#nicotine: worst drug since ever

[ne-umeyu-tancevat]

i caved and bought the vape

[baepsays]

Suck it and See ⸻how you met stoner Suguru.

☽⋆.˚ WASTED AND ABSORBED ⸺03

description: of all places, Geto Suguru didn't expect to meet a girl with knee high socks, who practically pulled him in like an eager sacrifice to the Siren— at a frat party surrounded by smoke.

cw: use of she/her pronouns, fem oriented reader, mentions of drugs, weed, and alcohol; nothing much this is mostly a meet cute-ish, lore stuff really, artic monkeys references everywhere, they mild nsfw stuff.

playlist inspired by the content.

What a pleasure it is to be surrounded by sweaty people you barely know in a room full of smoke. All because your best friend is an extroverted social butterfly of a freak.

Safe to say, Geto Suguru would be anywhere but here right now. But maybe he does need some free alcohol and free cigarettes, a finance degree is the furthest thing from causation of sobriety. And as an average university student reliant on caffeine, alcohol, and cigarettes—completing his last semester and starting his big-time finance bro job later this year might I add—he is oddly conservative when it comes to weed though, if we're talking about ways to numb yourself.

The fact he has seen people actually do much worse actual hard drugs and yet he has a bigger opinion about the devil's lettuce of all things available out there. The only viable reason which can be given is that he had a stoner roommate during his first semester and it was the worst time of his entire university life. And honestly, he has seen Gojo get high for the sake of trying it, that was not fun for anyone but Shoko who was filming Suguru trying to stop Gojo from jumping off the balcony to chase a cat he apparently saw (there was no cat).

But these are excuses really. Well, Geto Suguru would not say he is repulsed by weed. In fact, he has tried it himself once. It was mostly about going along with his high school debate team who wanted to get high during one of their out-of-town tournaments. And guess what. High Suguru went on and blurted out all his little animosities to big grudges against everyone there and somehow fell asleep next to a trashcan in the hallway. Thankfully no one remembered and the video footage of all of this happening went into his hands first. He made sure to delete everything and ask around without being suspicious if anyone remembered anything he said. He was safe since they all forgot about everything.

Since then, he has steered clear of weed, it does odd things to him which no other substances do. Even when he is drunk out of his mind or buzzing with caffeine and nicotine, he is never impulsive. He always has control. And the fact he let that control slip is very scary. Matter of fact, despite his side hobby of making fun of a scared Gojo during horror movie marathons, Suguru himself didn't like being scared by something unknown or letting himself slip out in front of someone he would rather not have seen him like that .

Yet here he was, at one of the more famous frats who are known for their weed more than their alcohol and what not. I mean, it's not about where you end up but what you're looking for, right? Maybe that doesn't make much sense but so doesn't his last assignment of the semester before exams start, which carries 40% of his marks.

And for someone who isn't looking for weed, his amazing friend makes sure to pull him right into the room full of—who apparently seemed to be—stoners. Supposedly Satoru knows someone there, but he also knows way too many people for his liking. The amount of time he has to stop, stand, and stare around to wait for Satoru to finish chatting with yet another stranger—infinite really.

Regrets of ending up in that room without any alcohol in his hand, seemed to have flown right out of the room with the smoke. And it might as well have been the residual of weed in the air, but what's happening in his head was alarming. Right across from the person Satoru apparently knew, sat this gorgeous being, looking ever so effervescent and oozing mystique surrounded by clouds of smoke (he is a poet everyone). Wearing, what in his mind seemed like, the most poorly constructed skirt, practically giving away the secret eighth wonder of the world—which are those thighs. And is that fishnet? Someone please check on him, is he having a nosebleed? If not, that tight top perfectly snug around your chest, might do the job. More over the breasts, it was the neck. How can someone find a neck that beautiful? I wouldn't know, ask Suguru.

Real question is who wears knee high socks in the summer? He is not complaining, it somehow really works for you, and it works wonders on him. Again, it might be the weed. It has to be, because Geto Suguru, who is the most calculated person you'll know—sly little shit who is known for being the level headed, mysterious, lady's man— he may be just as much of a menace as Gojo and just as silly, he just knows how to mask it. And he's losing it. He's losing that control, because why aren't his ears working? His eyes refuse to focus on anything but you dragging a smoke out of the joint, which was passed to you by someone. And his legs are moving on their own towards the couch where you are sitting with the only person who you seem remotely interested in, 'might be her friend' he assumes, while ignoring this other guy who seems to be high off his mind talking about who knows what. His ears already made the effort of blocking out every sound, including Gojo's, who was calling him out because he wanted to introduce Suguru to his friend.

"Hey"

Real smooth from Mr. Lady's man over here. Incredible opener to introduce yourself to this person who may or may not be a witch cause why is he completely under this sort of trance as if he is the one sucking on that joint. Also, the fact he is just awkwardly standing in front of you while you look up at him through your lashes, unbothered and definitely high, still sitting on that couch—he must've inhaled too much weed smoke.

"Did you mean to say that to me? Because I think your friend needs you over there actually."

You say after blinking at him twice, then point across to you where Gojo and his friend are sitting. It's rather a given to be confused by this random long-haired Rapunzel to awkwardly stand before you like he doesn't know any better about how to interact socially, he's not drunk definitely, you saw him and his friend stroll in through the doors just a few minutes ago. Why would you even bother to care enough to remember that? Well, Rapunzel here is too gorgeous for his own good, secondly, you're high and feeling rather needy.

Pre-finals week suck, universal sentiment shared by all degree pursuing students. So here you are on this couch, in some frat, with your friend who's seeing one of the frat members. All you expected was some good quality rich boy weed and alcohol, nothing more really. Sleeping with someone you met at a frat party, reeks of STDs. And yet here you are looking at this gorgeous man looking like he doesn't have any thoughts behind his eyes, contrary to what you assumed, from afar he looked like a manipulative man whore. The world might be full of surprises or he's a theatre major.

"Huh?" — is all Suguru somehow manages to utter, it's illegal to smell that good while also smelling like weed, what god forsaken perfume you're using? Those eyes are enough, why do you need to crawl through all his five senses and wrap your hands around his brain.

"Huh." You say with one raised eyebrow. Seems like you've found yourself an excuse to escape.

"Seems like you don't know anything other than three lettered words starting with h."

He just stares into your eyes and lets you throw that jab at him. Really just too enchanted to speak, it's not that this is something he's choosing to do. He'd rather sit across from you and socialize with Gojo, while staring you down from time to time, then after much considerable eye contact, he'll slide himself to your side of the couch, asking your permission to have a seat, with much charisma no one can deny.

Yet here he is, not drunk, or losing his mind with weed—purely high off of sucking in your presence. This is only the second time he has lost control over a situation, and this time he is completely sober. New discoveries are made every second he supposed. Because if a sly talker like him, one who especially finds existential joy in countering the opposing person's jabs, is standing here tongue tied—he believes climate change can be reversed then. (How wishful)

You get off the couch to stand facing him, way too close to him for his sanity's sake, between the narrow gap between him and the couch—you might be shorter than him but your gaze is too piercing. And yet he cannot look away.

"Would you rather I dragged you out of this room? Maybe the smoke is getting to your head huh?"

Takes a second for Suguru to contextualize what you just suggested. And without any power to verbally respond, he simply nods into agreement. Somehow in that moment his incognizant brain decided that maybe leaving himself to your devices in this situation is the most natural thing to do. In fact, you might as well have all consumed him and he couldn't care any less.

All he cares about is that you're taking his hands in your hands, which made him think it might be a missing puzzle piece that only fits in perfectly with his, and dragging him out after a little bye to your friend and Gojo as well. Suguru is really out of it. He's not going to hear the end of it from Gojo, while he retells this story to their friends in the most overexaggerated way, which is so impossible given how ridiculous he is acting right now. Anything less dramatic than a Shakespearean play wouldn't do justice to exactly what played out in there. Yet Gojo Satoru will make sure to put a shame to Shakespeare's dramatics. That's his headache for later, let's focus on the ache in his palpitating heart.

You drag him out of that room, into the big living room or space and then drag him through the crowd to one of the rooms on the first floor, and take him straight to the balcony attached to it. The balcony sits right above the pool. Below you two, you can see most people congregating around there, swimming or just dancing or talking. Most of the speakers are there playing every frat bro's Spotify rotation probably. It's dark enough and tucked away nicely for anyone to notice you two there even if they look up—you saw this balcony the first time you visited this house with your friend cause of the guy she was seeing and since it was not a party, it was clear in the daylight that it was a nice place to people watch from. Or just enjoy the music,

'And her lips are like the galaxy's edge

And her kiss the colour of a constellation fallin’ into place'

Suguru couldn't agree more. If he didn't know any better— he'd say the song was about you. Because right now he is pulling out the lighter out of his pockets. Moving it towards your direction and halting halfway in the little space in between you two. Suguru wouldn't write this out as some kind gesture. He would never even think of sharing his prized lighter. It has been with him since he found it one day visiting his grandma's village home with his parents. Lying in a puddle of mud near the river that flowed behind her house. Scratch random people he wouldn't even let Satoru touch it or let Shoko take a light with it. Yet here he is— silently helping you out all because it looked like with the roll of a joint tucked in your bra, you forgot to bring a light.

You stare back and forth between the burning flame and his face. Contemplating perhaps. Then you move forward grab a hold on his hand, which was holding up the lighter, just a bit far for you to easily lean in and ignite the blunt. So you move, move to now sit face to face with him, both your knees on either side of his thighs—hovering over him, hands holding his, which was holding his silver lit up lighter. You lean forward probably closer to his face than the lighter even, all while keeping constant eye contact. You move your head to your left and finally burn the joint pressed in between your lips, after what seemed like an eternity.

Once the smoke comes out, you unwrap your lips from the joint and smile at Suguru, not one of those half smiles you've been throwing at him all this time. A genuine laidback smile.

"Thanks uh- oh wait I don't even know your name"

"Well I haven't given it to you yet."

"You gave me your lighter, might as well give me your heart. How much more could your name matter?"

Well he might as well have given you his heart and what even is in the name, if he could he would give you the entirety of the galaxy, but It would probably fade out in your comparison.

"Suguru. Geto Suguru."

"Nice to meet you Suguru."

"And what more might you need other than my lighter, heart, and name in exchange for your name?"

"I don't know? Anything tempting you are offering? Perhaps a seat right here?"

Did you mean right there? There on his lap?

"I wouldn't ever deny you anything."

So you did in fact mean his lap. Cause you perch right up on there and drag a long smoke out of your joint, blowing the smoke up in the sky above you two.

"L/n Y/n. And I'll hold you onto that claim."

"Do you always ask people for names in exchange for a seat on their lap?" Suguru smirks and tries to regain some confidence and control over the situation. If he wants to keep you right where you are, he would need to get out of the haze of intoxication — which was ironically not the weed in the air but just your existence.

"I never really ask for names. Really bad at remembering them. And as for seats, hmm I don't know. Your legs looked more comfortable and warm than the cold floor. And you looked sweet."

"Sweet?"

"Why? Does that not describe your —chase Atlantic and Artic Monkeys, cigarette smoker, fuck weed i am better than that, only dark colors— aesthetic?"

"How did you know I don't like weed?"

"Made a face right as you walked into the room down there. Also anyone else would've asked to borrow this by now." You move the blunt in between your fingers slightly to signify what you're talking about.

"Does that not bother you?"

"I mean it doesn't bother you that I am smoking this right in your face, if you had said something I would've respected that as well. I don't really care what you think is the standard for intoxication."

Suguru just smiles. He doesn't really have a topic exactly to speak about. He is in fact not capable of doing much right now you've rid him of the taste of control and the only taste he wants to be acclimated with from this moment onwards is yours. And he doesn't care about this change. He knows your name, he knows the feel of your fishnets against your skin. He knows the material of your lethal skirt. He knows the vanilla and jasmine notes of your perfume. He knows the exact color of your eyes and how many eyelashes you have. And he thinks that is enough.

'You have got that face that just says

"Baby, I was made to break your heart"'

You might as well break his heart, do as you please with it. It burnt away from his grasp the moment you burnt the end of your joint using his lighter.

"Looks like they are more intoxicating than any drug in existence." Was he talking about the blunt? Because his eyes were aimed at your lips. And he was unaware of what he even let slip out of his own lips.

"Suck it and see. You never know." 

Not wasting a second with your unaware confirmation, Suguru moves forward. The hand on your fishnet clad thigh tightens, digging into the supple skin, weaving the fingers with the fishnet itself. The other hand, coming up to your lips, taking out the joint and throwing it out somewhere on the balcony, his fingers first touch your lips with light touches as if one touch is too heavy and you'll disperse into thin air. Slowly the fingers on your lips start pressing down on, well past both of your lips, making an audible gasp leave your mouth involuntarily. His fingers dig around the entrance to your mouth— rubbing your lips, then proceeds to press down on your tongue and graze over your teeth interchangeably. All while staring into your eyes, or staring at you, your eyes might as well be all white or shut close. Anything partially visible, is all a blur. 

And you allow him all of it. You allow him to twist his fingers up to rub his rough finger pads on the along the expanse of your hard palate and soft palate, borderline trying to choke you. You simply allow it. You allow those hands to explore parts of you even out of your own reach. One digging in your mouth, other trying to make itself at home on your thighs—practically memorizing every little stretch mark running along your skin. He wants to know it all, have it all and who are you to deny a starved man? 

When he's had enough of his little exploration, his own pairs of lips come crashing down on you. A sigh of almost a relief, leaves both your lungs. It is not quite relief, it is nice to finally have him kiss you—but his lips are the kind to leave your head dizzy, head swaying, forgetful of the whole process of breathing through your nose while he devours you, eyes flickering like unreliable headlights on the highway. You might as well be crashing out. 

His lips are caging in yours, tongue fencing with yours, hands roaming around you like he's gonna find the most prized treasure on the surface of your skin. Guiding your hips to force down on his lap and roll them into little grids of desperation. Who was exactly the desperate one here? 

At that point it all becomes too overwhelming to have your ability to breath taken away. So you push him off, with no ease. It was as if pushing him and pulling yourself back simply made him hold onto you harder. And when his lips did leave you alone, they go on to chase your lips to find his rightful place back on them.

You put one of your hands on his mouth to halt him, all that does is make you have goosebumps all over your body—having him look up to you with his desperate and hazed mono lids, the purple-brownish shade of his pupils burning you up. And him just heaving in your hand, short of breath, was of no help either. 

“I was talking about the joint.” you breath out with an exasperated sigh.

“Well I am not sorry.” He leaves a feather light kiss on your hand covering his mouth.

“What even are you?” Genuinely, how does a man with gorgeous hair and horrible vocabulary make you fold so easily? 

“‘I am a fool for you.” 

A/N: dividers by @/sister-lucifer & @/omi-resources, header from my own gallery. And I didn't proofread half of this ok IT IS HARD TO READ YOUR OWN WORK

SERIES MASTERLIST . <prev | next> soon!

To check out more of my work— click here.

tag list: @moonlitwitchdaisy @madamechrissy @cuntphoric @fuwagojo @aishi-toru @theorphicangel @rriwyu

if you would like to be added to future possible tag lists, please drop a comment here or under the series masterlist and feel free to send asks! i got a few anon asks about this but unfortunately idk their @'s :(

[monvirtu]

hey, could u write kenny mccormick dating headcanons ? fem reader . tyy

𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐍𝐘

⋆ precis ~ what it's like dating kenny mccormick!

⋆ tags ~ profanity, mentions of smoke, drugs, teen!au, playful threats, and kenny being kenny.

⋆ notes ~ i hope you enjoy, and thank you for the request!

⋆        to nobody's surprise, kenny would be the biggest flirt during your relationship.

⋆        at first, you didn't understand how someone could be so flirty. where did he learn how to swoon you with just his words? it's how you both got together, after all—him flirting with you every second of the day.

⋆        but then you went over to his house, and the posters and magazines he had answered your question.

⋆        he threw them away as soon as you saw them and replaced them with photos you took of him and you.

⋆        but back to the point, kenny would be really good with his words. he knows exactly what to say to make you flustered, but the downside is that he often says it during the worst time.

"you know, you're stunning when you're pissed..." kenny spoke as you shot a scowl at him. "kenneth, you almost got yourself fucking killed!"

"the only thing that can kill me is your looks, sweetheart."

"i'm going to find the car that almost hit you and make them come back for a second try."

⋆        he would be very crafty when it comes to gifts.

⋆        since he doesn't have a lot of money, he has to find ways to make dates and gifts as good as possible.

⋆        because according to him, you deserve everything you've ever wanted.

⋆        you want to go to a fancy restaurant? he'll set up something like the movie 'lady and the tramp', and though it wouldn't be a fancy place, he makes it feel like you're in the fanciest restaurant in the world.

⋆        when it comes to gifts, they're often flowers he picked or stole from places—a little letter being attached in his messy handwriting. he tries to make it readable, but you still have to squint when it comes to certain letters.

⋆        this dude smokes a lot, by the way.

⋆        whether it be nicotine or weed, don't ask him how he got them, he smokes it. why? because why not? his parents used to smoke it all the time, so why shouldn't he?

⋆        he would smoke in front of you if you were okay with it, or he would even share if you wanted, but he has no problem smoking some other time if you were against it.

⋆        would he quit? he might try, but it wouldn't last awhile. at least he tried though, right?

⋆        he would introduce you to karen, in which she would absolutely love you.

⋆        she would literally drag you away from kenny when you both were supposed to be hanging out, but he doesn't care. he loves seeing his two favourite people getting along and laughing.

⋆        but he will pout about it just so you'll give him some affection later on.

⋆        he's a good cuddler, honestly. he would just smell like smoke all the time. but if you don't care, then cuddling him is heaven because he's like a heater with that jacket.

⋆         if it's cold out, which it usually is, he'll unzip his jacket and let you lay on his chest, and then zip it back of while holding you in his arms.

⋆        he'd be a sloppy kisser, though. not in a bad way, but he just likes to lazily kiss you unless you're just giving him a peck on the lips.

⋆        also, if you're insecure, you best believe that kenny won't allowed that.

⋆        you could be talking about a part of you that you dislike, and he'd just stare at you with narrowed eyes before standing up and kissing that area all over.

⋆        he's whipped for you, and because of that, he has no issue doing whatever it takes to make you see how stunning you are.

⋆        someone made a comment? bro's throwing hands like there's no tomorrow. you just dislike that part of your body? he's yelling sweet nothings until you make him shut up.

⋆        he'd talk about you all the time with his friends.

⋆        even if you're not a part of the topic.

"kenny, do you wanna go look at some xbox games?"

"only if my pookie can come."

"KENNY, TELL CARTMAN TO SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

"cartman, shut the fuck up, i'm talking to my pookie."

⋆        yes, he'd call you his pookie. he's all about those stupid nicknames.

⋆        pookie, honey boo-boo, schnookims, my silly willy little cutie, you name it. he'll make up anything just to hear you sigh at the stupid things he says.

⋆        but the things he says doesn't even compare to what he does.

⋆        you like superheroes? he'll dress up as mysterion.

⋆        you have a favourite flower? he always finds a way to get it to you every morning.

⋆        he once got caught stealing a flower from his neighbours yard one day, and he ran for his life.

⋆        speaking of his life, he tells you everything.

⋆        and when you talk about yours, he'll listen. he's actually a good listener.

⋆        also, when he speaks in a muffled voice because of his parka? he'll unzip it a bit and whisper in your ear to tease you during school.

⋆        he will literally mumble about how much he loves you and when someone comes over, he'll just zip up his jacket and start talking in that muffled voice again like he wasn't just expressing his devoted love to you.

⋆        conversations with him can go from 1 to 100 real quick, by the way.

"kenny?" you question, and he looks up from the sidewalk as you both continued to walk hand-in-hand. he gave you a slight nod to continue what you were wanting to say.

"how much do you love me?" he raised his free hand to unzip his jacket a bit, and he gave you a slight smile. "to the moon and back."

you smiled at him as you squeezed his hand, and suddenly, he smirked. "speaking of back, does my ass look fat today? i caught you staring earlier."

"KENNNY, NOBODY IS LOOKING AT YOUR ASS!"

"now, that's a lie. it's so fat that it takes up everyone's vision."

"i will shove you into oncoming traffic," your threat only made him snicker.

"my ass will act like an airbag."

⋆        aside from that, life's just like a comedy show with kenny.

©𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐔𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒

writings are to not be reposted, translated, or plagiarized. if you wish to show your love for my work, feel free to reblog, comment, or like.

[undead-supernova]

High Tolerance Masterlist

pairings: modern!bestfriend!Eddie x bisexual!fem!reader

plot: you and Eddie decide to have a calm day before your Christmas party. and, for the first time since you met this year, you find clarity.

cw: cannabis consumption, nicotine indulgence, a dash of spice, gentle angst

wc: 3.2k

note: this is a one-off of my High Tolerance series, as well as my submission for @littlexdeaths's Christmas Event, choosing prompt 10: ghosts of Christmas past. I love you, Mari. Merry Chrysler <3

This is a Christmas present for one of my lovely best friends, @jo-harrington who has made a huge impact in my life, my heart, and my writing. Thank you for all the love you've shown me. I don't take any of it for granted.

“No, what I’m saying is that I think a man is lame if he won’t let a woman peg him.”

“That’s over dramatic.”

“What, you don’t agree with me?”

“No, I just think you’re simplifying it.”

“Are you saying that you wouldn’t let a woman peg you?”

“I didn’t say that.” 

“Ha!”

Eddie shook his head, carrying the last of the Kroger bags to your kitchen. “Listen, all I’m saying is that I don’t think you can judge someone like that. What if they’re straight?”

You took two of the heavier bags from him before placing them on the counter. “Well then I have more incentive to judge.” He rolled his eyes. “Would you go close the door?”

“You’re ruthless. Absolutely not,” he responded before doing exactly what you asked.

Eddie had been a big help, prepping for your Christmas party the following night as co-hosts. The decision on where to hold it was easy: your apartment was slightly bigger than his, not to mention Eddie was still figuring out how to decorate his new apartment.

Steve and Robin offered, but Eddie had been adamant that it was him and his Weirdo who would do the best job. The A-List guest list consisted of you two, Steve, Robin, Gareth, Grant, and Jeff. 

While you’d gone home to see your mom and sister for Thanksgiving, Eddie’s bandmates had surprised him with the news that they were officially planning to move to Atlanta after college graduation in May. Thus, you'd been left to your own devices until now.

Eddie had made the first few weeks of December as festive as possible, surprising you with peppermint hot chocolates and the worst Christmas movies you’d ever seen. You’d begged him for a classic, like Elf or It’s a Wonderful Life, but he’d strategically saved those for the week of Christmas itself. 

Without any explanation, Eddie pulled something out of his tote bag. It was a small box, wrapped in red and white striped wrapping paper with a ridiculously big bow on top.

You scowled at him. “Eddie. No.”

He grinned. “Yes.”

“No!”

“Yes!”

Shaking your head, you stated, “We said no presents.”

An overdramatically apologetic expression filled his face. “My fingers crossed unexpectedly when we said that.”

“That’s very convenient.”

“I thought so, too.”

He was insufferable.

You sighed, raising your hands. “Eddie, I can’t accept it.” Before you could think to move, he grabbed your hand and shoved it into your palm. “It’s already in your hand.”

Groaning, you conceded. “Fine! Fine.”

“Yes!” he exclaimed before shoving his hands behind his back, failing to hide his smile.

Rolling your eyes, you tore the paper and delved inside.

“It’s…oil,” you stated.

Eddie raised his pointer finger, catching your attention. “A very specific kind of oil. Delta-8.”

“Did you give me drugs for Christmas?” you asked.

“There’s no better time.” He wasn’t wrong. “Besides, you’re making that beer cheese and I thought it’d go great.”

“That’s perfect, actually,” you said seriously. “Thank you.”

“No problem.”

“You know, I have a secret.”

Pages ripped from your latest notebook rested in your pocket. Actually, they weren’t exactly restful. They felt quite restless, burning a hole in your pants and your mind. The ink clogged your throat, the words swirling together in your head, preventing any clarity from forming. 

“Which is?”

Here this guy was, your certified best friend standing beside you after a year and a half of silence. His presence in your life came with open arms and a struggle for pure vulnerability. You’d had your moments over the last seven months, what with your pasts coming up and all of the memories that felt like stories the moment they were shared. 

Give it to him, you thought. Come on, do it.

“I actually had all of my toes crossed when we said no presents,” you said finally, fingers reaching toward your back pocket. 

His eyebrows lifted. “That’s very convenient.”

“Yeah, I thought so, too.”

The pads of your fingertips grazed the paper gently before you reached around him to grab a tiny cardboard box resting on your kitchen table.

Coward.

“How did I not notice that?” he asked, taking it from you.

You shrugged. “I’m the master of disguise.”

“Clearly,” he muttered before opening the top of the box slowly. He made a show of it, closing one eye and trying to peer into the darkness. You giggled as soon as he saw what was inside.

“A joint, huh?” You nodded, biting your lip. “All for me?”

“All for you.”

He placed a hand on his chest, giving you a big smile. “That’s extremely heartfelt, sweetheart. Thank you.”

You tried to keep your smile from faltering, that note starting to singe your skin through the denim. 

Give it to him, you thought again. Do it. Do it now.

“Do you want some beer cheese?” you asked.

“Under one condition,” he said, holding up a finger. Your eyebrow quirked up. “You can’t down it like you did last time.”

You scoffed. “Oh, come on! That’s not fair!”

“Those are the rules, Weirdo.”

“Ugh,” you grumbled. “Fine. Come on.”

Eddie had been shocked when you picked him up. Your face was nearly bare, wearing neutral eye shadow fading into a charcoal gray with thin-winged eyeliner and maroon lipstick. It was the first time he’d seen you without eyes completely coated in darkness. 

It was startling.

You were dazzling.

Donning a black turtleneck, jeans, and combat boots, you flitted around your kitchen as you measured how much oil you’d pour into the cheese. 

And, okay. Eddie didn’t mean to look at your ass. Scouts honor. However, you bent down to grab a pot from your cabinet and he couldn’t help but look. He could admire how well your jeans fit you, couldn't he?

In the midst of his perusing, he noticed paper in your back right pocket. He found it curious. It couldn’t have been your grocery list—you’d used your Notes app for that. What were you hiding?

“When do the boys come in?” you asked.

Eddie blinked, tearing his eyes away just in time to meet yours. “Oh, the band?” You nodded before turning the burner on low. “Uh, yeah. They come in at nine-thirty tomorrow.”

“And you’re sure you wanna sleep over tonight?”

He shrugged. “Only if you want to.”

“We’ll see if I get sick of you by then.”

Eddie snorted before moving past you to grab some Pringles from your cabinet. “After my killer present? Nah, I don’t think so, sweetheart.”

“Don’t sweetheart me, mister,” you said playfully before gasping. He jumped back just in time as you thrusted a cheese-covered wooden spoon in his direction. “Damn, Eddie, get your own Pringles! Those are for the party!”

He moved to the back corner of the kitchen, quickly shoving a Pringle in his mouth. As he held the can like it was the Ark of the Covenant, he grinned at you before giving a chip a rather loud crunch.

“That fucking does it!” you exclaimed, leaping towards him.

The two of you fought to claim the Pringles can for yourselves. Eddie couldn’t help but giggle the entire time, loving each touch you shared, even if it was so you could hit him. 

He was grateful he’d met you. There was something extraordinary about the way you fell into each other, effortless in nature. The hesitation you once held with one another had dethawed, replaced with a promise that you’d catch each other when you fell. Even now, after you nearly slipped onto the floor.

Eddie caught you, arm scooping under your waist just in time before your head met the tile.

Maybe there was a time and a place to say how he felt. Maybe it could be today or tomorrow after the party. Christmas morning or New Year’s Eve. But when he gazed into your bewildered eyes, he reflected on everything you’d opened up to him about over the last seven months. The pain, the betrayal. You needed a friend, not another messy situation that would ultimately hurt you. 

So, for now, he focused on the here and now. And by the end of the night, he’d solve the case of the mysterious note.

The south didn’t do snow. 

It was a made up concept, some nearly forgotten folklore created when a hint of ice formed along mountainsides and frozen faucets. When it came to winter, the grass resembled wheat and the spindly trees towered above the cities. 

And there you were with Eddie, out on your tiny balcony as you had your nightly cigarette and waited for spiked cheese to kick in.

Eddie had been rambling about a few lines of his latest song that he couldn’t quite make right, needing a better word than beaming that still held two syllables.

You’d stared out at the street, but something happened the moment you looked back at him. He was leaning against the railing, going back and forth from placing his unlit cigarette between his teeth and removing it so he could talk. Your gaze fell to his lips, watching his constant back and forth.

For a moment, perhaps in a trick of the light, an image flashed in your mind. Eddie on his knees, hands curling around your thick thighs, smirking up at you with a look of mischief. His eyes, alight with darkness that swirled into something magnificent before dipping his head under your skirt and pressing a kiss against your— 

Then it was gone, replaced with Eddie’s final attempt to put the cigarette between his teeth and light the damn thing. The second he let out his first wave of smoke, you felt your breath hitch in your throat.

Because you were starting to think about his mouth around something else.

“Flaring?” he pondered, taking another thoughtful drag. 

The chill of forty degree weather did nothing to stop the fire rushing to your core. His unoccupied hand bounced along the railing as he thought. There was a crude kind of desire in you to grab it and place it against the ache, relieving the tension that was starting to twist inside you.

“Flooding?” 

The wetness sat in your underwear, diabolically abandoned by the man in front of you who continued rambling on. The wind rustled his hair, sending wisps into his mouth that he had to pull away. Why weren’t your fingers tugging at the strands, claiming his lips with your own?

Your impulse control felt, well, out of control. 

“Surging?”

The racing of your heart was made worse the harder you pulled on that cigarette, the clouds you created only growing. But there was an emotion billowing in that smoke, signaling to you that something had shifted.

You had shifted, as quickly as the season. 

Seven months. Three seasons.

Not nearly enough time to catch your bearings or build a stable foundation. However, you were starting to notice more and more that there was something else hiding behind every sleepover and good morning text. 

This was an awakening.

An awakening that was surely going to ruin everything.

But when he asked what you thought of blazing instead of beaming, your heart fluttered and you answered without hesitation, “It’s perfect.”

Eddie watched with amusement as you floundered over the kitchen table like a fish, definitely feeling the effects of the beer cheese. You were starting to look like an inflatable balloon man on his final wave.

“We…” you trailed, holding up your pointer finger. “Weeee need to put up decorations.”

He laughed, leaning over to boop you on the nose. “Yooou need a timeout, Weirdo.”

You let out a sound resembling a growl. “Noooo.”

“Did you just growl at me?” he asked.

Shrugging, you poked him repeatedly before letting out another growl. “Bark, bark,” you said, lowering the pitch of your voice. “Hiss, hiss.”

“You’re fucked, sweetheart,” he commented, grabbing your finger and placing it back on the table.

Your eyes widened slightly before you snorted and waved your hand around. “Get your head out of the gutter, Munson.”

Before he could respond, your fingers were moving back to him, snatching his hand and holding it firmly. Seemingly without thought, you brought it up to your mouth and pretended to bite him. Eddie tried to yank it back, but you were surprisingly strong, lips hovering over his skin.

In a quick flicker, Eddie found himself lost in an image of your teeth clamping down on his throat, wrists caught in your grasp as you pinned him to your bed. You, grinding your hips against his in a frenzy, chasing friction as he bucked in an attempt to reach the same release. 

What he wouldn’t give for you to draw blood.

“Oh, so now you’re a vampire?” he asked with a cough, trying not to let the pink meet his cheeks. Or his poor dick.  

Without a word, you gave him a smirk and bit him.

Eddie jumped with a yelp, almost knocking his chair over if it hadn’t been for your death grip.

You let out one of the loudest guffaws he’d ever heard, warming his heart as he settled back into his wobbly chair. He couldn’t help but laugh along, but he unfortunately couldn’t keep his cock from getting hard.

What was it about you that drove him fucking insane?

“You’re so easy to freak out,” you said with a toothy smile, running your thumb over the bite mark you’d left behind.

Or just easy to turn on, he thought.

In the minutes that passed, you sat in silence, mutually gentle as you enjoyed your shared high. He studied your mark on him, the curve of each individual tooth imprinted on the skin between his thumb and pointer finger. If only he could keep it from returning to normal. 

If only he could tell you how he felt.

“You’re holding my hand,” he observed quietly.

“Oh! Sorry,” you replied softly. But you didn’t release your grasp.

Eddie chuckled, face growing hot as he tried his hand at bravery. “You’re all good. It’s cute.”

“Cute?” you asked, lifting your head from the table. 

He shrugged. “Yeah, I’d say so.”

“I like your hand. It’s warm,” you mumbled. Your tracing became languid, slow and gentle.

“Yeah?” His breath was starting to go ragged, entirely blown away by your forward nature. Of course, he knew it was because of the weed. That’s all it was to you. But, to him, it meant everything. He never wanted you to stop.

You nodded. “Yeah. It feels really nice. Softer than I expected.”

Then a thought bloomed.

“Can I ask you a very stupid question?”

“Always.”

The knuckles on his unoccupied hand drummed against the table as he asked, “What’s in your back pocket?”

Your head snapped up. “Eddie…”

“Is it bad?” You avoided his gaze. “You’re making it sound like a ransom note or nuclear codes.”

“No, that’s not…” you trailed before sighing. “That’s not it.”

Eddie watched as you deflated, shoulders hunching forward. What was going on?

“Then what is it?”

You barely gave him a glance before averting your gaze again. “I wrote you a note but I’m too scared to give it to you.”

“Why?”

“It’s cheesy.” Your hand retreated from his, leaving his palm to freeze instantly. “But sometimes if I’m not sure what to do for presents, I like to write notes. It’s just, after a while, I decided not to give it to you.”

“You could read it to me.”

Scoffing, your tone grew sarcastic. “Read it? Right. Sure.”

“Come on, Weirdo.” You bit your lip. “Do it for the spirit of Christmas.”

“Absolutely not.”

“If not for Santa, then for me.”

That’s when he finally found your eyes, pooling with indecision. 

Without a word, you stood up and pulled the paper out of your back pocket.

“Eddie,” you started, sending flutters to his chest immediately. “I know that we haven’t been friends for a year yet, but you’re probably the best friend I’ve ever had.” He watched you take a deep breath, desperate to see what was settling in your eyes. “I don’t say this to put pressure on you, but to tell you that your…” another deep breath, “friendship has changed my life.”

Your glossy eyes lifted. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I can’t finish this,” you replied. 

Eddie felt his heart crumble the second you crushed the paper between your fingers. He jumped up immediately, quick to try and grab the note. 

“Hey, don’t do that,” he whispered, shaking his head. You took a step back, mirroring his action. “Come on, it’s not stupid. I wanna know what else you have to say.”

“It’s cheesy.”

“It’s genuine.”

He went to take it again, but you moved your hand away.

“It’s unoriginal.”

“It’s authentic.”

One more attempt at snagging the note resulted in you taking three steps back. “I hate Christmas,” you whispered. Out of the corner of his eye, Eddie found your hands shaking. “I can’t control the passage of time and whether you’re going to be here next year or not. What if I give this to you and then in six months you realize how stupid I am and you just go?”

He said your name gently, but you shook your head.

“I can see it now, you know? You’ll find the note lodged in some pocket somewhere and wonder how it got there. And you’ll be so livid that you’ll go and set it on fire and light your cigarette with the flame.”

Before you could continue your dark forebodings, Eddie fingers wrapped around your trembling, tight-knuckled fist. The contact set him ablaze as he felt the tension build. Here you two were, connected by a bittersweet tug of war.

“Hey,” he whispered, trying to keep his voice steady. But how could he? You were searching his eyes, crestfallen and confused. He could say the same for himself. “I know it sucks to open up to people you don’t know are gonna stay.”

He heard the catch in your breath before tears fell down your cheeks.

“I’m here to stay,” he said, more confident now. “You’re not sick of me yet, are you?”

You suddenly chuckled, shaking your head as you wiped your tears away. “Anything but.”

“Then there’s nothing to worry about, okay?” You nodded, tucking your crimson lips inward, disappearing into your mouth as if you were ridding yourself of speech for his sake. “Let this Christmas be this Christmas.”

“Okay.”

“And then we’ll get super cross-faded tomorrow night and then we’ll get cross-faded on New Year’s—” A watery laugh rippled through you, piercing the air and his heart. Finally, his favorite sound. “Then we’ll just keep going and figure shit out along the way. Sound cool?”

“Yeah. Sounds cool.”

Eddie didn’t know what to do next, refusing to think before he enveloped you in a tight hug. Your arms quickly squeezed him back, exchanging heartbeats under thick sweaters.

“You know what?” Eddie asked, resting his chin on your head. “I think you’ve earned a good holiday movie.”

“Which is?” you asked, voice muffled in his shirt.

The edges of Eddie’s lips quirked up as he said, “When Harry Met Sally.”

[creepydoll907]

Lost 3.9kgs/ 8.6pounds- TW ED and Weight mention- storytime

Hello Dolls, guess who's back?

I'd like to start off by saying I am 5'4 feet or a 163cm so the body weights I'll mention aren't unhealthy on me. Also I'm 20years old. Minors go eat so you can be as tall as Sneja. Go!!

3 months ago when I was chronically binging and at such a low point in my life I was 53.5 kgs or ~118 pounds. I found this out at the doctor's so I hadn't the chance to weight myself again.

However I have since got a weight scale and when I jumped on 8 days ago found out I was 52.8kgs (116.5lbs). I had been eating healthier and working out so I had expected to be lighter so when I saw that number I broke down.

I am now 49.6kgs or ~109.3 pounds.

Anyways I attribute a large amount of my going down to 50kg to doing HIIT cardio yt videos to burn calories. I ate wholefood and intermittent fasted during this time. But I ate every day. Probably around 1000cal. Unless I went out.

Honestly i was in my healthy girl era. I had a very positive mindset around food and I was feeling really good.

However, I do not recommend HIIT Cardio especially if you're having a bad case of BED because these work outs would give me the most painful hunger ever. Like believe me this was no mental hunger. It was physical, raw and hurt so much. I now only plan to do these workouts the day after a binge or after I overeat.

The problems started when I accidentally got nicotine poisoning. Obviously I didn't go to the doctor but I think I gave myself temporary gastroparesis. My stomach felt so weird that I freaked out and started binging again. However because I was still intermittent fasting I would binge in an hour so the damage wasn't as bad as If I were to binge throughout the day.

Anyways I finally weighted myself again today and I was 49.8kgs. Tbh I binged pretty badly today. I think because of stress and exhaustion. It hurts because I'm finally back in the 40kgs range and I could weight myself tomorrow morning just to find out it's gone. But I had told myself I would be allowed to post again on tumblr once I was below 50kgs and so I'm going to publish this post as motivation for myself.

What helped me/ Recovery

What really helped me was being healthy.

I didn't do fasts that were longer than 24hrs and would mostly do 18hr fasts. Even if I binged.

Guys I know it's annoying hearing the whole 'don't starve yourself after a binge' talk but honestly, it'll be the skinniest influencers that give you this advice. So maybe they have a point?

Yes I've been binging these days but it's because my mental health is declining again and I'm high-key too busy to think about my weight 24/7.

But when I wasn't binging and losing weight I had good mental health. I also ate enough every day to have normal sleep function. And knowing I get to eat every day given I'd stopped doing long fasts would help me put the fork down.

Honestly the fact that I was so healthy and content with my body before I gave myself gastroparesis makes me believe I was recovering?

I've also realised I can lose wight whilst not being miserable and sleep-deprived all the time if I just eat enough to function properly and have energy. So recovery defo seems like a possibility.

It's hard though. i saw an anorexic girl today and she looked just as pale and ghastly as I did back at my worst. And it makes me romanticise the era.

Summary

Eat every day.

Eat healthy wholefood.

Don't do drugs or alcohol.

Don't be obsessed with food.

Challenge yourself to eat in a calorie defecit whilst still being healthy.

If you are a minor go drink your milk so you can be tall T-T

Outro

To all my followers, I have stopped doing my 'Day x of WL' series because it was a lot of mental pressure. Also not having to update my tumblr account helped me focus on actually losing weight instead of being mentally anorexic. But it was so fun and I loved doing the series I'm sad to see it go.

You'l hear from me again once I am ~47kgs or a ~107lbs.

Take care and stay safe.

Much love,

Doll

[toonedoutofficial]

Ink And Flesh - Softcore/GiverTaker Inky Bunnies AU

Art: C/TW: Implications of abuse, self-harm, and anthropophagy/predatory behavior Everything else: C/TW: Depictions of abuse, anthropophagy/predatory, addiction, and generally disturbing topics

*Non-Canon Material!*

Giver: Giving the Taker “love” Taker: Takes “love” from the Giver

Oh dear, I have returned, and with the roles reversed. Though this AU isn’t meant to be suggestive in any way, there is a *bit* of that in this AU- it won’t be mentioned in any way, but you’ll notice it in the drawing when you finish reading this. It’s nothing major, just a small detail. Sorry for the odd trigger warnings, I didn't even know what to put this under. 😭

`The usage of the word predator is in its actual meaning, not the OTHER one.`

`Giver` Bendy loves Oswald to pieces. He loves being by his side at all times, watching him build things, even when he’s being yelled at for his stupidity. Well, that was before his love for the rabbit increased. Tremendously. Oswald is so cute. Bendy could just eat him right up! So he does just that. More on that later. 

He was obsessive when he first developed feelings for him, stalking him, watching him...Of course, he was unaware that this was illegal. Even then, he still does it in his free time. He’s always watching.

Bendy is the worst terrible influence on Oswald and glamorizes unhealthy habits like drinking, drug usage, and smoking, acting as if it’s an aesthetic of sorts to cope with his problems. He doesn’t get through Oswald this easily, the rabbit being very strong-willed. But when it comes to self-harm, Bendy thinks it’s the only way to keep yourself sane without hurting others. And so he never stops Oswald from doing it. Bendy loves to coddle his lover, encouraging him to take it easy. Unfortunately, this led to the rabbit being taken care of and becoming dependent on the demon. 

What was worse was that Bendy was unknowingly doing all this, thinking he was helping Oswald accept himself and relax. However, he isn’t all sunshine and rainbows when it comes to Oswald. If the rabbit is being difficult, Bendy will spike his drinks to get him to calm down and stop, neglect him completely, or purposefully make him jealous by flirting with others. Bendy would truly never cheat, but he wants to make sure Oswald is manageable and behaves. 

Bendy hates the thought of anything ever hurting Oswald, so he does what any sane partner would do and emotionally manipulates the rabbit to believe he is safer with him than with anybody else. What happens when Bendy goes beastly and hurts the rabbit? Love bomb him, of course! After all, it’s not abuse; he apologizes.

All the children, Ortensia and Fanny, are dead; this couldn’t be used against Bendy or Oswald as technically, Bendy didn’t cause their deaths. Fire in Ortensia’s home did. Oswald left the stove on, and Bendy was being stupid, playing with flammable torches and things as such. Many children were bunched together in a playroom, Fanny watching over them while Ortensia was asleep. Bendy dragged Oswald out of the residence.

Oswald, of course, went into a deep depression, no substances being able to make him happy. Bendy has already used nicotine patches to make the rabbit addicted to him, but it wasn’t working enough. So, the demon began…Experimenting. Every night, he pokes and prods Oswald’s body, having successfully swapped his prosthetic with ink and at least 1 or 2 of his organs. With the rabbit having ink flowing through his veins, Bendy can have easier control over him, making Oswald completely manic and euphoric. 

Anyone who shows any sort of interest towards Oswald is hurt by Bendy, sometimes even “dealt with” permanently. His clinginess not only made him overbearing but jealous. 

Bendy, by now, has realized he can’t be with Oswald every hour of the day since the rabbit has been requiring more sleep than usual. So, he came up with a solution; He’d eat pieces of Oswald, and he’d feed Oswald pieces of him so they would never be apart, no matter where they were. A piece of Oswald would always be a part of Bendy. Of course, he couldn’t downright devour the rabbit. So he stuck to eating some of his fur until it stopped growing, plucking out his cottontail and taking a chunk out of his ears. Bendy, meanwhile, made Oswald eat chunks of himself, which was just black, inky slop.

What is `Taker` Oswald’s take on all of this? He feels like he’s dying. He knows this is unhealthy; he knows Bendy is slowly killing him. But he can’t get enough of the demon. He loves, no, he worships Bendy. He needs him, after all. Though, in his more sane moments, Oswald has attempted to kill himself…Only to find out that his inky-like organs prevent this. Why didn’t he leave? Why doesn’t he leave? He can’t. He will die without Bendy.

And that is no exaggeration. The demon could kill him if he so wanted to, after all.

Oswald grew terrible habits because of this co-dependency. Like sitting there when injured, having a lack of hygiene, throwing up ink, and losing his ability to cook. Of course, he harms himself and attempts suicide at least weekly. His superiority-inferiority complex has turned into only an inferiority complex, as he’s lost one of his most defining features: His strength and determination. His will to never give up has…Vanished. He feels he deserves the pain Bendy administrates and the pain he inflicts on himself. It’s his fault; he deserves it. Hell, he enjoys being hurt. Some of it is partially masochism, while the other is the idea that he deserves it.

Still, Oswald has tried curing himself of the ink, experimenting on himself. There’s been no success, but he has been able to see that what Bendy is doing is abusive at the very least. When extremely stressed, he will bite out his fur and even eat non-edible but harmless things, like paper, pieces of cardboard, cloth, etc. 

Oswald hasn’t been able to accept how he’s lost his personality and individuality. Whatever Bendy likes to do, so does he. If Bendy wants to read Shakespeare, he will read with him. His legs are a bit of a tricky subject. No, they’re not broken. But when animal toons become stressed constantly, as if ready for a fight, they will start walking on their toes until they receive help or until their legs restructure to become digitigrade. The rabbit subconsciously began doing the same with his appearance. He began wearing gloves and ditched his overalls for his simple, signature blue shorts. 

The only thing that is his own is his favorite color. 

[tedcruzhasastupidface]

MAGA’s Cultural Heroine: “Owning the libs”

You may have heard the term “cultural heroine” in passing when reading about culture wars in the US in the last few years, but what is it? If you have heard criticism of JD Vance you probably hear he is a “cultural heroine dealer.”  What is ironic is that Vance coined the phrase in 2016 while criticizing Trump.  In 2016 he said “Trump is cultural heroin. He makes some feel better for a bit. But he cannot fix what ails them, and one day they’ll realize it.” This was past JD Vance warning us about future JD Vance, who, since he is more articulate than Trump, is now the biggest cultural heroine dealer to the Tump Party. And now Vance is high on his own supply, the cardinal sin of drug dealing.  But he get’s his dope high when he’s slinging it.

When the MAGA faithful hears or sees a spokes-mouth of the  party speak what they are thinking in a way more eloquently or cutting then they could ever say it or, have the guts to say to someone else’s face, whether it it is MTG yelling like a lunatic at the Sate of the Union, Mike Johnson gaslighting the nation NBC or CBS news interview, a right wing influencer trolls who cash checks from the Kremlin like Shaprio, Crowder, or Pools on a their podcast or YouTube channel, or a down ballot Trumper at a political debate, the brain of the MAGA faithful releases a hit of dopamine.

Dopamine is a hormone and a type of neurotransmitter, or chemical messenger, made in your brain. This unique neurotransmitter affects your body, brain, and behavior. Dopamine plays a role in how we feel pleasure and rewards.  There are signs that drugs like heroin, nicotine, cocaine, and MDMA target midbrain dopamine neurons and/or serotonin neurons, but their effects on the dynamic neuronal activity remain unclear in behaving states.  Taking drugs is pretty extreme, so why not watch some political fights instead?  Because doing so has a real impact on your fellow American’s lives.  It breeds political extremism on both sides but it seems the right is more susceptible to it since they are usually less educated and recent studies suggests that people with right-wing views have a larger area of the brain associated with fear.

I have watch many interviews with the MAGA faithful at rallies and event chatted with some MAGA friends on Facebook.  When they are asked why they support him or what he accomplished they can never one pinpoint or even name one piece of legislation he has passed because that is not what they care about. Often they say things like they like him because he is “owning the libs.” This is very telling, because they are recalling the dopamine hits they receive when they heard their thoughts spoken by someone they agree with to the face of someone that disagrees. Often it is about a false sense of security, a false sense of justice, or a false morally superiority, a false sense of equality that happened between 30 and 50 years ago or some time between 2017 and 2020.  Let me remind them that in 2020 Trump failed to stop COVID 19 and presided over the the worst unemployment since the Great Depression.  I am reminded during the 2016 debates when Jeb Bush said his brother “kept us safe” and Trump retorted that 911 happened on W’s watch.  Trump can dish it out but he can’t take it.

The MAGA faithful don’t want Trump in power because of concrete policies he can establish for the country or for themselves, they want him because it make them feel good, that the people they disagree with will suffer simply for having a different option them them and in some cases for just existing.  This is fascism.

Crime is down according to the FBI.  Unemployment and inflation are trending down. But the MAGA faithful only get their news from gaslighting cultural heroine dealers on Fox News, social media and political candidates with a need to paint an opposite reality by gaslighting them with video of smash and grabs and blame incumbents and opponents for the fake doom.

The followers of the Trump Party need a to sober up from their drug addle stupor.

The phrase “get a life” gets thrown around at people we disagree with, but let’s think about it. “Get a life” is short for: go and seek out a more fulfilling life by experiencing joy with your friends and family and the wider culture instead of being a hatful, petty, grievances filled creature that you currently are.  We one the left need to reach out to MAGA friends and family and just treat them like human being.  Try to understand before being understood.  But more importantly, we need to outvote them and discourage them from voting this November.  They have no problem with election interference, we should have no problem telling them to give up on voting because dear leader says it is rigged.

[violetsystems]

Was supposed to hang out with my dad today but we rescheduled in case of a job call back. I'm trying to avoid everything this weekend including any pot holiday stuff. Back last May I had to make the decision to go completely sober because of the job market. I still haven't found a job so the glaringly obvious is that a large amount of employers still drug test. It's an awkward conversation to have when you want to make sure nobody reading your blog goes "Oh see he's a confirmed pothead. Will not hire." But that is the world we live in. I don't really miss drinking at all. And it's been a good seven or eight years. I do think that stress in a normie centric world is hard to deal with sober af. Especially when you are surrounded by the worst normie behavior on the planet. But unfortunately, I don't really have a choice in that matter. Go broke or go hard. I thought that being sober would open a lot more opportunities in the job market. But I have been jerked around since May of last year. Quantifiably so. I see dates change ever so often in a portal where I'm under review for four or five jobs in a civil service context. It makes no sense other than people want to make my life miserable to prove some social justice performance. This is why I don't really want to rock the boat any more than I have to. I hate people for what they've done to me. I believe they deserve it. But being dead sober allows me to amplify that hate and cherish it. So if I'm celebrating anything this weekend. It's the fact that I can contain my hate in sobriety alone in a box. That's the real hot boxing. Seething in your own blind revenge. Maybe I'll get some good news about a job. That would really get me high. Other than that. I'm the living embodiment of a cold turkey. Of all the things I've quit. Nicotine was the worst. And I used to smoke two and a half packs a day. That's was decades on top of decades ago. I still don't get a great feeling when I pick up my neighbor's cigarette butts. I remember the claustrophobic feeling you get when you Nic fit. Maybe that's why they can't see all the garbage piling up around them. I don't envy the habit especially how much it costs. I just wish people were a little more sophisticated about it. There's this thing called an ashtray. Ceramics. What a concept.

[goodeveningjasper]

Birthday — Aug 5th 1985 Zodiac Sign — Leo Sun, Aries Moon, Capricorn Rising MBTI — ENTJ Enneagram — Type 8 Primary Vice — Greedy Primary Virtue — Determined  Element — Fire 

Overview:

Mother — Diana Badun Father — Rupert Badun  Mother’s Occupation — Seamstress Father’s Occupation — Shift Lead Union – Screw Factory Family Finances — lower class – enough to get by – funded by Jasper now Birth Order — Middle Son Brothers —  Older Brother Arthur (deceased) & Younger Brother Horace Sisters — N/A Other Close Family — Aunt Libby – mothers sister widowed and lived with the family growing up  Best Friend — Ralph Pines – military right hand man. (NPC) has followed Jasper since Libya. The only man he can really trust with knowledge of the business but still keeps him at a distance. Other Friends — Jasper does not really have any friends…he has those just around him Enemies —  anyone who tries to take him down Pets — none Home Life During Childhood — grew up in a loving close family; never really knowing their financial situation or where they fit in the hierarchy of life. As he grew older his father was more and more pressed with work and trying to compensate for their lifestyle. As he grew older and older he started to resent his family and the position they were in – finally realizing how they stood out against the rest of the famlies Town or City Name(s) — The Spine Birmingham UK - London What Did His or Her Bedroom Look Like — Small bedroom with metal bed frame and flat mattress. Torn curtains and a half broken dresser. Everything he needed but was poor quality. Any Sports or Clubs — n/a Favorite Toy or Game — Jasper doesn’t play game – besides gambling Schooling — Jasper completed primary and secondary school – enough to enlist in the military. Considered Military college but did not have the money – would like to attend PrideU as an adult Favorite Subject — Economics and Accounting Popular or Loner — Jasper has always been popular even without trying. There was an aura about him that drew people in even before his partnership with the demon. Important Experiences or Events — Realizing he was poor. Joining the Military. Saving his entire brigade by striking a deal with a demon. Winning Military awards for heroic duty. Finally making more money than he could ever imagine Nationality — English Culture — Brummy Religion and beliefs — non practicing

Physical Appearance:

Face Claim —  Cillian Murphy Complexion — pale light complexion with freckles covering his forehead and chest Hair Colour — mousy brown Eye Colour — bright blue Height — 6’0” Build — Tall, slim, toned Tattoos — none as of now Piercings — none Common Hairstyle — fade up the sides with the top tapered and swept to the side; usually under a hat Clothing Style — well dressed whenever in public. Suits, Sports coats, slacks, fitted shirts, and clean cut lines. Mannerisms — natural glare and always watching Usual Expression —

Health:

Overall (do they get sick easily)? — as a child he was sick often but family could not afford medical care Physical Ailments — scars all over his hands Neurological Conditions — none Allergies —  none Grooming Habits — clean cut - always Sleeping Habits — does not sleep much – maybe three hours a night Eating Habits — Although he could afford the most expensive meals he still tends to eat like his poor family just to keep his mind sharp of where he could end up if he stops grinding Exercise Habits —  not much working out – yet very agile and quick Emotional Stability — very emotionally sound but is cold Sociability — Attracts just about anyone but is not the most sociable person Addictions — nicotine Drug Use — no Alcohol Use — moderately

Your Character’s Character:

Bad Habits — manipulative, secretive, cold, and very abrasive Good Habits — very determined, hard working, loving, loyal  Best Characteristic — Jasper has layers but deep down he is very loyal – that loyalty is to a fault Worst Characteristic — Rude, secretive…and impulsive   Worst Memory — Watching his father slave away to afford uniforms and education for him and his brothers. Watching his brothers casket come home during the same war he was fighting. Best Memory — Pairing with the Demon. Proud of — his career, his drive, his goals Embarrassed by — his families financial status Driving Style — very safe, has multiple cars Strong Points — loyal, determined Attitude — cold, unbothered, conniving Weakness — his family Fears — failure  Phobias — nothing serious Secrets — Badun Guarantee being a criminal ring  Regrets — not able to save his brother – even though it would be impossible Feels Vulnerable When – he lets down his wall Pet Peeves — incompetence Conflicts — tbd  Motivation — to have an empire Short Term Goals and Hopes — get his business set up in Swyn Lake, make connections Long Term Goals and Hopes — join the government Sexuality — straight Day or Night Person — both Introvert or Extrovert — introvert Optimist or Pessimist — both  Greatest Want — success Greatest Need — acceptance

Likes and Styles:

Music — classic rock Books — historical fiction - fantasy Foods —  meat pies, oatmeal, dry ceral Drinks — tea, regular coke, and iced water Animals — dogs Sports —  horse racing Social Issues — pro majik, will take any side to gain allegiance Favorite Saying —you have no idea what I can achieve Color — dark green and dark yellow  Clothing — classic, vintage, clean Jewelry — none Games — gambling TV Shows — history channel, Geordie Shore, love island  Movies — War Movies, cult classics, comedy

Where and How Does Your Character Live Now:

Home — Mansion in The Woods – planning to buy it from who hired him Household furnishings — house is currently covered in unused furniture covered in sheets and still in boxes Favorite Possession — vintage ford mustang Most Cherished Possession — him and his brother dog tags Neighborhood — The Woods Town or City Name — Swynlake Married Before — No Significant Other Before — one serious girlfriend before the war – she is married and moved on now Children —  none  Relationship with Family — Jasper cares about his family and financially provides for them but does not keep close contact with them Car — 1970 Ford Mustang - 1924 Chrysler Model B-70 – 1963 Mercedes-Benz 230 SL Career —  Badun Guarantee – Gambling ring Dream Career —  Business empire Dream Life —  Own homes his family could never own, move his family into a world they never have to worry about, infiltrate the government, take business stateside   Love Life —  single and desperately needs connection Talents or Skills — very personable – demon feeds off greed  Intelligence Level — very smart almost too smart but does not let it show Finances — very very very independently wealthy

[blondiehasthoughts]

New York @ Night

Check out more at www.blondiehasthoughts.com

If I had to explain my time in New York in one sentence, it would be: "New York at night."

Everything I loved and hated about the city, the worst and best memories I have of it, and the experiences that broke and made me can all be encapsulated in that one sentence. I came of age in the city; I moved there straight out of high school, my first time leaving home, being on my own. The first time I was free to be completely me or become the me I wanted to be. 

Since this coming of age story does not take place in my teenage years, it would make sense that it would mostly happen at night. Not in a creepy, "it's 12 a.m., do you know where your kids are" way, but in the "taking a train from Manhattan to Dumbo on a winters school night after you and your best friend both got dumped so you can look at the skyline" type of way. Or the "deep conversations on a random bench within the city streets at 3 a.m. because you and your roommate both can't sleep" type of way. The "walks to Washington Square Park to hit your nighttime joint and watch college students on a first date fall in love" type of way. Or even a "Friday night Met trip at 7 p.m. because the Met closes at 9 on the weekends and no one else will be in the galleries with you, especially the tourist" way. 

My nights with the city that never sleeps, a bedtime story.

I had never felt true relief until my first night in New York. From my dorm, I walked to Washington Square Park where I talked with my newly made friends all night. Besides this being the first time I had ever made friends so quickly, it was the first time I felt like I belonged somewhere; it was also the first time I found what I can only describe as a soulmate, someone I was destined to meet, who would change my life forever.

These nightly walks became a tradition. I'd walked the Highline or maybe to Washington Square Park, visiting the same places I went my first night. And if I wasn't heading to one of those places, I would most likely be at the Met or Fordham Lincoln Center for my and a friend's weekly Friday night trips to the Met via Central Park, a path I still remember by heart.

I began branching out with my nighttime walks, traveling to new places and finding new adventures, turning my original spots into safe havens I visited when I needed reminders that I was alive and that I was growing. It was on the same bench on the Highline where I had sat with my roommates that first night, that I experienced my most painful break-up. The first time I ever blacked out in an attempt to forget who I was, was at Washington Square Park. On my 22nd birthday, while walking around the Met, I realized I was miserable with my life.

I began to believe that New York had given all it had for me, that I had learned everything I needed to, and it was time for me to move on. The busy streets I once loved now gave me anxiety to step foot into, the freedom I found in the night left me paralyzed with fear, and addicted to partying, a drug dependency as a side effect. The public transportation I was so thankful for during my nightly excursion now left me feeling scared and vulnerable: alone. 

I had many conversations with people about the tug of war I felt with this city: do I stay or do I go? One of the most specific nights I remember was sitting in an old friend's apartment, looking out at the Empire State Building, talking about leaving, wishing to get out of the city. The thing she said still haunts me, because it was accurate, it was true; she was one hundred percent right. I hated her for it too because if she had been wrong, my life would have been much easier. In her words, I wasn't trying to escape the city, but rather myself. 

I argued with her, told her the city was too loud and there were too many people; I was afraid to leave my house and do basic things alone. I blamed New York for my nicotine addiction, my lack of ability to go to the grocery store or do laundry, my need to be high every hour of the day, and my non-stop panic attacks. Even during the night, which was once a time of solitude for me, now felt no different from the day.

Every corner of the city bore memories of joy and pain, as well as emotions that defy description. I didn't know nor understood how to stand in these places and allow both sides of my memories to sit together, how to recognize the hurt but see through to the light, somewhere between the happiness and fulfillment and the desire to escape. So, I left New York because the same thing that raised me had also managed to break me.

I sit here now, in my apartment somewhere out west, and can tell you that it wasn't the city's fault, not entirely. It was a combination of things: the freedom, the stimulation, and me. But I was the biggest problem. 

There's so much to say about a subject like this, about attempting to run away from oneself and the journey of discovery that you're trying too. The human brain is 80% unconscious, always giving us little clues as to what's happening behind the scenes. In highschool, one of my favorite movies was The Edge of Seventeen. I saw it in theaters three times, quite the accomplishment, considering it was only shown in select theaters. My favorite scene, the one that played in my head on repeat, even finding its way into my dreams, was a scene of the main character, Nadine, sitting in her teacher's classroom monologuing about wanting to leave her hometown to get away from everything, but when she was done daydreaming, she realized that even if she were to leave, she would still have to take herself with her. This obsession with this movie and this scene was my unconscious' clue to me.

Nadine's monologue soon became my new dialogue, a diagnosis I began giving to everyone, but didn't allow anyone to give to me. 

In an attempt to prove that I wasn't the issue, I did everything that everyone told me not to do. I left New York the night of February 15th. I moved out west and began pursuing a degree in psychology. And one lonely non-New York night, after going cliff diving and paddle boarding and being miserable, I realized I had been running away from myself this entire time. 

As I sat in my closet crying, I scrolled through my phone, looking at all the photos I had taken during my adventures in the city, I found a playlist I made during the time I was actively searching for a way to leave New York, a farewell love letter. That West Coast night, I found myself sitting in my closet, listening to that playlist. This is that playlist.

 I don't regret leaving the city; I would have never realized the things I did if I had stayed. One of the many hard truths I learned in those nights, and later once I left, was that nothing is linear and nothing is simply the "perfect match" nor is there such a thing as wrong timing. Just like the night I sat on the bench on the Highline after having been broken up with, or my black out night at Washington Square park, or even my birthday at the Met, leaving New York was what I needed at that time in my life, it had to happen. 

And just like my Friday nights with my old friend from Fordham, whom I no longer talk to, New York was perfect for me when I was eighteen but not when I was twenty-one or twenty-two. These little moments there and here have led me to where I am today, allowed me enough space to start figuring out who I am, and pointed out the things I had been ignoring my whole life, keeping me from becoming the person I wanted to be. 

I look back now on these memories, and I still cry, but it's no longer just sadness that I see and feel; it is a blurred line of all the different sensations I had the opportunity to experience in all the places I made my home in the New York Nights. Just one of the skills I would have never been able to develop if I hadn't decided to leave New York that night.

The funny thing about life is that once you figure out something, it implodes the way life is intended to, especially when you figure out how much you don't actually know about yourself and how much you've been keeping yourself from knowing.

People change, and people grow; they become new people, a mixture of the old and the new. You learn how to navigate shit that stressed you out, and you learn hard truths, like how moving to a new place on the complete opposite end of the country, that is vastly different from the place you just left, will not fix your problems, especially if the problem is you. If anything, it will make you much lonelier, like you're cosplaying a life that was never intended for you. So you take the old and mix it with the new and move back to New York, because you now know how to navigate the shit you didn't know how to before.

New York Nights taught me how to be an adult, while West Coast Nights reinforced those lessons. 

Here's to growing up and no longer making excuses, and here's to my New York Nights.

[a-god-in-ruins-rises]

Now I'm curious, what's at the top of your drug hierarchy?

well, this hierarchy is based on a drug's acceptability/appeal to me personally.

so at the top would probably have to be alcohol and caffeine since i partake in these regularly. i guess i'd put tobacco/nicotine here too. i don't find cigarettes very appealing but i could smoke a cigar on occasion. also while i don't /personally/ care for cigarettes i can appreciate their aesthetic appeal. but these are all socially acceptable so i don't think it's what you're really interested in.

below this tier we have an upper-middle tier. this is where you'd find cocaine, ecstasy, speed, etc. these drugs are appealing to me because they seem to fill people with life. they make people bolder, more energetic, more euphoric, exuberant, /alive/, etc. i have no desire to do any drugs but if i ever did these would probably be at the top of my list. if i'm going to do a drug i want it to make me even more alive. to die of a drug-induced heart attack has a romantic appeal. just being filled with /so much/ life that your heart can't even take it. wild stuff.

lower-middle tier is where i'd put hallucinogenic drugs and stuff like meth and pcp and shit like that. i don't trust hallucinogens. honestly i'd probably even put them at the bottommost tier. but i'm putting them here because i think they have /some/ potential for spiritual insight/novel perspectives, but it's minimal. i think 90% of the "spiritual insight" people /think/ they get from hallucinogens is really bullshit fed to them from a kakodemon. i know too many people who had a trip and then became the worst kind of person. it's more common than not. also, i am /somewhat/ curious about them because i already have visions and stuff sober so i wonder how they would affect me. and then meth and pcp are similar to the drugs in the upper-middle tier but they're a tad too much and too ugly too often.

then we have the bottommost tier which, as i mentioned, is where i'd put weed, heroin, fentanyl, ketamine, prescription opioids, etc. these are just really low-energy drugs that give me evil vibes. they reek of death, decay, atrophy, and emptiness.

that's the gist of it

[monchikyun]

XVIII. bury a friend

It has been awfully quiet for about an hour now. As Connor ended his story with horrible dejection written all over his face, he turned around and initiated his stasis, refusing any and all comfort Gavin has been more than willing to provide. He did expect it to be something twisted and tragic like that, even imagined the worst possible scenario before being told how it really went down, just to be safe. If he’s honest with himself, the reality isn't very far from the most fucked up course of events his mind has been able to cook up. Still, it has been able to freeze the blood in his veins, which has paralysed his brain for the amount of time it took Connor to withdraw to his simulated sleep. 

Gavin has already cursed himself for being so goddamn incompetent when it comes to emotional issues, blamed himself for the cold shoulder he didn't even have the chance to receive. He still does, as he lies glued to the bed, counting the cracks in the ceiling. His nicotine addiction is begging him to go into the cold and give it what it needs to survive, but the warmth of his current company is impossible to leave. His hand aches for the smallest touch, for some confirmation that Connor is still here with him. So he directs his sight to the body next to him, letting himself be mesmerised by the constellations of freckles decorating the android's bare arm. It's a painful view, knowing that he still doesn't have the right to connect those dots with his own defects, to interpose himself with this amazing, flawed being who has carved a hole in his chest and invaded his heart.

He remembers how the android was back when he found him on the roof, finally realising the enormous difference created by the months they’ve spent together. Last spring he dreaded going to work, feared that Connor just wouldn’t show up one day and he wouldn’t be able to see him ever again. Or worse, all that would remain of him would be the empty vessel that used to house his colourful soul, something that would kill his last hopes. He was tempted to become a well-meaning stalker then, to always be near for when a potential threat arrives, but that idea was too exhausting for him in the end, and so he left his worries to a silent prayer which guided him all through to summer. 

With the warmth came the first smile and a myriad of gratitudes for his uncharacteristic kindness. That’s when they started having casual conversations, a big leap from the uncomfortable silences that filled their shared hours in the previous season. It was somewhere in July when he first regarded Connor as his friend, without his vigilant denial disagreeing that fact. Gavin has always found the android very attractive, like an eye candy specifically developed for his torment, but knowing there was a whole, unpolished person behind that plastic perfection has made his partner so much more appealing. He simply couldn’t stop himself getting drawn to him, despite all the countless attempts to emotionally distance himself from the one who lived inside his dreams. It was either letting himself be eaten by the monsters living in his past, or inviting in the one person who has the power to push them away from his corrupted mind.

For the longest time, he did neither. Though his inability to act on his feelings was due to more than just the inherent fragility of their source, he was simply afraid like he has always been when it comes to things that have the potential to hurt him. He'd rather be thrown in a paper shredder than to have his soul bruised again. Physical pain is easy to understand, straightforward in its healing. Time usually takes care of what needs to be done, but when it comes to the mind, sometimes even passing years will have little to no effect on the waste that has accumulated in someone’s innermost core. And Gavin didn't want to add onto the rotting pile of mess that has already been too much to bear as it is. But that was months ago, and as the earth was becoming colder, the warmth that had started budding inside of him turned into sweltering heat.

When autumn was nearing its end, he understood that he would soon burn up if he didn’t begin dealing with his problem. Maybe that’s how they got here, to a place where he doesn’t have to call his feelings inconvenience anymore, having breached the border that has kept them apart all these months. He wants to stop fighting it for good. This truth is sent to him from above as he puts his fingers on Connor's bare temple, tracing the ghost of the LED that used to signify his nature. 

He'd like to say that the fact that one of them isn't human is what prevented them from giving into their hearts' desires, but that is far from the truth. Life is much more complicated than that, not as black and white as he wants it to be. 

Gavin wishes their relationship was defined, so he could casually take the android in his arms and hold him away from the evil of the world, just for a short while, just so he can expand his collection of irreplaceable moments that he doesn't ever want to forget. 

He considers getting just a bit closer, weighing all the pros and cons that ultimately mean nothing because deep down he recognises that their sentiments are shared. So he lowers his steadying hand down from Connor’s temple, ready to enfold everything his partner represents. But fortune isn’t on his side tonight, because as soon as he begins his movement, Connor wakes up with a jerk that betrays confusion lined up with its best friend, unease. 

"Did you have a nightmare?" Gavin is more than familiar with the concept of being tortured by his own psyche as he lays it to rest, so he's aware of just how disorienting such illusions can be, how unrelentingly cruel and merciless they often are. 

"No, no... I-... androids can't normally dream. I wasn't really sleeping, just… thinking. More than I should." 

Gavin scoots over so their shoulders are just about touching, a decision his conscious mind has had no say in. 

"Do you wanna talk 'bout it?" A quiet, tentative question just barely escapes his lips for fear he gets denied entrance into Connor's trove of dark secrets. 

There is a short, excruciating period of silence before he gets his answer.

"You know how I can preconstruct any future scenario based on the information available to me?" 

"Yeah? I mean… sorta. Can't really wrap my mind around your technical stuff most of the time." That's only partially a lie. He ought to tell him that he doesn't want to picture his inner workings because they kind of scare him, but maybe that would be too inappropriate given the frailty of this moment. 

"Well… I saw you get buried…,” the android breathes out for reasons Gavin can only guess, “after you died, naturally." 

"Naturally." 

Why doesn't this even surprise him anymore. Of course Connor would paint himself the grimmest image possible, these are just his default settings. Give him the brightest colours and he'd draw you the darkest sky without a single star in sight. 

"That's not… I'm sorry I,... I didn't mean to… I just couldn't stop it since it went that way and…" 

"Hey, it's okay.” It hurts seeing Connor get like that, losing most of his coherency and feeling like he should apologise for it.  

“How…," Gavin takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing thoughts down. Connor was the one who saw his funeral, not him, yet he feels like he’s been there already, among the dirt, not far from other decaying corpses. It’s an uncanny sensation. Not one he’ll be chasing any time soon. 

"How did it make you feel?" A stupid question, really, and yet the best his brain has to offer. 

"How do you think?" Gavin never knew that tears could fit an incredulous look, but the welling in Connor's eyes combined with the exasperation written all over his face is proof enough. Laughable, frankly, but he wouldn't dare. Not now, anyway. 

"Guess it sucked then." 

"That's putting it mildly." The android shakes his head and rubs his eyes before they have the chance to leak his sorrow. 

"I… I don't ever want to go through that again,” he says, desperation piercing his voice through and through. It would be easy to dismiss these ungrounded worries if it wasn’t for the two flaming brown lights probing his own mossy pools like they intend to hypnotise them and seize control over his soul.  

"You know that no one can force you to… be there... when it happens." 

"You don’t get it! That's not the point. I don't want to live in a world where two of my best friends are nothing but a memory. I realise that’s selfish, but… "

Gavin does, by all means, get it, he just tried to help, somehow. 

Connor’s eyes are turning into glass, threatening to melt again, so he closes his because God knows he does not possess the strength to witness it, not tonight at least. 

"Maybe you should just relax Con, the future will come no matter what, but we still have the might to shape it as we like. To some extent. Anyway,... I promise…," he cuts the sentence midway to inhale a big gulp of oxygen, an action which results in a minor coughing fit. 

"I promise to try my best to stay by your side as long as physically possible. " A statement which makes him want to cry instead. 

"Does it mean you’ll stop smoking then?" 

Oh, that devious android, of course this conversation would lead here, why wouldn't it. He glances at his nightstand, checking if the half-full box of cigarettes is still there, waiting for him to take its lethal fruit. Come to think about it, ever since their little trip his taste for cigarettes has somewhat diminished. Could be the fresher air just outside these thin walls, or the fact that Connor’s presence stimulates him enough already, so the need for nicotine is not as great as it is when he has to spend his time alone or surrounded by people who hold little to no significance to him, pretending like he doesn't crave something beyond the drug his body could very well function without. 

"Yeah..., yeah, okay." Gavin buries his face in his hands, disbelieving his consent. 

As he puts them away and folds them in his lap, he scroungers up a lazy smile meant to lighten up the heavy mood, to maybe clear Connor’s stormy sky a little. 

"But only if you promise to try to be more optimistic…  just a smidge.., " he makes a gesture with his two fingers to show how small of an effort would suffice. 

Then he gives Connor a friendly pat on his thigh, after which he realises that he doesn't have to limit his displays of affection anymore, not after all the intimacy they have been willing to submit themselves to already. 

So he lets his palm linger, allowing himself to rub gentle circles into the clothed skin. He doesn't have to be cautious with Connor, for the android isn't burdened with any biological organs that would make this situation uncomfortable for both parties. 

"Life isn't all bad, I’m sure you came across that particular information at least once during your time on this Earth. Experienced it, even. No?" 

"You're right." 

A trace of a hesitant smile on Connor’s lips is all that it takes for Gavin to heave a sigh of relief. He’s too tired to think beyond that feeling. Everything inside of him, all the emotions and memories blend into a blurry mixture as he starts losing the ground under his feet. 

But he must fight it, his friend still needs him awake...

"Let's go to sleep," Connor whispers, tugging him into a tender embrace. It’s warm and safe and he can't concentrate on anything but the wave of love pulling him under to the sweet slumber he’s always yearned for. 

Indeed, life can be ever so wonderful sometimes.

@a-convin-new-year

[atinyrabbit]

love/hate songs

Since 8tracks is messed up and playmoss is gonna disappear and Spotify doesn't have many songs, I’m posting some of my playlists here. This is a list of songs about love/hate relationships for pairings. Enemies to lovers, tsundere personalities, hero/villain couplings, opposites attract, loving someone you know you shouldn't. This list is several years old so the songs are older and kinda ‘scene.’

Major trigger warnings for the lyrics of these songs. Some songs have violent lyrics. This playlist romanticizes conflict.

Song list under read more:

Love to Hate You - Erasure Nicotine - Panic! at the Disco Don't Let It Go To Your Head - Fefe Dobson Your Love Will Kill Me - Daniel Lavoie Bruises and Bitemarks (Remix) - Good With Grenades October & April - The Rasmus feat. Anette Olzon Violator - Son of Rust Sick Amore - El Creepo Disgusting - Ke$ha Dangerous - Depeche Mode Oleander - Mother Mother Fear & Delight - The Correspondents Love is a Suicide - Natalia Kills Sex as a Weapon - Pat Benatar I'd Love To Kill You - Katie Melua Before I Ever Met You - Banks Rent - Pet Shop Boys Helpless When She Smiles - Backstreet Boys Holy - Zolita Strangelove - Depeche Mode I Won't Say (I'm In Love) - Susan Egan Can't Feel My Face - The Weeknd Only You - Ellie Goulding Devil Devil - Milck Livin' In A World Without You - The Rasmus  

Hate Love - Adelitas Way Suddenly - Peter Heppner Sick and Twisted Affair - My Darkest Days Radioactive Mirrors - Amazinglyjon Dangerous - Cascada Violence (Club Mix) - Grimes & i_o This Is Love - Air Traffic Controller Make Hate To Me - Citizen Soldier Gently Break It - Beck Pete Portrait of a Female - Cruel Youth This Could Be Love - Alkaline Trio Lie, Lie, Lie - Myra You Give Love a Bad Name - Bon Jovi I Only Wanna Be With You - Volbeat Maybe You're Not the Worst Thing Ever - Cast of Galavant I've Got You Under My Skin - Seether Human - Oh Land Le Bien Qui Fait Mal - Mozart, L'Opera Rock Can't Help Falling In Love [Light x Dark Remix] - feat. Brooke Tommee Profitt Fell For You - Green Day Stupid Grin - Dragonette Broken - Lauren Hoffman Take Me to Church - Hozier Super Psycho Love - Simon Curtis Whip - Mr.Kitty   Get You Off - Fefe Dobson Crazy Girl - Ke$ha Vice - POP ETC Cannibal - Silversun Pickups Rest in Peace - Original Cast of Buffy The Vampire Slayer Hem of Your Garment - Cake Tear You Apart - She Wants Revenge Truth Or Dare - Marianas Trench We Sink - CHVRCHES Gingerbread Man - Melanie Martinez You Stupid Girl - Framing Hanley   Die For You - Red F*cking Boyfriend - The Bird & The Bee Mean - Nicole Dollanganger Must Be Crazy for Me - Melissa Etheridge That Girl - Alexz Johnson FMLYHM - Seether Bad Romance - Halestorm Aquarius - Within Temptation Flirt (With Me) - Zeromancer I'm With Stupid - Pet Shop Boys Stop This Song (Love Sick Melody) - Paramore Trying Not To Love You - Nickelback Kill for You - Zolita A Love Like War - All Time Low You Need Me - SWANS Hatef--k - The Bravery Bottled Affection - Cold War Kids True Love - ThouShaltNot Terrible Thing - Ag I Can't Decide - Scissor Sisters Exit Wounds - The Romanovs Gun - Chvrches Every Breath You Take - Chase Holfelder Whole Lotta Love - Smash Mouth Bloodsport - Sneaker Pimps XXX - Imran-C Bitter Rivals - Sleigh Bells Destruction Of Us - Mr.Kitty Teeth - 5 Seconds of Summer Love Me Dead - Ludo Paralyzed - The Used River - Bishop Briggs Neon - VERSA Sucker For Pain - Lil Wayne, Wiz Khalifa & Imagine Dragons I'm Your Villain - Franz Ferdinand Beautiful Monster - Ne-Yo I Own You - Birgit Let Me Be Your Armor - ASSEMBLAGE 23 Perfect Enemy - t.A.T.u. Straight for the Knife - Sia One More Night - Maroon 5 I Hate You (Don't Leave Me) - Ke$ha The Moth - Aimee Mann Mad Love - The Veronicas Toxic (Acoustic Britney Spears Cover) - Johnny Goth Bad Intentions - Digital Daggers Shut Up - Nick Lachey Soldier - Bitter Ruin First Bad Habit - Vanessa Hudgens In The Darkness - Dead By Sunrise Tearin' Up My Heart - *NSYNC You'll Be Back - Original Broadway Cast of Hamilton & Jonathan Groff Crazy In A Good Way - VERIDIA Combat Baby - Metric In Bluebeard's Castle - Unwoman When Doves Cry - Prince State of Seduction - Digital Daggers Whataya Want From Me - Adam Lambert Broken Inside - Broken Iris Murder (feat. Minx, Chilled) - Boyinaband Why Do You Love Me - Charlotte Lawrence Follow You Home - Nickelback Love To See You Cry - Enrique Iglesias Impressed - Natalie Imbruglia Die For You - Megan McCauley Your Kind (Speak to Me) - Danger Radio Tyrant - The Bravery Violent Games - Polica Toxicated Love - NEO Nemeses (feat. John Roderick) - Jonathan Coulton Miserable - Lit Running From My Shadow - The Velvet Teaparty Barricade - Stars Trouble (Stripped) - Halsey Brutal Hearts - Bedouin Soundclash Desire - Meg Myers Sticks And Stones - The Pierces Just the Girl - The Click Five Himerus and Eros - The Spill Canvas Blood - In This Moment I'm Insane - Myah Marie Fiction (Dreams In Digital) - Orgy Whore - In This Moment Monster - Ryan Adames Foundations - Kate Nash Only When I Lose Myself - Depeche Mode Hatchet - Archive The Beginning of the Twist - The Futureheads Change - Deftones Trust Me - Marc Senter Love Me Hate Kiss Me Kill Me (Scndl Remix) - Fukkk Offf Big Bad Handsome Man - Imelda May The Mighty Fall - Fall Out Boy My Obsession - Cinema Bizarre Stitches - Orgy Miss Kiss Kiss Bang - Alex Swings Oscar Sings! Sweet Dreams - Beyonce Fuel To The Fire - The Maine Closer (Nine Inch Nails Cover) - Niki Barr Band Clueless - Orla Gartland Devil Woman - Cliff Richard Hatefuck - Motionless In White I Love You But I Don’t Like You - Molly Moore Overpower Thee - AUF dER MAUR Get Down On Your Knees And Tell Me You Love Me - All Time Low Post Blue - Placebo Genghis Khan - Miike Snow Poison - Alice Cooper I Know I'm A Wolf - Young Heretics Little Toy Gun - honeyhoney I Miss the Misery - Halestorm Dirty Sticky Floors (radio mix) - Dave Gahan Clarity - Zedd I Get A Kick Out Of You - Frank Sinatra I Hate Myself for Loving You - Joan Jett and the Blackhearts Die for You - Otherwise Labyrinth - Oomph! Black Black Heart - David Usher I Want to Destroy Something Beautiful - Josh Woodward I'm a Priest - Daniel Lavoie You Need Me - SWANS Afraid of the Dark - Phildel Virus - Ryan Adames I Wanna Be Your Dog (remix) - Emilie Simon Hello Goodbye - The Beatles Sarcasm (Album Version) - Get Scared Use Me - Hinder Poison & Wine - The Civil Wars Pretty When You Cry - VAST Tainted Love - Soft Cell Scream - Avenged Sevenfold Think About It - Danger Radio Gallery Piece - Of Montreal Bang Bang Bang Bang - Sohodolls Little Girls - Say Anything I Hate Everything About You - Three Days Grace Love Runs Out - OneRepublic Disarm - Smashing Pumpkins Hit Me Like a Man - The Pretty Reckless Bang Bang (feat. Adam Levine) - K'naan Hurts So Good - John Mellencamp Addicted - Kelly Clarkson Whiplash - FEMM Paralyzer - Finger Eleven Crime - Temposhark Misery Loves Company - Emilie Autumn It Was Good for You Too - Marian Call Price Of Company - The White Tie Affair Burn! - Kobra And The Lotus I Love My Lawyer - Ofelia K I Want Blood - empires (I Always Kill) The Things I Love (ft. The Real Tuesday Weld) - Claudia Brucken Misery (Cutmore Radio) - Maroon 5 Fire and Ice - Pat Benatar I Lust You - Neon Neon Pistol Whipped - Marilyn Manson Bitches Brew - Crosses A Formidable Marinade - Mikelangelo And The Black Sea Gentlemen Control - Puddle of Mudd Scary Love - Skye Sweetnam Loveyouhateyou - Sad Robot Untangle Me - Snow Ghosts A Little Taste - Skyler Stonestreet E.V.O.L - Marina and the Diamonds   (You're the) Devil in Disguise - Elvis Presley Shut Up & Kiss - Me Orianthi Cool for Chaos - Nostalghia Oyeme - Enrique Iglesias I Hate You - Sick Puppies GirlShapedLoveDrug - Gomez You Only Tell Me You Love Me When You're Drunk - Pet Shop Boys Need You Like A Drug - Zeromancer Werewolf - Cat Power Bathwater - No Doubt Bad Dog - Neon Hitch Guns And Horses - Ellie Goulding Rev 22-20 - Puscifer Won't You Please Be Nice - Nellie McKay The Perfect Drug - Nine Inch Nails Until The Day I Die - Story of the Year Womanizer - Britney Spears Build Me Up Buttercup - The Foundations I Think I Love You David Cassidy Stalkers - Mindless Self Indulgence   Kill Me Every Time - Blue Stahli Preface - FKA twigs Every You Every Me - Placebo Want - Disturbed Spit It Out - IAMX Destroy Me - Mr Kitty My Sweet Prince - Placebo Psycho - Imelda May Monster - Meg Myers Figured You Out - Nickelback Suffocated Love - Tricky Satisfy Me One More Time - Frank Sinatra This Love - Maroon 5 Miss Jackson (feat. Lolo) - Panic! At The Disco Fire and Ice - Pat Benatar Every Other Time Lyte - Funky Ones How Do You Love Someone - Ashley Tisdale Poison - Gin Wigmore Bitter and Sick - One Two The Outsider - Marina & the Diamonds True Love (feat Lily Rose Cooper) - Pink Bad Boy - Cascada Irresistible - Temposhark Painkiller - The Queenstons Born to Die / Russian Roulette - Amazinglyjon Like Sugar - Matchbox Twenty Mad About You - Hooverphonic Stupify - Disturbed Problems - Mother Mother What Is Love - Haddaway Animal - The Cab Marionette - Antonia I Hate You But I Love You - Russian Red Carve A Name - Mother Mother Criminal - Britney Spears Danger - Hilary Duff Fell in Love w/an Android - Simon Curtis Demon Lover - Róisín Murphy Always - Saliva Too Close - Alex Clare Little of Your Time - Maroon 5 Sex and Violence - Scissor Sisters Electric Storm - Delta Goodrem Black widow - Susanne Sundfør Dangerous Kind - Rasmus You've Really Got a Hold on Me - The Miracles Over and Over - Three Days Grace Devour - Marilyn Manson Nature of Inviting - IAMX The Odd Couple - Weezer Hurt Me Harder - Zolita Terrible Love - The National Mad Love - Jojo Boomerang - Reliant K Bad News - Sleeper Agent I Was An Island (EP Version) - Allison Weiss Rock Bottom - Hailee Steinfeld You’re the One That I Want - Lo Fang Poison - Rita Ora Kill For You - Skylar Grey ft Eminem Wouldn't Be Love - Ritual Hate Me - Nico Collins Irresistible - Fall Out Boy I Love You... I'll Kill You - Enigma

[mav-wolf]

          MAVERICK RYKER WOLF.

gon·er /ˈɡônər/

a person or thing that is doomed or cannot be saved.

         BASICS.

Name: Maverick Ryker Wolf Nicknames: Mav Age: 30 years old Birthday: February 7th Zodiac: Aquarius Hometown: Detroit, Michigan Affiliation: Cortázar Cartel Occupation: Henchman Education: High School Dropout Relationship Status: Single Orientation: Pansexual / Greyromantic Children: None Pets: Shadow, bombay cat

         APPEARANCE.

Tattoos: Medusa’s head with white eyes on the back of his left hand, anubis on his right shoulder (like this), moon tarot card on his right tricep. Piercings: None. Scars: Small scar on his right eyebrow from hitting his head against a glass table; A few scattered scars from skateboarding and his job; Faded track marks on his arms and legs.

         PERSONALITY.

Traits: Introvert, sarcastic, cynical, anxious, careless, impulsive, loyal, can be manipulative, compassionate, too emotional or too emotionless, resourceful, addictive personality.

Habits: Tends to smoke a lot more when anxiety or cravings peak; Writes on his lighters so other people don’t steal them; Scratches his face or arms subconsciously when he’s nervous; Always finds time to go for a run.

         BIOGRAPHY.

Trigger Warnings: Drug use, abuse and addiction; Murder; Mental Illness.

♡  He was born at 3:36 AM on a friday and the first feeling he knows is rejection. When most parents have a child it’s something they’ve always wanted, their baby is someone they’ve anxiously been waiting to meet; yet Maverick and his brother were both accidents: unwanted and unwelcome. Their parents are too young, too reckless and too unwilling to give up the life they could still have for the lives they’ve created.

♡  The second thing he learns is that his brother is there and that seems to be the only constant. His presence is the only thing he knows to be an absolute truth no matter what, and it’s his presence that makes things a little more bearable.

♡  Their parents were present enough to ensure they’d survive but the older the two of them got, the more absent they became. They’re not there to walk the boys to school, help them with their homework or other trivial parental duties. Maverick was six and used to being alone with his brother by then. At least until the old lady who lived next door noticed that they were always alone and started coming over; bringing the boys food and spending some time with them.

♡  Maverick was fifteen and involved with all the wrong crowds. He’s not good with people and even worse at pretending to be; he’s quiet and selective, spends too much time in his own head. But that’s okay, his newfound friends accepted him for who he was and that was a good thing, he supposed, until their influence has him opening doors he should’ve never touched.

♡  The first door: Alcohol. It was socially accepted, easy, everyone did it, it was normal. But drinking for fun wasn’t good enough, a beer or two wasn’t good enough; it wasn’t good enough until everything was funny, until all his worries faded, until he could laugh in the face of his problems, until he was passed out and too far gone to think of anything else. It wasn’t a problem, not his poison, but it was where it all started.

♡  The second door was nicotine. It wasn’t a big deal and might not be what could kill him in the end, but it was the first sign that he falls a little too easily.

♡  Maverick was sixteen when Rosa, the old lady next door, died of natural causes. A couple days after, he and his brother come to the conclusion that there was nothing left for them there so they pack their bags and run away - their parents never looked for them.

♡  At the age of twenty four, he met a guy at one of his odd jobs that introduced him to the final door: heroine. And that, unfortunately, was his poison. For a while, he was a functioning user, going on with his life apparently well with just that small dose and he couldn’t really tell where it stopped being enough; the gradual increase in amount wasn’t even conscious as dependence developed into addiction and Maverick wasn’t quite sure who he was anymore, yet blissfully ignorant to his own misery. It was easier that way than to accept that he was the only one to blame for his impending decay, better than facing the embarrassment of going through his brother or significant other’s wallets when he thought they weren’t paying attention or picking pockets on the streets; all only so he could disappear for a few days at times and come back with some poorly formulated excuse.

♡  Years later, after he punched his brother bloody, Maverick finally decided to get help and went to rehab. He relapsed a couple times but finally did it, yet every day he wonders how long it’ll last. The problem was that he still owed a lot of money and his brother and him told the Cartel they couldn’t afford to pay - but they’d work to pay it off. So they did but, once their debt was paid for, the Cartel couldn’t just let them go at the risk of letting them talk - so they’ve been members ever since, the thought of anything happening to either of them if they chose to leave always keeping them from doing so.

♡  His brother remains involved with the drugs and Maverick has become a henchman for them. Life definitely didn’t turn that great for him but, honestly, he never did have high hopes.

         WANTED CONNECTIONS.

HIS BROTHER: The only constant in Mav’s life, his ride or die. The only person who knows Maverick in every aspect. They’re very, very close and would die for each other in a heartbeat. They’re best friends and whatever shit they go through, they go through together. Of course they argue at times, but they’d be nowhere without each other. Maverick, however, feels immense guilt for pulling his brother into this messy life.

HIS EX: Gender is open, but this is the first person Maverick’s ever loved (and the only one so far) but timing was terrible. They were together when Mav’s addiction was at its worst and he wasn’t even considering the possibility of getting sober. They left him because he pushed way too many limits.

CARTEL: Anything and everything??? Neither he or his brother are willing members, they got roped into it - but this has been his life for a while now and he’s just trying to do what he can do avoid even more trouble.

THE BAD INFLUENCE: Maverick’s always at the verge of relapse, talking himself out of it day after day but it’s a constant struggle. So this would be the person who keeps nudging him the wrong way and just might eventually give the final push.

OTHER: Honestly, anything else you can think of! I’m down for all the things.

[purplesurveys]

1196

THE “GOOD”

What’s the most positive thing anyone has ever said about you? Andi wrote me a really heartfelt letter to come with their Christmas present for me last year, and all the things they wrote in there were essentially the nicest and most positive things anyone has said to me.

What’s the most positive thing you would say about yourself right now? When people tell me I’m selfless, I can actually believe it because I know I am. 

Have you ever been to church? What was it like? Just about every week since I was born. Obviously we haven’t physically been to church since the pandemic started, but my mom hasn’t failed to drag us all to the living room to watch a local church service on YouTube every Sunday. I’ve made my feelings about Catholicism very clear on this blog multiple times so I won’t bother explaining one more time.

What’s the last thing that made you feel really happy? Butter coming out today; catching my first OT7 VLive; got a new set of photocards today; and it’s a Friday. All in all a fucking solid day. Stream Butter!

What’s your favorite thing to do on a sunny day? Turn on the aircon and stay inside. When you live somewhere as hot as the Philippines, you’ll come to be allergic to sunny days.

How was your favorite concert experience? Unreal. I still can’t believe I managed to get that close to my favorite band.

What is one of your best talents/qualities? I’ve always been quite confident in my writing.

THE “BAD”

How many different drugs have you tried? Erm, just two mild ones.

List each drug, and how it made you feel. I just have caffeine and nicotine. Coffee I take to feel energized and just because I like the taste of it; I vape because it helps me relax.

Which drug do you consider to be your favorite (including alcohol)? Idk, caffeine I guess.

Who have you had sex with in order from best to worst (you can use initials if you want)? I’ve only had sex with one person.

What’s your favorite kind of alcoholic beverage? I like cocktails or mixed drinks, but if I were going for hard drinks I would typically look for tequila or soju.

Do you feel like different alcohols have different effects on you? Eh, not really. Generally I’d get super lively for a while but I crash down pretty quickly hahaha.

Honestly, how good do you think you are in bed? What about oral? I can vouch for myself for the latter for sure, hahahah.

If you were paid $20mil to be filmed having sex with a celebrity, who would you want it to be? Lol I have some names in mind but I’m not comfortable typing them out.

THE “RANDOM”

Describe your perfect relationship. How does your current (or last) one compare? In an ideal relationship I wouldn’t be told off for being sensitive, or for feeling things too deeply. I didn’t experience that in my last one.

If you discovered a planet, what would you name it? Tata.

Who would you dedicate your favorite song to? I don’t have one.

What TV shows do you watch on Thursday? OMG this question is so cute hahaha. Anyway I don’t watch TV shows regularly; and if I do find something I can sink my teeth into, I can usually find them on Netflix to watch anytime I want.

How do you feel about Apple constantly updating their products? I’m loyal to Apple so I never really felt the need to complain.

What’s your biggest thing you want to accomplish? At the moment, a promotion would probably be my biggest goal. That wouldn’t happen for a while though so I’m more focused on getting better first.

What are some things you were surprised to see you did in 2011? That’s...a decade ago. And that wasn’t a particularly good year either, so I’ve blocked out a big chunk of memories from that time.

And because I have a serious sweet tooth. Three favorite candies. Go. Gummy worms, gummy tape...and do Maltesers count?

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Life After Snowpiercer: Still Alive

Summery- Curtis (hints of You) makes his way through the cars, and reaches the end to find a surprise waiting for him. Violence. 

If you want to read the story Curtis told Nam, read it here- Past Horrors

Word Count- 2967

Chapter 3 / Masterlist

“OPEN IT, OPEN THE FUCKING GATE!”

Curtis stood at the final gate, the final mother fucking gate, his palms slapping at it, his boots ramming into it, and his rage, all that rage from the past 17 years, and more recently the two days it took him to fight his way here, so many lives, gone. His revolution had become a blood bath, Gilliam executed, Grey stabbed, Tonya shot, You… well he couldnt even let himself go there, not yet. Edgar, well fuck Edgar he betrayed, having left him laying among the rest, setting out right after the battle of the tunnel, leaving the majority of people behind to care for the dead and wounded. There was no time to stall.  

Hours before in horror he watched the front enders slaughter his people in the television screen,among a car full of children singing praises to the almighty Wilford, the saviour. The armed men entered the gate and were lost from sight. Curtis just felt that all of you were gunned down without a care. No…. He almost broke right then and there, he could see them entering the last car, the one where he supposedly had you kept safe. His breathing picked up, his chest tightened and black stars swarmed in his vision. Then the tv crackled the noises of gunshots and flares of white could be seen coming out of the darkest gateway, all of it so grainy on the screen, but it was picture clear for him. No bodies could be seen, but the way his whole being just shattered into a million biting glass edges, slicing unseen wounds through his mind, he lost you, he couldnt keep you safe after all. Tonya smacked his face. “Curtis snap out of it, you have to lead us”

How can I? Shes gone, they shot her. His mind pieced together an image of your body crumbled in the middle of the aisle, bright red blossoming around you like a opening flower across your back, your hand outreaching for the darkness that might have hid you. Your eyes, the ones hes seen laughing, crying and loving, glassed over sightless, that part that was a persons soul, the spark that brought them life in there eyes, gone. Gone, could it really be? Curtis, she was doomed the day she chose you, and you kept her anyways. Monster. You killed her.

Suddenly Tonya came into his vision again, and beyond her, Minister Mason crumbled on her knees, her rat like face, with those beady eyes and oversized false teeth saying his name “Curtis, I can help you!” The heavy weight of the gun in his palm had a purpose, and it felt FUCKING GOOD just then. Without even a moment in between her words and him registering what the fuck she was pleading for, he marched over and right to her forehead the muzzle settled, her eyes rolling up to look at it in fear, the yellowish whites of her eyes brimming with tears, pupils focused on the muzzle indenting against her forehead. “Curtis pleeease, I beg you!”

His expression, was that of a man who no longer gave a shit what happened to him, his finger squeezed and that bullet, with a little satisfaction for him, drilled through her brain, a splatter of red grazing the entire area. A wipe of his hand across his face, he turned back towards the gate, Nam already working on it. Switching to a new cartridge, he told those still remaining. “We go forward” And just as he came to the gate, Nam got it to swing open, and now this man became the darkest part of himself he could possibly be, the compassion he would show his fellow kind was simply gone. There was no hestitation in his actions. If anyone crossed his path, they were met with cold killing rage.

Now at the final gate, that god damn signature W holding him back from Wilford. Nam tried to stall Curtis, refusing to open that final one for reasons Curtis couldnt understand. His daughter Yona, moaned on a pile of coats, drugged and drunk beyond rational thought, the child was a pitiful sight indeed. “Open the gate Nam, now. Is this what you want?” Curtis emptied his pockets of the kronoles, flinging them at the ex security intel “Take it! Open the fucking gate now!” 

In a moment of weariness, Curtis stumbled to the floor, leaning back against the frame work staring at the door. Nam took some pity on the man and tossed him a smoke “Fucker better enjoy it, its the last one.” What the hell, Curtis thought, and he lit it, taking a stale drag of nicotine he hadnt experienced since he was 16 at a party. Finally he started talking, telling Nam all about how the beginning of his life on the train went. Inside his mind though, was a totally different conversation, his way of saying goodbye he supposed although numb at this point to everything, he could still sense the pain it was causing, vibrating in waves from him. 

“Hey handsome” Your hands would slide up his chest and circle around his neck. “Almost at the end of the line”

“Appears so Baby” Another drag of smoke escaping from him. 

“I guess were lucky we got this far right? I knew you would Curtis” Plucking his smoke from his lips and taking an inhale, washing the two of you in a billowing nicotine haze. 

“Leave it to you babygirl to find the bright side here.” He chuckled, seeing you now rise to the balls of your feet to kiss him, hell even imaginary your kisses could score a fire to settle in him. How he wished it was real. That you were here, fuck he missed you it was an ache in his chest.”I dont think Im going to be returning… “ His voice drifted off softly. 

“Oh handsome, you know I will find you again, another lifetime. You dont think this is truly the end of us?” 

“No? it seems like it” 

“Handsome, this is just one of many. I love you and we will see each other again. Now go do what you came to do.” you winked and returned the camel between his lips. Stepping away and leaving him alone once more.

Curtis lifted his gaze, asking one last final time. “Open the gate, please” Nam again shook his head, going off in how they MIGHT survive outside of the train, that the snow was melting, there was no need to stay. 

“What are you fucking nuts? go out there and freeze. Leave all these people here, no. Open the GOD DAMN MOTHER FUCKING DOOR” 

Then like the gate just knew, it clicked open and a flash of yellow stepped out, Nam shot backwards and in Claudes hand was a pistol. Composed as ever, she looked at Curtis. “Wilford will see you now.” 

He simply spared a glance at Nam, whom Yona was wailing and shaking to bring back to her, and he pushed up, and into the room, all cold steel metal and blue glows, along one wall was a kitchen gallery, all dark masculine looking wood work and at the table in the car, sat an older man with intense blue eyes, staring at Curtis while frying his steak, smirking. “Curtis! Lets take a look at you.” Wilford almost sounded joyful, impressed? “You did a mans work coming all the way up here, did you know its been years since anyones walked the entire length of this train. How about you sit down, lets chat.” Claude nudged him towards the seat. With contempt he obliged, sitting down. “Would you believe Ive never been to the tail section?”

Curtis spat out “why the hell not, we to dirty for you in the tail section?”

“You think the engine isnt without its own complications Curtis?” Wilford turned from frying his steak for half a second, fixing Curtis with a look of disappointment. “It gets awful noisy up here, and not many to talk to.” 

Who the fuck does he think he is? Noisy? Trying living with a thousand people in a iron box. “Right, you got steaks, room, and that whore will bring you whatever you want.”

“Curtis, everyone has there preordained position. And everyone is in there place…” Pointing at him with the greasy spatula, the steak starting to smoke and sizzle on the stove top. “Except you.” Turning back he flipped the steaks on a plate. 

“Yea, thats what people with the best place say to those in the worst place. There is not one soul who wouldnt willingly trade places with you.” Damn straight Baby, your voice encouraged him. 

“Would you?” Wilford questioned, seasoning his steak, how in the hell do seasons still exist? Perhaps you werent always the best voice of reasoning. 

“Fuck you” Curtis spat at him with hatred and disgust. 

Wilford sighed, as if exasperated with him. “Curtis, were all stuck on this train, and its a enclosed ecosystem with a fragile balance. Med rare?” Breaking his line of thought, Curtis ignored the question entirely, which Wilford paid no heed to. “population must be kept in balance, everything rigidly maintained. Now there are times… we have to take more drastic measures.” Wilford brought the steaks over, setting one perfectly cooked one in front of Curtis. “we simply dont have time to let natural selection take over, we all would be overcrowded on this train, starving. Remember starving Curtis? It took us a while to get the protein blocks going. I am truly sorry about that.” Wilford cut a bite of his steak and chewed between the rest of his words. “So we occasionally stir the pot to speak. Get things moving… The cast out of the seven, The McGregor Riots, and this one… My new favorite. The Great Curtis Revolution. Nice ring to it, right? The kids will love it” He winked one icy blue eye at Curtis as if it was a big joke between them. “I mean who was to expect you to come through with torches through the  Yekaterina tunnel? Pure genius, nothing like Gilliam or I expected” 

Curtis snapped his head a bit and confusion clouded his face He didnt just say that. “What?”

“Now come on, dont tell me you didnt know, Gilliam and I?” Giving an amused chuckle at Curtis confusion. “Front end and Tail end, we work together Curtis, he was more then a partner, he was my friend.”

“Bullshit, I dont believe you” Curtis stated, there was no way Gilliam was friends with Wilford, the hours the two of them had spent together discussing how to get here. 

A grin crossed Wilfords face “well our plan was that the rebellion was to end at the tunnel. Kill off most of you, send the rest back. Curtis, why do you think Gilliam conditioned you to be the leader after McGregor? Sadly, it was supposed to be your hurrah. Your going out like in that old movie…. Braveheart? Going out in a fight. Your name was to give the remaining tail enders hope. So Gilliam gave you everything you could want back there. No one messed with you, got to keep the pretty girl, no one shamed you for keeping both your hands. Wasnt it nice, be able to hold her with both.” Dont you dare listen to him baby, we chose each other, Your voice echoed and stressed.  A sickness washed over Curtis as these words, Wilford seemed none the wiser over what his words were doing, or he simply didnt care. “Gilliam said you were smart, but he could control you. Sadly he didnt.” Wilford wiped his mouth and tossed the napkin down, not even eating half the steak. “And why he had to pay the price. Im going to miss my friend, our long nightly chats.”

Still in disbelief over the news, Gilliam had been a mentor to him, a father when he needed advice. All those years, and he just fueled Curtis rage for this moment. No one knew that the traitorous snake was the man they all pledged there allegiance to. 

“But your little stunt, well it took out more of the front end then I had hoped, but what fun, right? Its okay, you tail enders throw off brats pretty quickly, we will recover. Theres really just one last thing to do.” Picking up a phone, he pressed a button and waited for an answer. “How many you got left back there?” He listened and looked at Claude “We still at 75 percent?” she gave a nod and he returned to whomever was on the phone “Kill off 75 percent…. actually you know what? In celebration of our 18th year, keep 18 extra alive. Thank you” 

Before he hung up, the barely there sound of gunfire blasted from the phone, and Curtis sprang to his feet. “YOU SON OF A BITCH!” Claude gave off one warning shot, which ricochet the bullet around the room, causing them all to duck momentarily. “God damn it Claude! Mind the engine.” Turning to Curtis who was straightening himself out and at this point ready to get this fucken over with. “God damn high strung woman, cant do nothing with them when they get to that point.” Wilford muttered to himself, going up the steps to check on the cylinders circling. Curtis followed him up, preparing to end this now. Wilford pulling out his own pistol from his robes, he cocked it at Curtis.”Mind your next move son. I got a proposition for ya, you might want to consider.” 

Curtis merely paused cause of the gun pointing at his chest, basic human instinct still riding out his anger. Clenching his jaw, the twitch ticking in tandem, Wilford motioned him forward. “Listen, I like you, you got spunk, You get the job done. I already have a predecessor, but I need someone who can take over Minister Masons place since you disposed of her. About time someone did, I couldnt stand that woman. At the time, she was my finest choice though. You carry out what I need done, I know you have it in you.” Sliding the gun back into his robe when it seemed Curtis was no longer about to attack him. “Once in a while you dispose of some unnecessary lives we no longer have use for, do some intimidation to out of control groups. I will let you stay up front, even bring your girl up here.”

“Shes still alive?” Curtis croaked, the haze of your name clouding his senses, could it be true, was there actually hope?

“What? Of course shes still alive Curtis. First shes a woman, I wouldnt have my men kill off any women her age unless she was unfit to bear children. Even if you werent in the picture I would have her brought up here, resupply the front end. Shes a pretty thing, make someone a good wife. We need to continue the supply after all. Second, shes yours and Gilliam made it clear she was necessary to keep you compliant. Why do you think we allowed you two to play house with those orphans? Her little pet project. Why we never collected those kids, yes I knew all about them all along.” Wilford spoke as if he was doing You and Curtis a major favor. The fucken ass. Curtis could just see you now, the roll of your eyes and arms folding over your chest, Child Bearing Wife? Go Fuck Yourself Wilford.

All this information sunk in, Still alive, You were still alive. He could have you back, it was as simple as saying yes at this point. Sinking to his knees, his hands came to his face, relief watering his eyes and a soft sob broke. Wilford circled the man, whispering to him “Imagine it Curtis, life of luxury up here, have your girl back. You wouldnt ever have to live in a cage per say again. Just follow my orders like a good little soldier. Its really that easy. Minister Everett, sounds fitting right? The tail ender who actually made something of himself. Gilliam would want that for you.” Then he walked away, leaving Curtis all alone, choking on another sob, his hand came to his head and brushed his signature beanie off, rubbing his head.  No Curtis, you are here for a reason, echoes of your voice shouted at him.  “And if I say no?” Wilford snorted with disdain at Curtis, rolling his eyes with exasperation. 

“Im giving you the deal of a life time and you dont want to take it? Fine, I guess I will have her killed Curtis, marched right up here and you can watch her die, or bring her up here and give her away to someone else? You can watch another man have her. Is that a better option. Its either you do this or you die and shes mine.” He gave a shrug. “The choice of your fates is in your hands.” Wilford was no fool, he knew how to work Curtis, already he could see the mans shoulders sink in a sign of defeat. Claude was perched near the gate entrance when it opened, a glance over her shoulder widened her smile, and she stepped aside. “Ahhh, I was wondering where my predecessor had gone off to, its about time you arrived. I was just telling Curtis all about what we set up for him.”

Curtis looked over his shoulder and the familiarity of the man struck him hard, it was like looking at you, your features in this young man was so prominent, he croaked out in disbelief. 

“Matt?!” 

Yes, your brother was still alive, healthy and alive. Dressed in a fine suit, well groomed, the young man smirked at Curtis. “Long time Curtis, good to see you again.”

@what-is-your-plan-today​ @jtargaryen18​ @curtisbbq​ @p8tn0lish​