#nicotine: worst drug since ever

[ne-umeyu-tancevat]

i caved and bought the vape

[deluxewhump]

Cam, Alex, Zee: Guilt Rituals

CW: BBU, frat house, bloody nose, marijuana and nicotine, alcoholism mentioned, abuse mentioned, dysfunctional family dynamics mention, multiple whumper household, non sexual intimacy, Cam feels feelings, Alex and Zee do asmr

*Takes place back in the house, Alex’s senior year, Cam’s junior year.

Cameron was smoking less lately, but not out of some noble quest for sobriety. He was actually more convinced than ever that life would be completely unbearable without some sort of chemical buffer.

But there was a huge creeping problem with weed, and it was introspection. He’d switched to another strain, but the problem remained. Every time he’d get high, what should have been a quieter plane of existence slightly above the trench warfare that was his junior year of college turned into a nightmarish mano a mano with himself.

Alcohol was out of the question still. Having an alcoholic parent will ruin certain things for you, most commonly alcohol. He watched his peers get gloriously drunk every weekend with no introspection whatsoever, just shameless extroverted bad behavior, but couldn’t bring himself to touch the stuff. The smell alone made him curdle with disgust. And if he went into it feeling such contempt, such hate, it was surely not going to go anywhere he wanted it to.

But even with weed now, he felt wave after wave of highly specific guilt, overblown and looming beside him like a parade float. It would start with how things ended with his dad, never to be reconciled in death, then bleed into the way he’d treated his mom when she actually reached out to him. Eventually it would spread like the veins of a river delta into all the shit with the boxboy, and Alex, and Dominic.

He could get a hold of himself enough to say fuck Alex and Dominic, for sure, but the guilt about Z2 grew stronger every time, until the pathways in his brain that go to the dank basement of regret and anguish were so well worn it was like he could just slide right down them and end up at the bottom— faster every time. In fact, he’d hit the bottom a while ago and had since started digging.

He tried to asphyxiate it by smoking more, until his hideously loud thoughts melted to nothing and he fell asleep with his throat stuck together and his mouth parched for water, too unwilling to climb back up into consciousness to go get it.

Eventually though, it stayed his hand when he went to smoke. The thoughts were easy enough to keep at bay sober. He was busy with school and work and chapter meetings. Only when he was high did he not have the skill to escape them. He thought longingly of something stronger, but knew he couldn’t fall so far as to indulge in that. It wasn’t that he didn’t know who to ask. It was his resentment for his mother that pushed him away from the siren song of harder drugs, ever since highschool.

So he found himself sober, as on most weeknights now, studying extra for an exam or organizing recruitment workshops with his brothers. Tonight, he talked himself into a small hit. A little hit wouldn’t hurt. He just needed to stop smoking quite so much, his tolerance was too high. One pull would just take the worst of the edge off.

It did, until it didn’t. He abandoned his schoolwork, leaving his weed in the locked drawer of his desk so he wouldn’t be tempted to smoke more, and found himself wandering around the house. They’d implemented a new chore system that was going poorly, and the house was kind of dirty. Not the worst it had ever been, but not as nice as it was when they made Zee do most of the cleaning. That had eventually been voted out, because too many of them felt bad. Not that they were offering to pick up the slack, they just felt bad watching him try to keep up with their sloppiness.

He remembered that vote. Who had suggested it, Alex or Dominic? One of them. He’d voted against the motion, but that wasn’t one of the things that chased him around his own brain at night.

He didn’t realize he was looking for Zee until he found him, sitting on the counter of the bathroom sink holding a wad of toilet paper to his face. He was with Alex, and his nose was bleeding.

Cam paused in the hallway, but not before an old wooden floorboard creaked. Alex looked up into the medicine cabinet mirror and their eyes met. Zee didn’t look to see who it was. He closed his eyes.

“What happened?”

Alex swung the bathroom door wider so he could look at him directly, instead of his reflection. “Why, are you sorry you missed it?”

He was glad for the one hit he’d taken. Even a small chemical buffer was necessary for him to be around Alex Clair. He wasn’t going to get any answers from him, not if he was in a sour mood. But he and Zee had been doing better lately. They had a kind of truce working, only Alex probably didn’t know that. He knew Zee liked Alex better than him, obviously, but he thought maybe their working relationship had come far enough that Alex would see it, despite his near constant self-righteous indignation.

“Z2?” Cam asked, still a full step outside the doorway. “What’s goin’ on?”

Zee opened his eyes and tilted his head down enough to look at him. He grinned almost apologetically under the wad of tissue— alarmingly red in places with bright blood. “Nothing. I think I have allergies or something. Dry sinuses.”

Alex gave Zee a leveling look and Zee returned his gaze to the ceiling to avoid it.

“To the pollen, or Mike and Tyler?” Cam asked

Alex turned his disapproval on him. “The class is missing their clown tonight, huh? Aren’t you usually leading the pack? All the most fucked up incidents I can remember around here were your brainchild. Even before he got here.”

This further confirmed Cam's suspicion that Alex had never liked him, even before they were at odds with the boxboy dilemma. The sting of rejection was familiar. It bothered him less than it used to, but it still added another tally mark somewhere in his head, another scratch in a long line of reasons justifying the nagging disdain he felt for everyone, even the people who are supposed to be his brothers. Supposed to give him a chance.

Alex raised his eyebrows at Cam’s unusual silence. “So, what’s it to you what happened to him this time?”

From his perch on the sink, Zee nudged Alex’s leg with his foot.

“What?” Alex hissed at him, though there was patience right behind the exasperation, a gentleness that did not exist two seconds ago when he was addressing Cam.

“I just wanted to check on you, Zee,” he said, deciding not to answer Alex at all. “Here.” He pushed past Alex and bundled fresh toilet paper into a wad, handing it to Zee. He took the bloodied one from him and threw it in the wastebasket, which was filthy and had not seen a plastic liner in months, if not longer than that.

Zee thanked him with a genuine smile— fleeting and secretive, like he didn’t want Alex to see it but was willing to risk it to make sure Cam did.

He didn’t know if it made it better or worse that Zee had been so receptive to his small changes of heart. It made him feel better on one hand, like if he could repair something as fucked as their relationship to each other he could tell himself it couldn’t have been that bad. On the other hand it made him feel worse. It was that bad. It definitely was. Zee was just short on allies, and possibly a bigger person than he was anyway. He was open to the grudging, embarrassed little kindnesses Cam was willing to offer and was too noble to hold his past actions against him. It made his past behavior look even uglier and smaller.

It made it worse that he’d been so deliberately, calculatedly cruel to him in the first place. Sometimes he wondered if he realized that Z2 was a person at first, and that boxies weren’t all some Frankenstein’s monster, some lobotomized AI in a flesh and blood package. But that wasn’t really true. Of course he knew. Everyone knows, deep down.

“C’mon,” Alex said, and helped Zee hop down off the counter. “You’re good now.”

“Will you do the thing?” Zee asked him.

“Yeah. Hell yeah. I could use it right now, too.”

“Use what?” he asked, following them.

“Get lost.”

“I have a right to know,” he said lamely, though he sort of did. He had pitched in for Zee, Alex had not. Alex was not, as they sometimes put it, a boxboy shareholder.

But Alex and Zee had history together that he and Zee did not. He knew that. Alex had always tried to protect him, sometimes locking him in his room for fourteen hours at a time and not letting anyone take him out. Cam had objected at first, but because Alex was Alex, everyone else just sort of let it ride. Another reason to hate Alex Clair.

“He can come if he’s quiet,” he overheard Zee.

“He’s not gonna be quiet. He’s incapable.”

“Shut up,” he said ineffectually as he followed them to Alex’s room.

Zee went inside first and sat down on the bed. Alex turned and held onto the door, deciding whether to let him in or not. Cam held two fingers up by his chest in a peace sign. “I’m not gonna be a dick, dude.”

He could tell Alex was skeptical, but shrugged and let him inside. Once he was in, they proceeded to completely ignore him. Alex turned off the light and switched on a blue lava lamp, just like the one Cams’s cousin had in his room growing up. Zee sat cross legged on the bed, watching Alex with trusting expectancy as he went to his laptop and started playing some weird ambient shit. He slid a disposable vape and a pencil off the desk into his hand and joined Zee on the bed.

Cam felt awkward standing, and helped himself to Alex’s computer chair. He spread his legs and swiveled back and forth a few inches, affecting casual comfort even though he’d never been in Alex’s room for more than a second, and never with the lights off.

The two of them sat facing each other on the bed. Zee was propped up by pillows behind him and Alex seemed satisfied without, his spine pin straight and his athletic shoulders relaxed.

“Four counts,” he said, hitting the vape and then handing it to Zee. Zee hit it and set it on his knee. Alex started them off on some breathing ritual; in four counts, hold for four, exhale, hold for four, and then begin again. Cam tried to copy them without them catching on, inhaling quietly when they inhaled and waiting for Alex to give the cue to exhale. It was immediately calming, like Alex had reached to the back of his neck and hit an override button in his brain. He didn’t like it.

“You two just come in here and breathe weird?”

“Another word and you’re out,” Alex warned.

He laughed. “Understood.”

“Try it,” Zee whispered, opening his eyes just long enough to glance over at him.

“I’m good,” he answered, but something in Zee’s eyes made him think he already knew he had been, a moment ago.

“Hands first?” Alex asked.

Zee held out his hands palm up and Alex took them in his, a gesture so intimate but casual that it shocked him more than if Alex had slapped their boxboy in the face.

He held each of Zee’s hands in his as if warming them, rubbing over a wide surface area at first, followed by slower, massaging sweeps of his thumbs over the open palms. He spread each finger and rubbed the length of it, rubbing circles on the finger pads and back down over each knuckle til he reached old callouses, all the way to his wrists. He watched with growing agitation as Zee relaxed visibly.

When he decided he was done, Alex turned Zee’s palms down on his plaid comforter and picked the vape off Zee’s knee, hitting it before placing it between Zee’s lips for him. Zee took a drag without bothering to ever open his eyes.

He then picked up the pencil he’d brought from his desk and Cam made a face, wondering what in the fuck he was possibly going to do with a pencil and also feeling the agitation in his lower belly grow into an ache in his chest, a tingling of his scalp.

“Eyes closed,” Alex said gently, though Zee’s eyes were closed already. He meant it as a reminder to keep them closed, Cam knew instinctively. To stay still. He took the pencil and used it to draw along Zee’s face, using the soft pink eraser on his skin. Cam’s breath caught strangely in his chest. It looked gentle as tracing, light and maybe ticklish but also satisfying. He traced slow ovals around Zee’s face, over his cheeks and up to his hairline, down again beneath his chin. Zee breathed serenely, a grin pulling the corners of his mouth now and then. Alex lifted the eraser tip to do four points instead, tapping down oh so gently on his cheeks, forehead, chin, in first a predictable pattern and then an unpredictable one.

He felt soothed by proxy, an even more so than with the rhythmic breathing. Yet he was uncomfortable, almost alarmingly so, because it felt like Alex was the author of it, and he couldn't stand Alex, but watching him with Zee was intoxicating. They’d clearly done this little ritual before. If Zee was in half a trance, Alex seemed to be enjoying himself just as much, eyes low and a small smile on his face as he tapped and traced and tapped. Cam thought he would probably be able to hear his own heartbeat if it wasn’t for that music that was playing in the background. He was grateful for it now.

Alex finally stopped, drawing the eraser tip down the sloping bridge of Zee’s nose a few times before taking the pencil away. He squeezed Zee’s left hand, which seemed to tell Zee it was safe to open his eyes. He looked almost drugged, happy, eyes shining and low.

“I could sleep,” he said to Alex, who nodded.

“Go ahead.”

But he turned those glassy eyes toward him instead, knowing and cunning despite their alleged innocence. “You wanna try it, Cameron?”

“I don’t even know what I just watched.”

“You never did anything like that?” Alex asked, uncrossing his legs and stretching over his left hamstring. “It’s just made-up whatever. But if you add the box breathing, it’s pretty powerful. I had to think of some way to calm him down when he first got here. You guys were relentless. He was in fight or flight constantly. It was really bad.”

Cam set his teeth against the accusation, but didn’t drop his eyes from Alex’s level blue gaze. He knew it was bad. He held out his hand for the vape. Alex gave it to him and he pulled deep, lungs filling with candy flavored nicotine. Almost immediately, he felt the head buzz that came with it.

“You mean you want me to do it to you, Zee?”

Zee was nestled in a pile of Alex’s pillows like a housepet. “If you wanted. Or Alex can show you.”

Cam laughed reflexively. He glanced at Alex, who was giving Zee a funny look. “I’ll pass.”

“Yeah, me too, thanks,” Alex said dryly.

“You sure you’re gonna let me near him with a pencil? Or is that considered a weapon?”

“If he wants you to do it,” Alex shrugged, and handed him the pencil. “Whatever.”

Now that it was actually happening, he felt strange. His heart was pounding lightly, like it always did the first time a girl he’d never had before started getting undressed. It’s Z2, he told himself. Get it together. But it was Alex, too, and he was in their space, doing their weird thing. He sat close to Zee as Alex had and felt awkward that he didn’t have a plan for a preamble, like Alex did with the breathing and the hand thing.

“Wanna hold your hand out first?”

Zee did. He started there but with the pencil, tracing the eraser tip lightly over the lines of his palm. Zee smiled and squirmed on an exhale like it was a lot of sensation, and Cam paused. “No?”

“No, yeah,” Zee said, looking at him more directly than he had in the past, whenever Cam was being antagonistic. “It’s good.”

Cam had a sudden, bright memory of holding a fistful of his reddish brown hair as he buzzed the other half off in the bathroom sink. He continued with the pencil tip, like a feather.

Alex flipped onto his back on his bed, casual and composed as always, belonging everywhere he set foot— never awkward, or disliked, or challenged. He watched the two of them serenely as he hit the yellow vape. “Who knew you could act like a normal human being, Cameron?” was his only snipe. It was said in a quiet enough voice that Cam felt he could let it go unchallenged.

“Close your eyes,” he said, ready to trace Zee’s face.

Zee gave him a steady, head-on glance before doing as he asked.

[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

[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.

[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​

[oohae]

Shit- between the both of us, I think you could wreck me better than I could ruin you. I think that although I've got some mean-looking demons that lash out on their own accord, you would gain the upper-hand if yours and mine were to engage in an unfair duel. I could be holding a gun, yet you could be holding my whole fucking life in the palms of your cold hands and I would be desperately begging that you instead let me warm them again. You could be carving out your name and hatred towards the world on my skin, carefully going around the love bites you've painted under three or four half-moons ago, only to spit on my grave as if I was a fallen angel that has fallen further in the pits of Tartarus for refusing to repent for your sins even when I've already lied and killed for you. You say that you like watching me exist but, between the both of us, I'm more scared of having to face the chaos because I know I won't be able to recoil once you decide out of the blue to completely obliterate my existence. Holy mother of God- I don't know how I ended up here. Regretting the choice I thought I made with full confidence and soul only to begin second-guessing the future I can't write for myself. You scare the hell out of me even when I try my best to worship your likeness. You give me the creeps in such a way that makes me want to crawl back to where I was before I met you; in the rowdy street where halves fought other halves for some bread to put on their dinner tables or for the ink to continue the novels they've written though empty of characters. Fuck this- how is it so easy to adore you but easier to not want you? You make it so hard for me to align my planets to your stars, to row through the currents of your ocean, to begin scheduling my taxing days to your restless nights. And I often question myself now whether it's you or me. Is this an indecisive tongue ruling over a boggled mind? Or are these your worries translating over to me as you continue to overwhelm me with your words, plans, ideas, and imaginations of the future you've already molded without my consent in the weeks you claim to began thinking of what could be? Damn you- and damn these thoughts, too. I hope I could k*ll you better for when the day comes before I k*ll myself over being too proud of dying by your hand. Masking every little negative emotion or characteristic I have just to maintain your interest is a s**c*d* move I never thought I would go for but am now settling with ever since we began talking. You scare me- your needs and complexes, and everything else in between, and it's so fucking difficult to tell you because you're y o u. You keep telling me you want me but you keep pointing the sharp edge of the knife at my throat with threats of leaving me when you've been rendered unsatisfied or disbelief. As if this thing between us works just like customer service; a bedwarmer that could understand every whine that would escape from your nicotine-infested lungs; a summer fling that did everything exactly how you wanted them to like a puppet held up on some strings. Don't you fucking get it? You're a drug I shoot up my system and you give me the worst withdrawals in my long history of being a meth addict, and you scare me. You scare me- out of my shell, from this guard I've put up for years, and in the space I've drawn with lines as boundaries to protect myself from a nightmare in the form of you.

{ just pure angst because: anxiety attacks. i'm fucking scared of sharing pieces of myself again. i'm scared of hearing another "you understand me better than anyone else i've ever had listen to me". i'm scared of being worshipped like a god only to be let down like another sinner. and i'm scared of proving myself wrong that i'm deserving of a love that's slow and kind for nth fucking time. i'm scared of all of you. }

[devilatmydoor]

love is fatal I  part 2

A/N; Part 2 of my new Cal fic! Let me know what you think! :) I hope you are all rested and safe. 

part 1 

Word Count; 4.2k

Warning; angst, drug use, swearing 

The lump in her throat became more apparent as the girl looked Veronica up and down, staring at her choice of clothes.  She felt overdressed in her black hoodie, messy bun, and black leggings versus the other girl with Cal’s shirt on. Before she could even say anything or try and walk away from the half-naked girl standing next to her, her grating voice alarmed Veronica, “Are you Luke’s new girl?” 

Luke’s new girl? Where in the hell did she get that idea? 

“No.” Veronica breathed looking at Luke’s door to see if she stared at it long enough he’d look for her. 

“You’re here late for someone who isn’t his.” She commented and Veronica looked at her watch on her arm and saw that it was barely past 11pm. The girl looked Veronica up and down for the second time and Veronica furrowed her eyebrows and squinted her eyes, confused why she was still standing next to her, “But you are wearing far too many clothes to be here for Luke.” She winked. 

Veronica had to take a deep breath before replying to her, “I don’t fucking know you.What Luke and I are doing is between him and I. Even though whatever is going on between you and Calum isn’t.” Veronica insinuated as she walked back to Luke’s room ignoring whatever the other girl was going to reply with. 

She opened the door and closed it and Luke was sitting at the edge of the bed, the pizza boxes and empty coke cans vanished from the room. She shook her head and sighed louder than she anticipated. 

He tilted his head and ran his fingers through his curls, “What took you so long darlin’?” He asked softly 

“You didn’t tell me which door was the bathroom so I overheard Calum having sex,” She gagged, “Then I ran into the girl on the way back to your room and she implied that there was something going on between you and me.” 

He softly growled in response and motioned her to the bed,  “Oh god her. No wonder he was mad you were here. Ignore whatever she said, she’s the worst.” 

She sat down next to him and softly giggled at his comment, “Her voice is definitely something.”  

“Oh god isn’t it? I honest to god don’t know how he listens to her talk.” He giggled looking in her eyes. 

“I don’t think they spend too much time talking.” She replied and pursed her lips and leaned towards him.

He almost fell on the bed laughing and she couldn’t help but laugh with him, her nervous breath turned quickly into her trying to catch her breath from laughing so much. Her stomach hurt as she continued to laugh with Luke and they both fell backward on the bed laughing. He laid on his side to face her and she took a deep breath to stop herself from getting dizzy from all the laughter. He followed suit and then giggled softly, “Luke! It wasn’t even that funny!” 

“Then why are you laughing just as much as I am?” He chuckled and he sat on his bed with his back leaning on the headboard. 

Veronica moved so her back was leaning on the headboard and she blushed, “Probably because it’s true!” 

“I can’t see her having intellectual conversations” Luke’s eyes narrowed as he smiled at her. 

“Besides the obvious reasons, why don’t you like her?” She asked as she cocked her head sideways. 

“I just don’t get a good vibe from her. Ever since Calum met her she’s been coming to our place and he’s almost never at her house. It’s just suspicious like she’s hiding something from him. If she stays overnight, which rarely happens she expects Calum to have coffee ready for her. She complains about his smoking, gets jealous of any girl who talks to him, talks about how messy the house looks if it is a mess. She acts like his girlfriend when she’s his friend with benefits.” Luke explained, grabbing the remote to his T.V

“God she sounds awful. And I thought Caleb was the worst.” She speculated and pulled her sweater sleeves to cover her hands. 

“What’s he like?” He asked as he looked in her eyes. 

“He gets jealous too, I think he doesn’t like you and I hanging out but I could care less. He usually comes to my house but it’s mostly because his roommate knows my ex and the breakup wasn’t…” She trailed off trying to think of a word that would describe the disaster that was her last relationship. 

“You don’t have to talk about it but if you ever want to I am here for you no matter what okay? I understand messy breakups, I’ve been through some emotional ones myself. I’m here for you darling, whatever you need.” He mused and smiled at her. 

She smiled at him and kissed him softly on his cheek, “Thank you Luke, I appreciate that. I’m here for you. You can always talk to me about anything. I never judge my friends, ever.” She mused

“I don’t either.” He smiled at her and they finished watching The Ritual and watched Hush, Luke comfortably laying his head on Veronica’s lap so she could massage his scalp and run her fingers through his curls.

* * * * *

The sunlight in his room peeking through the black curtains, he rolled over on his side and slowly opened his eyes and saw her laying on the other side of his bed. She rarely stayed the night, especially during the week. She told him she was going to leave after going to the bathroom but he passed out and didn’t even notice she was sleeping next to him. He laid on his back and stared at the ominous blue wall until his stomach grumbled loud enough to wake up Luke. He sat on the edge of his bed and stretched his arms while flexing his tense muscles. His back and shoulders ached from his 10-hour shifts at the shop  and 80% of his shift he was hunched over clients’. He rolled his neck and a soft groan escaped his lips. He shrugged realizing she was still asleep. He stood up and put his boxers on and stretched his back and an even louder groan escaped from his lips. He stood up straight and thought of one last idea to wake her up. He walked to his leather jacket that was hung on his chair and  went through his pockets for the white box and lighter he clung to. He took out a cigarette and ignited it as he sat on his chair and inhaled the intoxicating yet soothing nicotine. He exhaled and waited for her to smell the smoke. He inhaled his cigarette and exhaled, her body slowly waking up as her eyes shot open and her eyes met his. 

“What the fuck Cal?” She said in a chiding tone, she moved the comforter off of her body to reveal she was partially dressed. She was wearing her bralette and underwear from the previous night. 

“Good morning to you too,” He huffed as he crossed his legs and inhaled his cigarette staring at her. 

“I told you I don’t like when you smoke.” She scoffed and sat up in his bed and leaned against the headboard and covered her nose further disapproving of him.

He exhaled his cigarette and rolled his eyes as he clenched his jaw, “I told you to leave.” He growled and stood up from his chair and ran his fingers through his messy hair. 

“You didn’t even notice I was sleeping in your bed.” She sighed as she slowly climbed off his bed. 

“I was exhausted, I trusted you to leave as we agreed. All you had to do was put your dress and shoes on, drive home which is hardly even a drive.” He shook his head in disbelief. 

“Did you think maybe I was exhausted too?” She walked towards him, her arms crossed as she narrowed her eyes at him. 

“From what? You don’t work 40 hour weeks.” He spat as he walked away from her and looked through his closet for clean clothes. 

“This is why we don’t talk, you think you know everything.” She muttered and he sharply turned around to look at her. 

“It’s mostly cuz you’re a snobby bitch who gets whatever she wants.” He growled and bit his bottom lip glaring at her. 

“Fuck you Calum.” She spat and walked away from him to grab her clothes from the floor. 

“You already did, multiple times.” He winked and turned around and grabbed his clothes for the day and looked at her as she put her dress on, “I’m gonna shower, you know the way out.” He spat as he opened the door and walked down the hall to the bathroom. He stepped inside the bathroom and closed the door behind him, louder than normal, and groaned in response. He turned on the shower to the hottest setting and slipped off his boxers and didn’t even bother to comb his hair. He stepped in the shower as steam surrounded him as he let the scalding water hit his back sighing in relief from the pain. He grabbed his shampoo and worked it into his curls as he enjoyed the water hitting his back in the perfect way. He rinsed the soap out of his hair while closing his eyes. He did the same treatment with his deep conditioner and let it sit in his hair as he lathered his favorite body wash on his body. He rinsed his hair and body off and turned off the shower. He grabbed a towel and dried off. His hair a complete mess from the shower and he put on his socks, then his black pants and his white tank top. He put on deodorant and put on his favorite cologne. He put his short sleeve top on buttoned his shirt from bottom to top. He combed his hair and opened the door and stepped out of the steam-filled room and walked down the hallway to his room to grab his phone from his nightstand, he sighed in relief when there was no sign of her. 

He walked down the hall toward the kitchen and he could smell coffee as he got closer to the island by the sink. He sat down on the chair and sighed as he  looked at Luke who was pouring two cups of coffee, “Thanks for making coffee, I’m gonna need it.” He thanked as he waited for Luke. 

“She left about 5 minutes ago, she didn’t even ask for coffee this time. You must’ve pissed her off.” Luke turned around to face Calum as he handed Calum his cup of coffee. 

“She slept over mate. She never does.” He looked at Luke and got off the chair to walk to the fridge to grab the milk. 

“Josslyn didn’t even say goodbye to me, She always does if she sees me,” Luke explained as he drank his coffee and leaned against the kitchen counter. 

“Why are you complaining? You hate her.” Calum expressed as he poured milk into his coffee mug and walked back to his chair as he thought about what he was going to eat for breakfast. 

“I’m not, just confused. She talked to Ronnie last night.” Luke remarked as he widened his eyes and shook his head. 

What the fuck? She never said mention talking to Veronica. 

He rubbed his temples and took a deep breath, “You two were obnoxious last night. You’re laughing fit ruined the mood.” He commented. 

“Abrupt change in subject, at least your acting normal.”  ” Luke raised an eyebrow and shook his head and opened the refrigerator to grab the milk, reached for his Cereal and grabbed a bowl and spoon. “You could’ve told me Josslyn was coming.” 

“You could’ve told me Veronica was coming but here we are.” He added before he grabbed his favorite cereal, grabbed a bowl and poured the milk first and then the cereal and grabbed a spoon. He checked his phone before plugging it in, “Where is Duke?” 

“Outside.” Luke answered as he finished drinking his milk and walked to the sliding door leading outside, “Duke!” 

He looked outside to see Duke running inside and he stretched his arms down to pick him up as he ran up to him, “Hey buddy! Pops missed you!” 

Luke put his  mug in the sink before grabbing his cereal and walked into the living room to turn the T.V on. He held Duke as he finished his breakfast barely paying attention to whatever Luke was watching on the T.V. He set Duke down as he put his shoes on and walked to his room to grab his leather jacket and his keys. “Do you need anything while I’m out?” 

“I was gonna go grocery shopping for us before I came in today. Just text me a list of what you want.” Luke looked up at Calum and smiled. 

“That would be perfect, thank you. I’ll see you later.” He smiled and bent down to pet Duke before leaving for work. He put his helmet on and started his motorcycle. His pride and joy, besides Duke. He saved up for 2 years to get a Harley Davidson and he used it as much as he could. He took advantage of the perfect weather, the sunshine and wind hitting his skin in the best way. As he got to work, he parked in the parking lot and grabbed the keys and took his helmet off and carried in his hand as he walked towards the shop. He grabbed his keys and unlocked the back door and opened it. He smiled when he saw his two best friends simultaneously work with him. 

“Morning Ash and Michael, how’s your morning?” He asked as he walked towards them. 

“Good, you and I are going to look through supplies and see what we need. Micheal is going to go through appointments and make sure we have enough supplies for the next two weeks. I think we should.” Ashton remarked as he put his hands in his pockets. 

“I think we’ll be okay, we usually don’t run out. I’ll be in my office if you need anything.” Michael smiled as he walked away to his office. 

“Should we go to the stockroom?” Ashton suggested and Calum nodded in agreement. They walked towards the stock room and he overheard his other coworkers coming in. He followed Ashton as he opened the door and led him to all of their supplies. Ashton went through all of the instruments and needles while Calum looked through ink. “We probably should’ve brought paper with us to write down what we needed.” He mentioned 

“That would’ve been smart huh?” Ashton remarked as he giggled and looked around for something to write on. 

“I’ll go to my office and get one.” He mentioned as he looked at Ashton and shrugged. He walked through the doorway and saw Grayson walking into the front door. 

“Good morning Calum!” Grayson greeted as he smiled. 

“Morning! Did you bring your laptop so we could go through your artwork?” He asked and without hesitation Grayson showed him his backpack. 

“I almost forgot, Veronica came home super late this morning,” Grayson said sleepily before yawning. 

“She was with Luke at my place, he has no concept of time I swear.” He chuckled before walking with Grayson towards his office. 

“Oh my god, neither does V. Drives me insane,” Grayson explained as he followed Calum.

“Trust me, I understand. I’m going through supplies Ashton, get comfortable and I will make sure that I am here before 11.” He addressed before grabbing a legal pad and pens from his desk, “If you need anything don’t hesitate to check in with me or Michael.” 

“Thank you! I will.” Grayson said as he sat down on the chair across from Calum’s desk and situated himself. 

He walked back to the supply room where Ashton was sorting through masks and gloves, he sighed when he realized this was going to take longer than anticipated. He sorted through the aftercare supplies and wrote down which ointment they needed more of, which soap they had in stock, and how many boxes of alcohol prep pads they had. Ashton wrote down how many disposable razors, cartridge grips, and gauze they had in stock. After they finished sorting everything and realizing they needed to find a day where they had no appointments or other obligations to come in and thoroughly go through everything. Ashton brought the list of numbers to Michael as he walked back to his office and saw Grayson going through his work. He sat at his desk and looked through Grayson’s favorite artwork as Grayson showed him the wolf tattoo that he drew for Veronica and the rose tattoo he’s perfecting. He decided to order Grayson and him Lunch since it was almost 2pm and they both needed to eat. Ashton and Michael came in to look at Grayson’s art and Ashton invited Grayson to help with an appointment after their lunch. 

He looked through his own drawings and his calligraphy and fonts and what needed to be updated on the website. Michael came in to go through the website with him and make sure they added Grayson, Michael showed him the schedule of appointments and what shift’s he’d work with Grayson to finish his training. After Micheal left, he attempted to focus on his drawing but the noise coming from the tattoo needles mixed with miscellaneous conversations and the background music became too distracting. He grabbed his cigarette pack, sunglasses, and lighter before he stepped out of his office while his eyes fixed on the front door. He weaved through customers and coworkers as he opened the front door and felt the warm sun hitting his skin. He quickly put his sunglasses on and lit his cigarette and inhaled instantly. He leaned against the window and looked at the busy traffic on the street and the sidewalk. He finished his cigarette and threw it in the trash before opening the door and took off his sunglasses to see Luke talking to Ashton at the front desk. He made eye contact with both of them and they motioned him to come over. He walked over to them while trying to avoid bumping into anyone. 

* * *

As she walked her thighs started to chafe and she regretted wearing jean shorts. Her least favorite season became more evident as the sun was out longer and humidity became more unbearable. As she saw the newly familiar area, she opened the door and sighed happily when she felt the cool air hit her skin. She took off her sunglasses and realized Grayson was nowhere in sight and Luke wasn’t at the desk. She walked over to the body jewelry and looked at the barbells again. Her eyes glued to the hot pink one that stood out surrounded by various blacks and silvers. She couldn’t keep her eyes off of it if she wanted to. She was brought back to reality when she heard an unfamiliar voice ask her if she needed help. She turned around to see a muscular man wearing a black and white striped short sleeve shirt and black pants with black hair. His hazel-greenish eyes met hers, “Hi! Sorry, I zoned out. I was admiring all of the beautiful body jewelry. ” She giggled, embarrassed by her complete lack of focus. 

“Don’t worry about that, I would be too if I was interested in getting a piercing. I can tell this isn’t your first time in a tattoo shop?” He asked and smiled at her. 

She giggled at his comment. “Oh no this isn’t my first tattoo shop and won’t be my last. I have more tattoos than piercings, obviously.” 

“Same here,” He winked and stepped closer to her and leaned over the glass case showing all of the body jewelry, “I noticed you have that wolf thigh tattoo. If I’m not mistaken you are Veronica. A new tattoo artist named Grayson showed me that EXACT tattoo the other day, unless he tattooed it on someone else and I am a fool.” He blushed as he looked away. 

She looked down at the tattoo that was on display, “You are not a fool, Grayson is my best friend. I came to pick him up and give him some good news.” She looked at him and smiled. 

He giggled and pretended to wipe the sweat off his forehead, “Oh thank god, I’m Ashton. It’s nice to put a face to your name.” 

She smiled and heard Grayson in the distance, “It’s nice to meet you Ashton. Luke mentioned you designed this place. It’s amazing.”

“Thank you doll, Calum and I both worked on it. Our artistic director gave us ideas for the overall anesthetic and we had fun.” He smiled as he stood up straight and put his hands in his pockets.

“It’s beautiful. Red and black are my favorite colors together.” She mused as she looked to see Grayson, Luke, and another person she hasn't met. He was blonde, the same height as Grayson and had black-rimmed glasses, his style similar to Graysons. 

“They work really well together, the contrast is beautiful.” He smiled and looked over to see his coworkers. 

“Almost every color looks amazing paired with black.” She mused as she waved at Grayson who waved and motioned her closer. She looked at Ashton and smiled, “I should go. It was nice talking to you Ashton.” 

“Nice talking to you, have a good rest of your day.” Ashton smiled as she walked away towards Grayson. She smiled as she saw him giving her one of many looks she had memorized.

“What?” She shrugged and giggled at his facial expression as she walked up to the front desk where Luke was conversing with the other guy and Grayson walked toward her. 

“What were you looking at?” Grayson asked as he put his phone in his pocket. 

She knew she couldn’t tell him what she was really looking at, “Nose rings. I’ve had a stud for my nose piercing for ages.” She fretted as she ran her fingers through her hair and fidgeted with her rings. 

“Oh yeah? That would be interesting.” Grayson mentioned as he waited for the other guy to leave and Luke leaned over the desk. 

“How was work darlin?” Luke asked as he smiled at Veronica. Calum slowly walked over to the front desk after he spoke to the other guy she didn’t recognize. 

“It was weird, I’m actually transferring to a new animal hospital. The assistant manager is having her baby soon and they need a new Vet Tech.” She smiled nervously for Grayson and Luke’s reaction. 

“No way! That’s great, where is the new hospital??” Grayson asked as she saw Calum walking towards the desk. 

“I’m not sure, I know it’s called Angel City.” She answered as Calum walked up to them. 

“Angel City, that sounds familiar,” Luke mentioned as he looked at Calum who was furring his eyebrows as he entered the conversation late. 

“Angel City, the animal hospital? It’s not too far from here. That's where I take Duke.” Calum clarified he made eye contact with Veronica and he looked at Luke and Grayson. 

“Duke?” She asked, remembering when she was at their house she didn’t see or hear an animal. 

“He’s my dog. He was in my room when you were at our house. What about Angel City?” Calum asked as he furrowed his eyebrows at her. 

“I’m transferring there, I start next week.” She explained as she grabbed her car keys. 

“Damn! That’s fast.” Grayson expressed as his eyes widened. 

“At least the clinic is closer, that way we can see you more!” Luke said excitingly followed by a familiar groan from Calum. 

* * * * 

After his three tattoo appointments back to back and his previous piercing appointment, he was ready for a break. He had 2 hours left of his shift and he didn’t have any other appointments. He walked towards his office and closed the door behind him. He went to his seat and got comfortable as he got out a legal pad and wrote down a list of things he and Ashton had to finish on Sunday. He and Ashton didn’t have appointments so they could come in at any time and work on organizing the storage room. Thankfully they had enough supplies for the next two weeks but Micheal wanted them to make sure they were fully stocked for upcoming appointments.

He heard a knock at the door and thought he was hearing things. People almost never knocked at his door, they usually just walked right in without even bothering. The second knock louder than the first, that’s when he knew he wasn’t imagining things. He stood up from his chair and walked away from his desk. He slowly opened the door to see her. He had no idea she even knew where his office was in the first place. Dressed in shorts paired with fishnets, a vintage tank top, and black converse. Her jet black hair with her pale skin. Her eyes met his as she bit her bottom lip. 

“Calum?” She said softly as she looked at him, he’d never seen her like this. Then again he only knew her for 2 weeks. 

“Veronica, Grayson isn’t here.” He clarified as he cleared his throat, confused why she’d be here on Graysons day off. 

“I know, That’s why I’m here.” She implied as she crossed her arms. 

t a g l i s t : @pxrxmoore​ @lukesflaredpants​ @sublimehood​ @talkfastromance4​ @lilacsos​ @ghostoflrh​ @calumscalm​ @mellifluoushood​ @calumthomcs​ @twilightmomentswithyou​ @malumsdildo​ @boytoynamedcalum​ @ohhmuke​ @calswildflower​ @highscal​ @sanrioluke​ @softlrh​ @flowers-on-the-graves​ @currentlyupcalsass​ @clemmings​ @tirednotflirting​ @highfivecalum​ @wastelandcth

[twoblueheartslocked]

Seblaine Para- Present Day (NYE1)

Para: Hold On To The Memories, They Will Hold On To You

Rating: PG-13 

Pairing: Seblaine. 

Sebastian: @colorsicantsee

Blaine: @twoblueheartslocked

Time: New Year’s Eve- Present Day. (1)

Location: Manhattan, New York

Info: A former Dalton Academy Warbler throws a New Year’s party for any former Warblers that can make it to NYC. Sebastian and Blaine haven’t seen each other in almost four years. They haven’t spoken for over two years. Both of them are changed and damaged in different ways. Feelings pushed down by time that never went away flare up in the worst way. 

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, mentions of drug use, death, smoking, drinking, cursing. 

Extra Warnings: (This RP is not Kurt Hummel friendly. You’ve all been warned.)

Notes: Under a cut because of length.

Blaine’s POV:

Breathe in and back out again, Blaine. Count to ten. You’ve got this. Most of these people here have your best interest in mind. You don’t need to worry. Everything is going to be alright. You can get through this night in one piece and you’ll be back home, in Brooklyn,  in your cramped, shitty apartment, in your cramped, shitty bed, in your closet of a bedroom before you know it.

Blaine’s inner monologue, something his therapist thought him to do, did very little to quell the nerves and rampant anxiety that seemed to be chewing through the pit of his stomach as he made his way into the crowded New Years party. Former Warblers- from ages 18 to who knows, graced the walls of the rooftop Manhattan apartment that some Warbler, whose name kept escaping him, owned. For the third time since he tousled his loose curls with product that night he wondered what the hell he was doing here. He’d only been at Dalton for two years before he made the stupid, yet admittedly valuable, jump to McKinley High. He felt like a fraud among the alumni that had spent all four years within it’s halls. Still, he’d told Sam that he would try and with a promise from David and Nick to not abandon him, he managed to follow through.

 He just hoped and prayed to a god he wasn’t sure existed that Kurt didn’t decide he wasn’t too good to call himself a Warbler and show up. His stomach gave a painful lurch at the recurring worry and the back of his neck throbbed, a phantom of clenched fingers squeezing too tight to make a point. And it was so intense that Blaine could swear Kurt was there, right behind him. He ducked his head, shame washing through him as his eyes darted around the room, wide and on full alert. Why hadn’t he worn a scarf? He’d been promised by David, who was promised by the host, that Kurt had turned down the invite, but he couldn’t shake the fingers and the ringing sound of disappointment in his ears that always sounded a lot like his ex-boyfriend’s voice.

He wasn’t prepared for the onslaught of attention he’d get as he was spotted by the first of his class of Warblers. Trent, and Wes were clapping him on the back, and pulling him into hugs. Jeff throwing an arm over his shoulders and shouting over the thump of bass- something about him being the man, the myth, the legend himself. Causing Blaine to tense up at the sudden contact, his cheeks flaring up red and hot at the words. He forced himself to smile, and give a gentle laugh to shake off the attention. Most of these people hadn’t seen him since high school. They didn’t really even know him anymore at all. Few did. These guys- they still thought of him as Blaine Warbler, the face of Dalton- with his easy smiles for everyone, and charisma and charm. If his old friends noticed his unusual quiet they didn’t address it. Blaine was glad for it. He didn’t think he could handle a look of pity for his losses or any of his plights.

He let himself be handed a clear plastic cup, someone must have remembered that he liked whisky, probably David, and he took a cautious sip. He didn’t need to get drunk and uninhibited around people he hardly knew anymore. Someone offered to take his short black pea coat from him and he politely declined, pulling the fabric around him like a shield. He felt a little like his teenage self, putting too much gel in his hair as if it would protect him and all at once he cursed himself for not giving up his coat. He made himself take another drink, hoping he could loosen up just a bit.

Twenty minutes in and he had managed to truly laugh at a few memories his old friends brought up. He even managed to talk about a few without second guessing himself. A little of his old confidence rising to the surface. He hadn’t even noticed that David had left his side until his friend gently tugged on his sleeve, his handsome, dark features looking stressed. Blaine’s body instantly froze, his eyes wide as he mouthed Kurt? to his second closest friend. But, David shook his head and sighed regretfully before he pointed to the balcony and time seemed to stop for Blaine because he wasn’t supposed to be here either.

There, on the balcony, framed by a snowy New York City skyline in a halo of cigarette smoke, looking bored even though Blaine couldn’t see his face, as he was facing the city, stood Sebastian Smythe. Clothed in a thigh length black pea coat, the grey hood of a hoodie peeking out over the collar, his long legs holding up a thin frame, too thin, actually. Did the man ever eat? As if Blaine were one to talk… And suddenly, just like that, seeing his absolute asshole of an ex didn’t seem as bad as this. Nor would it feel as bad. And for a second Blaine couldn’t breathe properly. And his heart throbbed at the sight of him and all at once he truly wished it was Kurt instead. He’d take feeling small and useless over the pain of regret and heartbreak any day.

 Suddenly he was newly seventeen again and both of his parents were still alive and he was happy as his fingers laced with a uncharacteristically shy Sebastian’s. And Seb’s trademark smirk was gone and replaced with an imperfectly perfect toothy, wide smile that made his impossible green eyes crinkle in delight. And that smile was new to Seb and seemed made up just for Blaine for a little while and Blaine was giddy and free in a way he couldn’t remember ever feeling before. They fit together in a way that Blaine had never felt and would never feel again and Blaine’s heart had ached to just stay with him… and-

A slight shake from David brought him back to present time and Blaine dragged his eyes from the balcony to look into David’s deep brown gaze. David assured him that Sebastian hadn’t seen him yet and that they could just leave, but how could Blaine do that? It had been so long… He licked his lips and took a long pull on his drink, draining the rest in one go. He handed the cup to his friend and assured him that he’d be fine. He’d regret it if he didn’t say hello. Right? He stood up, feeling the heat of whisky course through him as he made his way through the crowd and to the open balcony door. He pulled his gloves on before pushing outside, liquid courage making him feel brave for a moment. He hadn’t noticed at first, but Hunter Clarington was out here too, looking like some sort of guard dog with raised hackles protecting his friend and Blaine almost turned back because what must Hunter think of him? Would he stop him before he even had the chance to speak? He braved it and gave Hunter a nod and a twitch of his lips that was meant to be a smile.

With each step towards Sebastian his heart pounded as if it were in danger. Boom, boom, boom... When his voice came out, he hardly recognized it as his own and when Sebastian turned to face him his booming heart ached all over again because god dammit  he was still so beautiful.

“Hey, Seb.” It was soft and unsure and he prayed to see his smile, but knew he’d get the same old, I don’t care about anything, smirk.

Sebastian’s POV:

Sebastian didn’t care about this stupid Warbler party. He couldn't care less about pretending and parading around talking about majors and future plans and cramped dorm rooms and sketchy roommates. He hardly checked his Facebook let alone keep up with fucking Trent or some other random wasp from BFE Ohio. Sebastian didn’t even really know if he considered himself a Warbler anymore. Of course, Hunter insisted that he was. It was Seb, after all, who helped him climb out of his Steroid problem and who was dance captain for his short time at the school. He didn’t really have any friends from Dalton, just Hunter and Seb couldn’t decide half of the time if that was out of “bro code” or “owing him one”.  He had run away to Paris after his heart was broken by every good Dalton boy’s favorite guy and he never went back. Sebastian’s heart wasn’t in Westerville, it wasn’t in Paris, either. Sebastian would know, he had spent countless nights chasing gold in the blue and brown eyes of Parisian men. His heart wasn’t even in his own body that he filled with expensive alcohol and nicotine, that he gave away to random boys under the flash of blue and pink lights, in graffitied bathroom stalls, in the back of expensive cars, in rooms where wives were gone for the weekend.

Hunter had begged, and Sebastian hated it when he begged. “C’mon,dude. Don’t make me go alone. Everyone will ask about you.” “Man up and go. Don’t be a dick.” “Bas, please go.” Sebastian kept insisting in texts and phone calls that he found the party to be a waste of time even though he and his friend both knew he was afraid of seeing a certain somebody there. “What’s the point? It’s a party for people who had their peak in high school. How pitiful.” Hunter ignored him and told him that Blaine probably wouldn’t show up. Suddenly it was the evening of the party and Sebastian was being shoved into an Uber by Hunter who was visiting from Cambridge for the weekend. He chainsmoked the entire way to the party much to the chagrin of their disgruntled driver. Sebastian kept his eyes locked on the rear view mirror to make distinct eye contact with the grumpy man driving, he’d take a long drag anytime their eyes met and the man would huff. Hunter left a big tip, Sebastian winked on the way out with a dry laugh. “That was probably the most fun I’m going to have tonight.”

 He walked into the party, the apartment was nice enough and lit with white Christmas lights strung everywhere. There was generic pop music throbbing through the walls and plenty to drink, nothing too crazy expensive but nothing cheap that would cause a terrible hangover the next morning. There were more than just former Warblers, there were some girls and some random guys. Maybe Sebastian could score tonight and leave early, lock Hunter out of his apartment that he did not remember inviting him to stay in.

Seb poured himself a shot of vodka and tossed it back before Jeff made eye contact with him and tried pulling him into a hug. He held his hands out and simply deadpanned a “No way.” before he turned to pour himself another shot as the blonde prattled on about whatever Ivy League he was attending. Sebastian nodded towards the balcony, Hunter followed and Jeff got the hint. Hunter started to reprimand Sebastian about how he could at least try to be nice but all he could focus on was the light snow that began to swirl in the air and the itch in the back of his throat for another cigarette. He waved his hand dismissively and lit another one, tilted his head back and exhaled into the dark sky.

Seb flicked his cigarette into the New York night. Maybe the ashes would settle among the stars. He tried to focus on that thought rather than listen to the familiar voice he had heard slip through the crack in the balcony door. He knew the minute he turned around, he was going to be Blaine’s fool all over again. Sebastian became aware of everything at once. He could feel Hunter shift his weight, he must have seen him through the windows. He could hear the conversation get louder over the excitement of Blaine being there, could feel the air trying to escape from his lungs, the butterflies fight against his rib-cage, his heart pound in his fucking ears. He swallowed a thick gulp that he hoped the other man didn’t see and took a shaky drag as he stared at the snow gathering on the buildings around them. Blaine loves this shit, he thought to himself. Sebastian hated the cold but he would stand in a blizzard if it meant listening to Blaine wax poetic about snow globes and winter magic. He’d never say any of that out loud, he’d rather throw himself off of the balcony into the busy streets of the city.

Sebastian bit his bottom lip and closed his eyes for a moment when he heard the door creak, the sounds of the party drift on the cold winter air. He needed to suck it up and turn around. He could do this. Sebastian spun around, his green eyes on Blaine’s giant golden ones immediately as if by some magnetic force. He took a slow, deliberate drag of his cigarette, prayed that nobody could hear the rapid thud of his give away heart in his chest. Sebastian noticed David’s tall figure behind him, felt Hunter’s nerves and heard  him mutter “fuck…” under his breath. He flicked his cigarette, “Relax, David. I won’t hurt him.” Sebastian smirked, couldn’t look away from Blaine. He looked...well obviously he looked wonderful, he always did. Snowflakes were starting to collect in his black curls and his cheeks were red from the bitter winter air.

Sebastian hoped his voice  sounded even and cool, hoped his chill ‘I don’t give a fuck’ demeanor that he worked way too hard on was evident, even though he felt like he was sixteen and stuck in the midst of a raging crush all over again.

“Hey Killer. Long time no see.” 

Blaine’s POV:

Blaine’s brain buzzed at the use of his old nickname. The one that had gotten him in trouble with Kurt, the first time they were together, every single time it was used by Sebastian. Blaine had always secretly liked it, liked that it was his and no one else called him that. He’d never tell Seb, even as they had gotten closer, he always rolled his eyes and shook his head as if it miffed him when in reality it sent the butterflies fluttering around his belly. It was almost as nice as when Seb would eventually whisper B... into his ear when he’d let Blaine kiss his neck… Best not go there, Anderson. That was years ago. So, he rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Not that same old tune again.” He tried to make it sound playful, but really it just made him ache more. He turned and looked over his shoulder at David, giving him a small smile. “It’s okay- I’m okay.” He wondered if David knew he was lying. He nodded as if that would forced the point. David sighed and stepped back into the party, but Blaine could still see the outline of his body close to the door. He was thankful.

There was a snowflake clinging to Seb’s cheek like a lifeline, no wait, it was ash from the careless flick of Seb’s cigarette and Blaine wanted nothing more than to take his glove off, reach out and swipe it away with his thumb. Once upon a time Blaine had been on to him about this bad habit, and how dangerous it was, but couldn’t deny it’s attractiveness… This was absolute insanity. Blaine had only had Sebastian for a short time, but that was all it took to completely ruin him. Perhaps he ruined himself in the process, it was his fault they cracked in the first place. Right? His heart gave a painful thump as he let himself think back to their months spent getting to know each other, the real person behind their facades. He remembered his first taste of Seb’s mouth against his and how he thought, in that moment, that he’d be happy just kissing him for the rest of his life, but then their one perfect, intimate night together proved him wrong. He’d just wanted to touch him forever.

And for a moment, lost in his thoughts, Blaine almost smiled at the memories. That was until he remembered what came after, the news that ripped his happiness apart and left him gutted, the loss that rendered Blaine useless to himself and everyone else. The loss was his downfall in more ways than one and the reason Blaine allowed himself to go back to Kurt and the reason he was skittish now, the reason he hadn’t kissed anyone in nine months, the reason he was stuck in this shell of himself in the first place. Phantom fingers squeezed the back of his neck again and he swallowed hard, hoping it wasn’t noticed. Breathe in, breathe out. Count to ten. You’ve got this, Blaine. He shoved his hands into his pockets, hoping they’d think he was shaking from the cold.

He cleared his throat, forcing himself out of his memories, memories that did nothing but hurt him like they no doubt hurt Sebastian, even though the other man seemed to be doing fine on the outside, Blaine remembered the stricken, pained look and the welling of tears in too bright green eyes. Blaine knew you couldn’t fake that. He took another deep breath, and made himself smile up at the taller man, it was small and meek, but it was a smile nonetheless. He couldn’t bring himself to look Sebastian in the eye, so he instead focused on the little fleck of ash on his cold flushed cheek and tried not to think about how Sebastian was more breathtaking than the snowy city skyline he adored so much.

“I’m surprised you came, it’s not really your scene, is it?’ He forced a laugh, noting how Hunter was flicking looks between the two of them and over his shoulder where David was still no doubt lurking. “I didn’t even know you were in New York.” A lie- and it just rolled off of his tongue as if to prove something. But of course Blaine knew Seb was here, had been for maybe two years. “Are you going to school here, or just visiting?” The small talk would be the death of him. He’d give anything to just be in his shitty, yet cozy apartment where he wasn’t on display and where he could at least try to pretend he wasn’t miserable with a Netflix and donuts distraction. Midnight felt years away.

Sebastian’s POV: 

“Well, you’ve always had an effect on me, B. You have me feeling a little nostalgic.”  Sebastian took another long drag and blew the smoke out of the side of his mouth, one arm folded across his chest to clutch at his arm, cigarette at his side. He heard Hunter scoff and could see the shake of his head as if to say ‘you never give anything a rest, do you?’ How could he give anything a rest when his biggest regret was standing in front of him with nervous tension in the crease of his forehead?

Sebastian finished his cigarette and dropped it to the ground, stomped the flame out with the tip of his boot. It would be a little gift for the random Warbler who owned the apartment. He shoved his hands into his pockets and nodded as Blaine spoke. Sebastian noticed that he wasn’t making eye contact, which was strange for him. Blaine was charismatic and talkative and charming, he could sell paper to a tree. The warm light that normally seemed to follow the other man everywhere he went seemed dimmed, his smile didn’t reach those perfect eyes. Sebastian knew hurt, he knew quiet pain and it was written all over Blaine.

Hunter mumbled that he was going to grab them some drinks and left the balcony to just the two of them. Seb could hear New Years party goers yelling in the streets, could what laughter and dull music and car horns. It would be midnight soon and he wished he was lost in a crowded bar right about now rather than faking small talk with somebody he used to adore. Sebastian hated small talk and he hated faking how he really felt and here he was, failing at both.

“Okay, small talk. Here we go. Yeah, it’s not my scene. Hunter begged me to come. I’ve lived here for a couple years. I go to Columbia. How about you, Blaine? Living your wildest dreams? Married yet? Starring on Broadway? Breaking hearts? What’s new?” He cleared his throat and forced a smirk. He knew he sounded abrasive. Sebastian shoved his hands in his coat pockets and rocked back on his heels, ducking his head to try and get the other man to look at him, to really look at him. “See something you like?” He couldn’t wait for Hunter to come back with a drink to distract his hands and quiet his mind for a brief moment.

Blaine’s POV: 

Blaine let out a mirthless laugh, it sounded small and timid in his ears and he cursed himself for sounding that way. He opened his mouth to reply, to say something that could match Sebastian, to keep up with him the way he used to be able to, but nothing came out. He just nodded, his shoulder coming up in a shrug as if he’d forgotten how to use his mouth. This was hell for him. This tension, this emotion that was threatening to take hold of him. Why the hell had he come out here? To say hi? What kind of bullshit was that? Did he think that it would prove something to himself? That he could do it without falling apart? There was a reason he hadn’t spoken to Sebastian in over two years. There was a reason Sebastian’s stance was defensive right now. There was a reason Blaine was internally falling apart all over again, after he’d done such a bang up job putting himself back together. He should have just left. It would have been better for him than this...whatever this was.

He watched as Hunter left the balcony, leaving him and Sebastian, miraculously,  all alone. Seriously, why wasn’t this spot running wild with party goers? Midnight wasn’t even twenty minutes away and the people of New York would usually kill for this spot. Up high in the grey black skyline of NYC, he could even hear the faint sounds of Taylor Swift singing in Times Square in the silence that lay between him and Sebastian. Perfect melancholy soundtrack for this kind of night he guessed. He opened his mouth to try again, to maybe fill the silence but Sebastian beat him to it seeming annoyed and irritated that Blaine had asked anything at all. The use of his name caused him to tense for a split second and wonder what he’d said to warrant that when he remembered this was Sebastian. Sebastian’s default was usually annoyance. Or seduction.

He tried to make himself relax, and found that his first thought was to wonder how insensitive Sebastian could be to joke about Broadway and marriage, but he had to remind himself that Sebastian had only been around for the first part of his battle. He only knew half of what had happened to him. He didn’t know that he’d lost the music inside of him or that he felt every single day like an impostor in his own life and that love apparently was not for him. He took another deep breath and tried not to notice how Sebastian’s head dipped down for him, ducking so that he could see him. Or so that he could make Blaine see. It was familiar and a call back to younger years and it made Blaine’s heart flip. Yeah, Seb, I do. I see you. But, he didn’t say that because that wasn’t fair. Instead he stumbled over his words.

“I- N-no, I’m a Sophomore at NYU. I, um, I took a year off after high school  because, um, well, you know.” He shrugged. Yeah, blame it on the dead parents. Sure, it was partially true, but Kurt and his “helpful” suggestion to take a break and stay with him for peace of mind was the real reason and it had done nothing but damage his mind. He took another deep breath and forced himself to finally look up at Seb. To look at his face properly, his eyes meeting an intense and familiar green that were hiding their emotions very carefully. Same as always. Blaine had spent months, once upon a time, gently tugging those walls down and with regret he remembered how they snapped harshly back into place within seconds, blocking him out completely.

His anxiety was on the rise again with those kinds of thoughts and he visibly swallowed and took another deep breath. His mantra repeating in his head over and over. Breathe in, breathe out. Count to ten. You’ve got this, Blaine. Maybe it didn’t really work, maybe he was kidding himself but it was currently keeping him from his urge to cry. To obsess over Sebastian’s flippant and annoyed words because maybe Blaine had broken Seb’s heart, but he’d also broken his own in the process. The fucking thing was still in pieces that never seemed to want to fit back the way they were supposed to. But his therapist had helped him see that while his actions when he was younger were warranted, given the circumstances, he maybe could have done it in a better way. Explained himself better to Sebastian. Then maybe the two of them would be someplace else right now and Blaine would have never gone back to Kurt. He also should have stayed in therapy in high school and not stopped going for years when Kurt told him he didn’t need it. His head might be someplace else right now as well.

He tried at sarcasm. “If you consider a cramped Brooklyn flat with a closet for a bedroom and working two and half jobs on top of classes The Dream then sure, yeah, I’m living it.”  The sarcasm fell flat and he only ended up sounding self deprecating which made him want to kick himself because he didn’t want Seb’s pity. He ignored the marriage question altogether and instead chose to focus on what was actually new in his life. What could he even say? Hey Seb, I’m super fucked up, I’ve been in heavy therapy that’s breaking my bank for six months now. I take a shit load of meds that make me want to sleep for days sometimes, or keep me awake for days at other times. And sometimes they make it so I can’t eat, not even my sweets, you remember how I liked those, right? Yeah, and sometimes they make it so I can’t cry and then some days I can’t stop crying. Oh yeah, after my parents died and I lost you I went back to Kurt and he ended up being a bully this time around, like the worst kind. Can you believe I allowed myself to get abused? He struggled even thinking that word. Fuck.

No. No, he couldn’t say any of that. But, he needed to say something. Something that was good and positive about himself.  Just fucking make something up, Blaine. “Ah, well, as I said, I’ve moved to Brooklyn. Like seven or so months ago. It’s cramped, and weird living alone after, um, never living alone before but it’s mine and I get a lot of time with my music now.” Never mind that he wasn’t writing or even playing at all. Only when it came to his school work and even then it was mostly uninspired.

“What about you? Is New York treating you as good as Paris does?” Suddenly he wanted to just tell Sebastian that he missed him. That he thought about him all the damn time and that over the course of the last four years he’d picked up his phone to call him and tell him and to beg him to come back to him over a dozen times. The one time he actually did it didn’t really count because he had been intoxicated and it was messy. Instead he lamely asked, “How’s your mom?” because he’d always liked Sabine and it was the furthest thing away from I miss you as possible.

He turned and looked back into the sliding glass of the apartment door, wanting to break the eye contact in some way, feeling trapped in the emerald hue. He didn’t want to feel trapped. It made him anxious. He could make out the shape of Hunter and David bent together conversationally  as they slowly made their way back towards them. Both of them carried drinks in each hand. God, he wished they’d hurry. He could feel himself crumbling. The facade of happiness he’d painted on for his old friends falling apart the longer he stood out here talking like nothing had happened. He always did this with Sebastian. Always gave way too much of himself away to him. He let him see everything. And maybe it was because with Seb, he was allowed to be too much. Or he used to be allowed anyway. Now he had nothing. Just memories that ate him up all the time. Making Blaine feel the other shitty things in his life even more intensely. 

He wrapped his arms around himself to try and hold himself together. Midnight was close. It would arrive and then leave and Seb would, too. Probably putting the thought of Blaine back into whatever locked compartment he kept him in. And Blaine would go home and feel the chance meeting way too much and all at once and fuck he needed more to drink. His head was already throbbing right along with his heart at the thought of having to sit alone and feel this little conversation.

Sebastian’s POV:

Sebastian could see a million little emotions flit across Blaine’s face. Sebastian had kept track for a little while on social media but, it had hurt him to see that he had gotten back with Kurt. He had taken a step back after that. He stopped checking his Facebook obsessively, stopped staring at his Instagram, didn’t send texts or snaps. Blaine had drunkenly called him one glorious, hopeful night but it was all taken away from him the next morning. Sebastian noticed that Blaine mentioned moving and living alone. He had heard that the two of them had split and kept that information folded up like a secret love note in the back of his head. Sebastian couldn’t keep his stomach from flipping in excitement to basically hear it confirmed out loud. He reprimanded the butterflies battering his ribs, had to silently remind them that simply hearing words didn’t really mean anything and they were all just going to be let down again. “Isn’t it strange?  We’ve both been running around the city for about the same amount of time and haven’t ran into each other? I suppose it’s because you’d never find me in Brooklyn.” Sebastian threw in a trademark eye roll for good measure, trying his best to keep his voice blase. His fingers itched to light a cigarette, his nerves were on fire from the specific spike of adrenaline that only a past heartbreak can cause.

He ran a hand through his hair to shake away the snowflakes that had gathered there and shivered, he wasn’t sure if it was from the nerves or from the weather. “New York treats me just fine. There are so many beautiful men, so many parties. I stay busy.”

Sebastian’s face fell slightly when the other man asked about his mother. Part of him felt angry, like how dare he? Maybe if he cared so much he could have reached out a few times. The other part of him understood because Blaine grew close with Sabine in the short time they were involved. Seb knew that if she were there, she’d pull the other man into a lavender scented hug and tell him in her accent that she had missed seeing him around.  “She’s good.” He shrugged his shoulders. Sebastian wasn’t about to get into any of the messy details of how their relationship had become fucked up since Blaine was in his kitchen baking Christmas cookies with her. He loved his mother, she was his closest confidant. But he had messed up so many times in the past few years that she had developed little worry lines in her beautiful forehead, sounded sad on the phone with him more often than not, cried for him and begged him to slow down.  

Sebastian heard the door slide open, saw Hunter and David appear with drinks behind Blaine. “Fucking finally.” He held out his hand for his drink. “Took you long enough. We could use the pick me up, couldn’t we, B?”

Blaine’s POV:

Blaine tried to smile, but it came out more as a wince.”Yeah, I guess you’re right.” In reality Blaine knew it was relatively easy to avoid someone when you knew they lived around you. Blaine would often find himself checking in on Hunter’s Instagram or Facebook or Twitter to see if he was in town. Hunter was much more active on socials and would often post some of the places he and Sebastian would frequent. Blaine knew places to avoid in Manhattan for the most part. Plus, it wasn’t like Blaine had spent his first years here going out and about by himself all the time. No, that was difficult when where you went and what you did was mostly dictated by someone else. When you mostly only did things that they wanted to do.

“Hey, Brooklyn isn’t so bad. I’ve been working at a local coffee shop and a bar there for the last few months and it’s been pretty therapeutic. And sure, the apartment is shitty, but it beats the overpriced ritzy places in Manhattan.” He rolled his eyes, trying to come across as playful. His apartment in Manhattan had actually been incredible. Just not the people he had to share it with. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to forgive Rachel for denying what was happening right in front of her. He cleared his throat, trying to get rid of the thought before he was engulfed in more anxiety about it.  “Besides, I lived in Manhattan for the first three years I lived here, so there was always the chance we could have run into each other then. Guess fate wasn’t having it.”

Beautiful men and parties. Of course Blaine knew Sebastian did that sort of thing. He did that sort of thing when he was fifteen. But, he could feel that this was meant to sting him a little and if not, it stung anyway. He didn’t like thinking about Sebastian with random men every weekend, but he wasn’t stupid. Not about this anyway. And Sebastian had never been shy about his sex life. It didn't matter if he already knew though, he could feel his face fall at the confirmation, could feel the sudden stricken look and did his best to cover it up. He bit his lip and forced himself to nod. “It’s good that you’re keeping busy. I’m happy the city has been good to you.” the words tasted rotten on his tongue and where the hell were Hunter and David?

Blaine noted the way Sebastian’s face fell at the mention of Sabine and knew that he’d messed up by asking. Blaine had been incredibly fond of her, he found her glamorous and lovely and admired the way she loved Sebastian so much. But Seb’s short answer and stiff shrug made Blaine wonder if maybe she hated him now, too. Hated him for hurting her son even though Blaine hadn’t wanted to.  He wouldn’t blame her. He still hated himself for it. “I’m glad to hear that.” The words felt hollow even though they were true.

David waited until Blaine could see him before he nudged him and handed him his drink. The cup was full and Blaine had to fight the urge to down it in one go.He shouldn’t be drinking anything at all. It would work against his medicine and probably make him sick but he couldn’t find it in him to care as he took a gulp like the whisky was water. Yeah, Seb had been right, the pick me up was needed. He smiled and thanked David for the drink, his friend asking if he was cool before he moved to lean against the railing on the balcony with Hunter. The two of them were turned toward each other and seemed to be picking up their earlier conversation which left him alone with Sebastian again.

He turned towards his old friend- friend? Lover? God, what even was Sebastian to him? Neither word seemed good enough. He lifted his cup for another drink, his eyes catching on Seb’s cheek again. The cigarette ash was still there. Still kissing Seb’s cheekbone and Blaine opened his mouth to tell him about it when the sounds of thousands of people started counting from the streets below joined by the crowd in the apartment. He froze, the voices blending like a choir in perfect harmony.

They had gotten to from eight to five and Blaine shot Hunter and David a look because why didn’t they tell them what time it was? Blaine had been hoping to excuse himself before midnight, was hoping to have himself hidden away in the bathroom so he didn’t have to hug a bunch of strangers or have someone kiss his cheek and he didn’t have to pretend he was excited for the new year. But, here he was, standing not even three feet from Sebastian Smythe and he didn’t know what to do.  4-3-2… and suddenly there were fireworks bursting overhead, it was a new year and there was confetti billowing in the winter night to the melancholy tune of Auld Lang Syne as it rang out. Snowflakes danced  in the air while the people below kissed and laughed like they'd never feel sorrow again. He wished he could relate.

Sebastian's POV:

Sebastian’s stomach fell, fell through the apartment building floors, the butterflies gone.  Guess fate wasn’t having it. His mouth stiffened and he took a sharp breath. He wanted to pinch the bridge of his nose, a nervous tick of his when he got frustrated. Sebastian fought against his own body, the acidic sick feeling in his stomach, the jittery adrenaline running through his veins, the trapped 16 year old in his brain yelling and screaming and begging Blaine to just fucking take him back. Just tell me you miss me, please. I miss you. I feel like you hate me and that makes me hate myself. “It was fate, sure.”  Sebastian’s voice was dry and he fought the urge to laugh. You know that maniacal laughter when everything is just too much and your lungs feel like they might explode and your skin is burning and all you want to do is scream and laugh and tell everybody to just fuck off? “I guess fate has never favored me.”

He was so over this small talk. He was disgusted by the reactions happening under his skin that nobody but him could feel. Blaine was Sebastian’s first and only heartbreak. He was disgusted by how sprung he still was, had lied to himself and told himself that he was over it. Sebastian had never been over it and that realization was so embarrassing that he could hardly stand himself and he wanted to tear himself out of his skin. Most of the words Blaine was saying were just floating over his head at this point, he was so disappointed with the direction of this meeting. Sometimes when Sebastian got drunk or sad or high enough he would let himself imagine reuniting with Blaine. That Blaine would tell him he missed him and Sebastian would say that he loved him and they’d patch each other’s wounds and kiss in pools and hold hands in parks and share french fries and Blaine would tackle him in his mother’s backyard and kiss him all over his face, his neck and they’d laugh until their stomachs hurt again.

Sebastian took a much needed swig of his vodka cranberry that Hunter had made a little too weak and rolled his eyes to himself. Of course Hunter wouldn’t make him a strong drink. He was probably too worried about him. It didn’t matter, Sebastian already planned on ditching the party for a bar anyway.  Suddenly, the world seemed to explode into noise. Sebastian could hear the countdown echoing all around them. Hunter and David distracted and cheering, clapping each other on the back. The people inside of the apartment wrapped in the golden glow of Christmas lights left up from the days before, some of them were kissing strangers or old lovers, shaking hands and hugging and laughing. A few of the party goers exploded onto the balcony in a burst of noisemakers and music but Sebastian felt like he was alone, just staring at Blaine as he awkwardly clasped his plastic cup. He felt like he was stuck in the worst snow globe ever produced. Such a sad scene; two damaged boys too afraid to fix anything surrounded by kissing strangers and dirty snow and cheering partiers. They say that the people you’re with at midnight on New Year’s eve were who you would spend your year with. The thought made Sebastian feel so alone because he didn’t really feel like Blaine was really there.

In the back of his head, where he kept his most guarded secrets, Sebastian knew he would give anything to be wrapped in the warmth of Blaine, the glow of cheap lights on their skin, kissing the taste of New Year’s champagne away. 

  The words were out of his lips before he could stop them. Sebastian knew his eyes looked pained, and that his flirty voice didn’t match his sad but eager body language. 

“You don’t wanna kiss me, B?”

Blaine’s POV:

Blaine’s body tensed even more at Sebastian’s words. He knew Sebastian didn’t believe in fate or any of that sort of thing, but the way he said seemed so sad. No Seb, I’m the one that fate doesn’t favor. I’m the fuck up and the reason we’re in this awkward, forced conversation. I’m the reason you’re making yourself stand out here in the cold that you hate so much. You’ve never liked it, only tolerated it for me. Blaine used to love the wintertime, it was magical and it made him feel so full of wonder but he’d lost so much during the winter that the magic had turned harsh and had made him bitter towards the season. No, it wasn’t Seb’s fault or fate’s. It was all his. Why were they doing this? Sebastian hated small talk. He’d always hated the way people scrambled for answers to questions he didn’t give a shit about.

It’s my fault you’re out here, making yourself do things you don’t like doing in the first place. I’m always making you do that. Pushing you out of your comfort zone... Always making you feel and hurt and god, you should hate me. The only thing you ever did wrong was let someone like me see how good you are. You wasted it on me.  The words were there, threatening to push past his teeth. He could remember the hurt, no the heart wrenching look on Sebastian’s face when he’d broke it off with him. It didn’t matter why he did it. But he would face a thousand insults and bruises every single day again over seeing that face ever again. He ignored the little voice that sounded a lot like Sam, telling him that he had been forced to face that anyway. A voice sounding like his own told him he must've deserved it.

You don’t wanna kiss me, B?”

Hunter and David were suddenly paying very close attention to the two of them now. And the words sent  a spike through his heart and at first he thought he might have been being cruel. Taunting him, and turning what they had into some mockery, but  the tone didn’t match his face. Seb’s eyes were full of a pain that Blaine knew well, and his face was eager and open and Blaine could, for just a moment, read him like a book. God, how much are you hurting, Seb? And for a second Blaine ached to just pull him into his arms and hold him close. To reassure him that their time together was so much more than just a fling. That he had loved him wholly and completely and still did. He wanted to kiss his face and tell him that he was so fucking sorry for how it ended and that he deserved the world. He wanted to tell him that even when he had gotten trapped by Kurt and manipulated into a three year relationship of insecurities, and head games that he was unable to dig himself out of, he'd thought about Sebastian. Seb wouldn’t have done those things to Blaine.

What I wouldn’t give to turn back our timeline and keep you with me. Make you feel all the love and attention I have for you. I’d make you see that you deserved all of it and none of the bullshit I did. I’d let you help me though what I lost and I wouldn’t have pushed you away, no matter how much it hurt to bring you down with me.

Still the words were locked in his brain, he couldn’t say them. He didn’t deserve that peace of mind. Telling him how much he missed the summer nights and autumn weekends and winter touches wouldn’t do shit. The damage to them and then to Blaine had already been done. Blaine had started it and then Kurt had seen to the rest. He’d messed Blaine’s mind up completely and manipulated him into thinking he wasn’t good enough for anyone. Therapy only went so far and even Blaine knew that if he wasn’t so stupid he would have left Kurt before it got as bad as it did. And then maybe he’d have found a way back to Sebastian and begged him to give him another chance. But Blaine had been stupid and and wanting to tell Sebastian all of this stuff was unfair to the other man because even if Seb gave him a chance Blaine was so fucked up he wasn’t sure he knew how to do any of it anymore. Nor did he deserve the chance. His hands had gone clammy in his gloves thinking about his relationship with Kurt and he wanted to scream. The cheering and the music and the blood rushing in his ears was all too much.

Maybe Blaine was wrong and he was misreading everything. Maybe Sebastian wasn’t hurting and was only being polite to him because he felt sorry for him. Maybe someone had told him about the last few years of his pathetic life and Seb was taking pity on him. Maybe he and Hunter would go home later and laugh at him. He swallowed hard, biting into his lip hard enough to feel the pain, his breathing picking up as he really looked at Sebastian. No, Blaine wasn’t wrong. Sebastian was hurting, the pain was truly written all over his face. In the way he stood, in the way he tried too hard to sound casual. He didn’t need to try, casual was as easy for Sebastian Smythe as breathing. This was different. The man in front of him was feeling some of the same things as him and it made Blaine feel even worse about himself.

He wanted to run, he wanted to scream but most of all he wanted to walk over and kiss Sebastian. The words had left him with an even bigger ache than he had when he’d first spotted him that night and if he didn’t leave soon he’d embarrass himself not only in front of Sebastian but in front of the rest of his old friends. Some legend, huh? He took a deep breath and lifted his cup to his lips and finished his drink, trying to figure out how he could leave. But, as he was setting the empty cup on the ground and his feet were instantaneously carrying him towards the taller man and his fingers were shedding his gloves. And while Blaine knew he couldn’t kiss him, he wasn’t brave enough nor was it fair to Sebastian, he knew that he needed to at least touch him. Show him that he missed him and that he was happy- or as happy as he could feel right now, to see him.

He tucked his gloves into his coat pocket and stepped up to his person. His eyes were level with Seb’s shoulders and he couldn’t bring himself to look up for a moment. Finally, after what felt like hours but had probably only been seconds, Blaine lifted his eyes to meet Sebastian’s. The other man seemed frozen in time. Blaine’s left hand, shaky and freezing, came up to rest against the side of his face, his thumb softly brushing the little flecks of ash that had made a home on Seb’s cheek away. How easy this felt to him. Standing here with Sebastian’s snow cold face in his hands. It felt so good and Blaine’s lips twitched into an almost smile… And what was he doing?  All at once Blaine was overwhelmed. His breath hitched and his eyes were suddenly blurred either from the cold or tears either way it made him drop his hand and shake his head.

“I- I- fuck, um, you just h-had something…” He lifted his hands to show that Seb had something on his face but it seemed silly now and he shook his head, frustrated that he couldn’t get the words out. “I’m sorry. I should go. I have to work in the morning.” A lie. He ducked his head, feeling his anxiety overtake him and why he hadn't brought anything to calm himself down? He looked up, but not into Seb’s eyes, his arms wrapping around himself as he felt like a deer in the headlights. He nodded a goodbye to Hunter and shook his head at David. “I’m good David, I can get an Uber. Stay and have fun, okay?” He turned, head dipped and looked up at Seb through his lashes so that the other man couldn’t really see his face properly. “It was good to see you, Seb, I really hope you have a good night.” He swallowed hard and nodded, as if that would prove he meant it. “Happy New Year.”

Blaine turned on his heel and before David or anyone else could stop him he made his way into the crowded party. He kept his head ducked, bee lining it toward the front door, hoping to god that no one noticed him. He managed to avoid everyone’s hands but not their eyes as his name was called out over the music a few times by random voices, he nodded politely but didn’t stop. He hoped they’d understand and even if they didn’t it didn’t matter. It’d be months before they reached out to him again. The elevator was muggy as he rode down, which made the cold air that hit his heated face seem even more cold when he stepped out of the building.  There was already a text from David asking if he was okay, and Nick had sent a series of question marks. Blaine ignored them, his eyes blurry as he pulled up the Uber app and tipsily tried to type the address of the party into his phone.

Breathe in and back out again, Blaine. Count to ten. You’ve got this.

It wouldn’t be until he was home an hour later, tucked into his creaky bed and numb with a dose of sleepiness via an Ambien bottle and the whisky from the party that he’d allow himself to really feel the events of the night as the emotion and pills pulled him into sleep. His eyes would be red and his head would be pounding in the morning.

Sebastian’s POV:

Sebastian knew it was cliche but to him it suddenly felt like the world had stopped. Blaine was moving towards him, he was taking his gloves off, reaching for him. The snow fell slowly, slowly, slowly and his music-worn hand was on his cheek. He knew those hands so well once upon a time, knew the calluses at his fingertips, had felt them drag across his belly underneath his tee shirt, felt them on his lips. He blinked and stood silently as Blaine’s thumb wiped at a spot on his cold cheek. Sebastian became aware of Hunter and David watching, he could feel the hush that fell over their conversation. He wondered if Hunter regretted begging him to come. Hunter had stood by on the sidelines when the two of them were involved, and had tried to pick up the pieces at their abrupt end. Hunter got to, once again, witness Sebastian’s downfall.

Just as fast as Blaine’s rough hand cradled his cheek, it dropped back to his side and Sebastian felt colder than he had all evening. “Thanks for that.” He muttered the words mostly to himself as he rubbed his own hand over the spot. “Same to you.” Sebastian watched as Blaine hurried through the party. He noticed that he didn’t stop to say goodbye to anybody. Blaine had changed a lot in the past few years, that was for sure. Sebastian never thought he’d witness Blaine shy away from attention or the chance to work a room with his bright smile and easy going charm. 

Sebastian decided that he had had enough of the party and the reunions and took off as Hunter tried to walk over. His friend was talking but Sebastian had ignored him with a hand up in the air. Sebastian weaved through the bodies inside of the apartment and ignored everybody that called out to him, though it was only a few people since most knew better. He could feel Hunter following but didn’t turn around, instead he chose to basically throw himself down the stairs and run into a cab that was waiting for somebody else. Sebastian was faster than Hunter, he could lose him. He shoved a fifty towards the driver and gave him the address of a random club he knew he could score boys and free drinks and drugs at, “and hurry.” 

He lit a cigarette outside of the club and exhaled into the bitter air. He shoved his free hand in his pocket and let the nicotine wash over his nerves. Sebastian could hear the bass from the club reverberate through the air around him. He wasn’t going to cry. He wasn’t going to scream or send any shitty messages. He was going to finish this cigarette, get some guy to buy him a few rounds, maybe do a few lines in the bathroom, dance until his thighs burned in a wash of colorful lights, and end up in the bed of a guy with dark hair but not the right eyes. 

/fin.

[propertyofnikkisthighs]

Afraid (Nikki Sixx X reader)

Summary: You meet Sikki Nixx, but then you meet Nikki Sixx and your world is forever altered.

Warnings: Drug use mention, Alcohol mention, ya know Motley things.

1986

I felt like I was underwater. Things were muddled and voices were funny. I had never been so happy. The quaalude my friend Sam had given me had kicked in and I let myself sink further into the sofa I had been sitting on. I wasn’t sure how I ended up at this party with her, we had been drinking at a bar on the strip and next thing I knew we were entering a limo, but they had basically unlimited drugs here so I wasn’t going to complain. I felt the couch shift next to me and heard the person say something, but I couldn’t make it out. Focus (y/n). 

“What?” I turned to face the noise and was met with mostly disheveled black hair and the face of a strung out man.

“I said, do you know where I can score smack?” He asked irritated. Oh a junkie, great.

“Mmm no. I don’t know anybody here. I have a quaalude though?” I said lazily opening my hand to reveal the pill sitting in my grip.

“It’s not the same, but it’ll tide me over I guess.” He took the pill out of my hand and popped it into his mouth. “So if you don’t know anybody how did you get in? Are you a stripper or a groupie?”

I scoffed at that. Was I really being judged by a fucking junkie? “I got dragged here in some limo, not that it’s any of your fucking business.” I snapped and rolled my eyes. I wish I hadn’t even offered him my other pill.

“So one of your friends must be fucking someone here.” He laughed. I was getting really annoyed by his arrogant tone.

“Didn’t you just ask me for heroin?” I asked angrily. I wasn’t a violent person by nature, but I could be pushed and I didn’t fear a man who looked like a human pin cushion.

“You know you’re really a bitch.” He snarled standing up. “I’m Nikki fucking Sixx, any girl would be creaming their fucking panties to be talking to me.”

Now that he had said his name I could really see who he was, thanks drugs. I liked Motley Crue and had even seen them live a few times, and he didn’t even look like Nikki Sixx he was so strung out. It kinda made me sad.

“Yeah well I’m more of a Bon Jovi kind of girl anyway. Motley isn’t my cup of tea.” I lied. I wasn’t about to tell him I actually liked his band.

“So you just all around have horrible fucking taste” He scoffed. “Fuck you I don’t want to sit here talking to some dumb bitch who doesn’t even know good rock and roll when she hears it.”

And with that he was gone. What a fucking prick.j

1988

I woke up in the back of someone’s car. Oh fuck it finally happened, I was being sold into sex slavery. I started to hyperventalate and panic and tried shutting my eyes and hoping this was a dream when I heard a familiar voice in the front seat.

“Oh hey I think she woke up. (Y/N)?” Sam spoke softly and I felt my heart rate immediately slow down. So I wasn’t kidnapped.

“Where, where am I?” I groaned sitting up my whole body hurting.

“We are in the car” She said slowly looking at me through the rear view mirror.

“Why? Weren’t we just at a party? I don’t remember leaving.” I was trying to put the pieces together of what happened last night.

“We were.” She said with a tight smile hiding something “You passed out.”

Oh yeah, I had taken some pills given to me by one of the band members at the party we were at last night. I vaguely remember downing a bottle of Jack with some other members of a band as well. Who was driving? I looked up to see a very tired Tom Zutaut driving giving me the same tight lipped smile.

“Guys where are we going?” I asked glancing frantically out the window. This all looked way too familiar.

“Well” Sam cleared her throat “You see…”

“(Y/N) we’re taking you to rehab” Tom finished her sentence for her.

“NO! WHAT? FUCK YOU, LET ME OUT” I screamed trying to pry the door open. I didn’t need rehab, I was fine.

“(Y/N), it’s this or everyone is done with you.” Sam sobbed “None of us want to watch you keep trying to kill yourself and you’re failing at your job, which is not the (y/n) I know.”

They couldn’t be doing this to me. They wouldn’t be doing this to me. I was fine, this had to be a sick joke.

“It’s not a sick joke.” Tom said exasperated. Oh I must have been speaking out loud.

“I’m not even a junkie” I sobbed. Rehab was for junkies.

“Not yet, but you pop pills like you aren’t far off.” Tom scowled through the rear view at me.

“I’ll stop. Please don’t make me do rehab guys.” I cried holding my leather closer to me.

“It’ll be okay (y/n). You’re going to a very nice rehab on behalf of Elektra themselves.” Sam tried to reassure me by rubbing my leg.

“Wait why?” I worked for them, but why would they pay for my rehab stint?

“Because Motley Crue is going to the same rehab.” Tom filled in. Fuck. No. Not Nikki Sixx. Anyone but Nikki Sixx.

I gulped and mentally prepared myself for the worst experience in the world. “Can I at least get a cigarette?” 

Sam handed me one and a lighter and I cranked my window down feeling the warm L.A. air on my face. Okay, all I had to do was cooperate with these doctors and I could probably even leave early, right? Like with jail? I made a mental note to ask Vince if I saw him since he had done this rehab shit before after his accident. The smoke filled my lungs and I breathed out feeling the nicotine work it’s magic. As long as I could still smoke cigarettes I would be okay.

“So what will happen with Alarik?” I suddenly remembered the small black cat in my apartment probably taking a sun nap on my bed.

“I will take care of him while you’re in the center. It’s only thirty days.” Sam responded wiggling her set of keys for my apartment in her hand.

“Well I guess you guys have already had this planned out” I whispered suddenly overcome with sadness about the situation. I felt a few tears cascade down my cheeks and quickly wiped them away. I wasn’t weak. I was raised to not cry. I knew better than to let my emotions take over.

“Well babe you didn’t give us much of a choice.” Sam said solemnly.

“I just want to get this over with honestly” I grumbled. I wasn’t looking forward to having anything to do with Motley Crue or Nikki Sixx after our last encounter a little over a year ago. I hadn’t been working for Elektra then and he hadn’t OD’ed yet. So who knows maybe now that we’re getting sober we’ll be able to get along well. I was right and wrong. We got along better while getting sober, but we didn’t get along well. I didn’t know that Nikki would be the best and worst thing to ever happen to me when we pulled up to the fancy rehab center and saw all the motley boys standing with their suitcases in hand at the bottom of the stairs.

“Who’s the vagina?” Nikki asked when I climbed out of Tom’s car.

“Excuse me?” I snapped stomping up to him. “‘The vagina’ is a person and has a fucking name.”

“No need to be a bitch. I just don’t know you.” Nikki shrugged his bony shoulders. He looked worse than you thought he would with track marks littering both his arms.

“Well maybe if you weren’t such a prick, you would’ve gotten my name last time we met” I poked his chest.

“We’ve never met, I can guarantee that.” He smirked grabbing my finger and shoving it away from his chest.

“Actually I shared a quaalude with you once and you called me a bitch in return so you didn’t get my name, Prikki” I taunted.

“Well it seems my assessment of you the first time we met was accurate then.” He still had the devilish smirk plastered on his face. I wanted to sock him and knock it right off his smug face.

“And my assessment of you being a junkie had been correct, clearly.” I growled.

Someone cleared their throat and we both snapped our attention to the people standing around us awkwardly watching our exchange.

“Well I’m Tommy” Tommy said holding out his hand with a huge grin.

“(Y/N)” I said returning the smile and shaking his hand.

“Wow pretty girl and a pretty name” Vince said giving me a once over. This was about to be a long thirty days.

Mick just cleared his throat and made a small wave while Sam and Tom resumed grabbing my things from the car. They led us up the stairs into the waiting room of the facility. It smelled far too clean, too much like bleach. I really hoped this wasn’t how the remaining thirty days were gonna go, cause things were not off to a good start whatsoever. We were led to our rooms by a nurse who informed us that Elektra had kindly paid for us all to be in one wing together, how sweet. My room ended up being directly across from Nikki’s. Great. Before I could make my way into my room I heard him say my name.

“Pleasant dreams neighbor” He smirked walking into his room and shutting the door.

How was I supposed to get sober when I felt like I needed to drink just dealing with Nikki?