube so I was completely defensive and absolutely judging her for judging me. In typicaly wit, I gave her this gorgeous dreamboat look back in riposte.

Somehow, we ended up taking out our headphones and had an actual conversation about the book, the plot and what I found funny about it. This then led to a chat about where she was headed.

She revealed that she was headed to the gym, so I immediately rescind my previous judgement. Instead, I found that I no longer hated her and realised that she had a very disarming smile and really pretty brown eyes.

Before I knew it and recognised that it was a golden opportunity to ask her out, we arrived at her destination and she reached out her hand, introduced herself as Sara (Pronounced SAR-AH not SIAR-UH) and we bid each other farewell.

There are three reasons why I didn't take my chance while the iron was red hot. Firstly, I was stunned that I had an engaging discussion with a stranger on the tube. Secondly, it just didn't occur to me to ask for her number. Thirdly, WHY THE FUCK DIDN'T I ASK FOR HER NUMBER?! There goes another missed opportunity to ask. Fuck my life.

This happened about two weeks ago so whenever I take that route now at a similar time, I still keep an eye out for Sara - with my headphones in and book out of course. (THIS IS NOT AT ALL CREEPY.)

Encounter 3 - The One At The Bar

This was the most recent of encounters. It was a casual Friday out with Aaron and after a few beers, we ended up at Northcote Records, a bar near me that was playing live music.

The band, Superspokes, were throwing out some great covers and the place was packed but not too packed. I mean, they had the crowd eating out of their palm with bangers like Teenage Dirtbag, sprinkled in with some Oasis hits, some Tay-Tay (my fave), Blink 182 and others.

There we were, standing in the middle of the dance floor near the stage just enjoying the music. We started talking to these two girls who were standing next to us, Martina and Erin.

Martina was nice, seemed fun and kept laughing at things I was saying so I must’ve been funny apparently.

On the other hand, there’s no delicate way to put how terrible her friend was. Erin was just a straight up bitch. I’m not saying this to be mean but she was literally the worst. 

As an example of how resolutely awful she was as a person, when we were introducing ourselves, her immediate reaction to my name was, “Did you just say JY? I’m not calling you that, it’s just confusing. Why can’t you have a normal name like James or something?”

Casual racism and white entitlement aside, I grinned it off and took it in stride to see where the vibes will take me with Martina. We talked for a bit more and I wasn’t pushy because Aaron and I were genuinely appreciating the music. Plus at this point, Aaron had given up on trying to talk to the worst person ever Erin because she had a stick up there somewhere.

Midnight came and we were calling it a night so before I headed off, I decided to ask her out. The following conversation ensued.

Me: Hey we’re heading off but do you wanna grab dinner some time? Martina: Ummm, like in a group? Me: No. Like a dinner, date, me, you. You know, that kinda thing.

In hindsight, maybe dinner was a bit strong. *shrugs*

Martina: *Looks at Erin* *Looks at me* *Looks at the worst Erin* *Looks at me* Me: You do know that you CAN say no and I won’t be horrifically offended right? Martina: OHH. No thanks then! Me: Alright then. Have a good night! 

With my drunken heart in tatters, I kissed her cheek, turned around and walked away with tears streaming down my face as I walk to McDonald's for a six pack McNuggets box and a double cheeseburger.

After going through all three experiences, I’ve come to the conclusion to never ever ask for anything because you might get crushed, chewed up and spat out into the icy frozen depths of rejection.

That being said, if you’re reading this Sara, my number is 07492 616 621 and let's do drinks sometime? (AGAIN, THIS IS NOT CREEPY AT ALL.)

[sometimesalwaysmusic]

THE BRISTOL HUM This next interview is close to home (literally, some of these guys used to be my neighbours). We spoke to the Bristol Hum (BH) about their experiences playing music, their new album Gluten Free, and their favourite out-of-town show ever. Stay tuned to hear their new upcoming album, and check them out at their release party at the Rainbow!

VITALS

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/thebristolhum/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/thebristolhum/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/thebristolhum

Web: https://soundcloud.com/the-bristol-hum

Upcoming shows: Saturday, February 18th - “Gluten Free” Release show, w. Arms of the Girl and Hearts & Mines. $10, The Rainbow Bistro, Ottawa, ON.

SA: How did The Bristol Hum start as a band? BH:  How much time you got buddy? Scott and James have been playing music together for over half their lives, Shawn (bass) came in to the picture roughly 5-6 years ago. We jammed for years with the idea of Sean singing with us. We had previously seen him in a band called Captain Firebutton and knew immediately that he was the guy and we weren't settling for less. We coerced him in to coming out to a practice after 2 years of badgering, he was hooked and good to go after the first time we all jammed together.

SA: What bands or musicians would you cite as the biggest influences on your sound? BH: So many. We're all massive fans of classic rock as a base, but we absolutely love to bring in elements from anywhere our ears take us. Jazz, funk, blues, progressive rock are all big factors, to name a few. There are so many acts that impress us, but if there were two that we all have in common as influences it would revolve around Led Zeppelin and The Red Hot Chili Peppers. Then again, we've grown so much over the past years that we have had the time to explore all of our personal interests such as Incubus, Radiohead, Rage Against the Machine, The Mars Volta, Yes, Queens of the Stone Age, The Beatles, even going as far back as Slipknot and Blink 182. This could go on for days.

SA: Thus far in your career, what has been the band’s biggest success? BH: The biggest accomplishment we've had as a band in the past few years has by far been the people we've met and the relationships we've made since starting the project. There are so many great bands and people to meet in the community.

SA: On the other hand, what is the biggest challenge you have faced, and how have you dealt with it? BH: We have a difficult time with all of the social media upkeep. We love to jam and play shows, play for people. And we all want lighter gear now, that stuff is heavy.

SA: How do you guys approach the song-writing process? BH: It's pretty organic. We jam quite a bit and feed off each other in practices. Sean will often later write the lyrics in his bathtub. We're working on getting a bathtub in the jam room to expedite the process.

SA: What are your thoughts on the Ottawa music scene? BH:  We've been exposed to some really great music that we wouldn't have necessarily heard if it wasn't through the Ottawa music scene. It's pretty awesome in the summer with the myriad of festivals and outdoor shows going on and they provide a lot of opportunities and exposure for local artists. There are also some great Ottawa radio stations supporting local talent as well which are equally important.

SA: If you could narrow it down to your favourite out-of-town show, which would it be and why? BH: We had a pretty messy, awesome night with Jim Dan Dee at Bovine Sex Club in early 2016. It was one of our first shows in Toronto and had a great turnout. Those guys kill it.

SA: Philosophical question: why do you play music? BH: We've all been playing music so long that it's an essential part of life now. It's natural to want to play music with your friends and it only makes sense to pursue it.

SA: You guys are on the verge of releasing a new album, called Gluten Free. How does this upcoming release compare and contrast with your previous outings?  BH: We recorded a lot of the first album in search for the sound we wanted as a band; much of it being written versions of songs before the band really came together. With Gluten Free, the feel of all songs were developed as a unit,  though there are a lot of great raw elements from the first album that helped define us.

SA: What can we expect from the Bristol Hum in 2017? All the best this year! BH: We've got our next show in Ottawa on February 18th at The Rainbow, we'll be playing with our good friends in Hearts&Mines and Arms of the Girl. Other than that, we're going to keep on keepin' on. More videos, more shows, more recording. Evolve and release.

[coysgeorge]

Welcome to my brain.

Right so this is weird. For years I’ve suffered with mental health issues. It all started when I was 11 years old, that’s when I realised something wasn’t quite right. I’ve never liked change. Never. I have a routine that I don’t like to break, for those who are close to me they might think I’m one of the laziest and laid back people when it comes to life I’m not. It all started with the process of moving from primary school to secondary school. I remember the first week of senior school so clearly. My mum really wanted me to go to this school called Deanes in a mainly middle class area, I really didn’t fancy it. However she was insistent that I go there. And I got in. I’m certain to this day that’s what triggered all this off. So here I am, a boy aged 11 originally from Edmonton North London (one of the poorest and most crime ridden areas in the UK) who’s been raised on a council estate going to a School where kids were discussing their parents hot tub. The first day of senior school I knew I didn’t fit in. All the other kids knew I was different, I was sat there overweight in a blazer far too big for me, in shoes that were £20 from Tesco with a Afro, whilst all the other kids had Kickers, new haircuts, talking about their parents hot tubs whilst my family had 6 of us in a 3 bedroom semi detached home in Southend. I walked out and went straight to my old primary school by 12pm to confide in my old teacher Mr Martin just to simply be in surroundings I’m comfortable in. This is where it all started. As the months went by, things got worse. I was getting bullied for my weight, my clothes, my mobile phone etc. Nothing that I couldn’t handle, but being a 11 year old lad it still got on top of me. Then the worse thing imaginable happened to me and my family. My Nan, got diagnosed with Vascular Dementia. Now we knew something was up with her, she wouldn’t recognise me, my siblings, her children and most hearbreaking of all my grandad. Within a year my Nan was bed ridden, couldn’t walk, couldn’t feed herself, could barely string a sentence together. This is when shit hit the fan for me, I would literally walk out of school. Go missing for hours, the worse time was when a police helicopter was actually deployed to look for me, social services got involved because they didn’t believe that I was just depressed. They were certain some sort of abuse was going on. It wasn’t. My parents were always great to me. Always made sure me, my brothers and my sisters got what we want. Always. Despite being so poor growing up. The guilt I felt was unbelievable. But for whatever reason I couldn’t sleep, when I did sleep I would literally sob myself into exhaustion then wake up 2 hours later and beg my mum to not let me go to school because all I wanted to do was stay home incase something went wrong with Nan, I was over eating to the point I was a 40 inch waist at age 12. I was literally hoping I wouldn’t wake up the next day.

Then one day I woke up at 6AM and thought that’s it, I’m done, I’m ending it. So I went out to my back garden, grabbed some rope from my dads shed and walked to a Belfairs woods which was only down the road from me. I googled how to hang myself. I was gonna do it, all the way there I wasn’t crying, I wasn’t sad, I felt relief. Happy that in less than 30 minutes this pain will literally be gone. I won’t have to face anything. My best friend, my Nan not recognising me and looking at me like a stranger, the kids at school who wouldn’t even speak to me, this constant sadness will all be gone. I would have nothing to fear, nothing to face just literally a eternity of nothing. So I get to the woods, find a location, find a branch that could hold my weight, and started digging in my bag for a the rope. Then literally out of nowhere this woman, maybe mid 60’s appears with her Jack Russle, and smiles at me the dog approaches me as dogs do so I petted it. She asked me why I’m out so early, I told her some bullshit that I’m going on a detour to collect my papers for my paper round. I didn’t even have a paper round at the time. Then for some reason I just decided, I could easily cause this for myself but if that woman was literally 10 minutes later she would’ve found me hanging from a tree. I didn’t think, but I couldn’t go ahead with it. I couldn’t let someone else live with that for the rest of their lives. So I left, was I greatful for that woman? At the time no, I was angry if anything knowing I’m gonna have to go back to reality after she made me question my conscious after a measly 2 minute conversation that I lied through my teeth in. Now looking back on it. I owe her my life. It’s as simple as that.

So a year passes by, my depressions still there then my mum calls me in the kitchen one day “George you’ve not been yourself and I signed you on the waiting list for belfairs (the secondary school all my primary school friends went to) a year ago, they called today you’re starting Monday” so for the first time in a year I smiled legitimately. The first smile I’ve legitimately not had to force in a year/two years. I’m going back to school with all my pals. I’m elated. I spend the next 3 years being the class clown, getting shit grades, drinking down the park and just being normal. Yes my Nan was ill. But by this time I’ve accepted that she’s gone. The woman laying in that bed wasn’t my Nan. It was a illness that stole my nan’s body. And when she died, yes I was heartbroken but I was also relieved. Relieved that she’s free from any pain and relieved that my grandad can go back to having a life rather than spending every minute of the day caring for her. And hats off to my grandad, he never put her in a home. He was with her every day in his house looking after her. He’s my absolute idol and if I’m half the man he is then I’ll die a very happy man.

So fast forward a few years, I’m struggling for work, second guessing what grades I got on my CV because instead of going to results day me and my friend John went to smoke a packet of benson and hedges down the local park. Not the best life choice but not one u regret.

So I’ve never been good with women, I’m 21 at this point. 22 stone. Bleached blonde hair for some reason. A probably the most undesirable Male on earth. The only 2 t-shirts I wore were this Mohammed Alli t shirt and a smelly blink 182 t shirt with a alien on it. Still suffering with depression but it wasn’t as crippling as before, I had good days, I had bad days. But then finally I get a match on tinder (I didn’t get many back then as you can imagine) so I popped up to this girl expecting she’d reply back then boom, next thing you know I’m in a relationship, good right? Probably completely the opposite. I’ve never been so miserable in my life. I’m not gonna go too deep into the relationship as I’m sure she’s moved on with her life and in a weird way, despite all she put me through in those 8 months. I hope she’s happy. But in those 8 months I self harmed, fought suicidal thoughts daily and couldn’t wait to be dead again. So I’m back to square one again. One day I broke it off with her, I go home. I’m happy again, so I have a job that pays good money, surrounded by my family again and free to do what I like again.

So for those of you who know me, always know how anti cocaine I am. So I’m in a new job. Top sales man out of a team of 60 people. Taking home silly money for a telesales role and I’m drinking. And when I say I’m drinking I’m drinking when I wake up in the morning, I had a vodka bottle stuffed down the side of my bed. I would put whiskey in a flask for my lunch break and put a whole packet of chewing gum in my mouth to get rid of the stench. I’m smoking probably 10 joints a day. I’m a zombie. I wasn’t thinking straight at all. I was having sex with any woman that would show me attention, desperately avoiding a relationship so I’m not emotionally hurt or abused again. I’m a mess. I have a alcohol addiction, then I probably develop 2 of the worse addictions going for the next few months of my life. Cocaine and gambling. So it all started with a night out with some friends from work, being a sales office I knew there would be cocaine but I’ve always had the strength to say no but for whatever reason this time I said yes. I took one line. Didn’t feel anything. Took another, so I said to my mate “is this literally it? I need more because it’s not doing anything” so my mate goes “we’ll get 2 grams for £110, go halves and I promise you you’ll be buzzed more than weed has ever done for you” so I’m sold, if something is better than weed. Why not? So we go back to my colleagues flat at 2am. It’s a shit hole. In a tower block, his Girlfriend sat in the front room furious with him and storms off to bed. We’re listening to house music waiting for this cocaine to be delievered to his door. I fucking hate house music. Half hour later he gets a call from his dealer saying he’s outside. He collects the two grams and he got another two for him and his mrs tomorrow. I ended up giving him the money for 3 of the grams and I’m snorting it off of my work pass still in the clothes I wore at work the day before. I felt like the dogs fucking bollocks. Little did I know at the time I’m sat in a council flat surrounded by a load of filth snorting cocain listening to house music and playing PES. Not even Fifa. PES. I’m the lowest of society right now. But I feel like the Wolf of Wall Street. So I go into work the next day same clothes without even realising how relentless the next 4 months of my life would be. I was spendinga collective of £300 a week on cocaine and weed £150 a week on gambling. I went to the casino with my friend one night, I was so out of hand my friends left me. I lost £2130 in one night, the only reason why I left is because they closed the bar. The people who are closest to me don’t know about that. Not my mum. Not my dad. Not my friends not Sacha. I was a monster.

So the depression is back and in full swing, I lose my job, I was in the most toxic relationship imaginable, I lose my sense or will power all in the space of a year. I’ve been clean of cocaine for 7 months now. I know I won’t touch the shit again. I still have the odd bet. But nothing quite like £2130 in one night. But for some reason it all came crashing down on me the last month or so. I don’t know why, I have Sacha who would literally do anything for me. I’m still getting used to it, she sends me postcards and makes me go get cringe passport photos with her in the photo booth in shops. But I love it, I love her. She’s literally my everything. You’d think that would be enough to cure depression? No it’s not. It’s a illness. A illness I wish there was a cure too. This last month I’ve struggled badly, one night Sacha was in bed next to me and I had to go down to the bathroom and cry for 15 minutes. I don’t know why. I wish I knew why. But it’s time for me to take the right steps and do something about it and get my life back on track. Financially I’m very fortunate at the minute. So are my parents. I’ve got nothing to worry about anymore. I have a strong family, strong friends and a unbelievably strong girlfriend who I worship the ground she walks on.

I’m getting better, will I be depression free one day? Who knows, probably not. Will I be happy all the time? No. But It’s time for me to “man up” as the ignorant people say and take the appropriate steps. I go back to full time hours next week at my job after having 2 weeks signed off with “depression” and going back part time to ease myself in. I’m slowly getting there. I don’t know what the point of this vlog was really, but I feel like it’s helped. And who knows maybe it’ll help someone? For years I’ve been (without sounding big headed) a well know household name on Twitter amongst the spurs community known as a weird vegan guy who doesn’t take anything seriously, but maybe someone will take the time to read this and think “hey if that guy who jokes about 24/7 is like this maybe I’m not so weird at all”

Peace and love my dudes