#pays the drug guys off with a big wad of cash

[frogaroundandfindout]

Bruce you make me so ill (Batman #416)

[vicegrips-fr]

BLISS

A friend pays Stareater a visit at his nightclub BLISS.

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I’ve decided to start posting lore of Neo Necropolis in between lore posts with The Velvet Fang. My hope is by doing this I can create a much more fleshed out story for both as the two are connected! Apologies in advance for any typos hnnngh. My eyes are glazing over a little bit lol. @fusefr <3

Warnings: Fantasy drug mentions and that’s about it! Nothing too detailed either. 

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BLISS is positively packed tonight. 

The sound of the music within spills out into the sidewalk where dragons in their humanoid forms stand waiting in line to get inside. Some of them will be turned away, be it for legitimate reasons or simply because they don’t look like the kind of people BLISS wants within its vibrant walls. It rained all day and the neon lights both inside and outside cast brightly colored reflections in the dirty puddles that have collected on the street. Thankfully for all the lost souls waiting to get in and forget about their troubles for a night the skies are clear now save for the constant cloud of smog that hangs over the Necropolis. The bouncers stop the man next in line from going inside with a rude shove. His eyes widen and then narrow in anger as he looks up at the two far larger men. “Hey!” he shouts, “What the hell, man? I waited my turn! Move over!”

He tries again and the same bouncer who stopped him before (a Guardian with a nasty scar over his left eye) stops him again with a harder shove this time. “Get lost,” he grunts unperturbed, “You ain’t gettin’ in tonight, buddy.” Their names are RiffRaff and Skinner and both of them work for Stareater. RiffRaff, the Guardian standing in the poor fool’s way, has been working under Star for several years now. The scar over his eye was the result of an incident that happened just outside these very doors. He’d turned the wrong woman away and got a knife in his face for his trouble. Skinner, a Bogsneak with a shit-eating grin, has only worked for Stareater for a little over a year now. Of the two he’s less likely to give you a hard time, but RiffRaff is working on that.

“What about me, boys?” RiffRaff and Skinner look away from the trouble in front of them and grin. “You know you don’t even have to ask, Mal,” Skinner rumbles. “That’s why I ask, darling,” the man in question replies, “Because I like hearing you tell me how important I am.”

Mal, or Malibu as he prefers to be called, is indeed a V.I.P. at BLISS. A local drug dealer known for the quality and vast variety of his products. Well, that and his dramatics. As always, he’s dressed to the nines tonight and looking for a good time and a little extra cash. 

“Anyway,” he hums, pulling his glasses down to give the outraged would-be patron a look of disgust, “Get out of the way and better luck next time, kiddo.” Grinning and much to the chagrin of the poor chump in the way, the pair of bouncers make room for him and he sashays inside, pausing to blow a kiss to the annoyed crowd of faces still waiting for their turn. Once inside he makes a beeline for the man he’s here to see and it’s not very hard to find him.

“ARE YOU GUYS HAVING A GOOD TIME OR WHAT?”, booms an all too familiar voice over the microphone. The crowd cheers and Stareater whoops in response. “That’s what I like to hear! Bombshell, turn up the music!” At his command the music grows louder, pink, blue, and purple lights dance across the walls, and Malibu rolls his eyes. He loves to party as hard as the next guy, but Stareater lives for it. It’s all the man does and rumor has it the reason he became addicted to mods in the first place was because he wanted to be able to sleep less and party more. If it’s true or not no one knows for sure and Star sure as hell hasn’t done anything to squash those rumors. “Star!” Malibu shouts, “I’ve got your shit, loser! Come and get it!” From where he’s standing on the stage near Bombshell he shouldn’t be able to hear Malubu’s words, but thanks to the implants in his head he can hear him just fine. “Yo! Mal! I was wondering when you were going to show up!” “WHAT?!” Malibu screeches back over the music, “I can’t hear you dummy!” “Oh. Right.” Grinning from ear to ear, Stareater jumps down and makes his way through the grinding bodies on the dancefloor to meet Malibu where he stands. “Looking as fine as wine,” Star purrs, eyes roaming up and down Malibu’s body, “So you said you got my stuff?” Malibu’s nose wrinkles as if in disgust but the smile on his face betrays his true feelings. “Shut up perv. That’s a terrible come-on,” he teases back, “And duh. You think I’d come to this dump for pleasure?” “Dump?!” Star gasps in faux shock, “How could you say something so cruel? I’ll have you know this is the nicest dump- I mean nightclub in the city.” Malibu quirks a brow and Star throws his head back and laughs. “Okay one of the nicest,” he corrects himself, though it’s clear he still believes what he said before.

“Better,” Malibu snorts, “Now let’s go somewhere more private, yeah? I’m thinking a nice booth and you’re paying for my drinks. I had somewhere else important to be before you called me and begged me to come down here.” “Pfft, sure,” Star chuckles, “But I don’t mind paying for your drinks. A handsome man like yourself with the key to my happiness in your pockets? As if I’d let you pay.” With that he leads Malibu to the V.I.P. booth reserved for himself and his associates. People see them and move aside, parting like the red sea for the pair and greeting them with smiles and (mostly) obnoxious hellos. The booth in question is the definition of opulence. The seats are red leather with neon blue lights attached beneath them to light the way and create the perfect atmosphere. The booth itself is encased by three walls made up of mirrors trimmed with purple satin drapes and there’s a bottle of expensive wine chilling in ice on the table. “Sit!” Stareater booms, “You hungry? I’m hungry. How about some tapas? On me, obviously.” Malibu purses his lips and slides into the booth opposite Star. “As if I’d turn down free food,” he replies flippantly, “But first things first-” Fishing into his coat pocket, Malibu pulls out a small clear bag filled with a pink powder and tosses it onto the table. Eyes widening with a ravenous excitement, Stareater quickly snatches the little baggie off the table and shoves it into his coat. The stuff inside is known as ‘warp dust’ and Malibu has the finest warp dust on the street. “Thanks man,” he coos, “I can’t wait- wait- wait- wait-”

SMACK.

Stareater brings the edge of his palm down hard against his head several times until the glitch in his mod rights itself.

“Sorry about that!” he says cheerfully, blinking the fog out of his bright blue eyes, “You’re probably used to it by now but hey, manners and all that jazz.”

Malibu shrugs, crossing one leg over the other beneath the table.

“Doesn’t bother me, Star,” he replies nonchalant, “But you might want to have Repo take a look at that.”

“Naaaah,” Star laughs in response, “It’s no big! Maybe if it becomes more of a problem, but until then? I’m cool.”

Malibu shrugs again, sighing softly as he reaches for the bottle of wine that’s been enticing him throughout this entire exchange. There are two glasses on the table and he slides the one closest to him in front of himself, popping the cork with one of his long and neatly manicured claws.

“Suit yourself, darling,” he tuts, “But I think you’re forgetting something.”

Stareater raises an eyebrow and Malibu stares back at him from across the table. “Oh! Money!” Star exclaims, bonking himself on the head, “Right, yeah, my bad!” Reaching into his other coat pocket he produces a wad of cash and tosses it to Malibu who catches it out of the air and tucks it away inside his sleeve. “Well! With business out of the way how about we get to the having fun part of the evening, hot stuff?” Stareater’s grin widens until his cheeks hurt. “You’re speaking my language,” he replies brightly, “Now pour that wine! Afterwards I’m thinking shots- you down?” “Have I ever not been ‘down’?” he chuckles lightly. “Touche,” Stareater murmurs, “I should know you better than that. Now wipe that sour look off your face and drink up!” To be continued...

[dansantat]

44 (The Annual Birthday Rant)

THE BEST BIRTHDAY GIFT I EVER RECEIVED FROM A STRANGER

What I’m about to tell you all happened about twelve days ago.

I was walking outside of my local grocery store when an African American man approached me. He slowly approached with a wide grin on his face and was dressed in an old brown secondhand suit that was a few sizes too big. Although his physique indicated he was maybe ten to fifteen years older than me he looked much older and worn. He had a story to tell

“Now, I’m not gonna hurt cha,” the man said.

I stood and smiled hesitantly.

“How can I help you?” I asked.

“You probably don’t remember me, but we met before… a few years back.”

I searched through my mind, but found nothing. “Oh really? Where did we meet? A book store event? A school?”

The man stopped his approach. He stood safely about ten feet away.

“We met here.”

My mind still drew a blank.

“Anyway, sir, I don’t want to take up too much of your time…. But I wanted to give you this…”

He reached into the pocket of his oversized suit and slowly pulled out a healthy wad of nicely folded cash.

And then in that instant. I remembered.

It happened two years ago in 2017. I bought groceries and was carrying the bags to my car. A homeless African American man wearing tattered clothes hobbled with a limb over in my direction. He was in rough shape. He clearly hadn’t showered in weeks and his body appeared gaunt, and malnourished.

“Hey, man, I was wonderin’ if you could spare some change?” he asked.

I placed my groceries into the trunk of my car and pulled out my wallet. I had just gone to the ATM because I was going to go out to breakfast with some friends after dropping off the groceries at home.

I pulled out a $20 and gave it to the man. His eyes popped open wide and a huge grin crossed his face. I would typically only give a few dollars in a situation like this, but today was special.

“Aw, thank you, sir, I really appreciate it! God bless!”

Just as he was about to walk away I stopped him.

“Wait,” I hollered, “Hold up.”

The man turned and looked back at me. I paused for a moment thinking about what I was about to do.

“*sigh* Today’s your lucky day.” I said

I opened my wallet and gave him all the cash that was inside.

“Here. Take it all.”

The man was flabbergasted. “Wh-….. What?”

“You look like you need it way more than I do. There’s about $400 here… Just take it.”

“Wh…wh…why are you doing this?” he stammered

I paused for a moment. Was I really doing the right thing? You hear people tell you not to give money to homeless people because they’ll just go use that money to buy drugs or alcohol, but I proceeded with my decision, “It’s my birthday today, and every year I always make it a point to do something special for someone to make their day better, and today you’re the lucky person, I guess.”

The first time I ever decided to be generous on my birthday was at a local car wash on my 35th birthday. Now, I never found much value in the machines that car washing facilities provide. Those contraptions that you would drive your car though to get washed. It was simply a series of spray hoses and soap suds being lazily dragged over your car by a set of waving rags. The real cleaning job was done from the guy after that process. The guy who would drive your car off to a dry corner of the lot and scrub off those tough stains with a spray bottle and a towel. Here in LA, they were most likely illegal immigrants earning a measly wage just enough to get by here in Los Angeles (one of the most expensive cities in the country) The man who cleaned my car that day spent a half hour wiping off the dashboard, and the tires, and even parts of the door joints you wouldn’t normally expect a car wash employee to clean. The guy was cleaning my car better than I would have ever done myself, and when I approached the car it was absolutely immaculate.

The car wash was only $19.

That day, I gave the man $40.

He was so grateful he shook my hand with a smile, and in exchange I felt amazing. I helped make his day a good one and it was an absolutely wonderful feeling.

Ever since then I try to do something kind for someone on my birthday. It’s my gift to myself.

In the years following I would give $40 tips to waitresses, $60 tips to a trio of buskers, I once bought an entire box of candy from a kid who rang my doorbell trying to save up money for camp. That was about $75.

But this was $400. What the hell was I doing?

The man waved off the money. “$400?! That’s too much,” he responded, “I can’t accept all that! A dude gets stabbed on the streets carrying that kind of cash around”

“I want you to have it, and I don’t want to sound rude, but you look like you need this money way more than I do.”

He stood hesitant. His own pride was preventing him from taking the money.

“What are you doing with that much cash on you? You a doctor or something?”

“HAHA! No, but there was a time my parents wished I was.”

The man looked at me with a hint of suspicion.

“You’re crazy. How do you know I’m not gonna go use this to go buy crack or something like that?”

“HA HA! Are you?” I laughed. The thought of the possibility of my own hard earned money being used to buy illegal drugs was somewhat humorous to me at the time.

“N- NO! NO! I won’t! I promise! But are you sure you want to give me all this? I don’t even know you.”

I hesitated, half thinking for a split second that I would perhaps reconsider and just give him an extra $20, but what would an extra $20 do for a man who needed so much more help than that? What if he had enough money to change his course in life if he really wanted to? From that perspective, $400 seemed like just a drop in the bucket. 

But maybe it was also a start?

“I’m not sure, but I know that no matter how you got into this situation, I know it’s not because you’re a bad person. You’ve probably just hit a string of bad luck.Hell, for all I know maybe you WILL blow all this money on booze and drugs, I don’t know… But what I am hoping, is that it gives you a chance to get back on your feet if you really want to…”

The man glanced back at the money.

“Take it. No strings attached. Do whatever you want with it. Buy booze or crack or whatever you want with it. I’m not gonna lecture you on how to live your life because, dude, you’re already totally down on your luck and I think that you just deserve a little kindness. You know the mistakes you’ve made and you don’t need to explain yourself to me or anyone. I just thought this money would help make things a little bit easier for you, that’s all.”

The man looked away for a moment. His lower lip trembling. Then he slowly glanced back and took the money.

“Thank you….. God Bless you, sir. I really appreciate it.”

“Take care of yourself.” I replied as he walked away.

The man walked away and never looked back.

Now here we are.

Two years later.

Standing in the same parking lot in front of the same grocery store.

My jaw drops open.

“Holy shit! I remember you! You’re that guy! LOOK AT YOU! I DON’T EVEN RECOGNIZE YOU!” I shouted.

“Now you remember me, right!? HA HA!”

This man’s voice once a whisper was now strong and deep as if his lungs consumed every molecule of oxygen around him and projected it out like water from a fire hose. He was no longer gaunt, but healthy, if not slightly overweight. His hair was clean and trimmed, but he still carried himself awkwardly with a shaky newfound confidence that now occupied a body that once resembled a dilapidated house.

“You look amazing! Where have you been!?”

“Aw man, It’s a long story-“

“I’ve got time!”

“Well-“ he hesitated

And then I paused.

“Wait. I’m- I’m sorry. It’s none of my business. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I just want you to know that I’m really REALLY proud of you, man. I know we don’t know each other, but dude, you’ve completely changed. I don’t even recognize you. You look amazing.”

There was an awkward pause in our conversation. We were like two friends who had just reunited after a long absence, but suddenly also realized at that moment that we were also two complete strangers who knew nothing about one other. The man took a deep breath, “I’ve been coming around to this grocery store every now and then hoping I would run into you…I’d stand out here waiting for you for a half hour or so hoping you’d come by to buy groceries… I wanted to thank you for the kindness you showed me a few years back and… and I wanted to finally pay you back.”

He grabs my hand and presses the nicely folded bills into my hand. The folds and creases tell me they’ve been sitting folded like this for quite a while.

“$400. Every cent of it.”

“Hey, you don’t need to do this. It was my pleasure. I’m glad the money helped, you can keep it.” I reply.

“Well… “ he paused, “I don’t want it. Too many painful memories from it.. That day you gave me that money I took it and I used it all to get high.”

“Oh…Shit… I’m sorry, man. I shouldn’t have-”

“And afterwards there were some more really rough months after that. I felt so ashamed. I hated myself and I didn’t wanna live no more so one day I couldn’t take it anymore and I went over to the Colorado Street Bridge and I was gonna climb the fence and jump off…. I was gonna kill myself and end it all… but I chickened out.”

(FYI, The Colorado Street Bridge is the bridge you see in the movie, LA LA LAND)

“Man, I was so scared, and I was crying on the ground and I was thinking about my wife leavin’ me… and how I let my son down, and now he had his own son.. you see, I’m a grandfather, and I got so messed up I couldn’t be around any of them, you know?”  

Meanwhile, my groceries were sitting in the hot car. My milk was going to go bad, but I continued to hang on to his every word.

“So shortly after that incident the cops pick me up off the side of the bridge and they take me to this local homeless shelter. I get cleaned up, I get a little something to eat, and then later on that evening they gathered us all around in the cafeteria at one point and they read us this story called, After the Fall.”

I was shocked.

“Wait... What? That’s my book.” I responded

“Yeah, I know! The book changed my life, man! Humpty Dumpty finding the courage to change his life like that? It inspired me! It made me want to change! And so I see your name on the cover and one day I went to the library with my social worker to look up more of your books and I see your picture in one of the books and I thought, HOLY SHIT! That’s the guy who gave me the $400! I recognize those eyebrows from anywhere! This is a sign from God!”

“HAHAHA!”

“So, I’m getting’ all psyched up and inspired and the social worker helped me get me a sponsor, and after a while I got myself cleaned up and started working around town. I used to be a carpenter, and I was doin’ odd jobs here and there and so now I work at a hardware store.” 

He pauses for a moment and takes another deep breath.

“You see, I got myself a work related injury years ago and I had to stop working. Then when my insurance wore out I was still in pain and I started trying to find any kind of drugs I could to help with the pain, man. It was awful. I got addicted to painkillers, over time it cost me my marriage, I lost my house, and my kid moved away and he started a family of his own…. I haven’t seen my kid in years. They all wanted to help but you can only be helped if you want to be helped, you know?”

“Yeah, I’m so sorry to hear that, man”

The man begins to cry a little

“And I knew they cared about me, but…. But I let them down, and there’s just a point when the people you love just can’t stand seeing you hurt yourself no more, and they couldn’t stand watching me tear myself apart like that, you know?”

The man’s story cuts me like a knife. I’m starting to well up with tears. We’re now two strangers crying in front of each other in the middle of a grocery store parking lot. The manager of the grocery store who I see often sees us crying outside 

“Is everything okay here guys?”

“Yeah yeah yeah, We’re good. We’re just talking,” I rapidly answer as I wipe tears from my cheek. The manager walks back inside.

“…Uh… Weird question… You know my name now, but, do you mind if I ask you your name?”

“…I’m Randall.”

“Well, I’m glad you got your life back together, Randall. I’m sorry about all that stuff that happened with your family but I think what you accomplished with getting your life back together was huge and, I mean, I don’t know you, but man, I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you, brother. I just wanted to see you in person so I could give you back that money… oh, and I was hoping you could sign this for me….”

Randall reaches inside his oversized brown suit and pulls out a copy of After the Fall and hands it to me with a pen.

“I’ve been carrying this around with me for a few months now hoping I’d see you. The shelter gave it to me. Would you mind signing it?” he asks.

“I’d be honored, Randall… Do you want me to make it out to you?”

“Please make it out to Randall the Third”

“Wait… your grandson?”

“I’m going out to see my son and his family next week. They live out in Arizona.”

“That’s amazing. Are you nervous?”

“I’m excited to see my grandson, but I’m terrified I could screw things up with my family again.” Randall mutters.

“Well, you made it this far. I’m sure you’ll be fine. Just take it one step at a time.” I reply.

“Just like Humpty did. One step at a time.” says Randall.

I sign the book...

To Randall III, Your grandfather is a true inspiration to me.

Dan Santat

“Thank you, God bless.”

“No, Randall, thank you. This was the most amazing birthday gift I think I’ve ever received.”

“Oh, it’s your birthday today?!”

“No, it’s in twelve days. Heh… it’s when my milk expires”

“Oh shit. I should let you get going man, I’m sorry I took up all your time!”

“No, man. No! I’m so glad you did this and that we could catch up... and…. Here.”

I pull out the $400 and I hand it back to Randall.

“What are you doin?”

“I know you don’t need this, so I’m not giving you this money. Get something nice for your family, you know, a housewarming gift or something, that’s all. If you ever want to pay me back you know where to find me.”

In this parking lot.

In front of this grocery store.

“Use it to buy a huge ass teddy bear for Randall the Third. Shit get him a Playstation 4 or something I don’t care. As far as I’m concerned you worked so hard to get where you are now and you earned every cent of this. This money should be yours”  

“HA HA HA! Aw sheeeeeeit….Thank you, brother.”  

I grab Randall’s hand and I place the nicely folded wad of cash into his palm. 

“Well, I should get goin’…” Randall says.

“Yeah, me too.”

Then after a few quiet moments we exchange a hug.

“Thank you, Dan Santat…. God Bless you.” Randall whispers

“Take care” I reply

We complete our goodbyes and then head off in our own opposite directions.

I’ve received lots of amazing gifts over my 44 years, but never one as incredible as the rebirth and transformation of Randall.

Peace.

[winifredsandersonsbitch]

Stripper with a Heart of Gold

Spike x Reader, BTVS

Warnings: minor spoilers for S5, cursing, PG-13 action but nothing else.

Description: Spike promised you he’d get the money, so he picks up a job. You’re out with your coworkers when you catch him in the middle of his shift at the Sunnydale Strip. It’s more than a little awkward.

Clearly, I have a thing for bad boys who offer financial security 😫

When you come in for the night, Spike’s waiting. He’s been slipping twenties in your pocket lately like you wouldn’t notice (who else but Giles has that kind of cash?) and you haven’t brought it up despite your guilt. You really need the help. Keeping the three people in your household fed + all of your frequent visitors is expensive, especially because Buffy burns through so many calories daily. Plus the water bill, the electric bill, and all of the crazy damages that you have to somehow try to budget for in your monthly expenses...

Tonight he follows you up to your bedroom while the girls are downstairs watching TV and closes the door behind you.

“Spike, if you think—”

There’s a huge wad of cash in the hand he holds out to you. For a moment, you can only blink at it, mystified.

“Take it. It’s for you.”

You reach out for it as if in a trance, then recoil like you’ve touched something scalding.

“I don’t know what game you’re playing at, but I can’t accept this,” you say, but it comes out quiet and not at all assertive.

“I want you to have it.”

There’s a little furrow between his eyebrows that deepens when you pull away. He doesn’t understand you. He’s seen you at the diner, working yourself to the bone, plastering on a smile for all of the customers even when they cross a line. You hate it there, but you do it for the money. Now he’s offering you enough to get through the whole month, as long as there are no surprise visitors, and you won’t take it.

“I don’t like to be indebted to anyone.” You’re shaking slightly from exhaustion and the unexpected gift, so you lower yourself onto your bed and clasp your hands in your lap.

“No, you’re worried about where I got it from. Isn’t that right, pet?” He sits down next to you, placing the money on your nightstand and patting it twice. “There. Now it’s passive. You don’t have to take anything, I just left you an early birthday present.”

“Spike.”

“I got a job, all right?” He turns your face to his, examines the bags under your eyes. “You’re not the only one with a work ethic around here.”

“I can’t support you going back into smuggling. Or gambling. Or—”

“It’s an honest job. I work the night shift. That’s why I haven’t been around so much lately.”

You hadn’t noticed, if you were being honest. You were too busy trying to keep everyone you loved alive and fed. Maybe that was his point.

He strokes the side of your cheek with his thumb and it’s an effort not to lean in, to pick up where the two of you left off only the week before.

Was this what he had been like with Drusilla?

You force yourself to pull away, removing his hand from your face and threading your fingers through his to keep him still. He’s been so touchy recently. You can’t trust your reaction to it.

“If that’s true, it’s still not right of me to take it from you if you’re under any impression about—” You swallow. Your palm starts to sweat under his. “We’re not— I mean, I can’t ever— I know we’ve been close recently and if that’s the reason why you’re giving me this, because you think it’s going to make us... if you think what happened last time is going to be some kind of recurring thing—”

He’s watching you stumble with open amusement, without any indication that he’s going to come in and save you from yourself.

“If this money is meant romantically, I can’t accept it,” you say finally. “I don’t want the strings attached.”

“Full of ourselves, are we?” he asks, slipping his hand out of yours. The loss of contact seems to bother you more than him.

He heads for the door, leaving the money next to you. You skim the bills with your fingers as if possessed, almost salivating at the thought of relative financial security. You could get your friends real presents for Christmas and focus on paying off your loans with your next paycheck. Maybe even—

He catches you in the act and you jerk back guiltily. Spike only shakes his head. Then he stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jacket and his smile slips.

“You and I both know that money is the last thing you need to be worrying about right now, what with Glory after the little bit.”

He’s right, but you’re not happy about it. You make up your mind. You try to keep your expression neutral as you hand him back the bills. He can’t know what it’s costing you to turn this down.

“I can take care of it,” you say. You look him in the eye. “I will take care of it. Thank you, Spike, but I don’t want your help.”

“It’s hard for you to lower yourself to my level when you don’t know how long I’ll be around.”

The observation makes you blink and the cash crumples as you ball up your fists. He’s right, but how dare he say it?

Spike places his hands on your shoulders to keep you from charging. You have the same look on your face that Buffy gets right before she slams him up against the wall and rattles his brains.

“I get it. I’m still the same old evil Spike who’s tried to kill you and your friends so many times we’ve lost count. But I’ve got this chip in my head and I’m bloody bored anyway, so let me do something for the one person in this house I can stand, all right?”

You’re wavering, but it’s not enough. Your hand just opens and closes on the cash robotically as you try to process what you’re hearing, calculate the odds of this self-destructing, decide what the right thing means in a situation like this. Before you can revise your morals to fit, Spike goes in for the kill.

“You said once that we were friends for now. That as long as I wasn’t killing people and wanted to hang out, you’d be there, because you thought everyone had the capability to do good. You thought you could change me.” He’s fond of this memory. You can hear it in his voice that he still thinks it’s bullshit, but it gives him the warm fuzzies anyway. “I don’t care about the world or the superfriends or the ethics of vampirism. I care about you. If we’re friends like you say, let me do this for you.”

You open your mouth and then close it, like a very stupid fish. Spike chuckles and pats you on the head the way you might soothe a puppy.

“If it would help you to believe this is the first step in me developing some kind of moral compass, go right on ahead, love.”

——

You had only started your day job about a month ago and you were only working part time, but you know how important it is to make friends in the workplace. So when they finally invited you out for the night, you were ecstatic.

They told you there was a bar just off the highway that they liked to frequent. We’ll carpool, they said. You’ll love it, they said.

It’s a strip club.

Fluorescent lights stripe across the top of the building, supporting a flashing sign with a topless girl with tasteful silver stars over her nipples. The bouncer at the door has definitely done hard drugs at some point and the music blasting from inside is deafening even out in the parking lot.

After a moment’s hesitation, you roll with it. You know how to relax, even if everyone else thinks otherwise. You can play the necessarily part, share giggles with the others as you watch the show. You can slam back tequila shots and find it in you to order a round for the table. This is an opportunity, you tell yourself, to pretend everything’s normal for a night.

The “bouncer,” who is probably only there to flatter the older customers by checking their ID, lets you all through and your coworkers drag you to seats in the front. There are poles at various stages sprinkled casually throughout the main area and scantily clad men and women are visiting tables. Every so often, they lead a patron into the back for a private dance.

You’re not a total innocent, but it’s still hard to keep yourself from blushing as you walk past them, unsure if you should make eye contact or not. It’s been awhile since you were anywhere remotely as recreational as this. It’s harder than you thought to shake off your big sibling persona, so you head to the bar with Marie and bring the first round of drinks back to the table.

“This place is special,” she tells you, sipping her Cosmo. She pats your hand in a way that’s near maternal, though she’s only older by two years. “It takes a little getting used to at first, but don’t be scared.”

“Scared?” you laugh. The scariest thing you see is a guy sitting in the back corner trying to coax over a stripper who clearly knows better. You could take him, if it comes to it. Easy.

“It’s a Sunnydale special, that’s all. But it’s a clean business. Perfectly safe, as long as you follow the rules.”

You’re about to ask what those would be when one of the dancers slips off the pole and bites a customer. You bolt from your seat, searching for anything stake-like, but Cara rises to put a hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, relax. It’s okay. Watch.”

Watch? That vamp is going to drain that girl dry, you can’t just sit back and—

The dancer removes herself after about thirty seconds, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and blowing her partner a kiss. The girl’s table congratulates her with wolf whistles, slamming back another round of drinks.

“See?” Cara says. You sink down slowly, still watching wide-eyed. “You have to pay extra for biting, but it’s worth it.”

Gina puts a cool hand to your forehead. “Are you feeling all right, sweets? I know it’s a little different, but you said you’d lived in Sunnydale for years. We figured you were familiar with the undead populace.”

“I was.” You’re a little dazed. Mentally beating back your fight-or-flight reflex with a shovel. “I mean, I am. Only not like this.”

“Capitalism at its finest,” Marie sighs.

“Yeah, it’s regular symbiosis,” you agree absent-mindedly.

Things were so much easier when you were helping Buffy kill demons outright. All this moral gray is confusing as hell.

“Everything all right, ladies?”

Oh, shit.

The lighting is low so you duck your head and pray that he doesn’t see you cowering behind Gina, but luck is not on your side today. Cara has decided you’re being too uptight.

“I’d like to buy a private dance for my friend,” she purrs, pointing a manicured finger to you. “They’re new, so be gentle.”

“I’ll do my best,” he says with a wink, making the girls giggle. “What’s your name, love?”

Then his eyes meet yours and you inhale a breath that catches in your throat. Gina elbows you, like Hot, right? You elbow her back and pray he chooses not to embarrass you.

Spike’s pupils are blown. He’s tucked into nothing but tight black briefs and a tie that hangs down to his navel. The rest of him is laid bare for your view and you are really, really trying not to look.

After a beat of surprise, he takes your hand and pulls you out of your seat to lead you to the VIP area in the back. The girls are calling out behind you to have fun, already chatting up another stripper.

He sits you down in an open booth. On the other side of this smaller, darker room, there’s another vampire with a customer. She waves at Spike and then continues gyrating on her guy’s lap as he pours out all of his problems about his ex-girlfriend.

“I didn’t know you worked here, I swear,” you whisper, turning your attention back to him. “I wouldn’t have come if I did.”

“I don’t mind, pet.” He lowers himself onto you before you can protest, leaning in close. You swallow hard. “Your friends seem fun.”

“They’re coworkers, really. This is the first time we’ve been out together. I didn’t know we were coming to a, um, club.”

“I believe you.”

He’s steadying himself with his hands on your shoulders now, his breath ghosting over your face. He’s been surprisingly sweet about this so far, but there’s a bite to him. He’s still, as he frequently reminds you, evil. He’s taking this opportunity to demonstrate it.

“You’re tense, love.” His knees spread to either side of you and he rises up on them so that his chest is level with your face. You have to tilt your chin up to look at him. To make sure you look at nothing else. “Let me help. After all, we want your friend to get her money’s worth.”

He’s so close that he’s practically on top of you as he moves, swaying his hips back and forth, squeezing his knees to the outside of your thighs to keep him steady. It doesn’t matter that nothing below the waist actually come into contact with your skin. You can feel it. Him. Tremors shoot through your nerves as he leaves behind any semblance of stuffy British politeness and grinds down on you, grinning wickedly the whole time, like all roads lead to him and this club, like he somehow planned the whole thing. Then he leans back and holds out the end of his tie to you and you make a decision. You tug him towards you.

He’s everywhere, insistently parting your lips to slip his tongue in, knotting his hands in your hair, making you moan in a way that’s still completely indecent, despite the setting. Your eyes close and you briefly wonder if the other vampire and her client are still here, if they’re enjoying the show, but then you can’t think of anything except him.

His fingers begin to massage your lower thigh, creeping upward to trace the sensitive skin left exposed by your very short shorts. He’s drawing hearts, but you’re certain it’s not love he’s thinking of. It’s about blood. Isn’t it always?

“Wear these to tease me?”

“You wish,” you pant. You keep your palm wrapped around his tie like it’s the lifeline between the two of you, the only thing keeping you from drifting off into space. He presses back into you, this time giving you a taste of the show everyone else comes to see.

There’s nothing tender about this part. It’s gasping and bruising and pent-up frustration, maybe on your side more than his. It’s harsh, consuming. It feels like you’re being swept out to sea by a riptide. There’s no life vest in sight.

Then you’re coming down from your high and he’s working you through it, murmuring to you about how rightly jealous your friends are going to be at the bright hickey on your neck. He’s taking care of you, just like he said he would.

He smells like graveyard dirt and cinnamon. You’d make some quip about it being the cologne of the season among undead strippers, but you have to focus on breathing.

You’re disgusted with yourself. You’re elated. It’s confusing, but there’s no doubt that you’re disappointed when he takes his thumb to swipe away a strand of saliva that’s been left hanging and pulls away.

He untangles himself from you, leaving your lips pink and swollen and glistening, and tugs you out of the booth.

“Your friends will be wondering where you are,” Spike says. He’s sweating a little. You can see it beading on his chest. You’re proud. You caused that.

“And you need to get back to work.” You straighten your top, combing through your hair with your fingers, trying to compose yourself when you don’t know if you’ll ever be fully coherent again. You don’t know the etiquette for situations like this anymore, so you offer him a half-smile and stuff your hands in your pockets. “I’m sure the club’s missing their best dancer.”

He’s never been one for humility, so he just nods. He can’t help biting his cheek in satisfaction as you walk past him, all hot and bothered, hair mussed and cheeks pinkened. He did that.

When you get back to your table, your coworkers demand to know all the dirty details, although they’re busying themselves with throwing money at one of the pole dancers.

Spike stops by on his way to another table with some excuse about returning your bracelet, which he no doubt stole off your wrist during your “dance” for this exact purpose. He folds it into your palm, then bends to whisper in your ear.

“I’ll come by the house after my shift.”

Your friends practically swoon.

[mrvdocks]

Just Ask lll

He gets down on both knees, hands coming to hold yours. He rubs your knuckles with his thumbs softly, eyes still searching for some sort of indication of what you’d do in yours. 

“C’mere.” You whisper. Taking his face in your hands, you give him the redemption he asks of you with your lips. (x)

If you thought fitting into a dress was going to be a piece of cake, then this dress was the fucking creme de la creme because you just couldn’t get it off. You panicked every second you heard the seam ripping and thought it couldn’t get worse until you fell smack on your back outside of the dressing room. 

“Oh let me help you!” A female voice said. You immediately felt soft hands gently try to lift the material.

“Please!” 

“Let me, don’t worry. Move your arm.” 

The sudden breeze of air on your chest alarmed you. “Oh god I am so sorry, I didn't mean to flash you.”

“No worries, they’re a lovely pair.” 

After feeling less mortified and not smothered by a dress, you thanked your savior. A pretty British woman named Alice offered you the dress in her dressing room, which you took ashamedly. 

“Oh, wow! This is really nice.” You spun in the dress, admiring how it somehow didn’t make you feel so self-conscious. 

“I don’t get why anyone would pay this much for something like this.” You said, eyes wide as you see the tag. 

“Exactly, which is why we have,” she bends to get something out of your vision but you feel something being tugged off the dress. She’s just taken off the security magnet. “This.”

“Whoa! Um, is this legal?” 

“Shhh, go get dressed.” She whispers, pushing you back into the dressing room.

You made a mental note to pray for forgiveness later but this little number definitely would’ve bankrupted you. You ended up stealing the same set you'd had your eyes on earlier and running out the store hand in hand with your new friend, before breaking down near an alley.

You were breathing heavy, which was no surprised considering you’d just run blocks upon blocks. 

“Oh boy, you okay?” Alice asked.

Clearly hyperventilating, you shook your head. 

“I just stole clothes worth more than my studio apartment! I stole a dress! I stole lingerie!”

“Yeah!” She smiled, trying to lighten you up.

“I don’t do this! I would never do this! Oh, my stomach hurts.”

“Hey, hey calm down. It’s okay.”

“No, no, I left him. Oh my god, he will never forgive me. I just left him.”

“What?” 

“My son! I just left him like I was abandoning a puppy. Now I’m here shacking up with an ex I haven’t seen in forever just because I didn’t want to be lonely. Oh, I’m a terrible person.” You buried your face in your hands, the feeling to cry had never come so close and overwhelmed you.

“Hey, no, no it’s alright. If it’s weighing on you this much, why not go home?”

“No, I - he asked for the day. I have a day to decide.” 

“Oh honey, if it’s just for a day then go wild! Do it!”

“I should?” 

“Yeah!” 

You laughed nervously to yourself, feeling your hands still shaking. 

You ran up to the hotel room, giddy but still freaked about your stealing spiel. Billy met you there before, being almost as handsy as you wanted him to be back at the train. You let him down easy, telling him to save it for later that night. You were going to have a nice bath before you did anything else. When he went to go ‘take care of some business’, you raced into the bath and felt so much better. 

The closest thing this reminded you of was the aftercare that came after sex with Billy. He was sweet yeah, tad bit awkward and dorky but he knew what you really liked. You felt goosebumps just thinking of the way his nimble fingers worked on you, the way his arms held you in place in the water, his cheeky but funny little quips ruining the moment. It felt good but it also felt….weird. 

You couldn’t remember when you took a moment just for yourself, much less some much-needed self-care. If tonight really was the night of no consequences you figured you might as well get more bang for your buck. Maybe a little too literally.

 You made your way back to the bedroom to get dressed when your feet kicked the duffle Billy brought. 

“Ow!” You grimaced. “What the fuck’s in here, rocks?”

Unzipping the bag, you were met with a lot of green. Your eyes went wide. Was he a drug dealer? Did you really not know him so well after all? Was he going to hold you hostage and ask your family for money? He was a big shot, why would he need more money? The possibilities were endless. 

You dumped the money on the bed, filling it up until every inch of the bed was decorated with bills. Now, who was keeping secrets?

You heard footsteps coming towards the room so you armed yourself with a wad of bills in case of an emergency. Billy’s shape came into view as he closed the door.

“Oh.” Was the only thing he said. 

“Oh? You want to explain all this?” You gestured to the mountain of cash. 

“Do you trust me?” 

“Don’t turn this around, are you the one keeping secrets now?” 

“I - ”

“Do you even really want to be with me or is this about something else?”

“Listen -”

“I have been honest with you.”

“Is anyone...totally honest?” He tries to smile, but it doesn’t get him very far. He forgets how scary you can be mad. 

“Is this a game, Billy?” You can feel every emotion drop to the pit of your stomach. 

“N..No, there is no game.” He takes short strides towards you, and without a second thought, you move backward. The closer he comes, the farther away you move from him on the bed.

He stops at the end of the bed, your action striking a chord in him. He shakes his head.

“Ask me anything. I’ll tell you the truth.” 

“Are you...in trouble?”

“Yeah.”

Fuck. “Did you...steal someone’s fortune?”

“It’s my money.”

“Well see, most people don’t carry bags filled with money. Especially this,” you raked your hands through the mountain. “Much.”

“I know. But I made a huge mistake, so..” He makes a pass for your ankle but you’re still cautious. 

Defeated, he grabs the champagne bottle on the table and pops it open. Instead of pouring some into the glasses, he drinks straight from the bottle. 

“I have this money because I fucked up in my job. Some people are very mad at me, and so I’m taking my money because I can’t ever go back. Everyone knows I’m full of shit, and now I don’t know what to do.”

“What did you do?”

“I killed someone.”

You feel your stomach plummet. 

“No, I didn’t. I mean I did, in a way. I convinced this guy at one of my shows to...come off his meds.”

“You what?!”

“Not literally. You know, in a metaphorical sense. I didn’t mean for him to…” he sighed. “I’m just as guilty as if I’d killed him myself. Now you know I’m a fucking fraud and a - “

“Pariah.” You finished. 

“I was going to say laughing stock but pariah… just hits it right on the nail, doesn’t it?” 

He downs the bottle and lets it drop to the ground when empty. He knew this moment would come. He’s just as bare as you were before, and he hates it. He hates feeling seen. He hates the truth. But if you were going to stay with him somehow, you couldn’t find out about this any other way. 

He looks at you, eyes soft and desperate. He takes one more step towards you. You don’t move. 

“If you...want to go home. I understand. But I’ll tell you one thing, absolutely honestly. I really don’t want you to.” 

“Billy,” you start, seeing his face is racked with guilt. 

“You’ve changed your mind then.”

“No, no,” You crawled towards him, voice a bit softer. 

Anyone sane would not still be here. But you weren’t anyone. And you knew if you left now, you’d regret it. 

He gets down on both knees, hands coming to hold yours. He rubs your knuckles with his thumbs softly, eyes still searching for some sort of indication of what you’d do in yours. 

“C’mere.” You whisper. Taking his face in your hands, you give him the redemption he asks of you with your lips. His lips are rough but warm, you can faintly taste the champagne. 

You sigh into him, letting your hands fall to grip his shirt. You want him whole, want to feel so close to him. You crave skin to skin contact. 

He makes quick work on the buttons on his shirt, helping you to slip it off and discard it on the floor. You’re still in the robe but at this point, you couldn’t care less about feeling sexy in some pieces of lingerie. Letting it fall from your shoulders, he moves to from your jaw to kiss down your neck and lick at it. You can’t help but let a moan escape, his tongue is warm and it only makes your core feel hotter and tighter. 

Fuck it, you think and press your hands firmly against his chest to turn him over so he’s laying down and you’re on top. The room is silent except for the heavy breathing and the sound of his belt buckle coming undone. You straddle him, already feeling how hard he is, rushing to unzip him. He lifts his hips just enough to let you shrug his trousers off. He slips off everything else, his right arm coming to snake around your waist and move you with him to the top of the bed. 

You steady yourself on the headboard bar, not realizing you’re holding your breath until he speaks. “We don’t have to -”

You shush him, your own hand coming to snake down between your bodies and line him up at your center. He’s stiff and wet, you circle your thumb over his sensitive tip wiping at the pre-cum, earning a gasp from him. You bite down on your bottom lip, sinking onto him and letting out a sharp inhale. He watches you, both in awe and in cautiousness. You guide his hands to your breasts, keeping your own hands planted firmly on his chest. He gives soft and tender squeezes, fingers rolling your nipples in circles. 

You bite the bullet and move your hips agonizingly slow, letting out a soft cry. His hands come down to your hips, keeping you in place and waiting until you give him a nod to continue. 

He moves your hips in different directions, finding that forward and backward motions left you clawing at his skin. His fingers come to your lips, rubbing the sweet sensitive pearl in between your legs and eliciting wanton moans. He smirked to himself. Your bodies were on fire, hungry for the other. Needy and desperate to stoke the fire that only burned brighter with each touch. 

Billy lets you bounce on him, raunchy mewls spilling from your lips like a pornstar. You almost forgot you were in a hotel. He was hitting every spot you had, each time more intense, more euphoric. 

“God, you’re sexy.” You hear him whisper. 

He hit you deeper and harder, every stroke leaving him more breathless and happier than anything else in the world. He closes his eyes and within a second, you’re the one laying under him, pushing your hips up to fulfill the fervid craving of him inside you. 

You wrap your legs around his skinny waist, pressing the soles of your feet against his bum, trying to cram more of him in you. Your hands tug on his hair roughly, leaving him groaning against your shoulder. Each desperate and needy thrust is more demanding and pleasurable than the other. You bite lightly at his ear, a deep growl from the back of his throat rumbles almost leaving you speechless. 

He was in and out so fast, so quick, stroke after stroke leaving you to hug his body tighter with a mixture of gasps and whines and heavy breaths from his part. You took advantage of his closeness, getting close enough to his ear for him to surely hear you clearly.

 “I love you.” You whispered. 

You felt him twitch inside you, his thrusts becoming less erratic. Your back arched as you finally hit your high, your nails digging into his pale hot and sweaty skin. Two more thrusts from him and he bit down on your arm, emptying himself and groaning in sweet release. 

Everything calmed and Billy lifted his body from yours, his hands coming to frame your face. “I love you too.” Billy smiles, kissing you gently. 

You two held each other, blissfully unaware that in the far corner of the hotel room, the cell phone had finished its recording and slipped back into the hands of someone that would definitely ruin your plans later. 

[skyking91-archive]

london ‘10 || tommy & sky

Discord thread featuring: Sky & @byrnethomas​

When: 2010

Mentions: -

Description: Tommy and Sky are living together in London and working as prostitutes 

TW: mentions of prostitution and being damn poor

Sky.

“Roomie — I’m hooooome.” She sang, as she closed the door to their tiny London flat. It was 8am on a Sunday and Sky was exhausted. This escort thing was going to be harder than  she originally thought. She was only 18, just hit the drinking age, and now she was prancing around London with rich, old men pretending to be something she wasn’t. She’d get the hang of it— eventually. Sky peaked into her roommate’s bedroom, and ya him a big smile. “Wakey wakey, mate.”

Tommy

Sometimes Tommy still couldn't believe he thought getting away from his dad meant getting away from escorting. Just because he was no longer living in Cork didn't mean that all of a sudden he was rich and could afford to pay the bills. He was still a school drop out without a penny in his name but at least now he had a friend by his side to help him get through the darkest times. Although he would feel much more grateful towards her if she didn't insist on waking him up at 8am in the morning after an almost sleepless night being dragged around different business events by an asshole who insisted on calling him a slut in front of all his business friends. "You know I only got two hours of sleep, right?" he groaned in his pillow. "Why do you insist on being so mean to me?"

Sky.

Sky knew that Tommy was a hard worker; he taught her the ropes after all. Even though she felt like she was still learning. No matter how poor she was, how down on her luck she was - she was glad to be in London, away from every bad town she'd lived in, school she'd attended, and foster family she'd ever been with. She tried her hardest to block out those awful memories; sometimes with drugs and alcohol. Could you blame the girl though? She'd been through enough, and she could have ended up a lot more fucked up than she was. Sky walked into the small room and sat on the corner of his bed. "It's just my way of showing my love for you." She gave him a cheeky smile. "But I wanted to show up something?" She pulled a huge wad of cash out of her boot and waved it at him. "I didn't sleep a wink all night and had to give head to a man with a shriveled up cock, but..." She paused for dramatic affect, "I think we've finally got enough for rent this month." She grinned.

Tommy

Tommy rolled his eyes but sat up, knowing that once he woke up there was no way of him going back to sleep. And he was a little curious over what Sky wanted to show him. He knew that she was out working just like him the previous night and was hoping she had a little more luck. He was paid well for his efforts but it was a very long night and one which he wasn't in a rush to repeat any time soon. There was a reason why he tended to stick to his regulars. He looked at the wad of cash that Sky was presenting him and grinned. "That's incredible! I guess the student has officially become the master now", he teased. "If we add that to the money I made last night we can pay this month's rent and get ourselves a nice dinner tonight."

Sky.

She kicked her boots off and threw them on his floor. She turned towards him and kicked her legs up on his bed to sit cross cross applesauce. “Oi Oi!!” She exclaimed, raising her hands over her head like she just won a football match. Sky brought her hands back down and tossed her dreads off of her shoulder. She beamed at the mention of a nice dinner. Since moving to London, it’s basically been Ramen noodles and sausage rolls from Greggs. A nice dinner that wasn’t paid for by someone she was going to fuck for money sounded amazing. Sky still had yet have the exclusive client list she managed to create while in New York. She was still so new to this, she had no idea what was coming. All she knew was that with sex work, she’d never made more money. She was sticking to this for sure. “Oooh, we can go to that nice place in Kensington I told you about!” She squealed, clapping her hands with excitement.

Tommy

“Male yourself at home”, he snarled, although it was clear he was only messing with her. This was sort of their little ritual for the morning after. Go to each other’s rooms, depending on who got home first, and spend some time talking about their previous nights to each other. It was a good way of making conversation but also of checking up on each other. They knew each other well enough by now to realise when their night was not the best and try to cheer the other up. It was a good system, and one which hadn’t failed so far. “That sounds really amazing, I’m in.” Tommy night have quite an impressive number of clients but rent in London wasn’t cheap. Life in general was expensive in London and they still struggled to make ends meet. He wasn’t a picky eater so getting to eat so much ramen noodles wasn’t too bad for him but he still craved a properly cooked dinner every once in a while. This was going to be their little treat and he couldn’t be more excited. “We deserve it after all we’ve been through.”

Sky.

The young escort laid face up across the bottom of his bed, her feet dangling over the edge a bit. There was nothing like a good morning cuddle puddle with your roommates. They needed to decompress after their exhausting nights. "God, you can say that again."Sky and Tommy were cut from the same stone - they were fucking survivors. They might as well have gone to hell and back. But they were here. Living. And trying to make the best of the world's shittiest cards that they were dealt. Sky turned to her side to face her friend; older brother rather. "That same guy keeps coming and telling me he'll give me 3,000 pounds to tie me up. I almost said yes last night, but I'm so afraid of being tied up, and actually getting hurt. Sad part is that I was really really close to saying fuck it and just doing it." She sighed. Sex workers have been beaten, bruised, and sometimes murdered in the past. Especially women who were sex workers. And most especially, black women who were sex workers. She was thankful for Tommy for not only showing her the ropes, but for understand her fears and the risks the job entailed.

Tommy

Tommy tensed up at her mention of the 3,000 pounds guy. This wasn’t the first time he was hearing of him as he’d approached Sky before but it was the first time he was hearing her say that she thought about accepting his offer. 3,000 pounds were good money and there was a lot they could do with it but it wasn’t worth putting Sky’s safety at risk. And he knew that’s exactly what would happen if she were to accept, especially since she was so scared about it. People like that would only take advantage of their fear. “Hey”, he said, moving around his bed so that he was closer to Sky. “I’m not going to say that’s not good money because we both know it is but it’s not worth putting your safety at risk. And I know you remember what I told you at the start of all this. Stay away from anything you’re uncomfortable doing. We’ll get by even without those 3,000.” But Tommy was scared. The temptation was always going to be there and what if it got to be too much to ignore? He would never forgive himself if Sky got hurt doing this. “I’ll pick up some more clients and we’ll be fine, I promise.”

Sky.

Damn, Sky needed a fucking security detail or something. That way she wouldn't be so afraid to do stuff like that. And she wanted to. She really fucking wanted to. Maybe she was willing to take the risk. But she couldn't do that to Tommy. She knew if something happened to her, he would be completely destroyed and blame himself for probably the rest of his life. Shy didn't love sex work, but it was good enough for now. She'd be on the streets if it weren't for her job. Sky just shook her head at the thought of him picking up more clients. Tommy already worked so hard; he didn't need to do anymore than he was already doing. "You're not doing that." She told him, her black eyes glaring at him. "You already don't get enough sleep. Have you even showered since you've been home? Eaten anything?" She asked, looking at his small frame.

Tommy

They were both protective of each other and that much was clear. They were each other’s everything, with both their family lives being less than ideal so if something happened to the other they would be crushed. And the risk was always there in their line of work. One of their clients getting carried away, getting themselves into dangerous situations...the possibilities were endless. Tommy was about to insist that it was fine and he could handle it but was silenced by her questions because she had a point. “You know I went right to bed as soon as I got home. Showering and eating wasn’t exactly priority.” He knew that didn’t sound great but could anyone blame him?

Sky.

Sky sighed because she understood, but also hated that they had to prioritize like that. Sky sat up in his bed and gave him a pat on the back. "Shower. I'll make us some food." She said, practically pushing him out of bed. "Then we'll get some more sleep." She told him. She hopped out of bed and kind of hobbled over into the kitchen. The woman put the kettle on. She opened the fridge and scanned it for something she could make them. They had a few eggs left, baked beans, some butter and bread. Half an English breakfast. Cool. Sky was determined to have the meal ready by the time Tommy was out of the shower. He had been like a big brother to her; taking her in the way he did. The least she could do was make a good breakfast for him and force him to eat.

Tommy

“Fine, I’m going pushy”, he said, although he was only teasing. It’s not like he didn’t know that he was in desperate need for a shower; he smelled like sex and drugs. The growling in his stomach only reminded him that he was quite hungry so he finally got out of bed and made his way to their tiny bathroom. Shower, food and more sleep. That sounded like the perfect plan right now. It was probably one of the quickest showers he ever took, drying up and putting on a clean pair of boxers once he dried up. “English breakfast?” he asked once he walked into the kitchen. “You’re spoiling me today.”

Sky.

Sky hummed along to some of her favorite broadway songs as she cooked. Specifically some songs from RENT. God, how she would love to be able to play Joanne. She looked up to her so much when she was younger because she was a black woman on stage — something that she didn’t get to see much. “I am.” She sang, when he walked in. She made a plate for the both of them and sat down across from him. It wasn’t until then when she realized she hoe hungry she was. “Fuck.” She said, digging into her food.

Tommy

Tommy took a seat at the table and dug in as soon as Sky places the plate in front of him. He was starving. This was a habit that he couldn’t break no matter how hard he tried. Sometimes he could go a whole day without eating anything only to annihilate everything in front of him the second he’s presented with food. Today was no different and his plate was completely empty in a matter of minutes. “Thanks for this, I really needed it. I’m in a much better mood now.”

Sky.

Sky smiled at Tommy. She cared about him like no one else did. The very least she could do was make him a good breakfast. She hoped that one day she would be able to help him the way that he helped her. He almost literally gripped her from perdition and literally saved her life. Without Tommy, Sky would probably still be in a ditch. And while they still didn't have much, at least she had someone to share it with. "Anything for you, Tom."

[blurglesmurfklaine]

Pay It Forward

A/N: I’ve been stuck in a car for five hours so here have a shitty one shot for a dead fucking fandom because I know who I am and so should y’all at this point

Caaron AU, One Shot - Gas Station Meeting

*

A thousand miles down.

Carson tosses the bundle of road snacks onto the counter, including several bags of chips, a handful of slim Jim’s, and at least six bottles of water. He’s not sure if it’s the obnoxious fluorescent lights in the grimy gas station or the lack of proper sleep or exhaustion from driving so long but his head is pounding like a motherfucker.

A thousand to go.

“How much does that come out to?” He asks the cashier, digging in his pocket for the wad of cash he still has left.

“Seventeen sixteen.”

“Okay.” He exhales, does a couple of quick calculations in his head to determine how much he can spend and still have enough for the tank of gas he needs after this one is depleted. He has enough. Barely, but enough. “Can I add forty to number six?”

The cashier barely gives a puzzled glance outside. “Uh, I think your friend beat you to it.”

Friend? Carson doesn’t have any friends.

“What?” She points, and Carson follows her finger with his gaze to see some asshole who, based on his pink patterned pants and oversized denim jacket, looks like he was plucked right out of a John Hughes script pumping gas into his car.

Before he knows it, Carson hears the tinkling bell of the door ring as he’s bursting through it in a panic. “Hey!” He shouts, bolting towards the strange boy.

Said stranger just gives him an annoyingly charming smile and waves, still leaning against Carson’s car, still filling it up. “Hey,” he responds much too passively for Carson’s taste, like Carson’s anger just rolls right off him.

In Clover, Carson hadn’t had much hold over the likes of Claire Matthews and company, but he’d taken pleasure in the way they’d writhe underneath his sharp tongue.

“I know it’s a piece of shit,” he starts. “But it’s my piece of shit, and I’m not about to let some Wham looking douchebag take it from me.”

The stranger huffs out a laugh. “I’m not trying to steal your car, dude.”

“Then what, might I ask, are you doing?”

“I’m doing that whole pay it forward thing you read about on Facebook and stuff.”

“Why the hell would you do something like that?”

“Dunno,” he shrugs. “To be nice, I guess.”

Carson stares at him disbelievingly. He knows from personal experience that people just don’t just do things to be nice. People do a lot of things for a lot of reasons; sex, drugs, personal gain, getting into one of the Big Ten universities—but not to be fucking nice.

“Aaron.” The stranger says, just as irritatingly serene as the rest of the conversation, pulling Carson out of his own thoughts and extending his hand towards him.

Carson doesn’t take it, just keeps staring suspiciously as Aaron pulls out the nozzle from the gas socket and places back on the handle.

“Why are you really doing this?” He asks.

“Like I said, to be nice.”

Carson scoffs incredulously. “Why are you so calm all the time?” He asks, because nobody could possibly exist in this crappy world and have such a laid back demeanor.

“I think a better question is why are you so worked up over somebody trying to do you a favor.”

“Because I don’t want to owe anybody one.” He snaps back.

“You don’t,” Aaron says simply and Carson wants to smack the cocky grin right off his face. “Alright,” he admits. “You wanna know why I really paid for your gas...?” He trails off, hoping for a name.

He finds himself giving one, despite himself. “Carson. And please, enlighten me.”

“Carson.” Aaron finishes, and though he’s never heard his own name roll off of someone’s tongue without any sense of loathing in it, Carson is mildly surprised when he doesn’t entirely hate it. “I’ve been on my own since I was seventeen, so I’ve spent my fair share of days living in a car...” he looks pointedly at Carson’s. “And what that looks like.”

“I’m not living in my car.” He spits defensively.

“Summer vacationing?”

Carson just glares at him.

“I’m not living in my car.” He repeats. “It’s just taking a little longer to get to Illinois than I anticipated and I don’t see reason to waste money on a shitty motel when I have an equally shitty backseat—“ he stops himself suddenly, coming to the realization that he doesn’t owe this boy he’s knows for less than ten minutes any explanations... despite his desire to give him one. “I don’t have time for this.” He mutters and circles around to the driver’s side.

Aaron goes around the other side and reaches out for Carson’s wrist. “Wait.” He pleads, and Carson actively chooses to ignore the fact that’s it’s not the worst sensation he’s ever felt.

“What?” He hisses instead.

“You intrigue me.”

Carson snorts at that. “You don’t even know me.”

“Yeah, well I’d like to change that.” Carson rolls his eyes. “What kind of car is it? I can’t really tell.”

“Because of the rust?” Carson huffs. “Yeah, neither can I. It was my grandpa’s.”

“Vintage. Righteous,” Aaron responds, nodding in approval.

“Righteous?” Carson cocks an eyebrow, trying for judgement but it comes off as amusement. “You’ve got to be kidding. Who the hell talks like that?”

Aaron just shrugs. “I’m into the whole vintage thing, sue me.”

“Really?” He asks sarcastically. “I couldn’t tell.”

“Hey, don’t knock the eighties!” Aaron laughs. He hops—fucking hops—onto the hood of Carson’s car. Clearly this guy has no sense of boundaries. “If I could live in any decade forever, it would definitely be the eighties.”

Carson knows he would normally tell this guy to fuck right off, but the sarcastic remark lying dormant on his tongue is much too tempting. “Sure, as long as you’re not too fond of medical advances, human rights, or technology.”

“It’s about the aesthetic! The movies, the music, the style—“

“The blatant racism!” Carson mocks his excitement.

He points a finger at the skeptic boy. “You can’t tell me that the ending of Say Anything doesn’t make you just swoon.”

“Nothing makes me swoon.”

“Or that Thriller doesn’t make you want to bust a move.”

“How is that a real sentence that just came out of your mouth?”

Aaron rolls his eyes. “Come on, there’s gotta be something that gets you psyched about life!”

Carson lolls his eyes and head upward, like he’s searching for an answer. “I guess... I guess I’m pretty passionate about writing.”

“Dude, that’s awesome!” Aaron practically shouts. Carson will be damned if he admits that his ridiculously charming smile fills his stomach with butterflies. “What do you write?”

“Journalism. I think that as a society, at the very least, we owe it to each other to bring certain truths to light.”

“That’s really cool. I’m sure I’ll see your name on a prestigious journal one day.” His grin widens. “You said you’re heading to Illinois?”

“Yeah...” he feels his walls coming down around this Aaron character and instinctively bricks them back up. “So?”

“Chicago.” He digs his hands into his pockets casually. “What’s taking you all the way to Illinois? Long way from Denver.”

Carson knows he shouldn’t tell a complete stranger such details about his life, but he does anyways. “School. Northwestern.”

“Ah, for that journalism stuff you were talking about?”

Carson nods.

“Ive got a band there—in Chicago, I mean.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“But you wanted to.” Aaron says, perky and honest. “If you’d let your guard down.”

Carson doesn’t correct him. “Fifteen minutes and you’ve got me all figured out, don’t you?”

“What put them there?”

He has no clue why he acknowledges the question with an answer, but he does. “I’m from a small town, and people from small towns don’t take too kindly to big ideas.“

He has no clue why he acknowledges the question with an answer, but he does. “I’m from a small town, and people from small towns don’t take too kindly to big ideas.“

Aaron just seems like such an open and honest person, it feels almost blasphemous to not return the favor.

“Tell me about it.” Aaron snorts. “Where’re you from?”

“Clovis.”

“Sweet, I’m from Fresno.” He leans in towards the other boy. “Practically next door neighbors. Weird we haven’t met yet.”

“You mispronounced fortunate.”

Aaron just laughs and part of Carson wants to yell in frustration because that’s not how you’re supposed to react to snark, but an even bigger part of him is impressed and, for a lack of a better word... intrigued.

He sighs and realizes that nothing short of divine intervention is gonna deter this guy from trying to be his friend. “You’re persistent, aren’t you?”

Aaron just shrugs. “Life’s short. You’re hot.”

Carson freezes. He’s not expecting that. Is that what this whole conversation had been? Aaron flirting with him?

A lame “Oh.” is all he—the Carson Phillips known for his way with words—can muster up.

Aaron plows right on with the conversation.

“Like I said,” he starts, hopping off Carson’s hood. “You don’t owe me anything, but if you’re feeling particularly grateful, I’ll accept your phone number in lieu of a thank you.”

“What will you take in lieu of a fuck off?” Carson claps back instinctively. He finds himself immediately regretting it.

Aaron throws his hands up in surrender and heads back his own car. “Alright, I can take a hint.”

A smile tugs at Carson’s lips. “Actually, you kind of can’t.” But there’s no sting left in his voice. He shakes his head. “Sorry... old habits.” He rests his head on the top of his car while Aaron nods understandingly.

“Don’t even worry about it.” Aaron hops into the drivers seat of his car and throws a carefree wave towards Carson. “I’ll see you around, Carson.”

He hears the ignition spark and watches Aaron’s car roll forward with a strange... fascination.

With the exception of Malerie, he’s never held a conversation with someone that lasted more than a few words, but here he was, staring after a stranger he’d just talked with for nearly a half hour.

His skepticism is screaming for him to just get in his car and drive away. He doesn’t need anybody. And he especially doesn’t need some pretentious dickwad who thinks that paying for his gas is gonna get him a phone number and wears ridiculously out of style clothes and says things like righteous—

He tosses his head back. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” He mutters and before he knows what he’s doing he’s slamming his hands down on the hood of Aaron’s car in a valiant attempt to keep him from leaving.

“Wait!”

Aaron slams on the break and sticks his head out the window, a stupid grin on his face. “Are you crazy!?”

Carson just huffs. “Do you want that number or not?”

*

When Aaron’s finally left, Carson finds himself back in the gas station to actually pay for the food he’d abandoned on the counter. He’s about to leave when a nagging feeling stops him and forces him to turn around.

It’s not much, but it’s all he can afford.

Carson slaps twenty down on the counter.

“This is for the next dipshit who comes in here looking for gas.”

[helenofsimblr]

Kayden was starting to look very happy now. But he still hesitated and fidgeted on the spot.

Lyra: What?

Kayden: Its a good start, I can feel my hangover just slipping away but my memory is still a bit blank. I don’t know if you can help some more with that…?

Lyra hated this he was screwing her for money but she was desperate and so was he it seemed, she was throwing hard earned money at a man who was nice enough but he was a bum. She dropped another two wads of cash on the counter next to the first one.

Lyra: There is now $3,000 on the counter. Not a bad days “work” huh Kayden? I doubt you’ll get a better offer on a Sunday morning so spare me the clever comments, you’re not getting any more than that. 

Kayden: Three grand huh I know you could go way higher than that and not miss it…

Lyra just stared at him poker faced.

Kayden: Ok ok Mrs R!  You got my total undivided attention. What ya want to know?

***

Lyra posed her questions about the tattoo on his website, named Solar’s Order. Kayden was very loose lipped now and willing to talk.

Kayden: So the design was given to me, dude showed me this old as fuck book, and said he wanted that design. So I did that, I asked what it was all about and he just said it was “Secret stuff” and that I “Wouldn’t understand or believe it.” I mean shit I don’t care you want a picture of Michelin Man on you… if you’re paying I’ll do it! 

Lyra: Does he come back to buy drugs off you? Is he a regular?

Kayden: Woah woah woah… Mrs R, we don’t use the D word here. I prefer to think of them as, “additional products and services.”

Lyra: I’m sure you do. So does he come back here?

Kayden: I’m gonna be breaking confidence here… I may need some assistance to do….

Lyra *interrupting*: Kayden!

Kayden: Yeah, big fucker, he’s a regular, he comes and buys some stuff, nothing hardcore you know just a bit of light stuff…

Lyra: I don’t care what he purchases, when does he show up here?

Kayden: Usually on Monday’s he rolls in, buys some shit, and leaves.

***

Lyra paced back and forth a moment trying to consider her options how do I deal with this? What if he tells them I was asking questions? Then she finally stopped and took a stance that brokered no nonsense.

Lyra *low voice*: Kayden, If you breathe a word about me being here, about paying you…  Please bear in mind who my sister is, and I can’t be held responsible for her actions. You understand how she is? Don’t you? She is… volatile. And still very much alive…

Kayden gulped at the thoughts of incurring Kyleigh’s wrath, he knew she was not to mess with and how she pretty much controlled organised crime round San Myshuno back in the day. 

Kayden: Heh! I don’t even like the guy! Besides, I’ll probably forget all this by Monday!

Lyra nodded.

Lyra: Excellent. Have a good day Kayden.

[sassysweetcollegegirls]

Chapter 5 in the Klance Equestrian AU

Keith had left the money on the floor he had a crumpled five left. It was the only money he had managed to make off the sale of his favorite jewelry before he left the Galara Galaxy. Keith had planned on using the twenty to go buy jerky and cans of beans so he wouldn’t have to eat Voltron’s precious biscuits. He didn’t know when he would get the opportunity to make them again. He was trying to limit the stallion but it was hard. 

At Galra Galaxy if Keith needed supplies or food all he had to do was go see Lotor. Granted Lotor always made Keith pay with sex,blowjobs, and various other things. He’d also numb out the experience after with drugs. He’d fill a needle full of the stuff (Keith never knew what it was sometimes he changed it) and then he'd give Keith a little shot and then he’d dress him and hand him a wad of cash and drop him off in town. 

Keith would wander through each store his eyes bleary from the drugs and fill the cart with the supplies he’d memorized to make Voltron's treats and then he’d look at all the food but he’d think about how Voltron needed a new blanket or a new saddle pad. Then he would push his cart through the checkout where all the ladies in line would look at him and he would try to shrink but he couldn’t. He knew that Lotor made him look like a druggie on purpose to isolate him and make him afraid of the people around him. 

Keith thought about the way Lance looked at the twenty like he was some kind of crazy person. Keith knew he had broken something that didn’t belong to him and he knew to replace it. He’d rather not do it by getting beat. So he offered up what little pocket change he had and tried to move on.  He and Voltron had spent most of the day outside. Keith had found a creek which would allow for him to rinse out his clothes and hang them on the fence and that’s where he was headed. He wasn’t expecting to bump into the guy in the white t-shirt again. 

“Woah. You okay t-” Hunk reached out to steady Keith his warm large hand going for Keith’s shoulder. 

“Don’t touch me.” Keith snapped he instinctively flinched as far away from the physical contact as he could. 

“You can’t talk to Hunk that way. He was just trying to help your dumb ass.” Came the voice of a girl who was dressed in blue overalls beside him. Her hair was golden brown and her eyes were green to match the ribbons she had so carefully braided from the base of her skull to her sholders. 

“Pidge,be nice.” Hunk warns her

“ No one tells me what to do.” Keith says he stands taller trying not to let her know that she makes him scared that everything about her and about Hunk scares him. 

“Keith, it’s cool. Right Pidge?” Hunk sooth’s stepping between the two laying his hand on Pidge’s shoulder but giving Keith plenty of space. 

Keith wants nothing more than to tell Hunk everything is fine so he does,” Sure...” but everything is telling him to run before someone backs him into a corner and has at him with a baseball bat. 

“See no need to be on the offensive Pidge. So calm down. Keith’s chill.”  Hunk sooth’s before turning to look at him,” What you doing with all that stuff?” 

“Im going to go wash it...” Keith confesses nodding toward the creek. 

“ Your going to wash your clothes in the creek?” Pidge asks her voice going high. 

“ Yes...” 

“ You realize there is a washmachine in the barn right?” She tries reasoning.

“ Yes...” Keith knew that but he had been watching people use it all day and he was concerned someone would see his clothes and become angry so he felt it was better not to risk it. Just like when he rose at 3am and showered in the cold water of the wash stall. He had been quiet and then he went and curled up next to Voltron’s belly under one of the wool blankets. Voltron had welcomed him with nickers and licks and then he had dressed under the woolen blanket. 

Hunks eyes were wider than dinner plates and he looked at Keith’s bags and then at the creek. 

“No way I can let you do that my dude.” He said and he reached forward taking the duffle from Keith whose eyes made wide scared looks. He wasn’t sure if he needed to run or if he needed to just follow along with whatever the Larger man said. Voltron was still in the Paddock near the creek he looked comfortable and Keith looked at him grazing nervously unsure. 

It was Pidge who decided for him,” Come on EMO. Maybe Hunk will give us milk and cookies.” 

At the very mention of food Keith stomach grumbled and Hunk smiled,” come on then.” He began walking holding Keith’s duffle bag in one hand like it was nothing but a simple paperweight and Pidge followed behind him. The two of them seemed so odd next to one another. Hunk was so tall and broad Keith was sure he could easily just lift Pidge and throw her if she pissed him off. Pidge seemed like one of those people who just poked at people until they gave her what she wanted and Keith wasn’t sure he liked that. 

All three re-entered the barn and approached a red door that Keith had walked by labeled private. Hunk opened it and there was a set of stairs that led straight up into a loft of sorts. The loft was open with large carpeted spaces and white walls covered in photos and posters.

Most of the photos seemed to be of Lance, Pidge and Hunk in Various places and poses. Some photos looked like they were done at shows and Keith looked at each one noticing Shiro standing in the back in some and Adam in others. Adam was still around? For some reason that made Keith sad. Like he’d been through hell already and Adam got Shiro and the happy ending he couldn’t. Keith turned away from the Pictures trying not to think.

Hunk had his hands in Keith’s duffel bag and he was pulling out the clothes he had and separating them into piles in a small room that Keith had yet to pass,” Dude when was the last time these things actually saw a wash machine?” Hunk asked as he lifted the last set of jodhpurs Keith owned out. They were streaked with mud.

Keith wanted to lie and say a week ago. But a week ago Lotor had been pissed because his father hadn’t left him as much money as he’d wanted and he’d had Keith pinned in a corner and then he had t left Keith money for food or laundry just Voltron.

“It’s been a month...” He confesses hushed his arms going to his sweater filled with dirt.

Hunk looks at him and then the stacks of clothes,” is that true for all of your clothes?” His expression is so soft. The way he breaths is calm and he doesn’t look angry and for some reason Keith feels like it’s wrong to lie to him. Keith isn’t sure why but he feels like he’d let him down if he lied.

It reminds him of when he trusted Shiro and when Shiro would come in to take his laundry. Keith would stand scared at first thinking he was being punished and then Shiro started taking him with. Letting him put his socks in the top and press the button just so he knew he was getting them back.

“Yeah...” He confesses a hand going to his hair and moving his lip ring with his tounge nervously.

Hunk looks at him and then his clothes and he steps around Keith and calls down the hall,” PIDGE BRING ME A T-SHIRT AND A PAIR OF LANCES SWEATPANTS.”

“WHY AM I THE GOPHER?”

“BECAUSE LANCE ISNT HERE.”

There’s a small thump as a bundle of clothes chucks itself past Keith and lands at Hunks feet. Keith tries to turn and see where Pidge went but she’s already gone and Keith turns to see Hunk holding out the two articles of clothing to him,”Put these on and we’ll wash what your wearing.”

Keith looks at the clothes and then at Hunk puzzled,” why are you being so nice?” He takes the stack and follows Hunk who leads him to a small bathroom. He shuts the door leaving Keith to change. Keith changes making sure not to get any dirt on the carpet . Hunks shirt is far to big and the sweat pants have to be rolled but he manages. A few minutes later he pads back to the Laundry room where Hunk is standing looking at Keith’s white jodhpurs in a ziplock bag.

“Do you wash these?” He asks him and Keith holds out his hand. Hunk hands him the baggie and Keith opens it sniffing ,” Nope these need it bad too... Go through your bag and pull out things you don’t wash and I’ll wash the bags too.” Hunk said simply taking Keith’s dirty clothes from his arms (and the jodhpurs in the ziplock Keith sniffed) and throwing them in a pile that he threw in the wash machine on a special high setting.

“Why are you being nice?” Keith asks again his voice is small. 

“Hebrews 13:16″  Hunk said calmly a smile coming to his face and walking down the hall Keith followed Pidge joining him.

“Hunk’s a Roman Catholic. He believes in helping others before helping yourself.” Pidge said calmly as if explaining his whole being. 

“That’s not why I do everything though.” Hunk said as they went into the wide living room space that connected to a stainless steel Kitchen. Keith looked at it wanting to have some kind of understanding how the three individuals had so much space and kept it all so clean. Hunk went directly to the Kitchen and Pidge followed taking a seat at the island watching as he gathers supplies from the fridge. 

Keith hesitantly sat down to watch his eyes wide. Pidge looked at him with curiosity,” How long have you had Voltron?” 

“Two years.” Keith responds his fingers pick lightly at the hem of the t-shirt,”he’s not mine though..”

“Right he belongs to The Paladin Palace.” Pidge says reaching forward to grab a slice of fruit that Hunk had sliced 

“Gremlin.” He warned.She huffed retracting her fingers and Keith looked at Hunk. He was using a large knife to slice fruit and place them in a large bowl. He had this calm about him and it made Keith think about Voltron. How he calmed sometimes just with a touch and he though Hunk maybe this way with his kitchen and knives and cleaning and it for some strange reason set him at ease.

“I’ve had Rover for three if you count the time I spent tracking him.” Pidge pitches spinning her stool in a circle not making eye contact

“Tracking?”

“He was part of this huge Gypsy carivan and I legit followed them for a year just to buy one of their horses.” She says speeding herself up,” ended up with no money to get him home. So I ended up just riding him.”

“Until Lance and I found you.” Hunk clarifies

“Yeah and spoiled the coolest cross crountry-trek ever!!!” She stops spinning to narrow her eyes and slips one of the berries from the bowl. Hunk narrows his eyes but doesn’t stop her.

“You had saddle sores the size of my right ass cheek.” Hunk justifies

“Is there importance for why it’s the right ass cheek and not the left?” She chimes back

Keith watches confused are they married? Are they dating? Are they siblings?The way they talk to each other so openly and so honest is just so different, he’s unsure.

Hunk sets a steaming mug of tea in front of Keith,” would you like cream or sugar?” Keith has to think back to when he was with Adam and Shiro for the proper response. How does Keith take his tea?

“Cream... please.” He manages after a moment and Hunk smiles pulling a cream from the fridge and giving some to Keith who watches his tea become this warm brown color.

“Shay wasn’t as hard to find as Rover. Granted she came from a tough place, she was an easy pick. She was in a herd of seventy never been touched. I walked out three hundred bucks and said ,’that one’. Been a tight team ever since. That was 5 years ago.” Hunk said as he sprinkled some flour on the counter and then pulled a silver bowl from the fridge. He pulled the wad of what Keith assumed to be dough from the bowl and began kneeding expertly shoulders working.

There was a buzz and Hunk looked at Pidge,” Remember what I taught you?”

“Which part”

“About special loads.”

“Yes. I’m capable of that much.”

“Good then your capable of switching the loads.” He answered sweetly.

She narrowed her eyes but did so and Hunk turned to Keith his eyes honest,” Keith, I’m going to say this when Pidge isn’t here and Lance isn’t around because you seem like you’ve been through enough. You deserve some privacy.”

Keith felt panic creeping up his back and into his fingers. He remained still watching as Hunk stopped kneeding.

“I know you’ve been through shit. You probably don’t eat anything besides Voltron’s biscuits. Shower outside in the hose when it’s not cold out. Voltrons the only thing you’ve got... Whatever happened to you, whatever happened to him. Isn’t going to happen here. Now eat, it’ll make Pidge suspicious if you sit there stomach grumbling all day.” Hunk pushes the bowl of fruit to Keith and Keith looked at Hunk wondering what kind of person just took strangers into their homes and gave them fruit and washed their clothes. Hunk did.

***

It was close to dinner when Keith was released from Hunks care. He knew when Shiro did turn in and he made sure he had all his things (Freshly washed) and his backpack and his duffel bag (which Hunk made Pidge (who could sew and repair things fix and then he’d washed and packed it for Keith)). Keith was given a small brown bag with a thing called a turn-over (Pidge has shrieked when she’d seen it) and a peanut butter sandwhich and then he was allowed to leave. Keith had been careful setting each article down in front of Voltrons stall.

Outside Voltron was prancing his tail high in the air.

“Settle down.” Keith singsonged to him as he climbed over the gate and put a Halter on the stallions head.

“Does he always prance when he’s excited?” There was the clear voice of Lance. Keith held his breath as he looked behind him to the boy who was holding a beautiful Red mare who Keith vaguely recognized from one of the stalls.

“No...” Keith wasn’t sure how to respond part of him wanted to push Lance as far away as he could, another part wanted to give in like he had with Hunk.

“Why doesn’t he take treats?” Lance asked this time following a safe distance as Keith started heading towards the barn.

“What?” Keith stops confused.

“I tried giving him carrots or apples or sugar cubes...”

“He hates stuff like that... he likes baked goods and bread.” Keith says looking at Lance who has stopped the mare next to him.

Lance blinks,” That’s weird...” and then he walks the red mare toward the barn leaving Keith to wonder just how weird it really is.

[meteora-writes]

Drowning In Myself

Chapter 1: Take Me To Church

Paring: Nick Clark x Troy Otto (eventually)

Warnings: No Apocalypse, Recreational Drug Use, Drug Abuse, Addict!Nick, Drug Dealer Troy, Past Child Abuse, Violence (in future chapters), Swearing, Survivors Guilt, Slow Build

Summary: Troy is a drug dealer that’s new to L.A.. Calvin asked Troy to take care of his customers while he takes a much needed vacation. First night on the job Troy receives a call from a long time client and good friend of Calvin’s asking to meet at a church in the shittiest part of town at 3AM. The guys grubby, and alone, and something about the way he asks Troy to stay with him while he shoots up sticks with Troy as he drives away that night. 

Or, the story of how Troy helps a drowning Nick find his way back from the brink. 

Authors Notes: I got the idea for this from listening to the song Help by Papa Roach. 

~~~~~

Troy climbed behind the wheel of his truck with a tired sigh. It was three in the morning, and he was driving out to the middle of town to meet up with a new client. Calvin had told him this guy was notorious or needing a fix at this time of night, but he wasn't expecting to get a call the first night his fellow dealer was out of town.

He'd woken to the sound of his phone buzzing its way across his nightstand, a shaky voice saying they got his number from Calvin and they needed a fix; now. Normally, Troy only dealt with people who could meet during a more reasonable hour, but he figured he owed Calvin for getting him his current job. So, he took the address down, threw on the clothes he'd been wearing the day before, and headed out to the abandoned shitshow of a neighborhood to meet his new client.

As the trucks headlights hit the side of the fence that surrounded the old Church, Troy spotted him. A figure sitting curled up with his back pressed to the tall wooden boards and a dark grey hood pulled over his head. He didn't look up as Troy pulled up to the curb a few feet away.

"You Nick?" Troy asked as he climbed out of the idling silver pickup.

The figure on the sidewalk raised his head then, pulling his hood down to reveal shaggy brown hair and a dark almond complexion with dark eyes that shown almost copper in the glow of Troy's headlights. "You Troy?" He countered, blinking up at the man standing a few feet away.

"Depends if you're Nick or not." Troy said with one eyebrow raised. The guy looked like Calvin had described, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

"Yeah, I'm Nick." He finally said, pushing himself to stand and stuffing his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. "You wanna do this in your truck or the church?" He asked, looking around the empty street a bit anxiously.

Troy looked at his truck, then the dilapidated church. After a moment's thought he turned and reached in to kill the engine. He pocked his keys and waved a hand towards the church. "Lead the way."

With a quick nod Nick turned and led him around to the hidden opening in the fence. "It's empty tonight. I think everyone's too scared to come back." He said, like he expected Troy to know what he was talking about. "So you don't gotta worry about anyone trying to bother you for samples or anything."

"I don't do samples." Troy said with a snort. "Sides, I only brought what you asked for."

"Yeah, right, or course. Sorry." Nick said, scratching at the back of his neck as he led Troy into the abandoned building. It was mostly dark, the only illumination coming from half a dozen candles and a single battery powered camp lantern up in the balcony area.

Troy followed Nick up the stairs to the balcony, pausing a moment when he saw the remains of police line tape on the floor in a few places. He ignored it, choosing to focus on getting his money so he could go home and go back to bed.

Nick spun around when he reached a small mattress on the floor. He plopped down on the edge with a huff and reached into his pocket to pull out a wad of crumpled bills which he started to count out as Troy stood a few steps away watching him. "I really appreciate you coming out here this late. I tried Calvin, but he didn't answer."

"He's on vacation." Troy supplied, tone a little amused as he watched the younger man count under his breath.

Nick nodded, still counting out crumpled ones. "Right, right. I knew that. Anyway, I would have called earlier, but I had to find the cash. Cops took everything I had stashed here after what happened..." He said, trailing off and focusing on the task at hand.

"What happened?" Troy asked, curiosity getting the better of him as he turned to look around the illuminated area of the balcony. There were some clothes scattered on the floor, mens and womens, a backpack, police line tape, some trash, and not much else.

"You don’t know?" Nick asked, pausing in his counting to blink up at Troy in surprise.

Troy shook his head, meeting Nicks wide eyed stair with a quizzical one of his own. "Just moved here from down past San Diego. Don't really talk to anyone except Calvin and the handful of clients he set me up with." He explained slowly.

"Oh... Uh... My girlfriend OD'd here... About three months ago... I called the cops when I found her and they threw me back into rehab. Just got out yesterday, actually..." Nick explained, pointedly not looking at Troy now and counting out the last of his money. "Shit." He mumbled under his breath.

Troy blinked down at the younger man, trying to gauge the weight of his words. "Your girlfriend dies of an overdose, and you come back to the place it happened to get high as soon as your clean?" For going through something so traumatic, the kid had balls.

Nick let out a mirthless chuckle, his voice a little manic when he spoke next. "I tried going back to my mom's house first, but all she did was guilt trip me about getting my girlfriend killed and rave about how my little sister got into Berkeley. I'll take getting high in the place I lost Glo over that any day." He said as he pulled a few more crumpled bills from his pocket.

"Fair enough." Troy said, clicking his tongue as he reached into his pocket and pulled out the little baggie of drugs. "You're ten short." He pointed out as Nick rummaged through his pickets for the missing cash. "Just have it next time, alright?" He said lightly, holding the bag out in front of Nick's face and giving it a little shake to get his attention.

"You sure?" Nick asked, grabbing all the cash from where he'd been dropping it on the mattress and holding it up in exchange for the drug.

"Yeah I'm sure. Calvin said you're a loyal customer, and I trust him not to steer me wrong. Just have it next time." He reiterated with a shrug, taking the handful of crumpled cash and stuffing it into the pocket of his jacket while Nick took the little baggie of powder.

"Hey," Nick started, making Troy stop mid turn to leave. "I know it's late, and you don't know me, but could you stay a few minutes? I don't like to be alone when I nod."  

Checking his watch, Troy heaved a sigh and reluctantly nodded his agreement. "Yeah, sure. I'm probably not gonna get back to sleep tonight anyway." He admitted as he came to sit on the floor with his back to the edge of the balcony.

Nick smiled at Troy, a big genuine smile that lit up his eyes beautifully, as he kicked off his sneakers and moved to pull off his hoodie. He had on a black short sleeved t-shirt underneath that hung a bit loose on his lithe frame, the collar a bit stretched and showing his collarbone and a bit of his left shoulder when he moved to grab a candle and his little tin full of supplies from the other side of the mattress.

Troy watched closely as Nick prepped his drugs. He had never actually watched anyone do heroin. He'd only just started selling it a few weeks ago. Until he had moved to L.A. he was only dealing low level stuff. Weed and pills. But when he met Calvin on a trip of up to L.A. to visit his brother, the offer to move up and sell harder drugs for a higher cut of the profit was too good to pass up.

Nick caught Troy's eye as he went to hold the spoon over the flame of the candle. "You good over there?"

Troy blinked up at Nick. "Yeah, just never watched anyone do this." He admitted with a smile. "Don't stop on my account." He added, waving a hand in a gesture for the other man to continue.

"How long have you been dealing?" Nick asked, continuing on with his prep.

"Since I was 18. Brother got me a job at a hardware store. Wasn't for me. Fell into dealing after I quite that and it's been paying the bills going on four years now." Troy said, still closely watching Nick's every move.

"You've been dealing four years and you've never watched anyone do this? That's kind of impressive." Nick said as he prepped his needle.

"I only just started dealing heroin. Calvin offered me a job when we met last month, and here I am." Troy said with a sweeping gesture. "Sitting in an abandoned Church at almost four in the morning watching my newest client get high." He said with a smile.

Nick snorted a laugh at that. "Thanks again, I really appreciate it. Usually there'd be at least a few other junkies crashing here. I heard a rumor while I was out tonight that no one's been back since Glo died. They're all too scared of her ghost or some bullshit like that." He said as he drew the drugs up into the needle.

"And you're not?" Troy asked, tilting his head to watch the other man get ready to inject himself.

"I see her in my dreams every night anyway, why would I be afraid of seeing her when I'm awake?" Nick responded simply before bringing the needle to his skin.

Troy watched Nick's expression as he shot up. Face pinched in concentration before a slightly dopy smile hit him. After he finished with the needle he set it and the other supplies aside in their tin and curled up on his side on the mattress. He faced Troy, blinking tiredly now as the drugs tool hold.  

"Sweet dreams, Nick." Troy said as he watched the other man fade out. He waited a few minutes, just watching the younger man breathe before finally heading home. The whole drive back he couldn't help but wonder what Nick was dreaming about.

[hannahsmusings]

Lou

*Louis was sat in a parking lot for the past hour and a half, annoyed at his customer for being late but there was nothing he could do, this guy was his top buyer and the money he was about to make was well worth the wait* *his phone was in his lap and every time it buzzed, his heart ached a bit, knowing it was you, knowing you were up and waiting for him and yet another night passed where you weren’t sleeping peacefully but instead you were waiting for him* *he hated that he had done this to you, but he knew this was all going to be worth it, especially with the information he just received from one of his customers today about this big time drug dealer coming into town the following day, Louis knowing he could move every drug he had and get the biggest pay out of his life and then he would retire, then you wouldn’t have these awful nights anymore, you’d have peace and Louis wouldn’t continue on feeling like the shittiest person on the planet… he hoped* *finally around 3:15 the kid showed up, Louis doing the deal quick and grabbing the wad of cash before driving off and back home, checking the time, his stomach clenching as he promised you he’d be home by 12 and he entirely intended to be home by that time but things happened and people were late and Louis may have stayed at the bar a bit too long with the lads and now this jerk took over an hour longer than he promised* *he parks in front of the house and sees the lights on, his heart breaking at the sight* *he locks the car and walks up the walkway, opening the door quietly before stepping inside, turning and seeing you sat on the couch* Baby… I told you not to wait up for me. *he speaks quietly, the sight of you sitting there breaking his heart repeatedly, his love so intense and strong for you, not sure why he was doing this, staying out until all odd hours of the night and making money in this way, but he liked to think he was doing it for you, for the relationship* *it was because of this money that he was able to pay for this house and everything after all* *he walks over and kneels in front of you, taking your hands in his* I’m sorry, babe.

__________________________________

*my thoughts were racing, an anxious twist in my stomach as I think back over our idyllic relationship, remembering how we talked about marriage and kids and being with each other forever, a sad tear falling down my cheek at the happy memories as we’d been together over 5 years now since we were 16 and you were my person I knew that, but I also knew that that person was gone and I had to start moving on because I couldn’t handle this anymore* *sighs as I wipe the tear away with frustration, wishing you’d never put me in this position but I couldn’t keep making excuses for you anymore* *I snap out of my thoughts and heart hitching as I hear a car pull up outside, beyond exhausted but full of adrenaline and wide awake now as part of me was anxious about it being you because I knew we’d probably fight and the other part of me was anxious that it wasn’t you as I wanted to make sure you were okay* *tenses as I hear the key in the lock, not sure what I was going to say as I’d never been the controlling girlfriend or high strung but I was worried about you and felt I had legitimate reason to be* *sees the look of guilt on your face and hating that as I frown at your works, shaking my head* You know I can’t sleep when you’re not there. *whispers, being too scared for you to try and sleep and wanting you to know you were actively choosing to hurt me by doing this* *flinches a little and looks down as you take my hands and kneel in front of me, sighing at your words as I’d heard it all before, having lost faith in what you said now as I shake my head* I can’t do this anymore. *whispers, tears springing to my eyes and my voice wavering*

[damagedmontgomery]

The Beginning Of The End

Who → Juliette Montgomery

When → Night of the ferry crash

Where → All over. A bar, an alley, a drug dealer’s apartment

Notes → Self Para.

Triggers → Drugs/drug abuse, alcohol/alcohol abuse

Juliette had been teetering on the edge for weeks. After that one slip one night at the bar, she was always feeling those cravings. She wanted alcohol, she wanted drugs. The cravings made her skin crawl every single day. Finding out about the ferry boat crashing was all she could take.

She never thought she would have feelings for someone, but it happened. She finally allowed herself to be happy with another person, and then that person ended up getting hurt in the crash. It seemed like the universe was trying to tell her something. She didn’t know what, but she knew whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

The blonde knew she should be grateful that nobody in her family was hurt. They were safe, and that was great, but it wasn’t enough for her to feel okay. Having one person she cared about being hurt was too much to handle. 

Being able to see Mia was good for her. She needed to see her and know she was alive and she got to do that. Once she knew Mia was stable, however, Juliette went straight to the bar. She chose to walk at least, she knew she would be drunk, so taking her sister’s car there seemed like a bad idea. There was no question in her mind about whether it was the right or wrong thing to do. She was going to drink, because she knew that it was going to make her feel better... or just feel less.

She sat there for a couple of hours, getting through several drinks before she called it a night. She walked out of the bar and sighed. She wasn’t going to go home yet. She didn’t want to go home under the influence, she was pretty sure Addison would kill her if she saw her like that. She knew where she wanted to go, so be began to walk, the cool night time air blowing slightly against her face.

As she rounded the corner to the dimly lit alley, she sighed. This was a path she had been on time and time again. Spotting the person she was looking for, she braced herself for their interaction. “Well, look who it is. Juliette Montgomery,” he said. “It’s been a while, baby.” 

She shook her head. “I’m not your baby, asshole,” she told him. The blonde shoved her hands into her pockets. She wad of rolled up cash in her pocket was big, she was planning a large score. Not for all at once, but at least by purchasing a lot in one go there’d be less suspicion. She wouldn’t be coming back late all the time, less trips out to have to see this guy. Now she could have what she needed right there in her room.

“Sure you are. Always have been,” he replied, winking at her. There had been nights of desperation. Nights after college when she relapsed, where she was broke and couldn’t dig up enough money to pay for the drugs. So she had made him a few trades. “You certainly showed me differently before, remember?”

Juliette sighed. “Shut the fuck up, Jonah. You got the good shit or not?” she asked, staring the older man down as she crossed her arms. She wasn’t there to make small talk, or have him bother her about their previous encounters. He was a creep, there was no doubt about it, but he never failed to provide her with what she asked for.

“Depends on what you’re looking for,” he said. “Haven’t seen you ‘round here much. Cheatin’ on me with another dealer?” he asked teasingly. “Or have you just been living the boring life these days?”

“After my stint behind bars, I stayed sober. It’s been a few months now,” she admitted, not counting the few drinks she had at the bar the one night. “But I’m over that. I’m sick and tired of this sober shit. It fucking sucks,” she muttered. “You know what I want, Jonah. You’ve known me long enough to know what I’m after.”

“I always knew my favorite little cokehead would come crawling back to me,” he said. “You got cash this time or are we arranging an alternative form of payment?” She knew what he was getting at.

“I’ve got cash,” she hissed. “I’m never doing that with you again.” Juliette reached into her pocket, pulling out the large wad of money. “Your rates still the same?” When he nodded, she handed the money over to him, and he handed her several baggies filled with cocaine. 

The blonde was going to leave after that, tuning out his attempts to keep talking to her. She wasn’t interested. Or at least, she didn’t think she was until he suggested getting high with him. She didn’t see too much harm in that, so she turned around. His apartment was only a minute or so away from the alley, so she agreed, following him there. 

Sitting by his desk with a baggie in her hand, and a beer, a dollar bill, and her credit card just slightly off to the side, she licked her lips. She went ahead and opened the baggie, pouring out some of the white powder. There was a chance to turn back as she set herself up, but she wasn’t going to. She didn’t want to turn back. A few minutes later, she held the rolled up bill to her nose, snorting one of the lines of cocaine.

When Juliette left, everything was a little fuzzy, but she felt good. It was a feeling she had experienced so many times before, and it was almost comforting. But despite all of that, she knew that home wasn’t exactly a great place to go. It wasn’t that late, and surely her siblings would be awake. She wasn’t sure where she was going to end up, so she wandered around to wherever her feet would take her.

[nothingbutimagines]

What You Know (Peter Parker)

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader feat. Deadpool/Wade Wilson Warning: Cursing, drug use (don’t do drugs kids) Summary: The Reader is a rebel and gets in trouble at school, causing Tony to use an alternative form of punishment by forcing the reader to be friends to Peter Parker, a quiet good guy that has a crush on the reader though the reder refuses to be his friend even though they too, have a crush on Peter. Author: Dizzy A/N: Hey! Another Peter Parker fic for your enjoyment! It’s inspired by the song “What You Know” by Two Door Cinema

Masterlist Request a Prompt

“Do you not understand what consequences are?” Your father asked.

“I do; I just don’t care.” You replied with a smirk. “Besides, that teacher really deserved getting his furniture glued to the ceiling. It was the perfect prank.”

“You tried to glue a man to the ceiling!” Your father sighed, exasperated. “You know what? This time there isn’t going to be another grounding for you.”

“Thank God.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes.

“You’re gonna get a punishment, you know, something taken away.”

“What are you going take? My will to live?” You rolled your eyes. “You know, I took Psychology. They say punishments don’t do anything for behavior.”

You father ignored your last few statements as he continued on his rant. 

“You’re going to spend all day everyday for the next few weeks with Underoos.”

“Parker? Peter Parker? You’re going to make me spend all day with that twerp?!” You cried, about to start an argument. “That isn’t fair! He sucks! He’s all goody two shoes and faints at the sight of Liz! I could kick his ass and I have!”

“It doesn’t matter. You need to learn a lesson and this is how it’s going be. You made your bed, kid.”

“I haven’t made my bed a day in my life.” You huffed, earning a chuckle from your father. 

That was when there was a knock on your bedroom door, the loud staccato of knuckles rapping against wood made your eyes roll in a knowing way as it was opened to reveal Peter.

“Hey, kid. Nice to see you. I’m going to head to the lab and I’ll leave you to it. I suggest getting Y/n to do their homework since they never do it.”

“Like hell I’m doing it!” You argued, arms crossed over you chest. 

“You made your bed, remember?” 

And with that, your father left you alone with Peter, who stood in the middle of your room awkwardly. 

“Here,” You kicked the desk chair in front of you to him. “Have a seat. We’re gonna be here a while.”

“So...” Peter trailed off, taking a seat and spinning his chair back and forth. 

“So you’re my babysitter, huh?” 

“ I wouldn’t say that. I-”

“How long has that ‘kick me’ sign been on your back?” You asked, your head cocked to the side as you caught a glimpse of the paper attached to Peter.

You watched as Peter twirled a bit and leaned forward. You ripped the paper off his back before you pulled away, tossing the paper in the trash.

“I-I don’t know.”

“Listen, Parker,”

“It’s Peter.” 

“Fine. Listen, Peter, I don’t want you here as much as you don’t want to be here. My dad’s just forcing you on me cause he thinks you’re a good influence. No offense, you’re kinda boring.”

“You do realize Mr. Stark's paying me, right? So I want be here.” Peter replied, finding the confidence to speak up.

“How much?” You asked, causing Peter to pull out a wad of cash from his pocket. 

“Umm... about fifty dollars for the next week.” 

“Chump cash. Maybe we could get a gram for that and have cash left over.” 

Peter shoved the money back into his pocket, giving you a look as he processed what you told him.

“Mr.Stark says you’re a bad influence, that you’re a good girl with bad habits or something.”

“Eh, you got the bad habits part right. I’m not much of a good girl. Plus, my dad’s never around anyways, not after my mom left,  so what does he know?” You got up and walked over to your window. “I like to have fun, okay? You should learn to do that.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought up-”

“Don’t get soft on me, Parker. If you’re gonna be hanging around me, you gotta toughen up.” You snapped. 

“I like to think I’m pretty tough.”

“Please, You got your ass kicked in Germany.”

“How would you know?” 

You turned away from the window and took a seat in front of Peter. 

“Cause I was the one doing the ass kicking most of time.”

“You’re Vagabond?! The anti-hero who fights with that maniac, what’s his name?”

“Deadpool.” You corrected. “Yeah, I am, but you better keep your damn mouth shut about that. I swear if you tell anyone about that, I’ll cut your dick off and feed it to my dog.”

“You don’t have a dog.”

“I’m about to get one if you cross me. But, yeah, I’m Vagabond. Whatever.”

“Dude, I’m like your biggest fan.”

“Yeah, I know, you told me right before I kicked your ass for fucking up Sam and Bucky.”

Peter rubbed his neck and looked down at his shoes as he spoke, “Right.”

“Listen, you wanna go out and have some fun? I can feel my dad’s eyes burning in the back of my head with all the shit he has in here.”

“Yeah, sure. Where are we going to go?”

“You’ll see.” You replied with a wicked smile.

You slipped on your jacket and grabbed your bag as you slapped Peter’s shoulder. 

“We’re about to become good friends.”

“I thought you didn’t want to be friends.” His statement sounded more like a question.

“Just roll with it, okay? The first rule of hanging out with me is not questioning me.”

“O-okay.”

And that was how you found yourself sitting on the fire escape to your friend’s apartment, smoking weed with Peter Parker, who you only got to do it after much convincing. And you somehow got him higher than a jet, laughing with you as you talked.

“So, Parker, what else did my dad tell you about me?”

“He told me some stupid shit.” He laughed before taking another hit. “This is really fun.”

“Hey!” You snatched the blunt from his hands. “Cool it with the smoking, alright? I paid good money for this shit.”

“You didn’t pay for it! You stole it!”

“Just shut up!” You yelled, dropping the blunt in the process.

“Oops.” Peter said as he burst into a fit of giggles. 

“Y/n? What the fuck are you doing in my apartment?!” Wade yelled as he walked over to the fire escape. 

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” You cursed, looking at Peter. “You better keep your damn mouth shut, got it?”

Peter nodded, gesturing as if he zipped his lips as you dragged him into the apartment. 

“Hey, Wade.” You greeted, acting as if everything was normal.

“Who’s the little shit bag you were smoking with?” He asked as he pointed to Peter.

Peter was seated on the couch, playing with a little action figure he found. 

“He’s my, uh, my friend.”

“Your friend?”

“Yeah, my friend.”

“You don’t have any friends.”

“I have you.”

“You’re my sidekick, like Robin for Batman.”

“Uh, no. I’m not your sidekick. And I sure as hell am not Robin cause Robin’s kinda a bitch.”

“And you aren’t? You broke into my house!”

“I brought chimichangas.”

“You are forgiven.”

“Thanks, Wade.” You scoffed.

“Woah.” Peter gasped, moving to your side. “You’re really pretty.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” You tried to play it cool, though you could feel a blush rise to your cheeks.

You had had a crush on Peter for a while at that point. He was cute and smart, two things you liked about him, but you couldn’t stand at how much of a nice guy he was, as odd as it sounds. You were irritated by his kindness,maybe because you were the very opposite, but nevertheless, what you didn’t know was Peter’s crush on you. 

“I really really really really really really really like you.” Peter sang, throwing his arms around you. 

“You’re really really really high, Parker.”

“It’s Peter.” He pouted, making you feel as though you were going to melt. 

“That’s nice, Parker.” You said, prying the boy off of you. 

“You know, I gots a big crush on you.” Peter stated, elongating the sound of the word ‘you’.

“Again, that’s nice, Parker.”

“She’s got a crush on you too!” Wade yelled between mouthfuls of chimichanga. 

“Wade!” You shrieked. “That was a secret.”

“What? He won’t remember cause he’s kind of passed out on my fucking couch.”

“Goddammit, Parker.” You mumbled as you turned around to see Peter passed out, half on and half off the couch. 

After a few hours of hanging out with Wade and avoiding the many calls from your father, Peter finally woke up, his high starting to wear off as he sat up with a groan. 

“Nice to have you back.” You stated, not looking at Peter as you stared at Wade. “Go fish.”

“Goddammit! I’m done.” Wade growled, throwing his cards at you. “Fuck you!”

“Fuck you too.”

“What time?”

“How about tomorrow?”

“Nah, not tomorrow. Francis needs a good ass kicking.”

“Damn, what a shame.” You laughed, shaking your head.

“Um...guys?” Peter spoke up and your laughter ceased. 

“Yeah, Parker?”

“Can we go now? Aunt May is gonna freak out if I don’t come home for dinner and when she freaks out, I freak out and-”

“Okay. We get it.” You cut him off as you stood up and slipped on your jacket. “Smell ya later, Wade.”

And with that, you and Peter were off once again, out on the street and on the way to dropping Peter off at the subway. 

“Listen, Y/n, I said somethings while kinda out of it-”

“More like really out of it, but go on.”

“Right. Well, I might’ve said some things you’re probably going to kill me for so can we just forget about it?”

“What kind of things did you say that I’d kill you for?” You asked, playing dumb to get him to say what he told you before. 

“Well, I remember saying that I liked you. Which I do, I just think you should just forget about it cause you think I’m too boring and nice and-”

You grabbed Peter’s arm and yanked him towards you, crashing your lips into his before pulling away as quickly as you kissed him.

“When you come by tomorrow, we’ll hang out, maybe watch Star Wars or something. I love those movies.” You said quickly, turning on your heel before walking away and leaving Peter to stand on the sidewalk in awe. 

Maybe Peter Parker wasn’t such a bad guy after all.

[flower-phan]

All I’ve Got Are Bad Habits (Part Two)

Havent Read Part One?: http://flower-phan.tumblr.com/post/152831916762/all-ive-got-are-bad-habits-part-one “This room is dark as shit” Dan says loudly observing the dark room he was being led into by the older boy, their giggling playfully lighting up the room as they walked. “Shhhhhh” joked Phil pressing his fingers to his lips “This is where the junkies sleep”. Prompt: Phil unexpectedly makes his way into Dan's life again, after three whole years. In that time Dan has managed to get his act together for the most part and forget all about Phil, until he unexpectedly showed up at one of Dan's NA meetings, and wants back into his life again. And Most surprisingly of all, Dan says yes. ____________________________________________________________________ On the paper Phil examined what appeared to be Dans scribbled address, his stomach felt warm and his face couldn't shake that smile. Dan walked away in haste, feeling like he could hardly breathe. He was astonished on what he just did, All these years, Dan promised himself he’d never talk to Phil ever again,, he spent years hating Phil, wishing he never would have been born. And now, In a split second, he had welcomed him back in his life in the same moment Dan was trying to get him to leave it. He didn't know what to do, In a state of extreme panic, it took all Dan had to drive home safely. With one hand on the steering wheel and the other ones fingers between his teeth and lips, ripping off what little nail had grown back since the last time Dan had a nervous fit, He thought about what dinner he could make for Phil out of the little he had. Dan looked at the time. 6;30, he read in panic. He showered, he dressed, and cleaned. All memories of the bad Phil slipped his mind and he went to a happier place. (Flashback 2009) “I missed you bear” says Phil, smelling Dan and engulfing him in his arms in such a way that let Dan feel so fucking safe. “I missed you too Phil” Dan stays in Phil's arms, a little longer than usual, And Phil really doesn't mind one bit. Dan find immediate comfort in Phil's shallow erratic breaths, paying attention to the way he breaths. “coffee?” says Phil, kissing Dan on the forehead and reaching to hold his small cold hands. Dan nods following his boyfriend through the snowy London streets. As they walked, Dan watched Phil breath out into the atmosphere, wisps of white smoke spreading into the air and disappearing with every breath he took. The way Dans woolen gloves acted like a blanket to his long slender hands, and Phil's palms in his acted like a heater, warmed Dan's heart in such a way that he could feel the metaphorical frost on his heart slowly melting. And he couldn't help smiling at his boyfriend as they reached the warm yellow glow of the small café. “Grab a smoke before we go inside?” Questions Phil. Dan hesitates for a moment, rubbing his hands together and noticing his home growing coldness “sounds good” he says deciding it was worth the frostbite. Making their way to the side of the building and finding some cozy looking crates to sit on, Phil retrieved a nicely rolled joint from his coat pocket. Then, took his lighter to the end of it. He examined the joint and the way the smoke danced off of the tip, before taking a drag, and closing his eyes, resting his head against the brick wall of the building. “I love you Dan Howell” he says simply, kissing his boyfriend on the cheek. Taking the joint from Phil, and inhaling a few drags himself “I love you too”. “I swear” continues Phil, “I think you are the best thing to ever happen to me. I mean it”. Dan blushes, as much as he's grown, as much as he doesn't want to admit it, he will always be a complete sucker for Phil “where is this coming from all of a sudden Philly?” “I'm just happy” he says taking another drag, “completely and utterly content”. They finished up their smoke, and went into the warm shop, ordering two coffees and sitting in the corner away from the crowd. And they giggle about the world, with their heads in the clouds. “I liked muse before you were born son” says Phil in an extremely northern way, laughing a little bit in between. “Phil, you are literally only four years older then me” scoffs Dan playfully. “Whatever you say freshman” giggles Phil. “Oh shut up” says Dan finishing up the last sip of his coffee. Phil does the same thing, and stands up with the same exciting mysteriousness that he seems to convey every single time “Well if we don't leave now we're going to be late”. “Where are we going?” quizzed Dan. “To a party” says Phil, almost wiggling his eyebrows and then forming his arm in a triangular formation for Dan too cling on too “and I hope, of course you will be my date tonight?” Dan felt alive “of course, of course!”. It didn't take long for the boys to get to the flat in which the party was being held. In fact, they kept their car parked over near the coffee shop and walked over to the house since it was only a few blocks away. The outside was cold, but the earlier buzz managed to numb the frostbite a little bit. They hurried while a soft wind blew on their faces making their noses red. They laughed though the pain, walking under yellow glowing christmas lights that made everything so much more jolly. But the apartment showed much more spectacular atmosphere. All the holly-jolly Christmas vibes left as soon as they closed the door behind them. Only to reveal the dark lighted scene that awaited them, Dan was mesmerized. This wasn't like any of the parties that Phil had brought him too before. It was luxury. Dan gazed upon the room, where women looked like supermodels and the guys looked like actors. Champaign and ladies holding lit cigarettes. He couldn't believe his eyes “I feel a little bit underdressed” expresses Dan. “And yet you're the prettiest one here” he says in that swave calming way that makes Dan soothe “don't be nervous these are my friends, I have a bit of business to take care of”. He could only imagine what kind of mischief Phil was into now, but blindly followed his guidance anyway. It scared Dan sometimes how Phil would be so reckless, and yet it was the very thing that made him feel alive. And yet Dan couldn't help but feel like Phil is the only reason he wasn't a dweeb anymore. In fact, he probably felt that way because that was exactly the case. He knew it, and though it hurt him a little inside to know that Phil larger than him in so many ways, and he just couldn't manage to burn as bright. The boys walk through hallways of the house before approaching a closed door. Phil hesitates before opening the door, and takes a deep breath in before finally knocking on the wood. A man opens the door, and isn't as intimidating as Dan thought Phil was hyping him up too be, but Phil could make a mountain out if a mole hill any day “Hey Phil! Nice too see you again!” he says giving Phil a high five. “Nice too see you too PJ” says Phil obviously trying not to make small talk “I have what was discussed”. Dans eyes dart around the room, is Phil really making a fucking drug deal right now? “Ah yes, well, let's get to it then” he says, pulling out the most astonishing bag of white Dan had ever saw. Dan could easily jump to the conclusion that the big bag of white was Cocaine again, of course, Dan would be hypocritical to tell Phil it was a bad idea to be seen with that much substance. Dan however, was even more taken aback by the wad of cash that was pulled from Phil's back pocket and given to the other boy. “3,000, It's all there” Says Phil. “Seems like it” Says PJ, smiling and counting the money in his hands. “Well then its pleasure doing buisness with you, Lester” He smiles. Phil bends down on his knee and puts the giant block of drugs in his bag, Dan felt the adrenaline in his veins, and the slight anger at Phil for putting him in that awkward situation, and the sudden realisation that he was about to get fucked tonight. Even with that happy thought on his mind, he still made a solid effort to scold Phil for his reckless actions. “Phil, what the literal fuck” Says Dan as soon as they exit the room with very important it “You are literally carrying around 3,000 pounds worth of Cocaine”. Phil smiled his carefree cheeky smile, that in this moment, with blaring music, pimps, and junkies around, just made Dans blood a little hotter “Um, Dan, Number one this is crystal meth, and number two chill, We are going to bring it right back to the car” He got a little angrier at his boyfriend as they exited the apartment, his high has begin to fizz out, and it was just too fucking cold to be outside “Meth? What are you fucking Walter White? Phil, Fucking really”. “Yes” He says turning to look at Dan, “Now we will talk when we get in the car, can you please just shut up for a second until we get there? I love you please” He says kissing Dan's forehead. Dan didn't know, why all of a sudden Phil was getting this attitude on him. Phil protectively placed his hand around Dans waist, and walked with him to the Car, opening and closing the door behind him. Dan folded his arms and slumped down in the seat pouting his lips ever so slightly. “You're such a big baby” Says Phil starting up the car, and blaring the heat “Is that warmer? You look cold”. “Don’t baby me, you big drug dealer bitch” Says Dan. “How do you know I’m dealing?” Asked Phil. “Well, are you dealing?” questioned Dan. “Technically” answered Phil Dan flew his head back against the passenger seat, with a long sigh he ran his hands through his hair “Is there anything I can do about it, get you too stop being stupid?”. Phil didn't seem to take any offence too Dan, handing him a cigarette and lighting the stick for him too “Well, I just bought 3,000 pounds worth of Crystal Meth, and if you're not going to do 3,000 pounds of Meth with me, I suppose not”. Dan thought about Meth, and how a drug like that compared to the ones he's already tried. And when Dan put too and two together in his head he realized that they don't compare. On the great big scale of things, Meth was a lot fucking worse than cocaine or weed was. He heard about being ruining their lives, Kids from school he used to go to school with have ruined their lives from trying it just a few times. It scared Dan knowing Phil was a carefree guy, selling hard drugs on the street. “Have you ever tried Meth, Phil?” Dan asks, he was scared to know the answer. Phil doesn't answer right away, not knowing really what to say “Two or three times”. Dan sighs “Is that what you are doing this shit for? We can pay for your drugs Phil, you don’t need to be a shithe-”. “No” Phil cuts of Dan abruptly “I've been doing this forever, even before I started doing the, Ive always sold”. “How long?” Asks Dan. “Since I was Fifteen” He says. Dan wasn't per say judging Phil, Dan knew, as much as he knew about Phil, he’d never know everything. Phils happiness covers up whatever bullshit that he's been through, his eagerness and don't-worry-about-it attitude, it goes away in moment when he opens himself up like this. Dan knows he shouldn't pry, but Phils like a story book he's so eager to read “Why?”. “To provide” He says. “For your family?” Dan Pokes. “My brother and myself” He says, not seeming too bothered by the subject “My mum and Dad, it's not that they didn't care about my brother and I. They loved us so much and tried really hard, but their addiction got the best of them”. Phil looked really sad in that moment, Dsn swers he seen a tear escaped his eye but he couldn't be so sure because whatever was on phil's cheek he wiped it away in an instant “But this is a good night, let's not ruin that. Shall we?” He says placing a fake smile on his face and turning the ignition key. But Dan couldn't let his boyfriend feel that way inside, and somehow Dan just knew. He reached for the key and turned it off. Phil looked at Dan, more tears starting to form at the corner of his eyes, his face booing broken, something other than happiness showing on his face for the first time since he met the boy. Dan opened his arms “Come here” He says, and Phil collides into him releasing a yelp of despair. “It's been a year, you think I’d be over it by now. But every holiday that passes, every moment, I hurt. Because I always knew they had this issue, that they loved to use. But they didn't go anywhere you know? They were just sick, and now they are gone and I am alone” Phil sputters, crying into Dan's shoulder. Phil picks up his head, eyes red from the tears, and Dan sees the heartbreak “Where are you staying?”. “In a motel” He says, his nose stuffed, wiping his face with his sleeve. Dan felt angry, that an angel, A boy who has clearly shown that even though being sad, that their was hope for happiness. The boy that had taught Dan what love is, and taught him to stop being a bummed out faggot, was hurting this much, because he wasn't loved, and felt alone “No, No, No, that won't do” Dan says getting out of the car. “Where are you going?!” Phil says almost frantically . “Give me the keys, I’m driving” Dan says opening up Phil's car door. “Where are we going?” Says Phil switching doors. “To my house” Says Dan kissing his boyfriend on the cheek, “We're Not spending Christmas in a motel, and you're not spending it alone, so you're coming to my house” “But you're parents, won't they know….” Trails off Phil. “I don’t care” Say says stubbornly shutting his boyfriend up “I love you, and fuck they are going to love you too”. The sediment of the situation made Phil smile thankfully into his shoulder, he didn't want to be a bother to Dan, but he knew dan wasn't going to take no for an answer anyway. Christmas made Phil feel like a child all over again, but then again, so did Dan. The boys continued in the car, and Phil lit up a joint like nothing even happened. Dan turned on his Dad’s,shitty car’s heat up high so that they boys could keep the cold out,Dan found an old christmas music station, and they smiled and sang at the top of their lungs like Phil did not have a shit load of meth in the back seat. The drive was long, an hour and a half to be accurate, But every moment the boys spent with each other was not a moment wasted, Because neither one of them could get enough of each other. They reached Dan’s front door at the wee hours of the night, which was probably a good thing because the boys definitely had the stench of a thousand skunks “Don’t worry, they are very much asleep by now” Dan expresses to Phil, being sure to hold a single finger to his lips making sure to keep quiet. Dan takes his boyfriend by the hand, leading him to his old teenage room. If lonely little sixteen year old Dan knew what he was doing now, Dan thought, He would literally shit his pants. “Ill tell them about you in the morning, My mother sure won't mind me actually having someone to socialize with” Dan laughs. Phil stands looking around the room, observing and taking everything in. Phil hadn't said many words on the ride home, but he didn't need too, on the rare occasion that Phil didn't have anything to say, Dan managed to pick up the slack. “Thank you again” Phil says “Hey” Dan says walking closer to his boyfriend, standing in front of him so timidly “Don't worry about it, I love you, and I was just thinking all week…”. Dan stops for a moment, running his fingers over the bookshelf behind him and turning to his boyfriend “that I am so grateful to have you. That you have spiced up my life for the better, and that I'd be having the best Christmas ever if I was spending it with you, so shut uppp”, Dan says playfully punching his boyfriend in the arm “Ow” Phil said in response to how his arm felt, rubbing it with his hand, and playfully engulfing his boyfriend in a hug. “I love you” Phil whispers. “I love you too” Laughs Dan, “now what kind of drugs do you have for us tonight?”. Phil wiggles his eyebrows, and dances his way over to his backpack, pulling out three bags “weed, cocaine, and Meth. Pick your poison baby”. Dan hugs his boyfriend from behind, slowly nibbling on his neck and ear “you're my poison baby”. “don’t worry” Phil says turning his head to snatch a kiss “I'll give it to you when you're ready, baby, you know I could never leave you needy”. And believe me, if Dan wasn't needy before, He definitely was then. He couldn't stop his eyes from lingering all over Phil, and Phil definitely noticed, trying extra hard to put on a show. He packed the bowl, lit it, and handed it to Dan. Dan didn't freak, his parents were sleeping, and he wasn't even sure if they knew what weed was. They smoked for a while, packing bowls until neither one of them felt like they could get any higher. Then they snorted two lines each, of the purest cocaine Phil has ever found in his life. Although, Dan did not know the difference.And all while this was happening, They just couldn't stop talking, making out, or touching each other. Hands grazed skin, and Dan couldn't figure out what was better, touching Phil, or being touched by him. Eventually they had nothing on, but a blanket covering both of them. “I don't know how this could get any better” Says Dan. “I do” responds Phil getting up from Dan's bed. Dan didn't mind watching Phil walk away in that moment, him standing there in all of his glory. Dan was so fucked up, and Phil was so beautiful, he didn't even mind when Phil crushed up some Meth and put it into two neat lines on the table. “Two for you, or one for each of us?” Dan asked dazed off into the distance. “That's not my choice to make, it's yours” Responds Phil. _______________________ Present: Dan sucked in hard at the memory, why did everything that Dan held dear have to be tainted by his addiction. If he even thinks about meth, his skin starts to itch. The feeling it gave him, the person it made him, and the person he used to do meth with. “7:30” says the clock. Dan sinks lower into the couch, wondering if he will ever feel alive ever again. He mentally slaps himself, knowing that he probably won't and he's stupid for being hopeful about anything good happening to him. He think about Phil coming over and his palms start to sweat just like they used too “you're not nineteen anymore, get a grip” he says to himself throwing himself up to start preparing for his guest. He unpacked takeout from his favorite asian restaurant down the street. Even if he didn't have fun tonight, Dan was all about treating himself to a good meal. Taking black dishes down from the white cupboard, Dan freaks out about the lack of color in his apartment, knowing that Phil would like it so much better in his flat if it were adorn in color. He sighed laying out forks and spoons, and dropping one instantly to the ground when he heard a knock on the door. Dan's heart fell to his stomach, knowing that he was about to spend the night with Phil.It would be interesting to say the least. Dan, after two years of experience Dan would know that for sure. And after spending three years, cleaning up his mess, he was about to meet again with the man who turned him into one. Dan's heart raced. Phil on the other side of the door, hears mumbles and small yells coming from what must be Dan inside, grasping flowers real tight in his hand, he dryly speaks up “Dan, are you alright in there?”. Dan's eyes bulge looking at the door “fuck” he mumbles “yeah dude, I'm okay, just give me a minute”. Phil stops for a moment listening closer, learning his cheek against the cold door “are you afraid Dan?” Says Phil lightly. “Yes” answers Dan faintly and honestly. “I am too” says Phil, “want me to let myself in?” “Yeah” Dan says, watching the doorknob twist and the tall raven haired boy step inside. Dan took a deep breath “Hello Phil”. ___________________ “It's not my choice, to make, it's yours” responds Phil. Dan thinks as hard as his for brain will allow him too, and he can't find a single reason at that moment why he wouldn't want to do Meth. So Dan crawled up too Phil, not minding that he was completely exposed, and not minding that Phil's eyes trailed on him as he walked. “Are you scared?” Questions Phil, talking his boyfriend into his arms and stroking his long hair out of his face. “No” answers Dan simply “I'm not afraid at all, which is weird because I always am”. “I can't tell if it's a good or a bad thing” he continues. Phil didn't say much, he only looked at Dan. He didn't understand why people always said his eyes were so pretty. Compared to Dan's, his eyes that were often described as oceans only looked like a puddle. Dan's eyes were, he could hardly find the words to describe them. Like elegant chocolate and honey, like hot embers glowing with passion for him. It was beautiful. And he thought, what a terrible time to think about this. Because Dan was so innocent and precious, and he almost felt like he was potentially going to hurt this boy's future. And then again, that's all Phil wanted to be, Dan's future. Things have never worked for Phil. He was awkward, and although he was good at hiding it, he hardly ever knew what the fuck he was doing. He didn't understand romance, he didn't know how to make someone happy or be there for someone. And yet it was so easy with Dan. In Phil's mind, his sexuality was a giant blur. He grew up straight, dating girls and fucking them over. And he never knew why it was so easy for him to fuck them and throw them away, not caring about their feelings and letting them suffer. He thought he was a bad person and he thought he was heartless, and maybe he was, but at least now he knew why. He was gay, his mind went haywire thinking about it. After all this time, the thing he didn't know he wanted was a boy. So when he seen Dan for the first time, and he finally got those butterflies in his stomach that he had always heard about, he went for it. And now he had his first boyfriend, and he was comfortable about it. “Nor a bad thing, but maybe not a good thing either” says Phil leaving kisses on the boys neck. “Well, I'd try anything once” Dan laughs into Phil's chest making Phil heart warm. “Well, it's just like cocaine, all you do is snort it" explains Phil. Dan nods letting Phil knows he had understood his directions, proceeding, they both bend over at the same time too inhale the substance. And Dan Can't Believe it. It was like the greatest euphoria he had ever felt. It's like how his first kiss with Phil felt, times ten It was like being a small child and thinking Santa left you tons of presents under the Christmas tree, times ten. It was like getting his driver's license times ten. It was everything he wanted to feel and more, it felt like he was experiencing all of the joy he had missed out on But every single moment as once . “oh my god” Dan said breathlessly tilting his head back against the pillow, “oh my god” he repeated again. “Isn't it great” said Phil “that's why I don't do it too often. It's too good”. Dan wondered how anyone could ever want to spend their time doing anything else, “I agree” Dan nodded. Dan looked at the clock, it was three am. Christmas eve was tomorrow and he didn't know how he was going to get any type of sleep anytime soon. He looked at Phil, and he realized he didn't need too. He had Phil to keep him company, and he realized he had all the entertainment in the world. Dan looked at his boyfriend, they were already unclothed, it wouldn't be that hard. Dan only had one task on his mind, and that was Phil. He lifted his leg and swung it around to the other side of Phil so he was straddling his legs. He caught his boyfriend's attention, Phil looking up at Dan blissfully happy. Dan picks up the blanket besides it and wraps it around him and then around Phil's shoulders. “I want you” Dan huskily whispers to Phil, nibbling his ear as he speaks. Phil takes Dan's face so their eyes meet each other “I worship you” Phil says. Dan shys himself, falling into his boyfriend's chest, leaving kisses from his belly all the way up to his neck. “Oh god” Phil exclaims, “this feels so fucking good”. Dan murmurs in agreement “All I want to do is touch you”. They make out for a while, passionately biting each other's lips. It's not long before the tension builds up, and Dan can feel a hot tention burning up in his stomach and a growing erection between his legs. Phil reaches down for him “you're so bloody needy” he growls. He takes Dan's length in his hands, stroking slowly until Dan starts to stroke into him “, be patient for me honey”.` He calmed down and let himself feel it, doing his best to let Phil do all the work for him. The pleasure was intense and soon Dan was on the verge of coming “Please stop, I’m going to come. I want you inside of me” Dan begs. Phil removes his hand from Dan's length, feeling his own erection growing stronger and more needy for pleasure as well. He couldn't deny his Boyfriend or his own needs any longer. Picking up Dan and laying him on the bed, he places the younger boy on his back “Do you have any lube baby?” Phil questions. “In my nightstand” Dan says needly. Phil retrieves the Lube, and smiling at the cute cherry flavoring, he giggles as he poured the pink substance onto his fingers. Dan looked at Phil in anticipation as he began to shove one finger into his ass, he moaned as he stroked in and out. “Please, more” Dan instrucks Phil. Adding another one of his fingers inside, he smiles as beautiful moans escape Dan's lips, He only hopes Dans bedroom is far enough away from his parents to hear them. Soon Phil can't wait any longer, being turned on even more by his boyfriends moans,he coats his own length with the lube, slowly stroking himself he asks “Are you ready baby?” Dan nods in approval. Dan could hardly control his screams, and he didn't know how anything could possibly ever feel so good “Fuck, Fuck, Fuck, Phil” He moans under his breath. It was the most extreme pleasure he has ever felt, Phil's cock hitting his prostate dead on, and Phil's other hand stroking his. “I don't want you to come yet. Baby, Can you hold off for me?” Phil Says, his stroking pace getting slower along with his own. Dan nods, trying to take all of his focus off of the passion growing in his stomach, the dull, new pace making it harder to resist the temptation. He feels his cock throbbing, deciding this is quite possibly the best sex he has ever had. “I can't hold out much longer, Phil!” Dan exclaims. But he didn't have too, because soon he felt Phil release, and he releases in that moment as well. Dan watched his boyfriend on top of him like god in the clouds above, jaw hanging open like he had seen a ghost. He collapses onto the bed besides Dan, subconsciously wrapping him into his arms. “I'm not tired” Dan observes out loud. “You won't be for about another two days” Phil responds smiling at his boyfriend “it's okay, come here”. Dan follows orders, curling up besides the dark haired boy, and laying his head right in his chest. Dan closed his eyes, feeling Phils warmth radiate on too his back. He tried to imagine what the stars looked like past the roof, but the only image he could conjure in his head was Phil’s eyes. ______________________________________ Present: “You remember my takeout order?” Phil smiles holding up the plastic tray of food for Dan. “If I didn't after dealing with you for three years, well, that means the acid did more harm than we thought” Dan laughs. “Boy, haven't we gotten cynical ?” Phil remarks. Dan nods, he wasn't wrong, three years alone have toughen him up like his bones were steel beams “I just know how to laugh at myself” replys Dan. The room was silent for a moment, void of conversation but not of awkwardness. Dan just didn't know if he could ever accept Phil into his life again. His hair was shorter than before, it suited him, the boy he once knew looked like a man. His tall lanky frame had turned from boyish to cut and fitting for his age and stature, and even his voice and overall tone bad managed to age. He didn't see a boy anymore, he saw a man. “Three years sober” Phil says “you really did stick too it, didn't you?”. Dan nods, retrieving a cigarette from his pocket “I suppose I still have a few vices. How about you?”. “a year and a half now” he says reaching for his pack now as well, “i guess it took me a little while longer too see the light” Dan throws him a smile “Hey it's Okay, Philly, I still smoke weed, I didn't stop cold Turkey”. Phil smiles at Dan, and thinks about how truly happy he is that Dan manages to pick himself up. And although he has missed Dan, he knew if he was in the picture that just wouldn't have happened. He seen a man in front of him, not a boy. Phil grazes his eyes unsubtly over Dan, “you have really matured, Dan, your almost like a whole new person”. Dan rolls his eyes, “that's because I grew up and got my shit together”, he looks at Phil in the same manner “how about you, not so much of a scene kid these days huh”. “I've toned it down” he smiles gleefully with a hint of regret. Dan looked at the boy astonished, he truly didn't know what to do. It's like nothing had changed between them, like nothing had happened. Like all of the heartbreak Dan went through was nothing. “why are you here?”, Dan asks Phil suddenly. Phil thinks for a moment, not taking his eyes off of Dan. However, given the circumstances, how could he? “Another chance approached me, and I knew I'd be a fool not to take it” Phil expressed. “A chance for what?” Dan asked harshly. “To say sorry” Phil says hopefully. Dan took a good look at Phil, and all at the same time couldn't stand to take another glance. He could feel his eyes water, but he didn't want Phil to know that he was crying so he didn't wipe them, he just clenched his fists tighter in hope that it would stop. “I don't. I don't hate you Phil”, Dan explains, “I don't care that you're half the reason my life is ruined, because I can't blame you for that. I choose to follow you-” ____________________________________ It took three days for the boys to fall asleep. After the Christmas fun, the joy in the holidays, the smile that appeared of Phil face, right beneath the bags under his eyes. It was only on the plane ride back home that they finally drifted asleep, no matter how uncomfortable the plane seats were. After three days of Dan's first time on meth, he finally came down, and all he wanted was to go back up. They spent new years in their dorm room, doing exactly what dan wanted. “yo, break out that crystal mate” Dan would say jokingly, with just the right amount of seriousness in his tone. “oh yeah bro, i'll crush that shit right now” Phil would respond extra northerner like. And days would go by, Dan would go to school after taking one last line of the table. Phil would sell glass to his clients. And each day, they would fall even more in love. And it was so perfect. Until it wasn't perfect anymore. It was one saturday morning everything changed, nine am to be exact there was a pounding on their dorm room door. “What the fuck” Phil whispered sleepily unwrapping his arm from His boyfriend to see who was at the door. Dan sat up, and shivered as Phil had gotten up. Phil opened the door to see a familiar shining face. It was the first Lady who had brought Phil to him for the first time before. Her face, however, had a certain unhappy tone in contrast from before. Her arms were folded and her lips curled in disgust, she hands Phil a piece of paper. “You guys need to be out, Two days time. And neither one of you will be attending classes at this university anymore” She said simply. Dan's heart dropped and his eyes widened as he sat up in the bed upon hearing the lady's words” Wh- What do you mean we’re kicked out?” Asks Phil staring at the slip of paper. “We have a zero tolerance drug policy at this university. You two are as dumb as dirt if you don't think everybody in this hall doesn't know what you two are doing at night” he points her finger selectively on both of the boys “And you just better be glad we are kicking you out and not getting the police involved. Two days, you have two days to get out of here”. It was like slow autumn. Turning from Summer time into Fall, watching leaves turn from green, to yellow, to dead; ending up crunched up and broken on the pavement, wet and mucky at the bottom of a lake, or in a trash bag somewhere. That's how things crumbled for them, building beautifully, and dying all at once just when you thought it was the most gorgeous it could have been. She left quickly after that, leaving Dan and Phil taken aback staring at each other. Neither one of them could speak, everything was all caught in their throat and they had nobody to blame but themselves. Phil sat next to Dan while they both tried to take it all in. Phil was the first to talk “Okay, Well. I have a plan.” Dan jumped “What is it?”. “Suicide pact” Phil Laughed flopping back onto the bed. “This isn't a joke Phil!” Dan says annoyed, getting up and starting to pace “We just got kicked out of school! Our futures are ruined!”. Dan couldn't believe it, He wasn't doing the best in school, but he was tying. And now he couldn't try anymore, because he was just kicked out of school. He felt like a failure, like everything everyone has always said about him was true. A lazy, loner, procrastinator, that would never achieve to anything. They were right. He couldn't breath, no air would pass through his lungs, and he felt like he was going to fall to the floor at any moment. But all he did was pace. “I know it's a bad deal, We fucked up. But you can go back to school in england, live with your parents again. Everything goes back to normal” Phil says getting up too pat dan on the back. And However Dan knew that was rational, and well. Of course it was rational, That was the adult thing to do, suck up his pridem admit he made a mistake, and do everything in your power to fix it, right? All of Dan Howells problems might be fixed, fuck, he might even get sober, however, the easy way out was not Dans way of doing things. Leaving america, meant leaving Phil. Leaving America and going pack to his parents house meant that he would have to tell them he got kicked out of his university because he was doing hardcore drugs. And lastly, leaving America meant that Dan howell wouldn't have any access to any sort of drugs, because he was a loser, and no way was he going to be a drugless, boyfriendless loser who lives with his parents. So he scrapped that idea to the back of his brain. “Get that out of your head, Phil. I'm not telling my parents I got kicked out of school And I am especially not leaving you either” Dan says rather harshly to his boyfriend. Phl sighs “It was worth a shot” He says “well, then we're going to have too rough it for a while. And luckily I know exactly how to do that. You just have too trust me”. Dan was so scared that he didn't speak during the next few hours it took too clean up their room. They continued to do drugs in the last moments that they spent because, well what more damage could they really do? Dan sat and wondered what he was going to do with the rest of his life, now that he, you know, ruined his education. He felt what could be an existential crisis and the need to lay down on the floor and fade into oblivion hung over his shoulders like dead weight. Nonetheless, He snorted and smoked anything that he could get his hands on that night to ease the pain. By nine O’clock at night, everything was packed. They looked at each other in silence for a moment before Phil englifed Dan in a hug. ‘What are we going to do?” Dan started to weep into his boyfriend's shoulders “I just completely ruined my life Phil”. Phil shakes his head and pats Dan’s back to assure him “Hey, Hey, Hey” Dan says soothing him “It's just another little bump in the road. You can always apply for other colleges, or go to a community college. We can turn this into something great, we can get a flat together”. Dan smiled at Phil, a flat? A flat, with Phil? He always knew how to make Dan feel better “You mean that?” Dan said. “I love you Dan, There is nothing I would love more” He says Now let's go, we need to find a place to stay tonight” Of course they did have two more days to get out of there, But as Phil had mentioned while they were packing, there was simply no point in staying in a place where they weren't wanted. So they grabbed their boxes and took trips up and down too Phil's car, filling the back seats with their combined prised possessions until the back seat was filled; Leaving what they felt was unnecessary behind, The boys started out on their journey sitting in the car and smoking a joint one last time. Phil laughs smoking, and flicking the ashes out of the window “Well, I suppose we can’t sleep in the car then?”. Dan nods, he feels like crying, but Phil's high spirits manage to lift him up some sort of way “Then it's either, under a bridge or a motel somewhere”. “Option B sounds a little more preferable to me, What do we have for combined money?” Phil asks “In my bank account, probably about five thousand”. Dan was surprised to hear that number, knowing that Phil has never really ever had ay type of job. He let the thought escape his mind, He didn't want to know the answer to that one. But for that same reason, he also felt safe. Phil knew how to survive the streets, and he knew that Phil wasn't going to let anything bad happen to him no matter what. He felt reassured “About three thousand, My parents send me money monthly for school. Which they don’t exactly know I don’t attend. And although it sounded sleezy, Dan KNEW he was going to need that money. `”Well, That should help us survive for a while. We can get jobs, We can do this” Phil said with a hint of doubt in his voice “How about we find a place to stay tonight, and then we start looking in the morning. Sound good?” Dan nodded but stayed quiet, it seemed like he didn't have the right words to say. It's not that he didn't trust Phil, because he did, with his whole heart. But he knows the impact of the events that have just taken place, and that's not something he could fix so easily. How could he be so careless with his life like that? He had tried so hard, and now here he was. He didn't feel like a loser anymore, but again, he felt like the biggest loser out there. They drove for about thirty minutes with the car radio as a low and dull background noise, meant to fill the gap of silence that was between them. They weren't mad at eachother, and how could they be? It was a fuck up on both ends and now they were going to have to face the consequences, but there was no shame, they were going to do it together. But their was a certain tension, a fear of the unknown, and how they were going to fix this mess. Soon, the boys got to their destination, a shabby looking place, and half off the bulbs on the welcome sign blown out. It didn't feel like home, until Phil grabbed Dans hand in the parking lot, his thumb over his hand slightly, and suddenly it did. Phil was home, And that gave Dan the bravery he lacked. When they finally checked into their hotel room, Phil looked around thoughtfully and faced Dan “Well it could be worse” He chuckled. Dan looked around, and this place definitely wasn't a vacation. The green and yellow sheets did not contrast well to the faded brown wallpaper on the walls, looking at the smoke stained ceiling and lamp, Dan was glad that at least they could smoke in here. And hopefully in doing so the bugs will hide somewhere far away from Dan as he Slept. Dan throws down his stuff, hesitantly sitting down on the bed, and then flopping down heavily. “they will be surprised to see us in here for more than a few hours” Phil said, sitting down next to his boyfriend “this is where the junkies come too shoot up, get off the street for the night. I've spent a few nights here in the past”. Dan didn't want to ask, but for some reason he did “Were you shooting up?” Dan asks, with a hint of playfulness in his life. “Yes actually” Phil Says without shame “ Do you want to jump in the shower honey? You look tired”. Dan nods, deciding it's better to dismiss the problem completely. Besides, what was he going to do now? He loves Phil, but he can't help but feel like the drugs use acts like cling film around the two boys, keeping them together completely. Dan tried not to think about it too much as Phil helps him remove the shirt from his back, his touch is so soft and delicate as it leaves their touch on his skin. It feels like heaven, it feels like home. But yet, he feels wrong too. He kisses Phil with apprehension, and as he washes his back, he thinks more about the touch than the toucher himself. And then he thinks about how he isn't high, and how he wants to be. So the boys dry off and get on cozy jammies from their suitcases, they lay back in bed, and put the glass up to their lips. Dan has been doing meth for about five months now, when Dan gets up to use the bathroom he examines his ever thinning frame in the mirror. He smiles and grabs at his different body parts, realizing that the baby fat he used to hate so much. The thing that Dan realized about doing Meth constantly is that you never really have an appetite, and when you continue to do meth, it means you can't stomach more than a couple bites. Dan didn't mean to starve himself. He hardly even notices it happening until three days pass and he can feel his stomach caving in, he would then force himself to eat something light, because eating seemed to disgust him. He could wrap his pointer finger and thumb around his wrist, he wondered if Phil noticed his thinning frame, He wondered if Phil preferred it or not. Dan slips into a big jumper and some boxers, He could feel the comfortable high taking effect. He checked the time, it said 10:30, normal people would be sleeping at this time, but Dan knew he'd be awake for the better part of the night from the uphoria. Dan looked into the mirror at his dilated pupils, and remembers how beautiful Phils probably look right now. Dan exits the bathroom and sees his boyfriend sitting on the edge of the bed, the old green sheets stripped and replaced for Phil’s similar set. Dan smiled because that was such a Phil thing to do. He goes up to Phil, swinging both of his legs over Phils so he can straddle him “I J-Just. I Just got to look at your eyes right now” Dan says placing his hands on Phils neck. “Then look you shall” Phil says widening his eyes and squinting them back up again to tease the boy. Dan laughs “You fucking Spork”. _________________________________________________________________________________________ “I don't. I don't hate you Phil”, Dan explains, “I don't care that you're half the reason my life is ruined, because I can't blame you for that. I choose to follow you-” Dan trails off failing to get the right words out of his mouth, over thinking it all, and making himself cry more than he was before. He takes a breath in for composure “ I choose to follow you. I did the…. I- ...wanted to be cool.” Dan says. “But I can't think about it? Okay? Ive survived three years because I managed to detach myself from that part of my life, got it? I” Dan wipes his eyes again, replacing his sadness and anger for a lighter note “ And now look at you, Mr- Fucking- Perfect, coming in here all grown up, sober, and awkward and clumsy? Who even are you?” Phil is caught off by the emotion spewing from Dan, how someone he used to see as so mousy and defenceless, Looked so strong even when he was crying. Phil was amazed, Not only by his forward motion of “Mr- Fucking-Perfect”, but also by his willingness to get it all on the table. “You have grown so much” Phil laughs looking at Dan through found eyes. And besides the worries of both of the boys, That night wasn't as terrible and awkward as it could have been, It wasn't like the terrible noise of anging pots and pans, but more like hearing your little eight year old sister practice her recorder in school. Yeah, it might have been painful and annoying, but at least they were trying? They were trying. For the first time In three years Dan didn't feel alone, so why did he resent it so much? Why was Dan having so much fun, and yet at the same time all he wanted was for Phil too leave. But at the same time it felt like a second chance, a second chance too no fuck up something that was great even when it was bad. He wasn't sure, all Dan knows is that he wanted Phil to leave, and all at the same he wished he would crawl into his bed. After that night, Didn't mind seeing Phil. There was no dread of Friday NA with Phil, they would go out for smokes before hand and after, catching up on their separate weeks, but never really hanging out besides that. Just because Dan didn't mind Phil, doesn't mean that Dan was ready under any circumstances to be around Phil again. Dan could still feel his throat clenching and eyes watering sometimes, just thinking about the things that happened between him and Phil. Dan never really had the chance to get any help with the “Trauma”, as some might call it. He may have gone to a rehab, but that only fixed the chemical part to the equation. Dan is smart and old enough to know that he used drugs when he was young because he didn't want to deal with his problems. It was an escape, and he was aware of that. However he might have escaped his addiction, but he never dealt with the problems he was facing at the time, and the added trauma on top of that. Dan was still a wreck, but at least he was a sober wreak anyway. One Day when Dan goes out for a smoke, Phil joins his and they sit on the railing outside of the familiar church building that holds the NA program. It was their spot, just under a tree, where everything looked so optimistic from the shade. The tree was pink, and it reminded Dan of japan and pure bliss, when the two would discuss Anime, it would only enhance the experience “Do you wanna come over today?” Phil asked flicking his cigarette onto the grass, twisting the filter between his hands. Dan teased the idea of going to Phil's apartment, His curiosity said yes, but his brain said no. Dan didn't know if he wanted to see what Phil's life looked like, he didn't know if he wanted to get that close to him again. Of course Phil had gone to Dan's house, but that was his comfort, Phil was alien to him now, it had been years, he didn't even know who Phil was anymore. And Phil could feel his apprehension, he felt a small pang in his chest “I mean like, we would like, hang out? I haven't played Mario Cart with someone in ages”. Phil took a long, sad, drag of his cigarette, truthfully he hadn't had any company in months. He was too afraid. He would stay in his house and work on his work, trying to scrape by on the paintings he could sell at the market, and working part time at the florist shop under his house. He liked working there, slowly watching all the plants grow from the soil in which he raised them, and since then he acquired many of them in his appartment. Sadly, However, the green foliage doesn't speak, and Phil is often alone. He didn't trust himself to go out, But he trusted Dan, He hoped. Dan noticed Phils sadness and even though his apprehension he found himself agreeing, It's not like he wasn't going to do anything tonight anyway. ______________________________________________________________________ Past: They didn't manage to get on their feet until a couple days later, when they got out of there constant loop of half sobriety and meth infused nights. Dan would stare at the wall, and Phil would stare into the TV screen, sometimes they would look at each other. And eventually, One of them got sober enough to realize that something needed to get done. Both the boys looked online for a flat in their price range, which wasn't much, and both of them needed jobs since they needed to be adults, which also happened to be in low quality. They found a flat, in a neighborhood that Phil was familiar with, he said “It needs some TLC” But it was a place for them. And Dan wondered if this was such a bad thing to begin with anyway. He didn't really want to go to college, he only went because it was what what suspected of him. But now he was old enough to do everything he wanted, which was be with Phil. They got the flat, they had enough funds to sustain them for now, and they would worry about the jobs within the next couple months. Until then, Phil would sell, the one way he for sure sure he could get cash. The first time they went to their new home, Dan was apprehensive to say the least. The tiles in the kitchen floor were cracked and Dan would never dare in a million years to try using the bearfoot claw with paint chipping off the sides. Although, Dans disgust started to fade however when the boys started to fill the house with their stuff. Everything, in an instant, started to look better when it was littered with the clutter of their belongings. “We will definitely need to take a trip to IKEA soon” Phil expressed positively while wiping his hands against his jeans as he added the rest of his help to the house “We only have one bed currently, I'm sure that won't be a problem though”. Dan admired how Phil would always manage to make light of even the gloomiest of situations. Dan felt like their was a rain cloud over his head, pouring rain and soaking his brain. But light peeked out the clouds and at least created a pretty rainbow for the sad boy too look at while it poured. As the Boys began to get settled into the new swing of things, Phil started to teach Dan the ropes. Since Dan wasn't engrossed in his school work now, he could go on runs with Phil. And since Phil never really went to class to begin with, suppose this was just the same for Phil as before, Except Dan was with him all the time now and he lived somewhere else. And to Phil, this wasn't a horrible thing at all. In fact, He happened to like this way of living little more. And Dan didn’t feel as stressed, so he didn't bother enrolling himself in local college spring classes, Being with Phil, selling drugs, partying, and doing drugs, was all Dan was really interested in nowadays, to say the least. And since Phil liked to do the same things, He didn't mind that Dan didn't want to better his education or get a job, because at least Dan never left his frame. They money began to roll in, People liked Phils happiness and charisma, People liked Dans soft looks and voice and how he could bant with people for hours. And Dan and Phil together, was an unbreakable bond that customers just seemed to cling on too, and they would spend their days driving around so they could pay the rent that they owed. One day Phil looked up from his phone and then at Dan and said “Hey there's a party on 5th tonight, should we check it out?” Dan nodded in agreement, reaching behind himself to reach for his black leather jacket, and was happy when Phil reached for his red one, and they locked the door behind them, Phil taking his backpack with them. One of the things that Dan loved about Phil so much is there similar music tastes. And since the spent a whole bunch of time in the car together trying to pay their rent, it was a simple blessing. Nonetheless, the boys had fun singing on the way to the party. It's a whole new life, Dan smiled to himself. When they pulled up to one of the houses that Dan recognizes, this is one of their often stops, which is surprising because Phil doesn’t like the idea of going to a house more than a few times. But one of Phil's closest friends from school lives here, so they tend to linger around for his mate. “Hey Kat” Said Phil as he walked into the living room, shoting loudly over the mess of people littered around her California apartment. “In here!” She yelled back, from what sounded like her own bedroom. This was a party place, no mistake to be made about it. Dan observed the graffiti littering the walls, and how it looked against the fairy lights hanging from the ceiling and against the artwork creating a dark atmosphere and a pretty yellow light from around the apartment. He looked around at the drug infused people, on their own rides and dosages,everyone has their own experience. And although all of these people are here now, and well, we're also here most of the time. This was cat's place, and everyone was allowed st cat's place, with the exception of her room. But Dan and Phil were an exception and walked in to see cat on her bed, her frame smaller than before, in pajamas lounging her her bed. She had those things that Dan had once observed his mother put around her toes for polish, and was painting her nails a pretty shade of red, as she cooked a spoon in the candle fire next to him. It was nothing Dan wasn't desensitized to now, He knew some people had the willpower to stay away from hard drugs, the willpower to get off of them if they wanted. But cat was ruining her body and her life, she didn't care, she was living happily. Dan was desensitized by now, I mean, all he did was sell the stuff, he didn't actually do heroin. “I'm about to get fucked, boys” She said with a smirk, not looking up from finishing the last details of her paint “What can I do for you two?”. It saddened Dan, he knew Cat for a while now, and it almost hurt to have someone kind deterioration in front of him “We just came to say hi, and sell some shit” Said Phil reaching to give her a hug “I hope that goes good for you” Phil smiles at her. “We’ll, You know my abode is your stomping grounds , boys” She reached beside her for a needle and strap “Mind sticking me, Phillip?”. “Sure thing” He said going over to her. It's completely weird how normal it is, How less than a year ago Dan didn't even want to smoke weed, and now he was watching his boyfriend shoot a friend up. He ties the band around her upper arm to stop the flow to her veins, and he pushes the toxins into her arm. She breaths in quick, like happiness and euphoria at once, and slumps into the bed like she is apart of it. Dan closes his eyes, knowing she isn't dead, but she might as well be “It's a hard thing” Says Phil “Can you can’t stop them, you can't grow attached to a junkie”, He puts a pillow under her head and leans her body to the side, so if she throws up, she won't gag on her own vomit. They go around the house, everyone knows what they are doing there. They get a few familiar faces come up to them for their fix, and a few new ones who got the word. Every thirty minutes or so one of the boys go to check on Cat to make sure she's still breathing. Phil looks down at his phone “Would you be okay with staying here and finishing up while I make a quick run?”. Dan has never sold by himself before, This gave him a strong sense of confidence, just because that meant Phil trusted him with something very important. And Although the thought of being alone here scared Dan shitless, He knew Phil wouldn't have bothered asking unless it was the absolute option,and Besides, He had Cat who would be coherent enough soon. Surely the druggies wouldn't eat him whole, so he agrees “Sure thing” Dan gleams kissing his boyfriend through a toothy grin. The moment Phil walked out of Dan's sight, It's the moment he went to talk to Kat again. That's when everything changed. (To Be Continued)

[glovenose82-blog]

Better Call Saul Rediscovers The Lost Art Of Letter Writing

In what appears to be early morning light, Jimmy -- in his good old University of American Samoa sweatshirt, with a hoodie over it -- reaches into the trunk of a car and pulls out a couple of gym bags, saying he thinks he has everything, but that if he forgot something, he'll "figure it out on the way." Kim, also dressed for leisure, stands next to the car, fiddling with her keys and not quite meeting Jimmy's eye as she checks, "You're back on Thursday." "Thursday, yeah," Jimmy confirms, seeming surprised and relieved that she's addressing him at all. "Unless we break down in Amarillo," he adds with a smile she does not return, instead making a Kimface and nodding. When he comes around to where she's standing, she quickly moves to close the trunk, but Jimmy proceeds nonetheless: "Kim, I want you to know, I don't take this for granted. It means a lot." Clearly, the answer Jimmy's hoping for -- if not expecting -- is something along the lines of "Don't mention it" or "You'd do the same for me" or "It's a small thing to ask of someone who loves you"...

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...but Kim just nods again, icy, and says, "I'll see you Thursday," not seeming to look forward to it very much. Jimmy sets his jaw and -- seeing that he's not going to be sent on this journey through Amarillo with so much as a handshake, never mind a kiss goodbye -- leaves her to whatever responsible adult activity she might get up to while he's not around. I'm barely either of those things so I can only guess what that might be. ...Oil change???

Kim has dropped Jimmy at the Albuquerque Transit Center, and when we see him next, he's on a bus bound for Houston, sitting in a window seat. Next to him, one of his gym bags is open and positively bristling with the spoils of Kim's "Something Stupid" shopping spree. I would have 100% understood had its purpose been to bring some artificial sense of order to her own messy life -- Ask Me About My Stack Of Coil-Bound Sketchbooks And Boxes Of Reserve Uniball Vision Pens -- but no: what Kim has in mind is evidently going to require Jimmy to write a LOT of personal correspondence. He writes postcards. He writes cards. He writes in different pens and pencils. He arranges his fingers around his various writing implements in awkward positions to disguise his handwriting. He licks envelope after envelope. He flexes his hand to try to relieve cramps. When the bus picks up more passengers at some unidentified southwest outpost, an older guy stops at Jimmy's aisle and asks if he may take the seat on which Jimmy has set up his mobile office; Jimmy says sure, and starts to gather up his stuff, but warns, "I had a pile of cheese chili fries back at Stuckey's -- with onions on top. The last guy who sat here didn't last five miles but, you know, you're welcome to it." Jimmy's fellow passenger decides to move on and minimize his methane exposure, though regardless of which seat he ends up in, he is still on a mobile interstate fart canister. We eventually see that Jimmy has switched to the opposite side of the bus for the Shreveport-bound leg, the lone passenger still awake after dark, licking envelopes under the faint light above his seat. He gulps down a 5-Hour Energy. And when a new day dawns, we see that Jimmy is just one of many bus passengers scratching away at their correspondence. What a wild coincidence that Jimmy's ended up on a conveyance with so many other practitioners of this old-fashioned pastime!!! Jynetta, a teen in messy twin buns and a butterfly necklace, comes up the aisle to hand Jimmy a pile of note cards, out of their envelopes for him to review; he compliments her choice to put hearts over all her "i"s, and pays her a sawbuck for the ten cards she wrote, offering her the chance to do some postcards for 50 cents apiece, which she cheerfully accepts. OHHHHH, it's NOT a coincidence AT ALL. Bubba pops up from behind Jimmy with a smaller stack and receives with equanimity Jimmy's fearless feedback about coming across too angry: "Make it that you're-- You're sad that you even have to write the letter. 'I couldn't believe people could be so heartless until I heard about you' -- 'kay?" Bubba's with it, taking both a Lincoln for the five notes he wrote, and another batch of blanks. Jimmy then taps Chastity, a young woman across the aisle; unfortunately, she ignored Jimmy's direction to be respectful and doesn't get paid for a card filled with swears, which he regretfully tears up in front of her. An editor's job is tough, you guys.

Finally, Jimmy disembarks the bus at his final destination and walks into the post office in Coushatta, Louisiana, 71019. He's back out less than a minute later, sitting on a bench outside, ignoring the sweet pooch who wants to be his friend, and waiting for whatever's next -- which, for us, is the opening credits, in which a tie changes from garish lavenders to garish blues while being inspected by a passing tarantula. Even the tarantula doesn't want it.

Over to El Michoacano. Having apparently exhausted his sick days, Nacho's back at work -- and, in fact, is sitting in for Hector and watching over Domingo's shoulder as he takes dealer payments. Domingo also has to take dealer excuses: this dude, Blingy, casually says he's a little short due to a "dumbass festival over at the fairground -- Indian shit," which was lousy with rent-a-cops: "We're going to make it right next time." "You're goddamn right you are," says Domingo, eyes hard. "Fo' sho'!" chirps Blingy. "Next week." Domingo snaps the elastic band around the bills, dismissing Blingy, but Nacho would still like a word, and calls Blingy back when he's halfway to the door. In a show of shocking impertinence, Blingy lightly tells Nacho he has to go, but Nacho repeats the non-request, and Blingy comes over to the side of the table, asking what's up. Nacho just stares at him for a while and then blinks pointedly, at which Blingy leans down...whereupon Nacho yanks the giant hoop earring out of his right ear -- doing him a favour, honestly, because while I gather, with such a name, he feels he has a reputation to live up to, that shit is gaudy as hell. Domingo steals a tiny peek behind him as Blingy groans as quietly as he can, and Nacho calmly pulls out a wad of napkins; when Nacho moves the dispenser over to him, Blingy respectfully pulls a bunch to clean up the mess he rudely made spilling all his blood on Nacho's table. "What you owe, you owe with interest," murmurs Nacho. Blingy nods and scurries out. Domingo's clearly fucked up about this, but since he doesn't want any of his body jewellery removed so abruptly, he manages to kiss a little ass anyway, turning around to tell Nacho, "You had to do that, man! Guy's not going to learn otherwise." "Mmhmm," Nacho agrees. "So why didn't you do it." Domingo, looking terrified, gives this performance review one quick nod and, fortunately, has another dealer coming in to distract him.

After a long day of intimidating human parasites, Nacho drives his hot rod home -- and WHAT a home! My man lives in a very stylish Brutalist bungalow. Before he enters, we see who's waiting for him: a blonde, lying on a love seat and scratching at a glass pipe; and a brunette, lounging on an adjacent couch, picking her big toenail with one hand and flipping through channels with the other. She's just landed on a home shopping channel when Nacho opens the door and they both sit up to greet him, which is when we see the enormous piece of automotive pop art over the brunette's head.

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I am not so much with the art and thought it could possibly be a real Roy Lichtenstein but, uh, no, it is clip art from Shutterstock. Anyway, both these women seem to be Nacho's girlfriend based on their greetings -- one calls him "babe" and is surprised he's home so early; the other offers to make him dinner -- but he has nothing to say to either of them, instead tossing them each a little sachet of drugs, to grateful grins. The brunette asks if he's going to smoke with them, but he doesn't answer that either, and we watch through the wall of glass as he goes through the house to his bedroom, past several other large-scale paintings. I don't recognize them and there isn't exactly a Shazam for art, so I can't tell you if these are actually significant pieces, but I think the point is that Nacho has chosen to spend his money on gracious living...and on red leather furniture for his drug-enthusiast lady friends. In the bedroom, Nacho locks the door, takes off his jacket, and sets his gun and an envelope of cash on his nightstand; when he strips off his shirt and his tank top rides up, we see the gunshot wound on his side has healed up nicely. Then, just to give you an idea of the kind of living well that should, on its own, be Nacho's best revenge, he crosses through his walk-in closet to ANOTHER CLOSET containing built-in shelves he is NOT EVEN USING; and a safe, which he opens. He's putting his things away when he knocks a clear plastic envelope onto the floor, and we see it contains a phony Manitoba driver's license with his picture on it. (I knew Michael Mando was Canadian so I thought this might be a cute nod to his birthplace, but no, he was born in Quebec City.) Pensively, Nacho picks up the sleeve and pulls out both "his" own ID and one behind it, for his dad, before clenching his jaw, flaring his nostrils, and locking them away again. I'll say this for making Manitoba part of your fake backstory: no one's going to fact-check the details you come up with because nooooooobody cares.

Then we're with Ziegler's crew as they get their promised R&R at, what else, a strip club. There, Kai (who else) is the first we see enjoying the attentions of one of its curvaceous performers. While the ladies work, Ziegler is sitting at a dark bar away from the action, looking very Lutheran, or possibly just bored; Mike stands with his back to some glass bricks, surveying the scene; apparently satisfied that the crew guys aren't embarrassing themselves or him, he comes over to Ziegler and exchanges some words we can't hear over the pounding music. Ziegler gets up, and after Mike stops at a bouncer and briefly confers with him as well, Mike leads the way to the door...

...and when we see them next, Mike and Ziegler have repaired to a much quieter pub and are chatting over beers. Ziegler volunteers that his father was also an engineer: "Learned the work by doing the work. Hands like knots of a tree." Mike smiles fondly. Ziegler points to something behind the bar and tells Mike his father built it. Surprised, Mike frowns: "The Sydney Opera House." "Those concrete arches -- impossible in 1957. Six years it took to solve the problem. Six. And years more to pour correctly. To that, my father gave ten years of life." The bartender comes by to take an order from a thirtysomething mop-haired dude, whose name we'll soon learn is Terry. The bartender remembers that his first drink was a stout and asks if he wants another one, but Terry says he wants to try the "hee fee wee sin." Ziegler can't stop himself from correcting Terry's pronunciation of "Hefeweizen" (more like "HAY-feh-VIE-zen," in case you don't want to be schooled by a real-ass German the next time you try to order one), and Terry amiably apologizes for mangling it, asking Ziegler to repeat it.

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Mike doesn't look thrilled that Ziegler's engaging in this potentially memorable exchange, but also can't exactly put a stop to it without making it even more memorable than it already could be for Terry, and when Ziegler pays for Terry's beer and Terry goes on his way, Mike evidently decides to let it go without comment, and Ziegler returns to the subject they were discussing before Terry interrupted: "The Opera. It's for the ages. For my father, it was his achievement: the creation that will endure." Ziegler taps the glass with his nails to put a button on the conversation and asks Mike what his "papa" did. Mike snorts, "My dad? Ohhhh, left behind a cold water flat and a stack of bills, that's about all." "Not true!" gasps Ziegler. "He also left behind you, Michael! You are his legacy." This old-man friendship is extremely endearing, which therefore also makes it extremely worrisome for me personally given the many ways it could yet go wrong. For now: Mike laughs ruefully at Ziegler's sentimental framing of the elder Ehrmantraut's legacy before asking whether Ziegler ever thought about having kids. Ziegler looks down at his hands: "Once, maybe. My Margarethe, she's enough for me. She's my heart. This is the longest I've ever been away from her. Twenty-six years, never this long away from home." "To home," says Mike, tilting his glass at Ziegler's for a clink of agreement. They both sip, and before Ziegler can ask about MIKE's fatherhood, if he was going to, the bouncer from the strip club is at the door calling for Mike, who checks to make sure Ziegler will be okay at the chill bar without him before going to investigate...

...and finding out that of course Kai could not be trusted to stay out of trouble, has been escorted outside for touching a performer during a private dance, and is belligerently trying to argue that they can't kick him out because he paid for the dance AND to stagger past the bouncers restraining him to get back inside. The lead bouncer threatens to call the cops, at which Mike steps out of the shadows, telling the bouncer he doesn't need to do that, already getting his cash out. The bouncer, reasonably, wants to know who Mike is; Mike calmly tells him, "I'm the guy who's telling you this one's had too much and I'm here to get him out of your hair." The lead bouncer asks about Kai's buddies, and after Mike gets him to admit that they're behaving themselves, he hands over a couple of bills to secure their right to continue hanging out while Mike takes "this idiot" home. Kai then starts arguing with Mike, because he may be sexy but he is not very wise. "You are done," Mike tells him firmly. Kai sort of wavers like he's considering lunging at Mike, but when Mike urges him to try it, Kai summons the last of his wits and decides against it. After one of the secondary bouncers has dragged Kai off toward Mike's car, Mike deeply sighs, apologizes to the lead bouncer, and asks after the dancer; the lead bouncer says she's fine. Mike peels off some more cash "for her trouble": "All good?" The lead bouncer says, "We're cool." HE will never be as cool as Mike, but I don't blame him for trying to put them in the same category.

At the chill bar, Ziegler evidently got bored and is now sitting with Terry and his buddy, sketching schematics on the back of a coaster as he explains -- minus salient details, naturally -- the engineering challenges inherent in his current project. When Mike returns to retrieve Ziegler, he can't quite believe the loose-lipped spectacle he became in Mike's absence, but keeps cool by merely putting a hand on Ziegler's shoulder, almost imperceptibly pocketing the coaster, and telling him, "Time to go." Ziegler -- toasty from the beer, and enjoying having an audience to lecture avuncularly -- wants Mike to join them. Mike pointedly replies, "Your wife's calling?," and Ziegler is too drunk to get it at first, marveling, "My WIFE???" "...Yeah," says Mike. Ziegler locks in then and gets up, thanking his new young friends for their "hospitility."

Outside, Mike backs out of his parking space while Ziegler and Kai sit silently, careful not to do anything to make Dad more mad at them.

As Stereolab's extremely apropos "Tempter" plays on her headphones ("Midway between happiness and sadness boiling but not overflowing / fails to only make a better come back, more powerful and poignant and falls again / Destructive lust for life erected, on the verge pricked up like a picket / fearing to respond to the tempting but malevolent call of the other side"), Kim works intensely on Huell's file; the music's up so high that she doesn't hear Jimmy until he's leaning in to her face to get her attention. When she pulls off her headphones, he tells her he's going to the nail salon to "finish setting up"; she tells him that's a good idea and that she'll see him later, trying to forestall further conversation by putting her headphones back on immediately. Jimmy makes it almost to the door before turning back to see if she wants him to bring dinner home, but Kim is pretty clearly making a point to need as little as possible from him right now, saying she'll just "scrounge" but that he should do what he wants. He hesitantly lets her dismiss him.

At the shop, Mrs. Nguyen is on her way out for the night when she hears Jimmy sighing in his office and goes in to see what's up. Jimmy's surrounded by dozens of phones, all plugged into chargers, as he says he has to be there a bit longer but that he'll lock up when he leaves, if that's okay. "Wife mad at you?" she guesses. "She's not my wife," says Jimmy hoarsely, halfway between a haughty chuckle and a sob, but then admits, "I don't know." "Yeah, she's mad at you," says Mrs. Nguyen knowingly. She sidles back out into the hall and returns with a bottle of vodka, pouring him a generous belt: "Go on." Jimmy has just taken a bracing sip when Mrs. Nguyen delivers her happy not-wife, happy life advice: "You take her to dinner. Nice place, with a waiter. Cloth napkin. You bring flowers. You say 'sorry.' Then, say 'sorry' again. Whatever she says, you say 'sorry.'" It's a sexist cliché, but like...it also probably works about 90% of the time. Straight men should be more sorry in general, in my opinion, and white men? PLEASE. "I think we might be past that," murmurs Jimmy. Mrs. Nguyen doesn't bother telling him to say "sorry" even more, instead saying, "I'll leave the bottle." I feel like you can either be sorry or drunk, so this might be a high-level sabotage on Mrs. Nguyen's part. When she's gone, Jimmy carefully sticks a label on a phone and sets it on his desk. How many dang phones does one disbarred lawyer need?!

The next day, Kim is ponytailed for battle as she stalks through the courthouse halls, trailed by three young associates, and heads straight to Suzanne's office. Opening the door just a little, Kim pokes her head in to see if Suzanne's ready for her, since she's early; Suzanne checks her watch and waves her in, which is when Kim throws the door open and reveals her whole squad: Gary, Stef, and Pat. After a sidelong glare at Kim, Suzanne rises from her seat to shake everyone's hands, and then plops down to find out what form of baloney Kim's about to serve her. First, Kim responds to Suzanne's proffer: time served, three to six months' probation, and a plea to simple battery -- a misdemeanor, as Suzanne notes, before recapping that Kim's trying to go from eighteen months of jail time for Huell to zero: "Sorry, I can't do that." Kim accepts that, and turns to Gary for Act II: a motion for continuance, since they need more time to prepare their defense. The officer didn't canvass for additional witnesses, but businesses around the site of the incident have security cameras, and Huell's legal team will need to subpoena the tapes. Instead of addressing Gary, Suzanne rudely turns to Kim to ask if she doesn't think that's "a little much." Kim coolly says they doubt a judge will. Stef takes over to say they just want the most information they can get -- to wit, they're filing a motion for the cop's personnel file. "Good luck with that," sniffs Suzanne, once again to Kim...

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...who is not rattled by Suzanne's attitude, like, at all. Pat adds that if the cop has a history of run-ins with anyone Huell ever knew, basically, they want to know. "You're thinking of pursuing civil litigation," Suzanne snits at Kim. "We are in conversation with the ACLU, assessing the possibility that Mr. Babineaux's civil rights may have been violated."

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Suzanne looks like she almost respects it as she curtly says, "Okay. Is that all?" Kim gives her a brief Kimface before saying, with some portent, "For now." Suzanne gathers up all the motions, saying she'll deal with these issues and then set a trial date. And since she feels that's all they have to talk about, Kim and her crew pack up and prepare to leave -- but, of course, Suzanne would like a private word with Kim first. "You're throwing three $400-an-hour associates at a pro bono case?" "I never said this was pro bono," says Kim. Suzanne is completely gobsmacked and literally throws up her hands as she asks Kim what the plan is, here: "Because shock and awe isn't going to cut it. Bring every fancy associate you got, file all the motions you want, and at the end of all this, your client is still going away." "Okay," says Kim serenely. "I guess we'll see." Kim strides out with her usual perfect posture, betraying nothing...right up until she gets to the outer door of Suzanne's office; as she crosses the camera, we barely hear her take one slightly unsteady breath. Look, USPS. You've let us ALL down at one point or another in our lives. Do not fuck over Kim right now.

"Morning" "dawns" for Ziegler and his crew, who stagger through the warehouse to the truck seeming a bit more sluggish than usual but, generally, in good spirits. Ziegler's bringing up the rear as Mike stands between him and the truck for A Bit Of A Chat, which Ziegler doesn't seem to see coming, cheerfully telling Mike that "everyone seems much improved." Mike just stands there regarding Ziegler, who finally asks whether something's wrong. Respectfully waiting until the last of Ziegler's guys has boarded the truck, Mike reaches into his pocket and hands Ziegler the coaster he'd sketched on the night before. "This?" sputters Ziegler. "Don't be concerned. I said nothing! Men at a bar, talking to make talk, and look -- no details, no scale at all. Could be a skyscraper. Could be box for shoes." Not sure how many shoe boxes need load-bearing walls, but then I never bought any by McQueen. Ziegler smiles, endearingly but also naïvely, and when Mike just stands there continuing to gaze at him, Ziegler's face falls a little and he insists, "I said nothing about the construction that would not be true for thousands of others. By now they have forgotten me entirely." "They forgot," Mike repeats. "The German national in the middle of Albuquerque, talking about pouring hundreds of tons of concrete in a secret underground location." Well, sure, anything sounds bad if you describe it accurately. Ziegler, chastened, admits, "Yeah, you're right." He apologizes, saying he had too much to drink and "may have said" more than he should have. Mike takes a step into Ziegler's personal space to make his point emphatically and clearly: "The man we're working for is very serious. Think about the precautions we take to keep everything that goes on here quiet. Think about how much money you're making. Think about what happens if something goes wrong. Do you understand what I am saying to you." Ziegler gives Mike a long look and gravely replies, "I do understand. And I'm sorry to cause any problem." Instead of adding, "Please don't tell the man I'm working for that he should kill me," Ziegler holds up the coaster and promises, "You have my word, nothing like this will happen again." Keeping his eyes locked on Ziegler's, Mike snatches the coaster away and puts it back in his pocket, taking a long beat before telling Ziegler, "Okay. Let's get you to work." They might need to grab Ziegler some coveralls that haven't been very recently pissed in first.

Judge Munsinger's already at a 10 when he yanks open the door to his chambers and demands of Suzanne, standing there with Kim, "Are you prosecuting Santa Claus?" Suzanne has no idea what he's talking about, and follows him inside as he yelps, "It looks like Miracle On 34th Street in here." Indeed, his desk is covered with four plastic bags and two USPS bins filled with multi-coloured envelopes -- and, per Munsinger, this is just today's haul: "All addressed to me, all from some backwater in Louisiana?!" He pulls one from the top of the pile: "'Get your hands off our hero,' they say. 'Mercy for Huell Babineaux,' they say. What, like I'm sending him to the electric chair?" He asks whether Kim "started this particular ball rolling"; aghast, she says she certainly did not instruct residents of Coushatta, Louisiana to start writing letters to him. Technically correct, the best kind of correct! "That being said," Kim adds, "it's clear Mr. Babineaux has touched the lives of many people in his hometown." Since she is not an idiot, Suzanne can smell the bullshit, and furiously works her jaw as Kim goes on to say she knows that Coushattans are planning to send a contingent "to show their support during the trial." "You're talking about a bunch of yahoos packing my court?!" sputters Munsinger. Suzanne tries to suggest that they can just ignore all this and proceed with whatever trial strategy she had before she found out about the mail bombs, to which Kim says Suzanne shouldn't be surprised by the outpouring given that she knows Huell's history as well as she does. Munsinger announces that he doesn't want to get one more letter from "some swamp-dwelling do-gooder." (Jealous of wetlands much, New Mexico?) Suzanne thanks the judge for bringing the matter to her attention, and asks if she may take some of the mail. Munsinger presses a bag on her in addition to the bin she already had her eye on, and sends counsel off with a final warning: "I have looked at this case. It does not merit a circus. Now, you two WORK IT OUT." Kim primly says they've tried. "Try. Again," orders Munsinger.

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Suzanne stares daggers at Kim, and though we don't see Kim's face in reaction, we may reasonably assume she DGAF.

Then we're in Suzanne's outer office as she starts yelling instructions to everyone around; she basically wants every available piece of data on Huell that exists in police and court records: "I want to figure out why a pickpocket has people this overheated." She opens a card on the top of the file and reads: "'Huell Babineaux is wrongfully accused. He's a good man. He'd never do nothing like the things you say he's done. He's a kind man and a good friend to everyone.' Jesus, they do make him sound like Santa Claus." One of her office underlings, Ben, hands her a card with a phone number on it, which she dials on speakerphone. It goes through to the voicemail of a rumbly Cajun gentleman who ends with "Have a blessed day," and she leaves a brief message. Various hands continue opening mail, and when Suzanne comes up with another phone number, she dials it and gets through to an Eloise Lockhard, who says everyone in Coushatta knows Huell, a pillar of Eloise's church. Suzanne asks which church that is, and when Eloise says it's Free Will Baptist on Bogan Lane, Ben quickly Googles, and as Suzanne's asking whether there's a particular reason Huell is so beloved by the congregation, Ben brings his laptop over to show her the church's homepage, which has been taken over by a fundraising call to action on Huell's behalf. When Eloise asks Suzanne to repeat who she is...

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...we see that Jimmy's assembled his whole film crew for this project, and that Make-Up Girl is posing as Eloise, asking Suzanne to explain exactly what her role is in Huell's trial. Suzanne reluctantly admits that she's prosecuting him. "You're the one persecuting our Huell?" gasps "Eloise." "How could you? To go after someone so sweet and kind, with all those lies? Well, I'd tell you what I really think of you--" Cut to Jimmy, who directs her by silently folding his hands in prayer. "Eloise" resumes: "But Jesus is listening, so I'll just say, SHAME ON YOU!" She hangs up before Suzanne can defend herself, which gives Jimmy a chance to offer some feedback, calling Make-Up Girl's performance "not too shabby!" "I've been taking improv classes," she shyly replies. Oh, Make-Up Girl. If it's future income you have in mind, you'd be better off at beauty school.

Back at the office, Suzanne still has the church's homepage up, and decides to try to call its pastor, Blaise Hansford. This time Jimmy grabs the phone that's ringing and realizes it's the church; frantically, he motions for Sound Guy to cue up a CD labeled "Organ Music" before he picks up. Now, what happens next really cannot be properly conveyed in print, but both Jimmy and Bob Odenkirk are clearly enjoying the chance to bust out their Cajun accent in the service of bamboozling a prosecutor. Jimmy does some business with the organ music, claiming he's going to step out in the vestibule, and settles in for a nice chat. Suzanne tries again not to be too specific about her role in Huell's proceeding as she says she wants to know more about him. Jimmy says Huell is a lovely person, inside and out, and that while he might say the same about any of his parishioners, Huell is special, with "a heart as big as Lake Ponchartrain." Camera Guy shakes his head at this egregiously corny turn of phrase and indicates the whiteboard behind him, where Jimmy's high-level direction includes "Keep It Simple, Stupid," but Jimmy, of course, already knows all the rules well enough to break them and waves him off. Suzanne asks what Huell did to earn so much devotion from his brothers and sisters at Free Will Baptist, and "Pastor Hansford" takes the long way to tell her that Huell saved a bunch of elderly parishioners when a fire broke out during their Bible study by physically carrying each of them out of the building. When Suzanne asks what happened to the church, "Pastor Hansford" assures her that it's fine, and motions to Camera Guy, who does something on his laptop; Suzanne then hears a notification ding and turns to see the counter on Huell's fundraiser as more donations are added to the total. "Pastor Hansford" wraps it up: "Now, y'all sound like a real nice lady, and I know you're only doing your job, but I want you to understand something: I think you got the wrong end of the stick, here! Huell Babineaux is very important to us! Now, he-- He-- He would never hurt a police officer! I believe it's just a misunderstanding, and I-- I believe he might've been helping his friend, and that's the Huell that I know." "Pastor Blaise" then invents a distraction, telling Clarence the organist to put some robes away because they're for Communion...

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...which is, I guess, when Sound Guy realizes Jimmy hasn't spent enough time in services to learn what various churchy words mean. Suzanne and "Pastor Hansford" are about to end the call when he asks whether there's a date for Huell's trial. She says there isn't, so he asks her to contact him when there is: "We got a couple of charter buses. Gonna bring the whole congregation up to y'all in Albuquerque." Suzanne wilts in resignation. Jimmy hangs up. The crew is in awe. Suzanne realizes she's fucked.

Jimmy then takes a moment to regard the desk full of silent phones. "Is it over?" asks Make-Up Girl. Jimmy tells them he's going to take the church phone with him in case Suzanne calls back. If any others ring, they should pick up every third caller, and talk no longer than thirty seconds per call. Camera Guy tries to weasel out of staying, but Jimmy, already literally half out the door, says they're paid for the day, so they'll stay until he tells them to go.

Jimmy, peering through the glass in the door, finds Kim in a courtroom, conferring with opposing counsel. We can only see her from the back, but Suzanne's body language -- hands on hips; chest in high dudgeon -- is tense and angry, whereas Kim leans back casually against the judge's bench, arms spread wide. Suzanne then tents her fingers on her table and hangs her head in defeat.

Jimmy's down the hall tapping his sneaker when Kim emerges from the courtroom and looks both ways before spotting him. Without speaking, she strides purposefully past the bench he's sitting on and into the stairwell, Jimmy following close behind. When they're alone and Kim's basically slammed the door, Jimmy seems to think things must have taken a turn after he stopped watching and anxiously asks, "Well?"

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In response, Kim takes a breath, then chucks her briefcase onto the floor, shoves Jimmy against the wall, and kisses him voraciously. Let this be a lesson to us all: doing crimes makes you sexy.

Then the camera's panning up slowly from the foot of Kim and Jimmy's bed as we hear her suggest, "Do it one more time?" "Are you sure you can take it?" Jimmy flirts back. "I can if you can," she replies. "All right, you asked for it," Jimmy sing-songs...and then breaks into his Pastor Hansford character: "Hello dere! Look in your heart, chère, and find forgiveness! Let us take you on a trip down Naaaaaawlins way, where dey put a little extra roux in de gumbo!" Kim giggles that it's like she's in the bayou, to which "Pastor Hansford" replies that he's got crawdads in his pants. Kim cracks up, and then settles with her chin on Jimmy's chest, telling him the phones were genius. Jimmy says the phones were "a touch": "This was all you, start to finish. Bank shot off the judge. Four months probation, time served, is like watching Roy Hobbs smash out stadium lights." Kim modestly says that Suzanne overplayed her hand, then looks over Jimmy's shoulder at the clock radio and realizes she has to start getting ready for work. First, though, she asks what he's up to today; he tells her he's going to check out another office by the courthouse. Kim says she thought he'd found one, but he evasively says it was too big for him. Jimmy asks if she'll be working late, and she says she will, since she has work to catch up on post-Huell. Kim then decides she's dawdled enough and gets out of bed, turning on the shower. Jimmy remains in bed, looking thoughtfully at the space Kim's left next to him.

I really wish we'd gone from this scene back to the nail salon, Jimmy's camera crew having slept there after he forgot to release them because he was too busy fuckin', but no: we're in a conference room at Kim's office. Paige is droning on about boring bank shit while the camera stays on Kim and the quiet smile that plays across her lips as, obviously, she daydreams about the fun she had keeping Huell out of jail. When Paige gets to the end of her monologue, Kim blandly offers, "Sounds good," before resuming paying actual attention, saying they should talk about the Wyoming branch Mesa Verde wants to open in six months. Kevin passive-aggressively clears his throat, forcing Kim to ask if he has something else he'd like to discuss. He claims not to want to slow things down, particularly not with something he knows Paige doesn't want him to raise. Paige and Kim exchange a brief look before Kim's like, spit it out, so Kevin says that the Tucumcari branch is doing great, and it's probably because the design of the building is so distinctive, so even though Paige has already said it's impossible, wouldn't it be great if they could do something like that with the Lubbock branch? "I reminded Kevin that Tucumcari has a much larger footprint than the current Lubbock design, and that design is the one we've been hanging our estimates on," says Paige tightly, clearly afraid Kim is going to go back to her old ways of trying to impress Kevin by...working herself nearly to death. Kevin, of course, is hoping the opposite, and presses his point despite Paige's concerns. But no longer is Kim getting her adrenaline fix by doing anything in the financial sector, so she barely pauses before telling Kevin she's sorry, but that she agrees with Paige that starting over now would put them behind schedule. Kevin accepts Kim's judgment and admits that Paige was right this time. On to Wyoming! Kim is SUPER-PSYCHED jk she is about to slip into a coma.

Back in her office, Kim reaches into the top drawer of her desk, produces the souvenir Zafiro Añejo bottle topper, and contemplates it. Is she so pragmatic? Or would she rather do more sexy crimes???

Then we're under the laundry, where Mike is giving Gus a progress report, starting with the accident that happened in "Something Stupid" and how long it's going to delay the project -- less than a week, it sounds like. However, there's a gigantic rock where the elevator shaft is supposed to go, which will require blasting, adding another week on top of that. To summarize: "Best estimate, we're a little past the halfway point, way behind schedule. But the work is solid." Gus stares for a while, then asks about Ziegler. Mike takes a loud breath and says, "I gave him the come-to-Jesus. He screwed up, he knows it. Said it won't happen again." "And what do you say?" asks Gus. "I've got eyes on him," Mike replies, before adding the judgment that I am guessing he will be forced to regret and retract by the end of the season: "But yeah, he's good." "Good," Gus nods. ZIEGLER FOR GOD'S SAKE PLEASE DO NOT LET MIKE DOWN.

Then the camera's behind a hole with irregular edges as something drips past on the other side. Presently, Jimmy's squatting down to inspect it and asking, "Is that water?" The bungalow in "Something Stupid" was no great shakes, but now he's in an even less charming space: a long rectangle with grubby tile, fallen drop ceiling panels, and glass walls on two sides, several panes of which seem to have been waiting a while to be replaced. But back to the water damage: the realtor showing the property claims, "The landlord will kick in for small repairs like that," adding, "They already took care of the rodent problem." I'm going to go ahead and say this guy's not counting on closing a deal today? Jimmy, of course, isn't thrilled to hear there ever was a rodent problem, but the realtor shrugs that Jimmy specified "small and near court," both of which requirements this dump satisfies: "And it's in your price range." As he urges Jimmy to "use [his] imagination," Kim appears outside and knocks on the door; Jimmy excuses himself.

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Okay, don't think less of me but I kind of like it from the outside??? Obviously, it could use some cosmetic updates, but the '70s Space Age-iness of it is pleasing to me. Anyway, Kim's leaning against a piece of pressed wood in place of a glass pane and smoking when Jimmy comes out, and asks him, "Is this your new office?" Jimmy, embarrassed, says it's a contender, and asks what she's doing there. "I was driving, saw your Esteem in the parking lot," says Kim. Ah, Jimmy's esteem. Look somewhere dodgy and you're sure to find it! Jimmy removes the cigarette from Kim's mouth to take a drag himself, and asks her what's up. "Nothing," says Kim, surveying the landscape. "Just driving around, thinking about things." Jimmy guesses at what that means, and starts doing a version of what Mrs. Nguyen had recommended: "I know what's on your mind. The thing that we did, I mean, it was nuts. And I dumped it in your lap. Ex parte communication, contempt of court, we're talking about a couple hundred counts of mail fraud -- I could've wrecked you at Schweikart, I could've boned me too. I mean, I'm this close to being reinstated. I mean, come on!" Kim doesn't answer, nodding as she keeps her eyes on the horizon. Jimmy hands her back the cigarette, telling her, "Don't worry. No one's going to know about it. Be like it never happened. And also, I agree, we are totally done with all that. Over and out, no more." Kim blinks, exhales her latest drag, then fixes her eyes on Jimmy's to let him know he guessed wrong, telling him, "Let's do it again."

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Jimmy is shocked, but Kim is steady. That's the last time Jimmy takes Huell's advice about lawyers. Or ladies. Or...lady lawyers.

As Nacho comes in to start his day at El Michoacano, he's surprised to hear loud music playing inside, and shoots a look at Domingo, already seated at his table...

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...and looking like he shat his pants. Nacho takes a long time silently looking from Domingo to the kitchen, where the radio is blasting, before finally heading back there, sliding a hand back to his weapon just in case. The chef is absently singing along to the music, and Nacho stands in the doorway waiting for him to turn around and notice him -- which, soon, he does, greeting him with a huge smile: "You're here! Right on time." (Throughout the conversation, they switch from Spanish to English and back again, without any significance for either choice that I can discern.) The chef finishes preparing a plate for Nacho, promising he's going to love it: "I made this just for you! Never in your life have you tasted something so delicious, it's true. Wait, wait -- you're gonna die." Okay, on the page that looks bad, but other than, you know, where he is, there's no menace to this guy: he just seems really easygoing and friendly. Also, not for nothing, hot. Still, Nacho makes a pissface and declines the proffered plate. The chef leans his face in, takes a big sniff, and, grinning, encourages Nacho, "Smell it! You can't say no, are you crazy?" Nacho doesn't move or speak, so the chef backs off, pleasantly: "Very well. You're not hungry. That's your problem." He sets the plate down, telling Nacho it's a special recipe: "A family secret." Nacho, having come further into the kitchen by now, guesses, "The Salamanca family." The chef excitedly turns around to confirm it: "I am Eduardo, but you can call me Lalo. And you must be Varga, no? They told me you were smart. And look, here you are, and you are." He chuckles as he returns to his pans. Trying to sound unconcerned, Nacho asks what Lalo's doing there. Casually, Lalo replies, "I'm just here to lend a helping hand, you know, make sure the business is running in order. I got a good head for numbers."

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I'd give him a good head for numbers, wait did I type that out loud. "Don't even worry," Lalo assures Nacho. "It's going to be like I'm not even here." With that, Lalo takes his plate out to the floor; as the day's first dealer enters, Lalo calls over his shoulder, "Come on, Varga, let's go!," before settling into the seat right next to Domingo, patting him warmly on the back and, presumably, giving him the delicious dish Nacho declined.

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Maybe Nacho should go to Winnipeg. I guarantee no Salamanca would follow him there, nor would literally anybody else.

Also Available As Part Of The Epic Old-School Recaps Podcast

Source: http://previously.tv/better-call-saul/better-call-saul-rediscovers-the-lost-art-of-letter-writing/

[itsworn]

Plum Crazy for a 1970 Dodge Challenger 440 R/T

Welcome back to Mopar Muscle and to my monthly editorial. It’s been such an honor sharing my thoughts with all of you and hearing the positive feedback. Thank you to all who have written me the nice letters and commented on our social media — we really do listen. The fact is, I’ve always listened to your feedback over the years (some positive, some negative, but all honest) and we’re constantly trying to improve Graveyard Carz while heeding your advice and input. I’m convinced that this attention to our fans is why we just finished airing Season 9 on Velocity and will be back in October with Season 10. I’m so excited to see where tomorrow leads us.

In 1987, I received a phone call from a guy I knew who saw an ad in the Money Saver for a 1970 Challenger R/T in Philomath, Oregon. The ad stated it was a “440 Magnum with a Pistol Grip 4 speed.” The only other text in the ad was “doesn’t run” and “Asking $2,600.00.” As soon as I got off the phone I called the number listed in the ad and quickly arranged to see the car the next day. Philomath is a little less than 50 miles from Springfield so I couldn’t take off the same day — or I sure would have.

I drove up to Philomath the next day and looked at the car. It was sitting beside an old farm house, back up off the road. I knocked on the door and a gentleman came out and introduced himself as the owner of the car. He told me that he had owned the car for a few years. The previous owner — a friend of his — had gotten into drugs, ran a bill up on the car at a local repair shop, and couldn’t pay the bill. This gentleman stepped up and bailed the car out and that’s how he became the owner.

The car was very nice with no visible rust. The engine appeared to be original at a glance, except the heads had been changed and were blue in color — as opposed to the original Hemi Orange. The interior was a little rougher than the exterior though, missing a few pieces such as the driver’s door trim panel and console. The trunk floor would need to be replaced, as would one area around the battery box. After looking the car over I got out a flashlight and some carb cleaner on a rag to check the engine and transmission numbers. Sure enough, they matched the VIN. She was all numbers matching.

After a couple of hours, I offered the guy $2,000 for the car. He said he could take less than the asking price, but not that much less and counter offered at $2,200. Coincidentally, that’s exactly how much I had on me and could afford — so I took the deal. I went back the following weekend with my friend’s truck and trailer and brought it back to my little three-bay shop, Welby’s Car Care, located on the West side of the Coast To Coast warehouse. It used to be their TBA (Tires, Batteries and Accessories) store back in the ’7s, when they had a retail store up front. After replacing the fuel and the battery, I got the car running. It ran super hard; the tires were shot and I didn’t have money for new ones at the time, so I took the car home and put it in my garage — the same garage that would later be home to my 29K original-mile Superbird.

So, long story short, a couple of years passed, and business wasn’t great. Every month was another struggle to pay rent ($300 a month), lights, phone, and phone book advertisement. Yes, back then the phone book ads were how you got your business out there. Oh, and if you didn’t pay your monthly dues for the ad, old Ma’ Bell disconnected your phone. Yep, good old memories for sure. I ended up having to sell the car to keep my doors open. I hated it at the time, but looking back, I’m glad I was able to weather the storms of new business startups.

To advertise and sell the car, I sold it to a local flipper who would probably make money on the car quickly, but he had cash so it was OK. We arranged a time for him to come look it over and we met there at my house. He actually brought a friend of his over with him. I didn’t know this other person but figured they were buddies. Well, after driving the car around the block and looking it over, Wayde offered me $4,500 for the car. I accepted it and he went to his car. He came back with Ziploc baggies full of money. I never did quite understand that, but maybe it kept the money fresh. After I handed him the title, he turned to his friend, Paul, and said, “If you want it, it’s $5,500.” Paul smiled and reached in his pocket to pull out a wad of dough and proceeded to count out 55 large. That’s big boy talk for $5,500. I’ve bought and sold a lot of cars, but I’ve never made a $1,000 profit in two hours with no risk — good buy-and-sell job, Wayde.

Paul, the guy who bought the car, was excited to have the Challenger as he was on a roll. You see, he had just purchased and sold a very rare Challenger R/T, the kind that is truly “once in a lifetime”. He had bought a local Payless Drugstore race car, 1970 Challenger R/T, 426 Hemi, four-speed, Plum Crazy, with only 330 miles on it. I know he wouldn’t appreciate my sharing how much he made on the car, but I knew it helped him pay off his house. Paul had hoped for the same grandeur with my old car, but let’s face it, a 440 is no Hemi. R code vs. U code = $$,$$$.$$.

Over the next seven years, the numbers-matching Challenger sat in a garage waiting for the right buyer. Eventually, Paul had dropped his price to $7,500, which for the day, was still a healthy investment for someone. And guess who that someone was — Daren, aka “Chips,” from the first four seasons of Graveyard Carz. While Chips did like the car, he never took the initiative to restore it. He had a friend of his rebuild the engine and install an insane camshaft that had so much lift that the valves hit the pistons. He had the front suspension powdercoated, and I painted the bottom side of the car for him. For the most part, that’s about all he did to the car.

Fast-forward to October 2014, Daren was no longer on the show, and he decided to sell the car. I found a buyer who not only loved the car, but would have us restore it as well. It took Graveyard Carz approximately 24 months to completely restore this 1 of 916, Dodge Challenger R/T, with a 440 and a four-speed. It was featured several times throughout the series and would become one of the most beautiful cars we’ve ever done. Finally, this rare gem got the recognition and treatment it deserved.

Some of the things that make this car so rare and desirable are its options and colors. It’s FC7 Plum Crazy (the most popular color on Dodge muscle cars in 1970). It was optioned with the V1X black vinyl top and V6W white longitudinal stripe over black leather interior. What a beauty. In fact, prior to just a couple of months ago, it was the only Challenger I had seen with this exact color/stripe combination.

On that note, allow me a quick digression. Recently, I had a returning client send me a 1970 Challenger R/T “V” code — yes, a 440 Six Pack, four-speed Challenger in FC7 with V1X and V6W. Can you believe it? After never seeing the combination before, one shows up on my doorstep. Or should I say headstone? Being this is 1 of only 847 ever made, it may be the only one ever built this exact way. Stay tuned for the restoration beginning in Season X (that’s cool talk for season 10). It sounds a little smug, but we’ve earned that X.

Chips’ former car received a trunk floor replacement. Damage repair to the left quarter near the tail light. The left front apron was replaced, along with various small patches at the bottom of the quarters. All of the sheet metal on the car was original Dodge, including the correct “non-crush zone” hood. The original seats (including a 6-way driver’s seat) were restored using Legendary soft trim from our friends at Classic Industries. Classic Industries also provided all of the replacement OER parts as well. Jamie from Passon Performance went through the numbers matching Hemi 4-speed transmission. The original Dana 60 (3.54) just needed new seals and brakes. Our friends at Instrument Specialties restored the very nice original dash assembly to OE standards. PPG provided the DBC 2210 Base Coat and DCC 2002 Polyurethane Clear Coat. 3M is our exclusive vendor for all things in the body shop and their quality shows glowingly in our finished product. Special thanks to Tony’s Mopar Parts for the replica “A” pillar trim, date-coded reproduction clutch fan and fan blade. The pampered ride home to New Jersey was compliments of Reliable Carriers. And with that, the legend of the U code 1970 Challenger R/T, comes to a close.

Thank you all for reading my article and don’t hesitate to let me know your thoughts and feedback. You can email me at moparrevival@yahoo.com. Also, don’t forget we’re back this October with all new episodes of Graveyard Carz. As always, we’re honored to share your living room for an hour, one night a week. Until next time, remember, “Always reach just beyond your grasp.”

~Mark Worman

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