#they was in the writers room smoking CRACK like dude

[drowninginyourtouch]

watched be forever yorozuya and have so many thoughts about it but the only thing i can really commit to is that even when i think there’s no way gintama could possibly surprise me again, it always does. most insane franchise ever

perhaps most surprising of all was that i actually liked the movie alot, something i was not expecting given how i tend to feel about anime/series movies

[ramp-it-up]

Everyday

Pairing: Rafael Casal x Reader, Rafael Casal (as Miles Turner) x Reader

Warnings: MINORS DNI, 18 + , RPF. CURATE YOUR OWN EXPERIENCE. YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE IF YOU READ BELOW THE CUT. Cursing, drinking, allusion to smoking weed, fantasy, truth or dare, role play, SMUT, Graphic Depictions of Sex, oral sex (M/F receiving), a lil bit of bondage, established relationship, fantasy play.

A/N:  I have no idea what is for trade in prison; sex packets are a made up joke. And I’m really into 90’s rap this week. Anywho, this fic is in response to the following request:

Anonymous asked:

Rafa!!!!! Maybe a fluffy smut where he’s role playing Miles for you? 👀

-------

“Ok, Dare.”

You steeled yourself from the query from Daveed.

“Which fictional character, real or animated, would you like to bone?”

Everyone burst out laughing.

“Real or ANIMATED????”  

You were cracking up laughing and buzzed, feeling good surrounded by your crew of friends who were family.

“Ok, I will answer both.” 

Rafa cleared his throat and settled back on the couch beside you. 

You sat up straight and he watched the curve of your breasts underneath the Oaklandish tee you stole from him that morning.

“Rafael is getting swole! Don’t worry Rafa. She will still come home to your everyday ass.”

“Shut up, Ant. You always got something to say.” You rolled your eyes.  “Everyday with Rafa is amazing.”

You leaned over and kissed Rafa’s lips, which were in a slight frown.  He didn’t like that word, ‘everyday.’

“You good?” You whispered so only you two could hear.

He smiled at you, “No doubt. Answer the man’s question!” Rafa said a little louder, bravado on fleek.

“ANYWAYYY.”  You shook your head at him as you straightened up.  “Max could get it.”

“Max who?” Jasmine was confused.  Then she realized, then leaned over Ant and Rafa to give you a high five.

“Max Who???” Daveed was curious.

“Goofy’s son. Max.”  

Everyone erupted in laughter again. Daveed got up and took the bottle out of your hand. 

“Enough of this.” 

You battled him, jumping up and swatting around D’s head. You won your drink back and sat down.

“As far as ‘real’ fictional characters…” You took a drink. And smiled. All eyes were on you.

“Miles Turner could rearrange my guts.” 

Anthony groaned. Rafa sat up straight. You took another drink . 

“For Real. Ruffnecks kinda do it for me.”

“Gotta who? Gotta have a what?”  Jazzy started rapping. You replied.

“Gotta what? Yo, gotta get a ruffneck.” 

You two started dancing, rapping and singing with your drinks in your hands.

Gotta what? Yo, gotta get a ruffneck

Gotta what? Yo, gotta get a ruffneck

Gotta what? Yo, gotta get a ruffneck

I need it and I want it so I gotta get a ruffneck!

Rafael pulled you down to sit on his lap and Jasmine kept dancing, right in front of Anthony.

Anthony sucked his teeth, but was smiling at Jazzy’s ass. 

“That’s cheating. I mean. That’s just Rafa. I mean, he bones you on the regular.” 

Ant smacked Jasmine on the bottom and took a drink before she plopped down next to him and he put his arm around her.

“You know it!” Rafa and Anthony toasted. 

“But I ain’t Miles.”  

Rafa took another sip of his Abasolo on the rocks.

“And it’s just a fantasy. Right baby.”  

Rafael rubbed your back giving you a look that made you tremble. Rafa felt your warmth on his lap. He grinned into his drink.

“Trueeee!”  

You smiled, trying to keep it light and calm the fuck down. Everyone always made fun of you two smashing in people’s bathrooms.

“You aren’t Miles. I didn’t know you when you were younger....” 

You locked eyes with Rafael, and the green fire there did something to you.  

“I think Rafa is Miles’s wasted potential.”

“Wow. That’s deep,��� said Ant from a cloud of smoke.

You and Rafa were locked in an eye embrace as well as a physical one.  When he arched his eyebrow, you had to look away, because you couldn’t take it.  

“Y’all need to use my bathroom?”  More laughter.

You and Rafa both flipped Daveed off. 

“Nah, Diggs.” Rafa stood up with you in his arms.  “We’ll use our own. We out.”  

Your man carried you willingly out of the door.

-----

About two weeks later, you came home with some groceries, you were looking forward to a night in with Rafa.

You’d both been busy and tired lately, only available for maintenance sex. 

Rafa was running around creating all of his creative shit, and you worked in the writers room of a popular series.  Life was hectic.

He was sitting at the kitchen table, hands together on top. 

He was wearing blue scrubs over a white Henley and had his face turned to the side, staring out the window. You noticed that his hair was different.

“Hey, babe. Did you get a haircut? What’s wrong?”

He turned his face toward you and that’s when you noticed two more things. Rafael’s eye was black, and there was a tattoo on his neck.

THAT California tattoo. 

You were very concerned and a little confused. Concern came first in your mind.

“What happened to your eye?”  He gave you a strange look, then he spoke.

“A mutha fucka sneaked me in the yard, that’s what happened!”  

You stood still and had to register what was happening.

Rafa was wearing a grill, and his voice was different, in a lower register  and with a long drawn out, almost southern drawl. 

But it wasn’t southern. It was all Bay.

He stood up and walked toward you, and you noticed that his scrubs had “Prisoner” written in yellow letters down the right leg. 

You suddenly realized what was going on. 

Oh, Shit.

“Baby. You’re a sight for sore eyes.  It’s been a minute.”  

You’d left Rafael in bed this morning.  But it seemed that you came home to Miles.

“Hey,” was all you could say. 

Rafael/Miles gestured for you to come over to the table.  It was then you saw that he was handcuffed. 

A strange feeling came over to you.  He stood up, and you saw that his legs were shackled.  You went close to him and looked at his eye closely.

“Rafa?”

His face was fine, up close, you could tell it was makeup.

“You been to see Galaxy today?”  

You were peering at his neck and the Bay/California tattoo there.

He screwed up his face.

“Who tha fuck is Rafa? And what the hell you talking ‘bout space for?” 

He peered into your eyes, then looked around furtively.

“Babe. Are you high?”

The drawl was a whisper now.

“These muthafuckas’ll kick you out if they think you got drugs on you.”

You smiled at him, pecked him on the lips and replied. 

“No worries. I’m not high.” You sat down at the kitchen table and ‘Miles’ sat across from you. 

“As for Rafa? He’s this guy I know.  Had a nice… conversation with him the other night.”  

You looked into his eyes to see if he would crack.  But your man was a pro.  

He huffed.  “Psshhht.  You MUST be high talking to another dude. What kinda name is Rafa anyway. Sounds like some hipster trash.”  

He peered at you again, anger radiating off of him.

Damn, he was good.

“Tell me what the fuck you mentioning some other muthafucka to my face while I’m locked up in here! Every day.” 

He pounded his bound fists on the table in front of you and made you jump.  It also made you wet as fuck.

He gestured with both hands (because they were handcuffed) to the nice kitchen that you loved to cook in, but that you were now seeing through his performance as a prison visitation room. 

But you were still shook.

“R, R, Rafael is a beautiful artist. He’s a poet. He’s gentle, and kind. And a wonderful lover.” 

Miles glared at you. You stuttered again.

“I-I imagine.”

He gave you a menacing smile and leaned back in the chair, pushing his crotch up in your direction.  Your eyes were drawn there.

“So you imagining fucking another muthafucka and decide to come visit me and tell me about it?”

You got into it.

“Well….I miss you Miles. But it gets hard. Not being able to be with you.”

He leaned forward, bearing his teeth.

“Don’t fucking tell me about it.  Here I am jacking off with leftover chicken grease from the kitchen at night.  Got my dick smelling like a Popeye’s chicken sandwich in this bitch.”

“Ew,” you said, disgusted, then you started giggling at the joke.

Miles pouted and sat back.

“ ‘S not fucking funny!”  He looked out the window again. 

“I shouldn’t even tell you about the surprise.”

You straightened up.  “What is it babe?”

You put your hand on his and he caressed yours with his thumb.  He looked at you, excited and mischievous now.

“I got us a conjugal visit.”

Your mouth dropped open, fully into it now.

“But I thought that was just for married couples, Miles…”

“I know, I know.” He leaned forward and looked around again.  “But I got me a side hustle.”

He shifted his eyes as he scanned the empty room.

“I make sex packets outta the leftover chicken grease from my job in the kitchen. Make a KILLING in oatmeal cream pies, ramen noodles, cigarettes and other tradeable currency.  I made enough to buy us a conjugal visit, girl.”

He leaned back, very satisfied with himself, his hands now on his lap, rubbing his crotch.  

Your eyes were drawn there again and you found yourself irrationally wondering how big his dick was. He had you caught up in this fantasy.

“Let’s go to the trailer and I’ll make you forget all about this Raja guy.” Miles winked at you.

“It’s…”  You saw the look on his face.  “Nevermind. Let’s go.” 

He stood up again, and shuffled his way to the bathroom, you at a safe distance behind him. 

He entered the bedroom and shuffled to the bed, sitting down on the edge. He gestured you to him and you went and stood before him.

He put his nose in your crotch.

“MMMmmmmm. I missed your smell Baby. It’s been too long. He lifted his hands and put them on the insides of your thighs. He pulled back and looked at you, green eyes staring into brown.

“The guards left the key over there. That is, if you wanna get me out of these.” He nodded toward the 

He trailed his hands up to your pelvis, managing to hook one set of fingers into your waistband and still have another at your apex.

He ran his fingers over your jeans right where it counts. This kind of petting felt good and made you want more. 

You let him play for a little while, but then pushed him back to sit and watch you. 

You peeled down your jeans to reveal a white satin thong. Rafael loved white against your coffee brown skin, but tonight, Miles would benefit. You stood there in your button-down shirt, that was really Rafael’s. 

Miles’s hands went to his crotch again as he eagerly watched.

“You seem to be doing pretty well all hemmed up, but let me see.”

You went to the dresser to retrieve the key, and you did, then turned around and put it in your mouth while you slowly unbuttoned the shirt.

Miles leaned back on the bed and opened his legs as far as the shackles would let them go, licking his lips as you disrobed.

You were wearing a white lace bra, your dark nipples and areola straining through the delicate material.  You were very excited at the entire scenario. 

The fact that Rafa was doing this for you because he remembered what you said on a drunken night weeks ago was the shit.

You dropped to the ground and crawled over to Miles’s feet jutting your ass up in the air as you unlocked the shackles.

You massaged his ankles and trailed your hands up his legs to his crotch, where you rubbed the hardness there.

“It’s been so long that you’ve been locked up, Miles.”

You raised up on your knees, loving the feeling of his eyes sweeping over you.

“I’m gonna give you the world’s best blowjob.”

Miles smiled at you.

“Aw, baby. That’s so cute.”

“I’ll show you cute.”

You were about to give your own performance.

------

Five minutes later, you were gargling his cock, relaxing your throat and taking him as deep as you could, nose nestled at his base, and gently pulling and kneading his balls.

Someone moaned, and you didn’t know if it was Rafa or Miles.  He bucked his hips up into your mouth while resting his cuffed hands in your hair.

“As much as I would love to … fuck baby… cum down your throat.. I need that… damn where’d you learn to do that?!... I need that pussy.  Unlock the cuffs, baby.”

His cuffed hands were in your hair, alternating between massaging your scalp and pulling your hair the way you loved it. 

The way Rafael invented. 

You smiled around his cock with the knowledge that what you were doing was making him slip out of character.

You pulled your head upward, mouth open, allowing the saliva to trickle out with his dick. 

He looked at you like he couldn’t believe how nasty you were being. He was mesmerized. You looked a mess, eye makeup running, lipstick smudged, spit all over your face. 

Your dream man loved it.

“Am I ‘cute’ now?”

“Fuck no. You’re so goddamn beautiful.”

You smiled and quickly reached behind you and unclasped your bra, taking your breasts in your hands and pushed them up around his dick.

“See, if you unlock these cuffs, I’ll handle things the way they need to be handled.”

You just smiled up at him while you manipulated your breasts around him, knowing that he could not control his hips fucking into your cleavage.

“I got it under control.” You stuck your tongue out to tease his tip as it neared your face, lubricating it with your saliva.

“Fuck, baby.  I wanna fuck you so bad. It’s been so long…”

This entire scene was just about the hottest thing ever. You were breathless, dripping, and quivering with anticipation. But you didn’t want it to end so soon.

“How long ‘xactly?”

“Shit, 5 months of being here and jacking off to memories of you everyday.  I need to see that ass and fuck that pussy, babyyyy. Please.”

Those eyes.

Those words. 

The acting. 

Miles. 

You had to relent.

You reached for the key where you dropped it on the floor and unlocked the cuffs.

“Fucking finally!”  Miles rubbed his wrists as he stood up, stripped his shirts off and his pants the rest of the way.

“On the bed, let me see that ass up.” 

He smacked it about three times each and then rubbed it as you did as you were told. 

Miles trailed his hand from your ass up your spine to your shoulder and then pushed your head down further into the bed.

“That’s a girl.” Your back had that perfect arch.

He got behind you and swiped his hardness up and down your slit, teasing you with the head of his dick.

He grabbed your hand and brought behind your back, and very swiftly the other, and before you knew it, your hands were cuffed behind you, head in the bed and Miles was entering you swiftly.

“Fuuuuck! How does it feel?”

You couldn’t speak. The thrill of Miles’ dick inside you and being cuffed had you ready to cum already.

His stroke game was on point, as if he was fucking you to a brand new rhythm- Allegro. 

Strangely, it was different than Rafa had ever been.

That was blowing your mind.

Miles tugged on the metal restraints and the slight pain in your shoulders and wrists, combined with the thrill of this roleplay, made you release, all over him and the bed.

“Shit girl, you really are glad to see me.” That drawl got you ready to peak again.

“Oh fuck yeah, Miles, oh shit, oh shit.” Your pussy was clamping down on him at the thought of Miles Turner having his way with you.

“Shit, I’m cumming with you, hold up.”  

Rafa tried to slow down, but you did that thing with your pussy and he couldn’t help it.  His hips drove his dick inside you until it pulsed and started to flow, and then he pulled out.

“Turn over baby.”

You leisurely moved to turn over, and he motioned you down to the end of the bed, moving the pillow where he wanted your head.

“I need in between those legs, baby.  I need to see you, I need to surround me with you.”

You positioned yourself at the end of the bed, your braids hanging over the edge.

Miles gave you a forehead kiss as he got between your thighs, and pumped himself a couple of times as he aligned with you.  

He leaned down and pulled at your nipple with his mouth, moaning when you moaned, moving his eyes appreciatively down your body and keeping his eyes where you were about to join.

The look on his face when he entered you was very hot, and you found your pussy squeezing his cock in appreciation. It seemed magically somehow bigger, and all of your senses were alive as he started moving.

“That’s my beautiful baby. You’re so fucking tight. Don’t push me out, let me have the glorious pussy. Damn girl, this pussy, those thighs, your curves, these tits. What did a man like me do to deserve you. You’re such a fucking sweet princess for me…”

You were astounded. Missionary was far from your favorite position because you seldom came that way, but the way Miles was whispering praise in your ear and the total fantasy was getting you there. 

Quickly.

He watched your face and adjusted his pace in response to your cries, and that knowledge made you start to come. When your eyes rolled back in your head, that’s when he knew.

He pulled your hair back and sucked the shit out of your neck as you came, and he released inside you.  You wrapped your legs around him and held him as he shivered with the aftershocks of his orgasm.

Your lover rolled off of you and you snuggled into his arm. He lay there and held you as you tried to process.

“That was… wow.” You weren’t sure who to address, Rafa or Miles. Irrationally you felt you were in love with both.

He just chuckled at you, and gave you another forehead kiss.

“I’m going to enjoy a shower.  Goodbye for a while, baby.”

You grinned. “Bye Miles.”

He pecked you on the lips and you watched him go into the bathroom.

You rolled over on your back and tried to organize your thoughts. How would you write this?

Thoughts of writing this scene chased you into sleep.

---

You woke up to Rafael, grill and tattoos gone, freshly out of the shower and in a towel, gently trying to pull you from sleep.

“C’mon.”  

You let him get you up and into the bathroom to a hot bath.  You let him tenderly clean you up and then get you out of the tub and dry you off. You were more tired than you thought.

“You hungry?” You walked into the kitchen in a towel behind him.

Rafa had put the groceries up and was holding up takeout menus. He was truly magical. You smiled, nodded and told him what you wanted.

45 minutes later, you were in his softest Oaklandish tee and you were curled up on the couch in the living room together, food containers spead out on the coffee table.

You felt totally in sync with this amazing man.

“I loved tonight.”

He smiled softly back at you.

“Had to give you your fantasy since you help me live mine. Every day.” 

He leaned over and kissed you.  He looked you intensely in the eyes. Those green pools had you trapped.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Rafael.”

Your fantasy had been Miles, but your reality was Rafael. 

And that was fantastic. 

Everyday.

-------

Tags:

@braidedchallah @theatrenerd86 @sebastianabucknettastan @imatyoursurrvicesurr @riiyy @ivycomet @lonelydance @jbrizzywrites @delaber @honeysucklechocolatedrippin @janthonystan-blog @anh1020 @sillyteecup @ohsoverykeri  @theselilwonders @biafbunny @summerofsnowflakes  @wreakhavoconmacroissantdiggs @janthonybitch @einfachniemand @einfachniemand

[deceptive-jo]

Whumptober 2021 - On a need to know basis

Bing finds out about the Author's old habit and gets understandably concerned.

Words: 439

(Set after this.)

---

Bing stopped in the doorway as he spotted the Author sitting on the couch, eyes closed and posture forced into calmness. "I didn't know you were still here, dude! Did the doc put you in house watch because of the shoulder?"

One of the Author's eyes cracked open, slightly confused before he found Bing and smiled just slightly. "Kinda. He's definitely worried, even through that thing is healing the best it can." "But that isn't why you're still here?", Bing tilted his head, looking at his friend in confusion over the implication. "Nah. Since I couldn't exactly tell him what could have happened while I was unconscious he insisted on a full scan", guilt filled Bing at bringing the topic up but Author just waved the apologetic look off with ease, "Everything else's fine but he found some other stuff he didn’t like to much."

Without further prompt the Author slowly rolled up his sleeve to reveal a row of too even and exact scars covering his forearm. Bing sucked in a breath to which Author only rolled his eyes back in annoyance. "I don't get why everyone reacts like that, those are clearly years old!" "It's not just that...did you ever tell anyone?" "What's there to tell? I was bored, there was an urge and my body was the only one nearby to use at the moment. It was a completely logical one-off sutuation."

Bing swallowed back the remark about how none of that was logical and instead clung to the sincerity of Author's voice. "But you've still talked to Dr Iplier?" The writer nodded his head along as his eyes drifted through the room. "Yeah yeah. Thought I was suicidal or some shit first, had a whole talk about self care and mental health. Not like I didn't go through this already." That made Bing perk up, "You didn't?" The Author threw him an amused look. "Who do ya think got me all those fidget toys. You are aware that I have people that care about me outside this group?" "Yeah, like three", Bing landed himself a punch against the arm for that, Author gronning regardless. "Okay, okay", his expression sobered again, "but what if it's like...a stress thing?" The Author just shrugged, lwaning back again. "I got smoking for that. Which, with the way my body works, is a lot less harmful."

Bing slowly settled down again, storing everything away carefully. "Okay, I get it, dude. Imma lay off. But if it ever becomes a problem...just call me, okay?" The Author gave him a lax salute, expression soft. "You're going right on the list, buddy."

[clairjohnson]

Night Out

This is based off a loose prompt of "jealous and possessive Keatlejuice where the boy goes feral". My buds @hoodoo12​ (link) and @vicunaburger​ (link) also wrote for this - check the links out! I’d like to start this off by saying I’m no writer - but boy do I like to try lmao. So enjoy my public exposure of shame interests. NSF/T (TW: Blood, Violence, Non/con kiss.)

You may have overdone it this time, but honestly? The alcohol and steady thumping of the club music made it hard for you to care. The cute guys buying you drinks didn’t hurt either. Though cute wasn’t really what did it for you now. There was something about the older, leering men in the club that had you tightening your thighs as they walked by. Predatory looks that should have frightened and disgusted instead left you aching. Had you always been attracted to these types of men? Or had he started this new fire? Your ghost summons turned fuck-buddy was anything but a straightedge young man. He was foul-mouthed, perverted, and easily had 20 years on you – well, 20 years from before he died anyway. He hadn’t elaborated, but you got the feeling he’d been gone and buried a long time. Yet, with a laundry list of repulsive attributes, the thought of him and his malicious smile had your mind swimming.  

A large hand gripping your bare leg pulled you from your thoughts, and you snapped your head over to meet one of those less than savory gazes.

“Looking for a good time, sweetheart?”

The rough hand paired with the familiar pet name sent a bolt of heat between your legs – but not for the stranger sitting next to you.

“I’m all set.” You smiled politely and moved from your seat, brushing by the man and heading towards the back door. This needed to be taken care of – and you had a direct line to the man for the job. A rush of cool air hit you when you entered the alley. Your bare legs and arms erupting in goosebumps. While leaning under a flickering light you pulled out a pack of cigarettes – your gaze drifting to the adjacent wall. Images of you being shoved against it were all it took to have his name slipping past your lips.

“Betelgeuse.”

The word came out in almost a whisper while you placed a cigarette in your mouth.

“Betelgeuse.”

Heart pounding in your chest, you light the end and took a long, steadying drag.

“Betelgeuse.”

As the last syllable was said the air around you became still. In a flash, the cigarette was plucked from your lips and vanished. Your eyes darted around the dark alley trying to catch a glimpse of him, of stripes adorned by a halo of ratty blond hair. Instead, your gaze landed on the brightly lit cherry of your cigarette, the glow seeming to float on its own in the darkness.

“Ya look like a fuck’n smoke show, babe. What’cha doing all dolled up in a creepy’ol alley?”

You still couldn’t see him, but his words and subsequent chuckle echoed around you. The hair on your arms started to stand on end.

“Went out for some drinks, do a little dancing…” You pulled at the hem of the short black dress you were wearing as you spoke, eager for it to be hiked up over your hips. “But I got a bit, anxious, as you like to put it. Figured you could help me feel better.”

“Oh sweetheart, always happy ta help.” There was a pause while the tip of the cigarette grew brighter as he took in a drag. “I’m ganna make ya feel all sorts of things.”

There was a loud bang when the back door you’d exited from not minutes before swung open, causing your heart to leap into your throat. A large, clearly intoxicated man stumbled out onto the pavement. It took you a moment in the dim light, but you recognized him as the guy who’d been hitting you up at the bar. You watched him catch himself on the wall beside your head, his chin tipping down to stare at your significantly smaller body.

“Thought I’d find you out here. God, you’re pretty.”

Before you had a chance to protest his mouth was on yours. Your small fingers gripped into his shirt as you tried to push him back, a yelp muffled against his lips when he grabbed your ass. You gasped for air when you finally yanked your head back.

“Woah dude, the hell do you think-“

Just like your cigarette the man at your mouth was torn from you. You watched in horror as he collided with the adjacent wall, his head bouncing off the bricks with a sickening crack. The ghost that had been hiding from you before made himself very visible. He emerged from the darkness with a pair of glowing yellow snake eyes and a mouth full of snarling, jagged teeth. Instead of the suit you were accustom to he wore a long brown jacket and guide hat, his dirty hair poking out the back.

In stark contrast to his usual chatty, extroverted self – he stayed silent. Approaching the man with a heated gaze. You thought about saying something. Telling him that the guy was drunk and just being an ass, but any words you planned to say in his defense died in your throat when Betelgeuse’s fist connected with the man’s stomach. You gasped, hand moving to cover your mouth as you watched him land the next punch against his face – the poltergeist’s ring leaving a nasty gash across his cheek.

“Stop.” You could barely hear yourself over the growls and cries of pain. Betelgeuse wouldn’t let up. Blow after blow landing on the crumpling figure of a man. You could hardly see what was happening, but you knew in your gut that this was going south fast. “Please, stop.”

When the hands that normally wrapped around your throat in the throes of pleasure dug themselves into the club goer’s neck with clear purpose, you shouted.

“BETELGEUSE!”

He froze.

The broken man was dropped to the ground and Betelgeuse lowered his arms. Slowly, he turned to face you, his eyes still sharp and filled with something you hadn’t seen before – and it scared you. He’d never scared you. Not once since you’d summoned him.

He started towards you and you tried to back away only to be met with a wall. Your stomach dropped when he was finally under the florescent lamp with you, the light revealing the splattering of blood across his front. Panic started to set in. With a growl he wove his bloody hand in your hair and pulled you into a heated kiss. You moaned against his mouth in response – a wave of relief washing over you. The passionate, bruising kiss lasted only a few seconds before he yanked you back, blue eyes raking over your flushed, terrified face.

“Yer fuck’n beautiful, ya’know that?” He said, lifting his other hand to run a thumb over your jaw, leaving a smudge of red in its path. “Yer so soft. Delicate. And yer Mine.”

The world around you started to spin and you pressed yourself to him for support, burying your face in his button up. As quickly as the spinning started, it stopped, and he shoved you from him. You yelped at the push, ready to collide with the ground, but instead met the bounce of a mattress. The furnishings of a cheap motel room became clear as your head started to settle. Your gaze moved back to Betelgeuse, and even though the remnants of fear was still very fresh, the feral look he gave you while unlooping his belt ignited new feelings.

A snap of his fingers was all it took to have you bare to him. The ghost shrugged off his long jacket and tossed his hat to the floor, but kept the rest on. Causally, he pulled his cock from his pants, stroking himself absently while his eyes roamed your body. The silence was deafening. By now, when you normally called him, he’d have listed off a hundred different ways he was going to fuck you. A stream of never ending filth leaving his grinning mouth. But not this time. There was an edge to the way he surveyed you, almost calculating. Without a word he advanced, pressing himself between your legs and crashing his lips against yours in a desperate kiss.

You kissed him back with gusto and dragged your fingers down his clothed back, finding purchase in the fabric. Thankfully you had been ready for him when you called, so the quick thrust of his entrance and the deep stretch only caused a delighted groan. Foreplay obviously forgotten he ground into you with rabid determination. His hips pounding against your bare skin. You’d warped yourself around him as tight as you could, only loosening your grip when you felt his teeth sink into the juncture between your neck and shoulder. Playful bites and scratches had always been a favorite of his. He liked to find and kiss the little marks he left the next time you called him up. This bite, however, was not playful. It ached and you shouted, your heels digging into his lower back in response to the pain. He released his hold and growled against your throat, his pace starting to pick up.

“Mother fucker think’n he can just touch you.” The words were snarled into your flesh and you yelped when he latched his teeth, gentler this time, onto your shoulder. Betelgeuse pulled back and pressed his lips on the bite before moving to the next unmarked spot. “Yer already fuck’n spoken for – livin’n guys may not have much sense, but they got eyes.”

He moved away from his final bite to nip at your ear and the fingers at your hips pressed into your skin so hard you knew he’d leave bruises – which seemed to be exactly what he was after.

Betelgeuse adjusted the position, moving your legs over his shoulders and holding your hips with a painful grip then started up his thrusting with purpose. One hand crept up from its death hold to circle your clit. The unforgiving pace paired with his deft fingers had you falling into an orgasm head first and you cried out.  A few rough, deep thrusts and he was right there with you, tipping over the edge with a growl.

It was quiet after that, save for your gasping and thudding heart. You opened your eyes to see him staring down at you – the wild, frankly jealous, look on his face now significantly softer. The ghost leaned down to press a light kiss against your lips before rolling off. He moved further up the bed and laid back with a satisfied groan. As easily as he’d done away with your dress he brought a lit cigarette to his fingers. He placed it between his lips as he kept his eyes on you.

“Com’ere.” He said, patting his chest and holding his other arm open in obvious invitation. You crawled over and curled yourself into him, the position oddly comforting. The comfort was lost for a moment when you noticed the staining of blood across the white sheets – it was like someone had been murdered. Someone almost had been murdered. You looked up at the sated poltergeist as he puffed on the cigarette lazily.

“You want some?” He’d caught you looking and raised a brow before holding out the cigarette. You nodded and he placed it against your lips for you to pull a long, steadying drag.

“Are we going to talk about what just happened?” You asked while blowing the smoke out across his chest.

“Not sure what ya mean.” A bullshit response. He pulled in a few more deep and needy inhales before he was spent – flicking the butt to the floor and letting out a sigh of irritation.

“I didn’t like him touch’n ya.” The words were said as if they’d been tortured out of him and a scowl started to form on his lips. Betelgeuse flicked his eyes over to your face and then to the red, angry bite on your neck. “We’ve been fuck’n for a while now, babe, and I know we ain’t never talked about it – but this thing? I’m going to need it ta be exclusive moving forward. Now I’m not say’n this changes anything about our little arrangement – “ He paused to make a hand gesture between the two of you, “we’re still just fuck’n, nothing more, I just…”

For once he was at a loss for words. You could almost hear the gears in his head turning as he tried to figure out what he wanted to say, or more accurately, what he felt.  

“I like you too.”

There was a long silence. If his heart were still pumping you probably would have felt it trying to beat out of his chest if the look on his face was anything to go by. He groaned and dragged a hand over his face, peaking out between his fingers at you. Defeated he sighed and dropped his arm.

“Yeah, I like ya. And I don’t like share’n.”  

[angrylizardjacket]

Run to Paradise {Nikki Sixx} Part 34

34. it’s time we danced with the truth

Summary: lola and the band go to rehab, and lola has to confront her past, her fears, and her reality.

Warnings: discussions of drug and alcohol abuse and rehab, also angst

ragtag bunch of misfits: @starlalove @toofasttofallinlove @xrosegoldwolfx @obsessivesky @lovehelpmewrite @marvelismylifffe @lilytalebi @glitterdreamsz @freddiessmallnipples @crazysaladchopshop @dramatique-moi @calspixie @aryssav @catsoo12 @sweetshutter @silvertonguedserpent @shamelessobsessions @lavenderbones22 @keepcalm-and-beyou @scarecrowmax @nicholeh7 @unknownoblivion @sighsophiia @fruitinthebottom @misscharlottelee @local-troubled-writer  @redlipscrystalskies14 @kaitieskidmore1 @the-specific-oceans

{ MASTERLIST }

"I want you to picture your addiction sitting in that empty chair across from you."

Lola, who'd just come out of a week long detox, and had finally stopped feeling like death warmed up, stared at the empty chair in the unbareably beige office of the rehabilitation center's therapist.

"Can I get some water?" Lola rasped, craving a cigarette and knowing she wouldn't get one. The therapist, an aging woman a kind smile and a clinical stare, obligingly passed her a bottle of water. Lola really did want to take this whole thing seriously, but picturing her addiction as a person sitting across from her made her feel like an idiot. There was no-one there. No-one else had made her do any of this, why should she try and blame someone who doesn't even exist.

"At least you've acknowledged that this is self-driven, that's good, that's very good; self awareness is key. You are in control of you life, Lola," the therapist's voice is sweet, and Lola can't help but scoff.

"I wish I was less aware of myself, that's why I do all this shit," she snorted, and it's meant as a joke, but it's too honest by half, and the therapist frowns.

"Is that why you don't want to picture your addiction? Are you afraid to picture yourself?"

Lola knows she's not in the best shape, currently eight weeks pregnant and terrified of what to make of it, dead sober - pun intended - for the second time in six months, painfully aware of every terrible decision that has lead her to this exact seat.

"What do you see in that seat, Lola?"

"Nothing," Lola says flatly, and takes a long sip of water. The therapist sighs deeply, and Lola scrunches her eyes closed for a moment, forcing herself to play along, "I see myself."

"What does she look like?"

"Like me," with an implied eyeroll and obviously, Lola sits a little lower in her chair, trying desperately to ignore her growing nausea. She takes another drink.

"Like you now, or does she look like a different version of you?" The therapist asks, and Lola hears the scratch of a pen against paper. Lola takes a deep breath, another drink, and stares at the empty chair. If Nikki were here, he'd roll his eyes and make some sort of snide comment, and Lola would laugh, and her discomfort would ease. Maybe that's why they're in seperate facilities.

Except when she looks, when she really tries to see something, she can't see just one version of herself. She sees the night she was drugged while out with Vince and Razzle, sees herself that night, weak and crying to Nikki, making a vow to try and get better but not sticking to it. She sees herself chain smoking in Tommy's dressing room the night she tells him she loves him, so afraid of the pyrotechnics in the show that she tries to escape it by drinking, by letting herself focus on anything else. She sees herself, fully dressed in a hotel swimming pool, unsure of how she got there, halfway through a bottle of vodka, hoping she'll forget how and why she's telling Mick about her scars.

She sees a kid in a Queen crop top, asking for her first taste of alcohol instead of explaining, when Nadine looks at the scars on her back with concern.

"Younger me, I guess," Lola's voice is soft.

It had been escapism without having to go anywhere, because Lola was never using to escape her reality as much as she was escaping herself.

"What's she saying to you?"

"That it's easy," Lola doesn't realise there's tears in her eyes until they start to spill. She's looking at herself, laying on the pavement in her own sick, and blood from her broken nose, as the paramedics are hauling her into an ambulance, and she can't remember how she got there, which kind of makes it worth it, even if she's dying. In her memory, she's smiling, "it's easier than anything else in the world." Lola's voice cracks.

"Why are you here, Lola?" The therapist asks gently, and Lola's lip trembles.

"I keep hurting the people I love," she admits. Her voice catches in her throat and she has to look away from the chair. She thinks she's going to be sick, and its mostly the pregnancy induced nausea, but part of it is the painful self-awareness.

"I need to go-"

"Lola -!"

"Or I'm going to throw up on your nice carpet," Lola snaps, getting to her feet, stumbling from the chair, from the room, out to the nearest bathroom. The therapist calls to her again, but at least she doesn't try and stop her. Lola hates it here.

The facility is somewhere in Washington state, with more medical equipment than a rehab center is usually known for, but the patients here need extra medical attention, like Lola and her pregnancy. They take care of her, give her everything she needs, make sure she's eating healthy and drinking enough water and exercising, with daily therapy sessions, and weekly group therapy that she's kind of coming to dread.

One of the girls in the facility, another one of the patients, remembers Lola, but Lola doesn't remember her. She'd spent the night with Lola and Tommy in New York, and she won't stop apologising, even when Lola tells her she has nothing to apologise for.

"It was one night, it's okay, it happens to the best of us -" Lola brushes her off, but the woman is still apologising, almost crying.

"I smashed a bottle over your head, I tried, oh Lola, I think I tried to glass you, I was in such a bad place, I'm so sorry -"

Lola doesn't even vaugely remember what she's aluding to, but it also definitely sounds like something that would happen to her. All she can do is say that it's okay, and pretend like she cares. She's doing that a lot lately, pretending like she feels remorse. She'd probably need to feel guilt over the things she's done to feel remorse, but seeing as how she barely remembers her worst offenses, she can't bring herself to feel remorse for them. But her therapist ends up catching on.

"You told me you're here because you keep hurting the people you love," the therapist says with a level patience, "so if you're not sorry for the things you've done to the people you don't remember, would you change to stop hurting the people you love?"

"For them, I would," Lola agrees easily, which surprises her therapist with it's certainty. And then, unprompted, "but if they don't want me when we're all sober, that's - dude that's the nightmare scenario." She laughs, but it's devoid of humour, and her gaze is glassy as she contemplates. There's a lot of fears that Lola had been running from, that she's terrified to voice, and it's all she can do nowadays to distract herself from the reality of her biggest fear growing inside of her.

"Do you love them because of the drugs and alcohol?"

Lola falters, shaking her head quickly.

"And Nikki, you've told me you've loved him since..." the therapist checks her notes, "since you were fifteen; was it because of addiction back then?" Again, Lola shakes her head, and the therapist asks, "then why do you love him?"

It takes Lola a long time to finally find the words for her feelings, the things she's known for years but never been able to voice.

"He never gives up; he's never given up on me, and I love him for that, but it's... it's more than that, of course it's more than that. He's the most talented man I've ever known, and I mean no disrespect to the rest of the band, but Nikki... his mind is unparrallelled, and I'm always in awe of him. I really mean that; the music that lives in his head, the ideas and stories and everything, I've never in my life heard anything like it."

"I didn't ask what you love about him, I asked why," the therapist says quietly, and Lola's eyes go wide and uncertain, and she falls into a contemplative silence. When she finally speaks, it's hesitant, it's quiet, it's so unlike herself.

"Because..." she pauses, looking at her hands, "because he's the only person in the world who understands me, honestly,  like really understands me," she fidgets, pushing back her cuticles with her nails, "I miss him," she adds, a quiet aside, and bites her lip, but the therapist knows to keep quiet, that Lola's not done, "I love him because he's the soft place I land when I fall, every time," she hesitates, a smirk tugging at the edge of her lips, "which I know is sappy as fuck, but despite everything, he still loves me, he still catches me. He's my home, you know?" She nods, bringing her hand to her mouth to chew on her thumb nail, finally looking at the therapist, "he's my home."

"Will those feelings change when you're both together and sober, do you think?"

"My feelings won't change," Lola says, specifically, and the therapist gives a gentle smile.

"I'm going to play you something," she says, and Lola watches as she pulls a cassette tape out of her desk drawer, along with a small cassette player, "you're aware that I record all of our sessions," the therapist reminds her, and Lola nods, chewing her thumb nail, intrigued, "well I recieved this from the facility that's been treating the band -"

"They're together?" Lola asks, eyes wide, incredulous, as if almost relieved, "are they okay?" And the therapist seems pleased that that's her first reaction, her first question, and reassures Lola that they're fine.

"I'm worried about her, of course I'm worried about her, I miss the fuck out of her, the rest of us are here, she should be too -" Nikki's voice comes filtering out of the cassette player, and Lola almost bursts into tears at the sound of it. The unfamiliar voice that joins his must be his therapist.

"She's in a medically-focused facility that's giving her special care and attention -"

"Because of the baby," Nikki sounds like he suddenly understands, and there's a sudden knife-twist of guilt in Lola's chest, but she stays silent, "I just don't want her to be alone through that, family's always kind of terrified us, so I don't want her going through that shit alone." Tears are welling in Lola's eyes, only made worse when Nikki admits; "I'm just kind of fucked, because what happens when we both get out of here and she realises I'm just the piece of shit who ruined her life -"

"You didn't," Lola sniffles, cutting in even though she knows he can't hear her, but thankfully, the therapist gently tells him that he didn't. Nikki tries to protest, but the therapist cuts him off quickly, won't let him dwell in that sort of negativity, and instead asks why he loves Lola, just like her therapist had asked her only minutes ago.

Nikki is quiet.

"Like, the real answer?" He sounds hesitant, too honest and too raw, and the therapist prompts him with gentle affirmation, "I could say anything; you wouldn't know if I was makin' shit up."

"Why would you lie? Who would that help?"

"The real answer... I don't like talking about that shit with people I barely know. That's my shit."

"Nikki, you don't have to say anything you don't want to."

Nikki's silent for a very long time, and there's the sound of shifting, like he's trying to get more comfortable, and then he clears his throat.

"She puts up with our shit better than anyone else," but his heart's not in it, "even after all these years, she still loves all of us bastards, and..." he sighs, but his voice turns soft and gentle, "and she makes me feel safe, okay?" Finally, he sounds honest, and sounds like he's mad about being so honest, "when I'm with her, I feel safe being myself, no bullshit, no stunts, no fear, just... it's just us, and nothing else matters. And I'm fucked if she doesn't want me after everything, but I wouldn't blame her, fuck, after everything she's gone through I wouldn't blame her one bit."

"You're his home too," the therapist tells Lola, who's covering her mouth with one hand, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Does he... does he know I'm hearing this?" She asks, choking on the words. The therapist nods.

"Once he'd said it, and his own therapist suggested sending the tape for you to hear, he seemed more than accommodating -"

"I need him to hear what I said too, I need him to know- I need him to know," she was sobbing, though the guilt from his earlier words, and she hears herself babbling, "but there's - oh fuck - there's only one problem, and you can't - you can not - send this part, please. Turn the recorder off, please." And the therapist sits up straight, on alert as she hesitantly turns off the recording device on her desk, and Lola's trembling hands find her stomach.

"Lola, what's wrong?"

"I love Nikki so much," Lola's adament, "but the baby's not his."

[youdontloveme-yet]

Episode 8 analysis.

This is going to be messy, so brace yourselves. It took me 3 hours to completely analyze this episode, so if there are spelling mistakes fuck you, I’m tired and idc.

This is going to be intensely FULL OF SPOILERS, so whoever has not watched episode 8, better not read.

Okay, let’s start off with a warning. The series is heavily based on numbers and symbolism, which means that if you are not a huge fan of math, logical thinking and finding shit where nobody else is seeing it, it may once again not be your cup of tea.

Well then, have fun with this thing that wasted my brain for 3 hours.

Okay, first scene is tricky, I went back to it a few times throughout the episode, because it wasn’t adding up. We have this tied up man, being thrown in a burning barrel, right? Yeah, so this is basically where the flashback starts. Not when Supot starts talking or anything. This is a heavily symbolic scene again, as it represents us with the meaning of oppression. If one pays attention, it is explained later in the episode. The symbolism behind it is the oppression of minorities. It all starts back in 1984, when the people with special abilities had just been noticed and were heavily oppressed. Supot talks about how at the beginning it had been very hard for those of their kind, since they have been oppressed. And those who were not useful or were troublemakers were immediately being disposed of. Because we all know that humans go to extremes when they are afraid of things they do not understand.

While we are at it, and since I am not really going to do this in chronological order. This is where the flashback starts and where it comes to a conclusion. It is the exact same burning barrel as the one where Yuth supposedly dies. I’ll probably mention it again along the way.

Aside from the flashback we have a very interesting take on Pang and Supot’s conversation and later on young Supot and the minister. Idk if anybody has noticed the camera angles in this episode. They are quite important. First we have the room with the black board, where Supot and Pang are talking. The camera angle is slightly to the left, with Pang’s back facing us and Supot facing him, this, in my opinion, is a symbolism for who has the upper hand in the situation. You might think that I’m crazy and this is just reading too much into, but it’s not, because there is the exact same parallel with young Supot and the minister. Of course, later on in the episode we have the exact opposite, which is the minister having the upper hand and Supot slowly gaining the upper hand from Pang.

And the opposite:

Notice how much smaller young Supot and Pang look and how the minister and Supot suddenly seem more in focus :))

The next thing I am going to talk about is the number symbolism in this episode. The whole episode is based on the number 2. Everything starts in 1984, right? Then we have 1986, when  young Supot marches into the ministry. After that we have 1988, when they conduct their experiments. Fun numbers, right? Except there’s nothing fun here. It’s a number sequence – 4, 6, 8, and after 8 is 10, which in this case is 0. And which year is in the present? 2020. Now, you may think that this is just some game that the writers did or something, but it ain’t, sorry. The number 2 is in literally everything this episode. We have Supot and Yuth, who are 2 people, right? From here comes the cursed pattern, my dudes. They come in pairs of 2 – SupotYuth, ChanonPom, PangWave. Except that ChanonPom are an alternation to the pattern, which means we are back to the number 2. I’ll talk about this along the way, but let me finish with the numbers, before I forget my thoughts again. According to google the number 2 is a symbol of partnership and balance, but sometimes it may also be the symbol of opposition or conflict. Every single major event in this episode (’84, ’86, ’88) happen two years apart from each. Then in the house scene when Yuth disappears, we have two plates on the table, who are flipped upside down and a half empty/full plate, which for me, is symbolism for the two pairs that have fallen and the one (PangWave) that is on the line, meaning there’s a 50/50 chance 

history will repeat itself. I’ll come back to this scene again.

The next thing I’m going to talk about is why ChanonPom are an alternation. Well, WELCOME TO THE PARALLEL HELL! SupotYuth = PangWave. I know, I know, you all know that. But did you know that Yuth had the same potential as Wave? Less evolved, but the same regardless. Remember that scene in the house, when the phone rang and Yuth ran off? Yeah, that was Yuth. He can manipulate sound waves I guess, as it was foreshadowed with the whole sound equipment he was using for his and Supot’s experiment and we all know that that is how they tell us about their potentials. Now, this is not even all of it. The basic is: the leader, who can manipulate thoughts and the co-leader who can control technology. Okay, from here, we have the parallel of using their powers on each other. Supot had used his powers on Yuth (Pom also uses his powers on Chanon, even though they are an alternation to the pattern), and even though he doesn’t continue with the experiment, we know that he has used it. And remember the scene, when they are eating and Supot grabs Yuth’s hand? Yeah, that is a parallel with when Wave said to Time that Pang could use his ability on him, but wouldn’t, because Yuth makes Supot confirm that he will never use his potential on him. Yes, I know it is not exact parallel, but it cannot be one, because there are many more variable into the equation in the present, than there were in the past. Okay, here I am not that certain, but I think there is one more parallel. As we all know, nobody in this fucking series dies, so Yuth was not killed, he faked his death. Now, you may ask, where is the parallel with PangWave? Oh, man, it’s in season 1. When Wave faked the whole thing with leaking the Gifted information. They are parallels, because the aim of both actions are to provoke their partner to take action.

On a side note, or not really. You might wonder why I think that Yuth faked his death. Well, many, many reasons. A person cannot die to fire as fast is the first, because we are led to believe that he got killed and thrown into that barrel, right? Which is incorrect on so many levels. As I said, a nobody can die as fast from fire. But what if he got shot and thrown in, you might ask? Well, human flesh burns kind of slow and creates shit load of smoke, which was not there. Then there’s the fact that that barrel is not nearly big enough for fit a whole body, in order to do so, one will have to cut the body in parts. Next we have the neatly put glasses on the ground. No fucking cracks on them. Very suspicious. Fuck that, but they have metal frames, which upon contact with the ground should get disfigured. Another thing is that the only possible way for those glasses to be that intact is if the height from which they are dropped is below 1 meter, as we know that is not the case. Another tell tale sign is when young Supot is at the ministry and the minister asks WHEN he got there, which means it was not him who called, which also means that my theory about Yuth’s potential is cementing itself. He also asked WHICH friend and confirmed that he has no idea what Supot is talking about. So, basically Yuth has the same potential as Wave and faked his death.

I think that by now, you can see why ChanonPom is an alternation to the pattern.

Anyway, the next thing I want to mention is the similarities between Supot, Chanon and Pang. I’m going to start off with saying that all of them are very complex characters with very intense inner struggles. Starting from Supot, we have this bright young man, who has a vision, right? Well, he has a god complex. He is obsessed with his vision and disregards his loved ones and morals, because of his ideals and what he believes in. He is also very patriotic and self absorbed, which are all red flags for someone who has a god complex. He is convinced he can change the country and leave a legacy. And in his pursuit, he loses every single thing. Guess who else loses everything? Both Chanon and Pang. But here comes the difference. They are all the same basically, but they have the variables to the equation that is the Gifted program, while in the past Supot just shot in the dark with nothing but trial and error. Chanon and Pang have hero complex. Both want to save the people they love and keep them safe, which leads them to fucking shit up even more. And while Chanon is an alternation, Pang is steadily threading in Supot’s footsteps.

Oh yeah, I forgot to mention about the ChanonPom alternation. They have switched roles, as you have already guessed. That is why they are the alternation to this beautiful pattern.

I have definitely not covered everything, but these were the most important parts of this episode. The whole thing was a weird foreshadowing.

Also, I am still not entirely convinced it was the ministry that leaked the information about the program, because it seems too obvious honestly. Yeah, the minister smiles when he sees the news, but like it bugs me… They either leaked it themselves, or enabled the A.G. or Darin coerced Punn to do it. It’s just too easy if it’s the ministry. And I think that it was done in order to lure Supot out.

I decided to not write down the whole psychological analysis I did of the characters, but rather do it another day in a post dedicated only on that.

Ah, before I finish. If somebody may be wondering what is on this board:

It’s the sound sequence that triggers the Gifted cells.

Huge fucking thanks to @thegiftedseries-incorrect-quotes​ and  @wxsuthorn​ for brainstorming with me and reading my crazy shit. 

So, peace and thank you for coming to my TED talk. Byeeeeee.

[thestuckylibrary]

Group Ask 158

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Anon 1 said:

i thought i found this one shot in your married tag but i couldnt find it again when i looked :( basically steve and bucky get married when theyre kids and everything still happens and steve tells everyone hes married and bucky gets sad that steve got married and that hedidnt even tell him and he remembers marrying steve when they were little and then steve tells bucky its him that hes married to thank you if you can find it!!!

Anon sent in  Best friends and married since childhood by StuckySituation (oneshot | 1,141 | G)

lindsey-of-north sent in  Let this be light work by caughtinanocean (oneshot | 8,628 | T)

Anon 2 said:

Hi, I am having trouble finding a fic where Bucky comes home from a bad mission (people died), rims Steve and fucks him against the sink. I’ve been looking for it for a while, it’s relatively short and afterwards Steve reassures him that he can’t save everyone. Thanks

do-and-hope said:

Hi, I'm looking for a fic where Bucky leaves the Tower to go get coffee, gets hit on by a guy at the shop, and ends up asking the Avengers (sand Steve) if sexually hitting on people is how one gets dates now and do they have advice on dating. I remember his more subtle attempts at using the Avengers' advice don't work (Steve doesn't like coffee) and some of them just straight up tell Bucky to make sexual overtures like random coffeeshop dude.

Anon sent in Learn How To Bend by nerdwegian (oneshot | 6,405 | E)

Anon 3 said:

Hi do you guys know the name of the fic where Steve and Bucky are neighbors and don’t like each other at first? I remember Natasha was the landlord and Steve smoked medical marijuana. Thanks!

hellaqueerangelofthelord said:

Hi! There was a fic I read a while ago that seemingly has vanished from the interwebs :( The basic premise was a stucky x reader fic where the reader faked her death and the boys found her again. A few specific details I remember: the chapter names were all colors (I think one was peach and another was lime green), and the reader had been pregnant and then lost the baby prior to the beginning of the story, she was also a scientist with a background secret from the boys

lesbianhozier said:

hey! i’m looking for a crack-y fic set during catws where bucky keeps trying to lean in and kiss steve mid-fight. bucky doesn’t really know what’s going on, steve doesn’t know that he’s the winter soldier is bucky yet, and natasha can’t figure out what kind of fighting technique bucky is trying to pull off when he does it. thank you so much!!

Anon 4 said:

hey could you help me find the fic where its modern bucky and cap steve and bucky is at the bar with the howlies and steve is with the avengers and the howlies dare bucky (who is drunk) to go ask steve for a piggy back ride. steve has a moment of discomfort that someone comes up to him but likes that bucky respects his space even though he's drunk. i think he ends up piggy backing bucky home jsdkjhdk it was really cute 

princessniitza sent in  Save a Horse, Ride a Captain by galwednesday (oneshot |  2,708 | T)

Anon 5 said:

hi! i'm so desperate to find this fic and i'm not sure if i've sent this ask in before but if i have i apologise! it's one where bucky worked for pierce (some sort of legal profession). pierce owned an apartment building which nat + steve lived in and they used one of the rooms as a ballet studio. bucky was told that he had to to shut it down. bucky obviously falls in love with steve and they get into a fight bc bucky's unhappy w his job but won't quit (for becca). it had a happy ending!!

Anon 6 said:

I was hoping you might be able to help me find a Shrunkyclunks fic where Bucky is a musician who is performing in a bar when Steve walks in. I'm pretty sure Bucky is singing Jackie & Wilson by Hozier and he only has one arm, which Steve only notices after a while because he's so captivated by Bucky's performance. Does anyone happen to know which fic this is? Thank you!

ekeshet sent in His Arms Held All the Songs I Needed by The_She_Devil (oneshot | 40,181 | E)

ummvengers said:

hey I was wondering if you could help me find a fic. It's a highschool au and steve and bucky hate each other and i think tony makes a time travel machine and steve and bucky get sent to the future? They find out that in the future bucky loses his arm and steve gets big (in hs he was small) and they're married in the future and they have to figure out how to get back to the present.

lindsey-of-north sent in It’s All Tony’s Fault by Anxiety_Baker02 (complete | 38,245 | T)

atgirlstwobirds said:

Hi there! I was wondering if anyone knew of a preWW2 get together fic where Bucky asks relationship/sex advice from a gay guy he knows at the docks, maybe called Jack? It might’ve been called something like the sexuality crisis of 1930 but I might be getting two separate fics confused. Any help would be great!!

princessniitza sent in Bei Mir Bist Du Schoen by Laura JV (jacquez) (oneshot | 7,533 | E) - bucky/ofc

Anon 7 said:

I'm looking for two fics about Steve and Bucky but can't remember the titles! One is an modern AU where Steve is a comic book writer and Bucky is a vet with PTSD that moves downstairs. The second an AU set in the last where Steve draws naughty cartoons for money and he meets Bucky who lost his arm in the war. They move in together as roommates and slowly fall for one another.

therandomravenclw sent in To Be Vulnerable Is Needed Most Of All by perfect_plan (complete | 118,363 | M)

miraishu sent in  Through The Open Window by 74days (complete | 28,661 | E)

mischiefs-hawk said:

Hi, looking for a fic for a friend. It's modern-setting, with Peter as Steve's son. Bruce is the science teacher at Peter's school. Hope you can help!

Anon 8 said:

Um, hi? I really appreciate what you guys do, and want to say thanks for that. Ummm, I've been looking for this fic, and can't find it anywhere! It's about how the serum has... Unexpected side effects and it makes Steve really horny??? He tries to hide it, and when Bucky finds out, he's 'angry'. Uhhh, it's really good and I want to reread it. THANKS! (If you don't find it, don't worry about it, have a good day!) ((sorry if I was to vague))

dolphinqueen10 sent in Six or Seven by 13Queen (oneshot | 4,175 | E)

therandomravenclw sent in you know I'd quench that thirst by napricot (complete | 38,027 | E) - bucky/steve/peggy, steve/others

Anon 9 said:

Hi! I'm looking for a fic and it's canon-divergent TFA. Bucky falls and loses his arm but he gets found by Steve. Peggy is disappointed by how dedicated Steve is to Bucky and they kinda fall out? Bucky and Steve move back to Brooklyn. Bucky has to adjust to having one arm and both to civilian life. They get a flat together and realise they aren't happy there so they then move to California. Steve becomes an artist and they end up admitting their feelings to each other. Thank you!!!!!

Anon sent in  Malibu by glitteratiglue (oneshot | 13,065 | M)

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

The Bad Guy (2)

Bucky x fem!Reader

The Fallen Soldier

Theme: It’s a good day in New York City for Bucky Barnes, who seems to feel right at home till his morning is disrupted by a bad guy. Maybe New York isn’t the same place after all. Now he has teamed up with the Bad Guy to fight the good fight. But this Bad Guy is bringing things on his surface he never knew he had

Chapter warnings: swearing. so much swearing. dumb assholes.

A/N: @writing-prompt-s​  once gave a prompt last year that stuck with me…I don’t remember the exact wordings but it had something to do with the reader/writer being the villain having a crush on the hero, always finding excuses (or crimes) to meet them. One day they are getting their ass beat and you decide to jump in and save the day. This one is same but with a liiiiiiiitle twist

Word Count: I get one good day and look at me taking out a chapter after another. What is the reason behind this good mood? Spending time with fam? Posting ITA? Them sexy sexy reactions? Good sleep? Meds? Maybe all of them!!

MASTERLIST in bio, love. Tags are open

The mansion up the hill overlooking those city lights was packed with people in their expensive swimwear right and left. Butts were swinging to loud beats, crystal glasses filled with alcohol and unwanted drugs clinked around the six thousand square feet of area. Skinny babes and naked dudes smoked and snorted by the pool while some made out in the pool, around the tennis court upstairs in the balcony; basically any place they could find. Guards stood by the openings in the front and back- well, definitely away from the booze-redden crowd running horny for those black-clad abs and standing there in silence and sharp observation- making sure no intruders or unwanted objects entered the place.

People coming in and wobbling out threw greetings at a slick-looking man sitting on the rooftop making some colourful drinks with the drugs in a sophisticated palette kept on a clear glass coffee table right next to where the multiple not!y/h/c girls- five to be specific- sat surrounding him. None of these ladies looked above twenty-five. But everyone looked like they were all up over that golden-haired broad jaw guy- who could have a name like Chad or Hunter- just for the pills.

“Looky here chicks,” his deep voice with a crustiness to it announced with the cocktail glasses raised for his company to take, “this is how you get to feel a new high. One of these and you will have the night of your life. Uh...scratch that, the second-best night of your life because later on, I’m going to fuck each one of you raw.”

The women hooted while forcing to keep those smiles when he looked away, clearly uncomfortable with that man. One of them was trying her best not to sneeze from all that heavy cologne he was wearing.

“How long do we have to do this Katie? I better be paid well for this,” the not!y/h/c sitting at the other end whispered to her girlfriend.

“I don’t know Samantha,” Katie muttered through her teeth that were all smiles for the man, “just keep going till he tires himself out.”

“Ugh, I have to submit my thesis tomorrow. I hate this guy! Fucking him was not a part of our deal. I wanna go home before I kill this man!” she grunted to her teeth before doing a one-eighty on her expression when he raised his glass at her and winked with his tongue out and wiggling. Samantha wanted to cry but she kept telling herself she was doing it for her tuition fee.

Downstairs, in the driveway, a woman dressed in a golden shimmy dress under a chinchilla fur overcoat and Impera Louboutin walked towards the entrance. Her red acrylic nails played with her hair while the other handheld an LV bag. Those cat-like movements stopped only when the bodyguards stopped her at the door. “Identification,” the grey-eyed Caucasian questioned.

This not!y/h/c wore red-rimmed groupie shades tinted black even in the night. Her lips red, and so were those huge danglers that clinked whenever her head moved or even tilted. She peeked over her shades at the boys and their toys stopping her from going in. The boys saw golden lenses checking them out and waited patiently for her to say something.

Sighing, she raised her bag and gestured the men to look into it.

The boys looked at the bag and then each other. “What’s in it?”

She dropped her head back and groaned lightly. “My identification,” she answered, almost singing it like a stereotypical white teen tired of the drama surrounding her.

The boys opened the zip and raised their brows at the stuff they saw inside. Leather whip, handcuffs, feather, candles, cable ties, ropes, anal beads and strap ons.

Trying to keep a straight face, they zipped the bag back up and handed it back to her before opening the door. “He’s on the rooftop.”

The woman smirked with those wet red lips at them. While walking in with those swishing hips, she grazed that bulge in the pants of the one standing to her right, making him flinch before going back to his position- but not without a smile on that seemingly uncrackable face.

The woman’s smile disappeared the moment she entered the room, her lips turning into the hues of disgust till she found a glass tumbler filled with scotch and dunked her hand in it till she was sure she had got everything off. Wiping it clean with a napkin, she moved through the crowd of stoned youngsters roaming about half-naked, dancing to Sasha Sloan’s ‘At Least I Look Cool’. Grabbing a bottle of whiskey from next to two girls making out in the kitchen, she walked out towards the poolside, howling like a wolf to blend in. Within no time, everyone else there howled like her, getting more into the spirit.

“Haha..oh you all are such fucked up dolts,” she muttered under her breath, dancing her way to the stairs leading to the rooftop.

The wind was adding to the pep in her steps, her skin loving the cold waves over all that makeup. There were two guards standing as security at two ends, looking down at the party. Rest of the crowd was those college girls dressed as elite strippers trying to hog the man’s attention as much as they. All except Katie.

“Ooh, what do we have here,” the man whistled at the woman entering the scene with the sexy saunter.

“Hi Hunter,” she sang in a low, almost sweet poison laden voice, keeping the bag down on the coffee table, “I’m your birthday present. From your best bud.”

The fur coat was dropped down to reveal the gold sequin dress held tight around her with only two thin straps going around her shoulder. All eyes went to the smooth hairless baby-like skin shining under those dim lights around them. Tattoos covered the arms and the back- intricate works inked in black, some phrases etched in Kanji on one arm while some not so popular gangster signs on the other. The back seemed to carry the face of some strange creatures along with Kanji scripting the borders.

The shades were thrown away to reveal her face to Hunter, who was already feeling the tightness in his pants. “So, Hunter-” she opened the bag to take out the rope, making that bad boy’s pupil dilate in excitement- “what’s it gonna be. Full public display or a private show?”

“Everybody out!” He was already shouting, flailing hands at security to walk away. “What the fuck you lookin’ at,” he yelled at the girls, making them jump and scrammed.

“Oh thank God,” Katie said under her breath.

“You’re welcome,” the woman threw in her direction, making Katie feel her lungs tighten at the suggestive wink she got from her before she ran down the stairs.

Hunter jumped up and down the couch in anticipation, grunting at the woman. “Come on, you crazy bitch. Come to daddy.”

The women smirked at Hunter, walking across the table to close the distance between the two of them, opening the cork to the whiskey with her teeth and spitting it away somewhere in the dark. “Open your mouth,” she ordered.

A slap echoed through the air when he didn’t obey. His grunts of pleasure followed next and before you know it, he was looking up at her like a needy puppy. The whiskey went down his tongue, burning his tongue and throat till he had to shut his mouth and spill it out.

“Open up!”

And he did. Again. Once she was satisfied, she threw the bottle away. Some sort of ruckus could be heard downstairs but Hunter didn’t care. His guys could handle it.

The rope came next. Wrapped around his neck and gradually tied securely with a knot. The excitement in Hunter’s pants was already showing. The more she tightened the rope, the more he shivered with pleasure.

“You have been very naughty, Hunter. Very, very naughty.”

Hunter nodded in submission. “Yes. Oh God, yes. I have been so naughty. Punish me, you cunt. Slap the bad outta me,” he growled.

She yanked the rope towards herself, nearly making him fall on the concrete floor. “Follow me on your fours, you bad dog.”

And he did. His hands and knees were scraped by the rugged tiles underneath but he did not care. Soon both of them were at the edge, the glass railing looking down at the lit-up pool.

“Get on the other side of the glass,” she commanded.

“What?”

Even with those golden lenses that were clearly fake, she looked menacing. Without uttering another word- to not get on her bad side because she had his balls in her hands- Hunter pulled up his leg to move on the other side, right on the edge.

“Good boy,” she purred and lifted a corner of her lip. Wrapping the rope around her arm, she got out of her Louboutins, feeling a lot more relaxed than before. “Now,” she sighed while cracking the knots in her neck, “let’s get started.”

Hunter never saw her foot coming to kick him right in his gut, pushing him back, nearly making him miss his footing, his instincts grabbing at the rope within seconds while a high pitched scream left his lungs that got mistaken for another howl wave downstairs.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” He yelled at her. Unfortunately for him, no one downstairs could listen to his cries over the loud music reverberating throughout the house. The security was nowhere to be seen downstairs. Just a bunch of drunk bastards enjoying the booze and drugs.

“Where’s your boss?” she asked with a dead expression. No emotions reached her eyes as she held Hunter’s life in her hand her one foot resting on the glass while she watched the man cry tears of desperation.

“Where. Is. Your. Boss?”

“I ain’t telling you shi-”

Her fingers loosened the hold on the rope, making him scream and cry huge tears. “HE’S COMING TO TOWN THIS THURSDAY. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DON’T LET ME FALL. PLEASE I’LL GIVE YOU MONEY. I’LL GIVE YOU DRUGS. DON’T LET ME FALL OH MY GOD!!!”

“How many girls did you sell in your life, Hunter?”

He shook his head, hanging onto the roop around his neck with his dear life. “No, please no,” he whimpered repeatedly to the point all you could hear were squeals. After some time they were gone too.

“How many?”

“I...I *hic* I didn’t c-count af-after three hundred. I’m sorry. Please let me go.”

“Hmm,” she twitched her jaw while wrapping the rope around her arm again, reducing the distancing between them.

Hunter seemed to find his breaths back, his face swollen with all the crying and yelling. “Was your boss gonna buy the painting that was supposed to be stolen from the gallery?”

Hunter nodded. Those damn tears still didn’t stop. But now the tears were not the only thing leaking from his body.

“Do you know what I hate more than my periods?”

He didn’t ask. He was just trying not to puke his guts out.

“I hate the scums who get rich off other’s bodies. Do you know who that includes? Hmm? You do? You.”

The punch landed on his throat and the rope was dropped. Like a theatrical representation of Adagio for Violin and Orchestra in E major by Mozart, Hunter kept falling down, his hands still flailing in the air to catch hold of something, anything while she looked at the view till she was sure he was down in the pool, splashing the water everywhere. People hurled cheers and salutes while that man tried to catch hold of his senses for his life. She turned away, picked up her shoes, her fur, and her bag, and walked towards the open fireplace to dump the latter into the fire pit. The fire ate it up like a beast hungry for more. Walking away, she jumped over the railing to land on the edge of the estate, strutting straight into the forest barefoot, not stopping till a familiar SUV was visible at the road down the hill amongst multiple high-end cars parked in front of the mansion. The lights turned on the moment she came into view. The door was unlocked for her to climb in and sit in the front on the passenger side.

A security personnel ran by the car. “Hunter’s been attacked! Some bitch threw him off the roof. Code blue! Code blue! Everybody on the grounds now!” his walkie talkie crackled as he ran towards the mansion.

“This is NOT how we’re supposed to work!”

The street lights revealed the new handsome face and those black luscious hair on the driver’s side. Those blue eyes were clearly not impressed by your work, those hands already working around the wheel to make the engine come to life and get the hell out of here.

James Buchanan Barnes rode the car out like nobody’s business in the darkness of the night with one incredible ‘bitch who killed a man from the mafia’.

“Yeah, I brought my stealth suit for nothing,” Scott called out from the back.

The smile on those red lips broadened. With a yank of the hands, the luscious curls came off- revealing them to be a wig all this time- exposing the one who carried out the information extraction.

It was you. You were the ‘bitch’.

The lenses came off too. So did the acrylics.

“I’m just getting started, my darlings,” you stated.

“You should not have gone in alone. And what was this, a disguise?” He asked, pointed at everything that was not you.

“This, my guy-” you peeled off the false nose and cheek paddings- “was my way of cheating face recognition. You should try it sometimes too, Sergeant Barnes. You could’ve really used it when you killed those important faces in New York.”

Bucky was left speechless at the reveal. “Oh sweetheart, I do my homework. Just ‘cause I’m not on the other side with those so-called heroes I won’t do my research?”

“You must’ve been quite the college student,” Scott quipped.

“Top ten of my class,��� you acknowledged, doing a hi-five with him without looking.

“I have to say, Barnes, I am disappointed that I didn’t get to see the Winter Soldier. Maybe on our next mission?”

Bucky could see from the corner of his eyes your tongue licking your lips in anticipation while checking him out without any filter. He could feel his hands tighten on the steering wheel. That gaze did something to him. Every. Single. Time.

“The Winter Soldier’s dead,” he commented, “along with all the evil he did,”

“Hmm,” you pouted, looking ahead at the road, “too bad. Would’ve have loved to take him on a ride. Summer in the streets-” you clicked your tongue- “winter in the sheets.”

“...I’m gonna put my earphones on,” Scott muttered and slid into his seat, away from whatever was going on between the two of you.

Bucky adjusted himself where he sat. “Wh-ahem- what are those tattoos on your...uhh skin?”

“Oh, these?” you were easily distracted, “these are just temporary inks. This one is my favourite opening from the anime Naruto. This is the name of the guy I had a crush on from the same anime. On my back are names of all the fav characters from One Piece with what I think is their Patronus.”

Silence.

She is a nerd. Bucky’s inner voice whacked him in the head. Speak for yourself, number one fan of Captain America.

“Now back to you,” you continued, “Mr back from the dead and evil.”

Come, on Buck! You are a ladies man! You should be all up in her business by now. What is wrong with you?!

“It’s okay,” your voice broke his anxious thoughts, “we won’t do anything against your will. I’m all for consent.”

You rested your cheek on the headrest while continuing to stare at him. “There is nothing sexier than having permission to do all the things you want me to do,” you declared softly.

And just like the teasing notes of the violin, the former winter soldier felt himself falling for the villain once again.

[hornsbeforehalos]

Waste Love: Part Ten

Pairing: Colson Baker|Machine Gun Kelly x OFC Warnings: Language, Alcohol and Drug Use, Smut, Violence, Angst, Fluff A/N: credit for the bomb ass banner is to best friend @coffee-obsessed-writer Masterlist is now in effect and can be found at the bottom before the tags. Drug use warning for this one.

Tiffany regretted letting her boss talk her into this. She weaved through the crowd of people in search of the nearest exit, the large house seeming to never end. Bodies crowded around other bodies and jumped and thumped to the time of the music, the rhythm in Tiffany’s ears echoing loudly as she fought to breath. This wasn’t her scene anymore. Why did she let him talk her into this?

The cool September air was welcoming to Tiffany’s face once she finally found herself outside, the huge backyard much less crowded. She slumped into a lawn chair off in the far corner of the yard and kicked her heels off, letting her toes run through the plush grass. The line of cocaine she did in the bathroom was supposed to help numb her, help her get back to being like how she used to be. Instead, though, it just made her feel more out of place. 

She dug around her purse until she found her cigarettes, lighting one from the pack and leaning her head back to stare into the night sky. Smoke coiled and floated around her, the nicotine and other chemicals helping her find her grounding again.

“Tiffany! There you are!” Her boss’ voice called from the patio, the deep rasp of Norman Reedus unmistakable. She turned her head in his direction, shock prickling through her skin at who he was currently dragging her way. 

“Tiff! I gotta introduce you to this dude.” Norman said once they’d approached, smile beaming across his face as he brushed his hair out of his eyes. 

“No, you don’t, Norm,” Tiffany sighed, looking at the man standing beside Norman up and down unceremoniously as she took another drag from her smoke, “I already know him.”

“Oh?” Norman asked, confusion littering his face as he looked between the two. 

Tiffany smiled up at him as she ran her hand through her violet hair, another heavy sigh leaving as she eyed her brother. “How’ve you been, Rook?”

“Been aight.” He brother nodded, his caution wearing on his face as he kept his distance, “Good to see you.”

“How do you two know each other?” Norman questioned, lighting his own smoke as he took in the obvious tension, “Ya’ll date or somethin’?”

Chuckling, Tiffany shook her head as JP made a gagging sound before barking out a laugh, “Nah, bro. That’s my sister.”

“Oh!” Norman gaped, his eyes wide in shock, “What the fuck, you never told me you had a brother.”

“I deny it as much as possible.” Tiffany deadpanned, crushing her cigarette in the nearby ashtray, dread filling her insides. She knew that if her brother was around, then it was only a matter of time before-

“Rook, Rook! There you fucking are!” Colson bellowed as he fell out of the door and scrambled to his feet, a big, goofy smile plastered on his face, “Bro you gotta come see this!”

Tiffany didn’t miss the way her brother took a step in front of her, shielding her from Colson’s view as he held up the joint between his fingers, “I’mma smoke this real quick then I’ll be in there.”

“Oh, what? You got weed!?” Colson guffawed, his stomping footsteps being heard as they came closer, “I wanna smoke.”

Tiffany winced as she felt his presence near her, and she mentally tried to will herself anywhere but where she currently was. She ducked back in her chair to hide behind Norman and Rook, hoping Colson wouldn’t notice her. 

She knew better. 

“Hey man, Norman. Nice to meet you,” Her boss rasped as he shook Colson’s hand, “Love your work.”

“Thanks, man,” Colson returned, nodding to Norman before pulling his hand away to take the spliff from Rook, “Yours too.”

Colson took a deep drag from the joint before holding it out to Norman, who took a hit himself. Not realizing he was currently acting as a protection barrier, Norman turned around to hand the joint to Tiffany. 

Colson’s face instantly fell as his eyes met hers, his mouth gaping open in surprise. 

The shaking of Tiffany’s fingers as she took the joint from him was not lost on Norman. Neither was the intense look her and Colson were giving each other. His eyes darted between the two of them for a moment before he took the chance and asked, “So I guess you two know each other too?”

Colson was jared from his trance at the question, his gaze stuttering back and forth for a moment before he let a small smile play on his lips as he nodded, “Yeah. Me and Tiff go back.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you would know people here? You made it seem like I was dragging you into unknown territory or something.” Norman rasped, cocking an eyebrow with an impish grin on his face. 

“I was hoping I wouldn’t.” Tiffany quipped, shrugging her shoulders loosely as she looked up at him. She brought the weed to her lips with a deep inhale, willing herself to calm down so she wouldn’t just get up and leave. 

“What was it that you wanted to show me, bro?” Rook interjected, sensing his sisters unease.

“Huh? Oh. Yeah, uh. I can’t remember now.” Colson blanked, his stare stuck on Tiffany again before he broke away to meet Rook’s eyes, “Pete was lookin’ for us, though.”

“Better go check on him then.” Rook wagered with a chuckle, “You comin, Norm?”

“Yeah, I could use another drink.” Norman replied, glancing down at his empty cup before looking to Tiffany, “You comin, girl?”

“Nah, I’mma stay here for a little bit. I’ll catch up with you later.” Tiffany answered, lighting up another cigarette.

“Alright,” Norman nodded, leaning down to ruffle the top of her hair before kissing her head, “Come find me if you need anything.”

Tiffany smiled back as she watched Norman and Colson walk off, Rook hanging back for a second to speak with her. 

“You need to talk to him.” Her brother spoke simply, crouching down beside her chair to look her in the face, “He needs you to talk to him.”

“I thought that was the last thing you wanted.” Tiffany huffed, taking a drag from the smoke while shaking her head.

“Have you listened to the new album?” JP asked, cocking an eyebrow at her, watching as she nodded her head, “Then you should know why he needs you right now.” 

“And what about what happened?” Tiffany rebuffed, recoiling away from him to glare, “You’re the reason for all of that.” 

“Look, Tiff.” Rook started, sighing deeply as he reached for her free hand, “I love you. You know that. I saw how much that shit hurt you and I didn’t want it to happen again. It wasn’t my place and I’m sorry. I hope you forgive me.”

Tiffany could see the sincerity in her brothers eyes, and no matter how much she tried, she couldn’t stay mad at him. 

“I hate you, you know that?” She snorted, looking away to roll her eyes, “Can’t stand your ass.”

“What are little brothers for?” Rook grinned, standing up with a huff and pulling her to her feet. She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed, laughing when he did the same and lifted her off the ground, “Now come on, let’s go see what those idiots are up to.”

They made their way through through the sea of people until they found Norman and Colson sitting at the bar in the dining room, Pete pouring a bottle of whiskey into shot glasses from the other side. Tiffany smiled as she gave Pete a side-hug, the man kissing her forehead before she perched herself on a barstool on the other side of Norman. 

“So what will it be, Tuffy?” Pete inquired, pulling a smile from Tiff with the use of the nickname, “You gonna drink whiskey with the men or do I need to make you a daiquiri.”

“Tiff can’t keep up with whiskey, ain’t no way.” Norman chuckled, leaning against the bar to face her, “I give her 4 shots before she’s on the floor.”

Norman jerked his head at the sound of Colson and Rook snorting, both of them trying to keep from erupting into laughter. Colson wiped his mouth with the palm of his hand before biting his lip, looking up to the ceiling to try and control himself. 

“What?” Norman asked, holding his hands up in question, “I’ll even put money on it.”

“Oh, boy,” Rook laughed, shaking his head as he looked at his sister, “Have you never been drinking with this dude?”

“He’s my boss, so uh, no.” Tiffany answered, shrugging, “My drinking habits have never come up.”

“Habits?” Norman asked, eyebrow raised, “You have drinking habits?”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Pete interrupted, holding his hands out for them to pause, “Don’t let him back down now. He said he’d put money on it.”

“I got a hundred dollars right now that says she can’t.” Norman shrugged, pushing off the edge of the bar to face Pete, “I’ll even go shot for shot with her.” 

Pete shot a wink at Tiffany as he lined up the glasses, pouring extra ones for everyone else. Before Norman even had a chance to say ‘go,’ Tiffany reached over and started downing the glasses with ease, Colson and Rook both chanting for her. She finished her four quickly and leaned over Norman to grab Colson’s, her tongue darting out at him playfully before bringing it to her lips.

“Hey!” Colson complained with a laugh, snatching the glass back from her and looking into the emptiness with a pout, “That was mine.” 

“I’m sure it’s not impossible for you to get more, Kels,” Tiffany replied with a chuckle, sitting back in her seat and nodding for Pete, “I’ll even take one with you.” 

“How the fuck are you even still standing?” Norman gaped, his eyes wide and curious, “I’m not understanding how you’re still standing.” 

“Well, you see, Mr. Reedus,” Pete began to explain, silly expression on his face as he refilled the glasses, “Tiffany here can out drink everybody.”

“Everybody?” Norman asked, skeptic.

“Everybody.” The other three men replied in unison, cracking up in giggles afterwards. 

Norman then proceeded to take it upon himself to see exactly how much it took for Tiffany to get wasted. It wasn’t something that was going to happen easily, but by the tenth shot, she could feel her body loosen and mind getting wobbly. She looked over to Colson, who seemed to be in about the same state as she was. His eyes met hers as they had a silent conversation, Colson rolling his eyes when she scrunched her nose up at him and wiggled her eyebrows. 

“We’ll be right back,” Colson announced, snatching Tiffany’s hand as he walked by her, “Smoke break.”

Tiffany could hear Norman try to speak up as she was tugged away, but when she turned her head back around she saw Rooks arm holding Norman back, shaking his head as he explained they needed their space for a moment. 

“Only gonna talk to me for my drugs, huh?” Colson snickered once they were outside and around the corner of the house in the dark shadows. 

“Shut up.” Tiffany whined, stumbling slightly as she leaned back into the side of the brick, landing a lot harder than she tried to. Colson snickered again, shaking head as he pulled the baggie of white powder from his pocket.

“You’re a lot drunker than you thought you were, huh?” He teased.

“Shut up and open the stupid baggie.” Tiffany pouted, rolling her eyes. 

He did as she was told and she dipped the manicured tip of her pinky nail into the plastic, gathering some in the acrylic crevice before lifting it to her nose. She repeated the step with her other nostril, instantly feeling more functionable than before. 

“You need my help?” Tiffany asked, gesturing to the bag with her nail. Colson nodded and she dipped her finger the powder and extended it to him, the man stumbling as he tried to find her nail with his nose. 

“Jesus Christ, you’re helpless,” Tiffany snorted as the substance went all over his face, the two of them laughing as Colson tried to keep his balance.

“Fuck you! Keep your fucking finger still.” Colson argued, bright smile beaming across his face as he tried to steady himself. 

He ended up having to hold himself up with his hand on the wall by Tiffany’s head, leaning over to her so she could practically shove her finger up his nose. 

“I miss this,” Colson confessed, wiping his nose with his hand that wasn’t pressed against the brick after putting the baggie back in his pants.

“Doing drugs with me?” Tiffany chuckled, giving him a wry smile as she shifted her eyes to his.

“Yes,” he shrugged, licking his lips as he looked down at her, “Missed being around you.”

Nodding, she leaned in and wrapped her arms around him, her head falling to his sternum as she squeezed, “Me too, Cols.” 

Colson hesitantly let his arms fall to her sides, the feeling of her against him for the first time in months making him have to swallow back the lump in his throat. He knew what this meant, and he knew what he was going to do to make sure it went perfect this time. 

“Love you, Tiff.” He mumbled into her hair as he bent over, his tall frame encasing her. She didn’t hear it, but the fact that she was in front of him for him to even say it to make everything in his life seem a little better.

“Come on,” She said finally, pulling away to smile up at him with the smile he loved most in the world besides his daughter’s, “Let’s go outdrink my boss some more, eh?”

Masterlist

Tags:  @cobainscocaiine  @coffee-obsessed-writer @through-thesilver-lining @daryldixonandfrogs @buckyscrystalqueen@mgkobsessed@iamdorka @creatureofthen1ght-v3@xxencagedxx@xxkellsvixen19xx @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk @bvibunny138

[hunnywrites]

Arcade Dreams: Chapter Twenty Two

Summary: There’s a new girl working at the Palace Arcade and Hawkins’ Family Video. Billy can’t stand her, and the feeling is mutual. No matter what everyone else seems to think.

Pairing: Billy Hargrove/OFC

A/N: Writer’s block is a very weird thing, my dudes. I had about half of this chapter written in like an hour and then I just could NOT finish it. But it’s here now! We’re getting closer and closer to the nightmare that is the Mind Flayer. Who else is excited?

By the time Teddi, El and Max made it back to the apartment, the two girls had filled Teddi in on everything from Demogorgons, to secret government labs, to alternate dimensions out in the woods. Teddi had been uncharacteristically quiet through all of it. 

“So you’re saying...that El has magic, psychic powers and that monsters from Dungeons and Dragons, a board game, kidnapped Will and possessed him?” she asked finally after she’d spent nearly three entire minutes starting quietly at Max and El. 

“I mean, that’s the short version…” Max muttered. “Everything got quiet right when you moved here. We got rid of the Mind Flayer and things went back to normal...for the most part.” 

Teddi’s eyebrows came together in a confused frown. “...Are you two messing with me right now? How long did it take you to come up with all of this? I gotta say, it’s pretty impressive,” she laughed. “You like actually had me there for a second-” 

Max looked over at El and shot her a look that Teddi was familiar with. It was like they were judging someone without speaking a word. El shifted in her seat a little, turning towards the TV and taking in a deep breath. Teddi opened her mouth to ask what she was doing, the sound cut off with a gasp as the TV came to life. Teddi jumped, falling further back against the couch. “...H-how…?” she asked with wide eyes. The TV shut off again. 

El wasn’t finished yet. The stack of magazines on the coffee table in front of them rose up into the air, each issue shuffling together before landing back on the table in a neat stack. Teddi’s mouth was hanging open as she stared down hard at the magazines. “...Holy shit,” she breathed out. The two girls watched carefully as she stood up, moving around the couch and to the fridge. She grabbed one of Billy’s beers, popping the tab and taking a long swig. “Holy shit.” 

“You sound like Steve.” Max joked, she and El letting out small laughs. 

Teddi wiped the foam from her lips with the back of her hand, letting out a loud scoff. “Wait, what? Steve knows about all of this and I don’t? Steve Harrington?”

“He helped Nancy and Johnathan catch the Demogorgon when Will went missing,” Max explained. “Then he helped us destroy the Demodog nest last year.” 

“Nancy and Jonathan know? Am I the only person around here that doesn’t know about all of this?” Teddi asked, crossing her arms tightly across her chest. 

“Billy doesn’t know.” El assured her. 

“Yeah, I stabbed him in the neck with tranquilizers when he tried to kill Steve at the Byers’ place.” Max said with a proud look.

“What?!” Teddi blanched. 

Max rolled her eyes. “We have other things we should be focusing on right now. Like finding Billy and figuring out what he’s up to.” 

Teddi had no idea how she was supposed to focus on whatever it was that Billy was doing now. She had suddenly stumbled into a fantasy world that was straight out of the books she loved to read. How could she possibly worry about boys when there might be monsters running around Hawkins?

“You know...when you said El could find Billy, I thought you were gonna just suggest we star 69 the last number that called.” Teddi finally said. 

El and Max gave each other another look. “...This way’s more fun.” El finally said. 

Teddi couldn’t argue there. “Well what do we do? How does this work? I was kidding earlier about the ouija board but I totally have one in my closet-”

El laughed, shaking her head. “I need a radio. And a blindfold.” 

Teddi didn’t need to hear anymore. She hurried off to Billy’s room, grabbing his boombox and yanking the cord from the wall. There was a brief moment when she thought that she could probably find something Billy had used as a blindfold at some point, but shuddered at the thought. Instead she grabbed a pink bandana from her room, bringing the radio and the blindfold back out to the tiny living room. 

El sat with her back to the TV. She tied the bandana around her eyes while Max plugged the stereo in and set it next to her. El had done this a handful of times before with Max. They liked to spy on the boys whenever they got bored. It was simple enough, but El had to admit she was sort of dreading what she might see once she found Billy.

El couldn’t see Teddi, but she could practically feel her nervous, jittery energy from the couch. “So how does this work? Is it like telekinetic powers or something? Like Jean Grey?” Teddi asked, her words were quick and almost jumbled together. 

“Teddi,” Max laughed. “You have to be quiet.” 

Teddi mumbled out a sorry, the room growing quiet. El sat up straight, taking in a deep breath. Nothing happened at first. El let the breath she’d been holding in out slowly. There was a low hum of electricity that filled the tiny apartment. The tips of El’s fingers felt tingly, like she had shocked herself. The feeling travelled up her arms, the lights flickering around them as the room almost groaned under the weight of her powers. 

“Your nose!” Teddi breathed out. El could hear her get up from her seat, ready to wipe away the small trail out blood that was probably running down El’s nose. She never really felt it when it happened anymore. 

“It’s fine. It happens when she uses her powers sometimes.” Max explained.

“Guys.” El mumbled. 

“..Sorry.” Teddi and Max said. Eventually El found Billy. She always found it harder to find Billy than it was Mike or any of the boys or even Teddi. She didn’t know why. Sometimes she felt like somehow he knew she was watching him and was trying to push her away. It didn’t feel like that now at least. El almost immediately felt guilty for prying. 

“I see him,” El finally said. Max perked up, Teddi leaning forwards against the coffee table. El frowned as Billy’s surroundings started to slowly appear around him. There were shelves of books around him. And a pretty girl. She was smiling up at him. “He’s...there’s books.” she said with a slight frown.

Teddi raised an eyebrow. “Books? Yeah right. Is it possible for her powers to be broken?” she asked. Max let out a snort. El didn’t answer. 

“There’s a girl,” El mumbled. She leaned forward to get a better look at the name tag she was wearing. “...Mckenna?”

“Who the fuck’s Mckenna?” 

“Max,” Teddi said sternly. There was a long pause before Teddi finally spoke again. “...It’s gotta be Mckenna Prescott. She went to school with us. I’m pretty sure she works at the bookstore at the mall. But Mckenna’s nice. I mean, I thought she was…” Teddi said with a frown. 

El watched Billy flash a charming smile down at Mckenna. He leaned against one of the shelves casually, tucking a hand in one of his pockets. “I really appreciate this, Mckenna. You’re a lifesaver.” he said cooly.

Mckenna giggled, giving her chocolatey hair a dramatic shake. “It’s no problem, Billy,” El hated how she said his name. She let out a small ‘blech’ sound. “I think it’s in the back room. Follow me.” 

Billy, Mckenna and the bookshelves started to slowly fade away like a cloud of smoke as the two walked off. El frowned hard at what she had just seen. Was it suspicious? Definitely. Did it make any sense? Not even close. She pulled the bandana off, her eyes immediately falling on Teddi. 

Teddi looked almost scared. Like she was waiting for El to tell her something horrible. It sounded horrible. El wanted to believe that there was something about this that she was missing. Something that would prove that Billy wasn’t the guy that everyone thought he was. 

“...That’s all I could see,” El finally lied. “He’s too far, I think.”

Max and Teddi both noticeably deflated. “Well should we go to the mall?” Max asked, her head whipping over towards Teddi. 

Teddi had settled back into that unusual silence. She watched El, like she knew she was lying and was waiting for her to crack. Hop gave her that look sometimes too. It never made her feel as guilty as it was now. Eventually Teddi shook her head. “No. That’s...no. I’m sure it’s fine, right? We’re just being paranoid,” it was obvious she was trying to convince herself as well as Max. “Let’s just watch some movies and forget all about Billy. We can order pizza.”

It was like El blinked and Teddi was suddenly back to normal. Her bright, cheery smile was back and she was holding her shoulders up high. El wondered how often Teddi kept that facade up. How often she was genuinely smiling rather than convincing everyone she was. 

Teddi downed the rest of the beer, pushing herself up off the floor and heading over to the phone to order the pizza. Max shot El a look. “...What?” El asked, a defensive frown on her face. 

Max narrowed her eyes at her best friend. “...Did you see something else?” 

El’s eyes flickered instinctively towards Teddi. She paused for a moment before shaking her head. “No. Nothing.” she lied. 

---

It was late. Billy’s hands gripped tightly at the steering wheel as he pressed down on the gas a little harder. He felt like shit for skipping out on the party and lying to Teddi. But adding on the fact that it was pushing midnight and he had just driven two towns over made him dread going back home and trying to explain himself. 

His eyes flickered over to the brown paper bag sitting in the seat beside him. He’d been searching for the perfect gift for Teddi for almost a month. About a week ago he’d driven out to Star Court while Teddi was at work and asked Mckenna if she could help him get his hands on it. Billy didn’t know her very well. They’d had maybe one class together in high school, but like most girls in Hawkins, Mckenna had a thing for Billy and was more than willing to help him out. So he flirted with her a little to get what he wanted. It was harmless. He definitely wouldn’t be telling Teddi about it, but it was totally harmless. 

After he’d shown up to the mall, Mckenna had started talking his ear off about what she’d been up to in the month since they’d graduated. Billy had done his best to pretend to care. She was doing him a favor after all. But after he realized he’d been standing in the bookstore for over half an hour, he decided to give her a little push. A lot of good that had done. 

“Oh god. I think Josh must’ve sold it. I told him like nine million times I was holding it for you!” she’d said when she had all but dragged him to the back room. So Billy had to wait for Mckenna to call what felt like every bookstore in all of Indiana until she found one that had what he was looking for. Of course the store was over an hour away. 

Billy parked the Camaro next to Teddi’s van. The lights were still on in the apartment. Billy let out a frustrated huff, grabbing the brown paper bag and heading up to the apartment. The girls were all asleep. Teddi was sprawled out on the couch with Max tucked against her side. El was curled up in a makeshift fort they’d built with Teddi’s sleeping bag and Billy’s comforter. The TV was still on. Billy assumed from the bright blue screen that they’d fallen asleep in the middle of a movie. There were soda and beer cans and a box of half eaten pizza littering the coffee table. 

“...Billy?” it was El. She leaned up on her elbows, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she blinked up at him. 

Billy dropped his keys onto the kitchen counter along with the brown paper bag. He shifted awkwardly. “Hey...sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.” 

El shook her head. “Had to pee...where were you?” 

If Billy imagined El, Max and Teddi sitting around the cabin with the boys probably playing dungeons and dorks, he would be glad that he missed her birthday. But looking at El, with those big, sad brown eyes of hers made him remember how sad Teddi had looked when she was talking about her own birthday. Had Billy wanted to spend the night with her alone? Of course. But Teddi wanted to spend her birthday with him, El and Max. Her family. He hated himself.

Billy looked down at Teddi. She was sound asleep, snoring a little into Max’s hair. He tentatively reached out for the brown paper bag, moving around the couch and kneeling down in front of El. She was wearing that god awful necklace Teddi had found. Billy felt his lips twitch in a small grin. “I uh...I was getting this. For Teddi. It’s a secret though.” he held the bag out to her. 

El frowned a little, leaning forwards to peek inside. She mouthed the words on the cover to herself as she read it before smiling up at him. “For her birthday.” it wasn’t a question.

“Yeah. Kinda had to go on a hunt for it...sorry I missed your party.”

“It’s fine. We brought cake home for you. It’s in the fridge.” she said, pulling her knees to her chest. 

Billy let out a small laugh, reaching forward to ruffle her hair. “Thanks, Punky.” 

El raised an eyebrow. “What’s Punky?”

“Y’know...Punky Brewster. It’s a show. Jesus, what’s Teddi teaching you kids?” he looked over his shoulder to where Teddi was sleeping on the couch. He briefly looked at the beer cans on the table before looking back at El. “She get drunk?”

“A little,” El confessed. “Not too bad…” 

“She mad at me?” 

“More sad...she thinks you’re with other girls.”

Billy felt a jolt of guilt through his chest. “Yeah, I was worried she might think that…” he sighed. “Get some sleep, kid. We can all go out tomorrow, make up for me missing the party, okay? Whatever you want.”

El eyed him carefully. “...Promise?” 

“Have I ever broken a promise?” he asked. El shot him a look. Billy let out a small, dry laugh, rolling his eyes lazily. “...Okay, fine. I promise.” 

El smiled up at him, nodding before getting up and hurrying off to the bathroom. Billy stood, running a hand through his hair and letting out a sigh. Carefully he leaned over Max, easily scooping Teddi up into his arms and off the couch. Max grumbled quietly, shifting over into a more comfortable position. 

He navigated the messy living room, heading into Teddi’s room and gently setting her on her bed. Teddi let out a low groan, rolling onto her back and blinking up at Billy. Her lipgloss and eyeliner were smudged. “The hell have you been?” she asked, her voice slurring slightly. 

“Out.” Billy said evenly. 

Teddi let out a heavy sigh, rubbing at her eyes and smudging her makeup further. “Look, I know you were out with someone else. Why can’t you just like man up and break up with me if you don’t wanna do this anymore-” 

“The hell are you talking about, Larsson? I wasn’t out with anyone. I had something I had to do.”

Teddi sat up slowly, swaying a little as she glared up at him. “And this something was more important than El’s birthday?”

“Can we talk about this later when you’re not drunk?” he huffed, his hands resting angrily on his hips. Teddi’s expression didn’t waver. Billy ran a frustrated hand over his face. “You just gotta trust me, okay? I told El I was sorry.” Teddi’s expression softened a little.

She held out her middle finger to him. “You promise you weren’t out being a rat bastard?” 

Billy laughed softly, groaning a little as he hooked his finger with hers. “You chicks are big on promises, huh? Yeah, fine. I promise,” he wrapped his arm around her middle, easily lifting Teddi up and moving her over to make room for himself. Teddi squeaked as he tossed her, grabbing fists full of his t-shirt. “You still mad at me?” he asked as he settled next to her. 

“Yes...a little,” she sighed. “The keeping stuff from each other just gives me this like...icky feeling.” she confessed.

“I’m not...I mean, except for now. But you’re gonna have to deal with it, Larsson,” Teddi let out a scoff, letting his shirt go and crossing her arms tightly across her chest. Billy chuckled, leaning over his girlfriend and pressing a few kisses to the base of her neck. “You know,” he mumbled against her collarbone. “If it helps, I felt guilty about skipping out.”

“You mean you’re capable of that emotion?” Teddi asked dryly. 

“Funny.”

Teddi gave Billy’s chest a soft push, their eyes meeting. “Okay, but like...what if you killed a guy?” she asked. Billy blinked down at her. “You’d tell me right?”

Billy was silent for a few moments before letting out a laugh. “What are we, Bonnie and Clyde? You gonna help me hide the body, Weird Girl?”

“It’s hypothetical, smartass.” 

“Fine,” Billy grinned. “The second I off someone, you’re the first person I’m gonna call,” Teddi seemed genuinely pleased with this answer. “You know, you’re even weirder when you’re drunk.” he teased, leaning down to kiss her. 

“If you two are gonna make out all night, can you at least close the door? I so don’t wanna hear this.” Max called out from the couch. 

Teddi smiled against Billy’s lips, breaking out into a fit of giggles. “Sorry, Max!” she called back, pushing a grumbling Billy towards her bedroom door. 

“I thought you were still mad at me?” he asked, shutting the door and stripping down to his underwear. 

“I am. But we used your blanket to make the fort so it’s only fair,” Teddi explained, wriggling out of her cut off shorts and throwing them across the room. “Let me sleep on that side though, I might have to puke later.” she said, reaching for the small trash can that sat next to her nightstand. 

“...Sure know how to get a guy hot, Ted.” Billy muttered, grabbing the trash can and setting it next to the bed. Once they were both settled, Teddi tucked against Billy’s chest with his chin resting on her head, it didn’t take long for Teddi to fall back asleep. 

Billy briefly wondered when this had become his life. Living with a girl he loved, sharing a bed almost every single night, family dinners at Hopper’s on the weekends. He was happy. That loud, angry voice that had at one point controlled almost everything he did barely spoke to him anymore. It scared him a little. Like he was turning into that annoying gold droid in those stupid Star Wars movies Teddi had forced him to watch that was always saying I’ve got a bad feeling about this. 

He shoved those worries aside. His arm tightened around Teddi, her hand mindlessly reaching down to rest on his forearm as she snuggled deeper into her pillow. They deserved to be happy. Billy wasn’t going to fall for that self fulfilling prophecy bullshit Teddi was always talking about (he was pretty sure he understood what it was at this point). 

What could possibly stand in their way?

[beeblackburn]

Pretender Reads A Little Hatred, Part I, Chapter One

It's time. Goes without saying spoilers ahead for the entirety of The First Law works beyond the keep reading. Read at your own risk.

PART I

"The age is running mad after innovation;

and all the business of the world

is to be done in a new way.”

—Dr Johnson

No joke? This quotes gave me chills as a declaration of authorial intent. I have a slightly more optimistic view of The First Law’s world, but even I knew the first trilogy’s intent was, beyond commenting on how much Abercrombie dug Lord of the Rings so much that he wrote a trilogy to show his... appreciation, to show that, as much as people want to change, they are helpless to actually commit by their pasts, being pieces and pawns to the old ways and grudges of Bayaz and Khalul’s “great” war of two old assholes fighting over grudges kept alive solely two great powers butting heads over wrongs long past. 

That human nature is fundamentally unchanging.

But, at the same time? Abercrombie’s throwing down a gauntlet with this quote. With the new flavor of fantasy he’s promising, the new generation of characters he has to usher in to spearhead that new age, he has to change. He cannot rehash the old stories. Cannot repeat the old patterns. Cannot force the old systems continuing to work, having grown rusty and creaky with age. History has to move forward. Meaning he has to pave the path to new ways. The question is, new way in what manner? New ways as in a social progress, positive change, a better world? Or new ways as in Bayaz changing from magic to money, and from spells to cannons, in order to assert the same small-minded ideal of might makes right with different tools? 

It’s a new age of madness, but with human nature being what it is? Abercrombie has shown that a little hatred goes a long way to lead us to stepping upon old roads left behind our parents, who they themselves trod on by their predecessors.

Chapter Title: Blessings and Curses Point-of-View: Rikke

“Rikke.”

She prised one eye open. A slit of stabbing, sickening brightness.

“Come back.”

She pushed the spit-wet dowel out of her mouth with her tongue and croaked the one word she could think of. “Fuck.”

Now isn’t that just a typical Abercrombie sentiment. Actually, what I want to focus on is how this opening is lean compared to The Blade Itself:

Logen plunged through the trees, bare feet slipping and sliding on the wet earth, the slush, the wet pine needles, breath rasping in his chest, blood thumping in his head. He stumbled and sprawled onto his side, nearly cut his chest open with his own axe, lay there panting, peering through the shadowy forest.

—The Blade Itself, The End

From Blessings and Curses, we already see a much apparent crispness of voice, short paragraphs broken apart, an unusual situation of a girl opening one eye and having to come back (come back from what?) There’s a surreal quality that Logen’s opening, as much as I like it as an introduction to The Blade Itself, can’t beat beyond the chapter title. Yet, to remind us it’s Abercrombie, someone has to say fuck. Because of course.

“There’s my girl!” Isern squatted beside her, necklace of runes and finger bones dangling, grinning that twisted grin that showed the hole in her teeth and offering no help at all.

HOLY FUCK IT’S CRUMMOCK’S SHIN-KICKER AAAAAAAAAAAH!!!

“I saw folk falling from a high tower. Dozens of ’em.” She winced at the thought of them hitting the ground. “I saw folk hanged. Rows of ’em.” Her gut cramped at the memory of swinging bodies, dangling feet. “I saw … a battle, maybe? Below a red hill.”

Isern sniffed. “This is the North. Takes no magic to see a battle coming. What else?”

“I saw Uffrith burning.” Rikke could almost smell the smoke still. She pressed her hand to her left eye. Felt hot. Burning hot.

“What else?”

“I saw a wolf eat the sun. Then a lion ate the wolf. Then a lamb ate the lion. Then an owl ate the lamb.”

“Must’ve been a real monster of an owl.”

“Or a tiny little lamb, I guess? What does it mean?”

So, full disclosure here: I did read the A Little Hatred blurb before reading, so I already knew we were getting something like this... but holy shit, we’re seriously getting a prophet? I’m going to talk my precise thoughts on this later, in full first impressions of Rikke as a character, but man, I usually hate prophecies and prophets, but with Abercrombie? Dude’s earned enough credit (specifically, everything to do with Grom-gil-Gorm’s prophecy in the Shattered Sea series) at my trust bank to get me to care. And I love how Rikke can still feel the sensory details of her visions, the costs of magic. Magic.

Also, am I a terrible person for, seeing the eats in the prophecy, immediately thinking Eaters? I probably am.

I’ll hold off on dissecting the prophecy at the chapter’s end. 

"Well, I can unveil two secrets right away.” Rikke groaned as she pushed herself up onto one elbow. “My head hurts and I shat myself.”

"That second one’s no secret, anyone with a nose is party to it.”

"Shitty Rikke, they’ll call me." She wrinkled her nose as she shifted. “And not for the first time.”

"Your problem is in caring what they call you.”

There’s definitely a very winning formula with how Rikke and Isern’s dynamic works: the young, soft-hearted naif butting and bouncing heads against the more world-weary, a touch twisted, experienced warrior. Rikke complains about how much the world will react to her, Isern tells her to suck it up because Rikke doesn’t have to care at all.

Also, not going to lie: part of why I love Rikke is that she shits herself during her visions and fits. It undercuts the mystique of magic with the unpleasant consequences, grounded in reality.

Isern tapped under her left eye. “You say cursed with fits, I say blessed with the Long Eye.”

So. First off, fun fact:

Crummock spun one of the wooden signs on his necklace round and around. “I can’t see her letting Bethod lose, and herself along with him, can you? A witch as clever as that one? There’s all kinds of magic she could mix. All kinds of blessings and curses. All kinds of ways that bitch could tilt the outcome, as though the chances weren’t tilted enough already.”

—Last Argument of Kings, Leaves on the Water

History echoes, doesn’t it? Another i-Phail, another user of the Long Eye, and a discussion about the blessings and curses of magic. The players are different, but the sentiments are similar enough to ripple from the past to the present.

Now, my first reaction to reading this part of the blurb was: WHOA WHOA WHOA, Caurib’s Long Eye from The First Law trilogy? OH MY GOD!!!!! Just more connective tissue to link this book from its past, the earliest roots of Abercrombie’s world-building, when he was still tinkering with what he wanted (long eye isn’t even capitalized in The First Law’s mention of it). It’s a nice reference for us long-time readers and a magical power for the new readers. 

Mind you, all I’m thinking is: was Caurib, every time she was decked out and being impossibly beautiful in the way Abercrombie wrote her... was she actually having fits and headaches and shitting for her visions? Because, wow, I can only imagine how frustrated she must’ve been having to make public appearances. I can just imagine her wishing everyone would fuck off so she could have headaches and shit in peace. Already makes me like Caurib a lot more now.

“Huh.” Rikke rolled onto her knees and her stomach kept on rolling and tickled her throat with sick. By the dead, she felt sore and squeezed out. Twice the pain of a night at the ale cup and none of the sweet memories. “Doesn’t feel like much of a blessing to me,” she muttered, once she’d risked a little burp and fought her guts to a draw.

I really do appreciate how much Abercrombie grounds and mixes a curse into magical “blessings.” I was really skeptical of putting in some last trace of magic in anyone, but Rikke’s right in it not being a blessing, and considering magic is on its last legs, there’s no way Bayaz won’t meet her later and clutch his monstrous hands on her Long Eye, teaching her finesse in exchange for getting to aim where it goes towards.

Another tool. Another weapon to kill his enemies.

"Might have to rope you in future, make sure you don’t crack your nut and end up a drooler like my brother Brait. At least he can keep his shit in, mind you.” 

HOW MANY SONS DID CRUMMOCK HAVE. THE FUCK!? I can’t even find a Brait anywhere except The Heroes and that was clearly not him. For one, he didn’t drool!

“My head still aches so bad I can feel it in my teeth.” Rikke wanted to shout but knew it’d hurt too much, so she had to whine it soft instead. “I need no more small discomforts.”

“Life is small discomforts, girl! They’re how you know you are alive.”

Another part of why I like Rikke so much is that, as a character starting out, she whines. A decent amount. She’s admittedly got some good reason to do so, but as the narrative points out and Isern especially, at least living means you get to whine about it and too much of it will only enable more discomfort, make the pain bigger. There’s intentional room to grow for Rikke and the fact that Abercrombie lets her be a bit of a whiner at the risk of alienating readers is a writer’s courage I always try to emulate. 

Character development’s has to start somewhere.

“Guess not. Just, in the songs, it’s a thing witches and magi and deep-wise folk used to see into the fog of what comes. Not a thing that makes idiots fall down and shit themselves.”

“In case you never noticed, bards have a habit of dressing things up. There is a fine living, d’you see, in songs about deep-wise witches, but in shitty idiots, less.”

Snrrrrrk. I got to love how Abercrombie shades lesser and classic fantasies. He does so well with it.

“And proving you have the Long Eye is no simple matter. You cannot force it open. You must coax it.” And Isern tickled Rikke under the chin and made her jerk away. “Take it up to the sacred places where the old stones stand so the moon might shine full upon it. But it’ll see what it sees when it chooses, even so.” 

Huh. Crummock made it clear that there was something special about the moon during his time in Last Argument of Kings. I assumed it was solely just him thinking the moon’s love made men more violent and strong, but did he think it could influence magic? Given his more singular focus on violence and his clear Bloody-Nine murderboner fanboying, I think Crummock was a lot more close-minded about how the moon can affect things. Isern’s a lot more flexible, by comparison.

(Also, are those sacred places that fortress Logen and Crummock and the rest had their last stand in the High Places? Crummock did say it was well loved of the moon...)

“War?”

“It’s when a fight gets so big almost no one comes out of it well.”

“I know what it bloody is.” Rikke had a spot of fear growing at the nape of her neck which she couldn’t shrug off however much she wriggled her shoulders. “But there’s been peace in the North all my lifetime.”

“My da used to say times of peace are when the wise prepare for violence.”

“Your da was mad as a bootful of dung.”

“And what does your da say? Few men so sane as the Dogman.”

Rikke wriggled her shoulders one more time, but nothing helped. “He says hope for the best and prepare for the worst.”

Isern’s first line is true, but also makes me think of all the Northmen who came into war, looking for glory and a Name, and came out dead or unable to stop killing, their bloody footsteps followed by fellow warriors with same dreams of glory and a Name, just younger. War chews up men and spits them out, dead or alive, no one living coming out without trauma and/or a score of dead friends.

Also, Dogman’s daughter, huh! Good on him for managing to raise a decent child in the Circle of the World, even if she has her share of flaws. Rikke certainly reminds me of a softer, more whinier Dogman, yet still decent.

Rikke blinked at her. ‘You can’t have been ten years old.’

‘Old enough to kill a man.’

‘What?’

‘Used to carry my da’s hammer, ’cause the smallest should take the heaviest load, but that day he was fighting with the hammer so I had his spear. This very one.’ Its butt tapped the rhythm of their walking on the path. ‘My da knocked a man down, and he was trying to get up, and I stabbed him right up the arse.’

‘With that spear?’ Rikke had come to think of it as just a stick Isern carried. A stick that happened to have a deerskin cover over one end. She didn’t like thinking there was a blade under there. Especially not one that had been up some poor bastard’s arse.

I love Abercrombie’s humor, especially given how actually rather depressing Isern’s age of killing was. It always serves to give levity to some heavy stuff in the story, preventing the darkness from choking most people whole. It’s the “poor bastard” part of that last line that brings the smile and laughter out.

“Girl, you have a ring through your nose.” 

“I am aware.” And Rikke stuck her tongue out and touched the tip to it. “It keeps me tethered.”

Hey, you want to know another part of why I really like Rikke? Nose rings are fucking cool. Gives her a distinct appearance and fashion.

Now if only other prophets had nose rings instead of cloaks and vague portents, I wouldn’t find them so bloody boring.

“You’ve a wolf on your shield,” she said.

“Stour Nightfall’s mark,” growled the big man, with a hint of pride, and Rikke saw he had a wolf on his shield, too, though his was scuffed almost back to the wood.

(Looks at his book) Well, shit! The cover’s actually relevant. I was eyeing the UK cover better, but now that this US/Can one has meaning, I can accept it.

Also, Stour Nightfall is the coolest fucking name. Can’t wait to meet him!

“Nightfall’s the greatest warrior since the Bloody-Nine!” piped up the young one. “He’s going to take back Angland and drive the Union out o’ the North!” 

(Arches an eyebrow) I don’t take issue with taking back Angland, there’s some valid enough history with Casamir that I don’t blame the North for it, but how did what I theorized to be Calder’s son become such a beef-cake? But really? Greatest warrior since the Bloody-Nine? I can’t help but think him a cut-price Bloody-Nine now.

“The Union?” And Rikke looked down at the wolf’s head badly daubed on his badly made shield. "A wolf ate the sun,” she whispered.

Thank you, Rikke, I studied English lit in high school. I can do my own analysis of symbolism and visions.

Rikke’s arrow stuck into his back, just under his shoulder blade.

Her turn to say, “Oh,” not sure whether she’d meant to let go the string or not.

A flash of metal and the old man’s head jolted, the blade of Isern’s spear catching him in the throat. He dropped his own spear, grabbed for her with clumsy fingers.

“Shush.” Isern slapped his hand away and ripped the blade free in a black gout.

The inexperienced child and hardened warrior dynamic continues with Rikke accidentally, not knowing if she meant to or not, dooming a boy to death and Isern, experienced hand at the black business, aims for the kill and gives her enemies no ground to gain leverage upon her. But, ultimately...

“You killed ’em.” Rikke felt all hot. There were some red speckles on her hand. The big one was lying on his face, shirt soaked dark.

“You killed this one,” said Isern. The lad knelt there, making these squeaky little gasps as he tried to reach around his back to the arrow shaft, though what he’d do if he got his fingertips to it, Rikke had no idea.

... no one’s hands in this world remain clean for too long.

“Then killing ’em was all o’ the one choices we had, eh? Your problem is you’re all heart.” And she stabbed Rikke in the tit with one bony finger.

“Ow!” Rikke took a step away, holding her arms across her chest. “That hurts, you know!”

“You’re all heart all over, so you feel every sting and buffet. You must make of your heart a stone.” And Isern thumped her ribs with a fist, the finger bones around her neck rattling. “Ruthlessness is a quality much loved o’ the moon.” As if to prove the point, she bent down and heaved the dead lad into the bushes. “A leader must be hard, so others don’t have to be.”

First off, I stabbed my own chest with my own finger just now to see how much it hurt. I can only imagine the increased discomfort with doing it to breasts.

Second off, to give my first impressions of Rikke... well, it’s funny. I once talked to a great friend of mine who we love to talk tropes and stories and fiction about and I told him I generally don’t gravitate to the rougher shit-talking tomboy and the prophet character tropes. To be quite frank, the former bores me on general lack of craft (everyone seems to think the trope itself constitutes a strong personality!) and the latter is just dry plot exposition on two legs generally, full of billowing cloaks and being fuck-useless 99% of the story.

Rikke might have been love at first sight for a few reasons.

The consequences of prophecy. I keep nailing this point, but I do for a reason: I have rarely seen a prophet actually endure physical ailments for their magical gifts, and the headaches, the fits, the burning hot eye, and the shitting? It helps ground Rikke’s struggles in less abstract details so we can sympathize better. We might not have had visions, but we’ve had headaches, hot eyes and shat before.

She’s got a personality! She’s rough, she gives as good verbally as she gets, but she’s also kind and not someone who goes for violence as a first resort. But, at the same time, she’s definitely got her flaws. She’s a whiner. There’s a touch of naivety and inexperience that shows when she talks how times were different when Dogman was fighting and Isern shuts that illusion down, there’s even a softness in her with how she said they should’ve given Stour’s thugs a chance.

Her partnership dynamic with Isern is really winning, allowing more of her personality to bounce off of Isern while having some sass of her own to snap back at Isern, allowing her to have a personality to bounce off of. It allows for development of both characters in a way that Abercrombie’s first attempt at having an early traveling pair in Malacus Quai and Logen can never match, given all the personality leaping off the screen.

The tonal difference. Rikke is a really decent kid dropped into the Circle of the World. In any other series, my eyes would glaze over in boredom. In here? There’s so much misery and depressing reality that happens in the Circle of the World, that it looks like it’ll be a treat to see how she’ll interacts with the older, hardened generation of characters and how much decency might touch upon them. And that only makes Isern’s advice to her all the more interesting. Because her being all heart is hardly Bayaz’s ideal tool and I get the sense that her turning her heart into stone won’t be a smooth ride.

The nose ring. I’m sorry if it makes me shallow, but that’s a cool design choice and love the tethered justification.

The morning mist was long faded and she could see all the way across the patchwork of new-planted fields to Uffrith, wedged in against the grey sea behind its grey wall. Where her father’s old hall stood with the scraggy garden out the back. Safe, boring Uffrith, where she’d been born and raised. Only it was burning, just the way she’d seen it, and a great column of dark smoke rolled up and smudged the sky, drifting out over the restless sea.

(winces) Well, that’s one part of the prophecy dealt with.

Isern wandered from the trees with her spear across her shoulders and a great smile across her face. ‘You know what this means?’

‘War?’ whispered Rikke, horrified.

“Aye, that.” Isern waved it away like it was a trifle. “But more to the matter, I was right!” And she clapped Rikke on the shoulder so hard she near knocked her down. “You do have the Long Eye!”

Hah! Somehow, Isern, I think she won’t take the blessing of that statement and only see the curse of it.

So! Theory-crafting on the prophecy itself!

The only tower I know of in the North was in the High Places, and given Isern’s with Rikke, I can imagine that’s certainly plausible. Either that or somewhere in the Union, given its towers, especially the Tower of Chains? 

The battle below a red hill will be one of our battle set-pieces. Definitely something like the Casualties chapter in The Heroes.

Uffrith already burnt, but it was the first thing to happen, so the people hanged from towers and the red hill battle are yet to happen.

“I saw a wolf eat the sun” Stour taking down the Union. 

“Then a lion ate the wolf” Leo taking down Stour, which I’d normally take as a sign I shouldn’t get invested because I already know the outcome... but given Grom-gil-Gorm’s prophecy twist, I think there’s plenty of ways this could easily turn twisted, especially with Black Calder about. 

“Then a lamb ate the lion” I heard a decent amount of people say they thought it’d be straight-up Lamb and, man, NO. The point of Red Country is that, deep down, Lamb was only pretending to be a lamb and was really a wolf in lambswool. Someone who genuinely is worthless... Orso, from the blurb, seems to fit the bill, given that Leo’s been hoping for help there.

“Then an owl ate the lamb.” Bayaz with Orso. Owls are symbolized as knowledge and Bayaz’s being the First of the Magi, feels right for that... and given that Orso is part of the royal family and how Bayaz “ate” Jezal, I can’t say him repeating it with Orso is implausible. My only worry is, how will this be new from Bayaz and Jezal’s deal?

PART I

Chapter One: Blessings and Curses Chapter Two: Where the Fight’s Hottest Chapter Three: Guilt Is a Luxury Chapter Four: Keeping Score Chapter Five:  A Little Public Hanging Chapter Six: The Breakers Chapter Seven: The Answer to Your Tears Chapter Eight: Young Heroes Chapter Nine: The Moment

[broke-n-bitchy]

Wicked Dreams

Part Five

@triplehaitches Thank you for helping me get out of my writers’ block and for the suggestions!

@knightwhosaysnii @lovesick-heart0 @carmineharry @slowandangry @rxsesinjune @fandomshit6000 @my-names-blurryfvce @sighsophiia @jerseytaint

Part Sixx

Nikki Sixx x OC

Warnings: drinking, drugs, angst, domestic abuse

Flashback

-Lucy’s POV-

New city, new venue, and I should be pumped but the thought of Nikki’s hands running down my sides while his lips attached to my neck played in my head like a fucking broken record. I gazed at my stage outfit, admiring the makeup that Vince actually ended up doing for me.

Dude did my makeup better than I did. Sliding on the black blazer along with a top hat that Mick was actually letting me borrow, it came together. “Alright, showtime,” I mumbled to myself before leaning down to snort up a line of blow that was laid out on across the table.

I heard someone wiggle the knob before bursting inside of my dressing room, “Um, what are you doing?” It was Nikki. The butterflies in my stomach swirled around like a tornado. He didn’t say anything, he just swaggered over to me. The closer he got, the more nervous I felt.

Placing his hands upon my cheeks, his lips crashed into mine in a heated kiss. Letting out a soft grunt, he grasped my thighs and propped me up onto the table. “Nikki,” I tried pushing him off but this felt too good. Fluttering my eyes shut, running my hands along his shoulders while tugging him closer between my legs.

“Mm, you always smell so fuckin’ good,” He mumbled into my mouth and I felt a light blush tinting my cheeks. But it couldn’t be like this. We were too close for comfort. Gently pushing him back, I shook my head. “Nikki, last night.. It can’t happen again. We were caught up in the moment but we’re on tour together, we’re starting to become good friends - I just-” He cut me off by placing a finger on my lips.“

“It’s okay, babydoll. Just know that I am going to keep pushing until I get you,” He told me with a sly smirk before pulling back, “Good luck out there,” He said before walking out of my dressing room. Leaving me quite breathless.

End of Flashback

-Nikki’s POV-

After the show, Vince and Tommy decided to host a Halloween party since it was in a few days. We were going to be here for a few days and I’m sure it was they wanted to see girls’ in slutty costumes.

I didn’t dress up, I just slid on a pair of devil horns over my head. That was it. Sitting on the couch, and after snorting a few lines I leaned back. A bodacious brunette clinging to my side, she looked familiar from somewhere. Couldn’t quite pinpoint where though. 

Then, an angel walked into the room where I was. Literally. Lucy was turning heads in her costume.

She was wearing a white pair of fishnet thigh highs, matching heels. My eyes followed her body upwards and she was wearing this little white tutu, and this extremely tight corset that outlined her curves. Angel wings and a little halo headband on top to match it all.

Lucy looked around before being greeted by Vince. Just by his body language, you can tell he was flirting with her. And by hers, you could see that she was turning him down. Ha, been there buddy.

Being pulled by my thoughts, the girl that I was hanging with brought me back a drink, “Thank you, sweetheart.” I gulped it down in two drinks before settling the cup off to the side.

“Hey,” Lucy grinned while she sat down next to me. I was about to greet her before she pointed her finger towards the brunette across from her. “Hey, I remember you! Scarlett, right?” She questioned and the girl seemed generally excited. “Yeah, that’s me! I remember you too!” The girl smirked and then it all came back to me.

“Well, isn’t this a coincidence,” I tugged both girls closer to my body, Scarlett relaxing more than Lucy did. Her pupils were dilated, “You already do some blow?” I asked her and she shook her head, “No, I smoked a joint with my cousin before getting dressed. I needed to relax to get this corset to fit,” She told me before snagging the bottle of vodka on the table. It was unopened. Which meant it was Mick’s. Normally you’d get bitched at for touching his alcohol but Mick from across just nodded towards Lucy.

He had a soft spot for her, everyone did. Lucy unscrewed the cap and gulped down a few drinks. I was about to grab it before she shooed my hand away, “Get your own, Sixx,” she basically growled at me.

“Sharing is caring.” I scoffed before snagging the bottle and taking a drink. She just rolled her eyes at me, getting up and walking over so she could sit next to Scarlett.

“So how have you been, love?” Lucy asked over the loud music thumping in the background. I was literally getting cockblocked by my wingman. They were talking about something and I just groaned in annoyance. I was about to get fuckin’ laid. Then they hunched over a little to where I couldn’t hear them, giggling and laughing. They peaked up every now and then to look at me. Now I really wanted to know what they were talking about.

Lucy then gave Scarlett a nod before getting up and walking away. Scarlett moved closer to me again with a smirk, “Hey, so Lucy and I were talking and well..” She trailed off as her fingers trailed across my jawline, “How about we all get out of here? Head back to your room or hers.” She suggested. Was that what they were talking about? A threesome? What made Lucy change her mind about me? It’s been almost two months since she turned me down and she has every day since. I mean, I obviously wasn’t going to turn this down so I decided to just let it go. 

Scarlett excused herself before she got up, claiming that she was going to find Lucy so we could get the hell out of here; and that was a good question. Where was Lucy?

At first, I didn’t think anything of it but ten minutes passed by and still nothing. I’m going to be pissed if she stood me up.

My eyes searched through the party, hoping every brown-headed chick with blonde streaks was Lucy, but to my luck - my needs were never easy to fulfill. I did find Savannah? No, Samantha... Uh. Wait, it was Scarlett.

Strutting over to her, I slung an arm over her shoulder while a playful smirk rested on my lips, “Where’s Lucy?” I asked her.

Scarlett gave me this look of confusion, “I thought she was with you? She said she was going to look for you so we could get to business.” She ran her finger down my chest teasingly. Normally, I wouldn’t hesitate to just take Scarlett somewhere private but I was going to pass up this opportunity with Lucy. I’ve been trying for months to fuck her and tonight she’d finally let me, even if it was in a threesome.

“Hm, you check the ladies bathroom and I’ll ask her cousin,” I told Scarlett and she nodded before disappearing into the crowd. Maybe she got nervous and bailed? I don’t fuckin’ know, but I did manage to find her cousin, Sami, and Alex during my search.

They were standing in the corner, scoping out the crowd - pretty sure to find an easy fuck. 

“Hey, have you seen Lucy?” I questioned as soon as I made it to them, I was starting to freak out a little bit.

“Nah, man. Thought she was with you?” Sami asked, looking like he was about to have a heart attack whenever I shook my head to confirm that she wasn’t.

“She never does this at parties or crowded places, she always makes sure to let someone know where she went. Even if it’s to go take a piss,” Sami explained and I trusted him. They were related so he knew her better than anyone else.

Deciding to round up Mick, Tommy, and Ryder - I couldn’t find Vince. No surprise there. We started searching throughout the property in an attempt to find our missing angel. 

-Lucy’s POV-

The last thing I remember was some guy giving me a drink from the bar. I didn’t think anything of it as I gulped it down. Originally, I went to go find Tommy to borrow a smoke off of him but I ended up against the wall, breathing uneasily. What the actual fuck was in that drink?

My vision started blurring in and out, and my heart was pounding. I thought I was starting to run but I was actually moving very slowly along the wall.

“You don’t look so well,” I heard a creepy, deep voice mumble in my ear. It was that guy. He mentioned his name but I couldn’t fuckin’ remember. “Dude, what was in that drink?” I managed to get out between my chest heaving.

I felt him grabbing my waist and began pulling me out of the party. Telling people who gave us looks that I was drunk and he needed to get me home. “Please, stop..” I whimpered, whatever he gave me was making me extremely tired but the blow I did earlier was helping me stay awake. 

“Get off of me!” It took all of my strength to literally shove him off but my legs were wobbling and I couldn’t run. It resulted in a harsh strike across my face. “So fucking ungrateful.” I heard him say before being lifted up over his shoulder. The absolute worst part of all of this is that I knew what was happening and I couldn’t do anything at all about it. 

All that could come out of me was soft whimpers begging for this creep to stop but he was tying my hands with a rope, once he was finished he shoved me in the trunk and slammed it shut. I heard a yell from the distance, “HEY, WHAT THE FUCK?!” It was Sami. I couldn’t see anything except the cracks of the light from the streets peaking in the trunk, but I did hear slamming, punching, kicking, glass being busted.

It was muffled, “Someone get her out!” They yelled, pretty sure it was Ryder. 

The trunk flew open and I couldn’t help but cry in relief, “Oh my god,” Nikki said as he scooped me up, pulling out a switchblade and cutting the rope free from my wrists. “Hey, can you talk? Are you okay?” He was shaking my shoulders vigorously. I know he means well but it hurt and I was trying to find the words.

“Hey, calm down Sixx,” Sami told him before lifting me up, “Lets get her back to the hotel, and if she wants, she can file a police report,” Normally anyone at that party would argue about that considering the number of drugs just on the perimeter but no one did.

“You’ll be okay, it’s okay. God, I’m so fucking sorry.” I could’ve sworn I saw tears brimming Nikki’s eyes before I passed out. 

The Next Day

I got maybe, two hours of sleep and the rest was nothing but nightmares. Glancing over at the clock, it was ten in the morning. Which means everyone was still sleeping.

I didn’t want to press charges, I didn’t want this bullshit to end up on the tv. I just wanted it all to go away. I knew in this situation I would in no way be considered the victim. That’s just how it was with women, and it fucking sucked. So there was no point in getting riled up over this. At least that’s what I told myself before the vicious flashback came flooding into my head as soon as I lit my cigarette.

Feeling so fucking helpless, not being able to fight that man off. Not being able to do anything about the entire thing. If it wasn’t for Sami and everyone else quite literally coming to my rescue, I would probably be dead in a fucking ditch. “Please stop..” Tears streamed down my cheeks and I finally came to once I realized I was burning my knee with my lit cigarette. I nearly fell off the bed whenever I heard banging on the door, “Hey! It’s us, we just want to make sure you’re okay.” Tommy’s muffled voice rang in my ears.

Sighing, I got up and walked over to the door, opening it up. I saw both my band, and the Crue standing outside. It was ten in the fucking morning. They looked hungover and like they just died. Nikki was standing between Tommy and Sami.

Sami moved forward and pulled me into his arms, “I’m supposed to protect you and I failed, I’m so sorry.” That’s when I remembered the promise Sami made to me a decade ago right before my mother passed away. She was stationed and I had to stay with him and my aunt, and he swore he’d always have my back. I didn’t blame him at all.

I didn’t blame anyone. 

Except for myself.

Letting out a shaky sigh, I pulled back from Sami, “It’s not your fault, and if it weren’t for you guys, I’d probably be dead.” I tried to shake off the comment with a laugh whenever Sami winced at my words. “But it’s super early, and I think I just want to be alone right now,” Then I heard a groggy voice from a little further down, “That’s the last thing you need, princess. But we can’t do anything except respect your wishes, we’re only down the hall if you need anything.” Mick told me. He was distant and came across as bitter but we were both the guitarists for our bands, and despite the age difference, we got along extremely well.

“Thank you, all so much for everything.” Tommy then handed me a single yellow rose, “Here, it’s the official flower of Texas, right?” That brought a smile to my face and he roped me in for a hug, “The official flower of Texas is the bluebonnet, but thank you anyways.” His cheeks turned a little red while he shrugged, “Oops.”

Ryder and Alex gave me a group hug that almost squashed me before going to grab breakfast. They were typically up earlier than me. Sami went off with Tommy to smoke a cigarette and find Doc, I think Mick went to go find more booze.

Vince stood there with guilt evident in his eyes, he wasn’t there when everything happened, “I’m so sorry, Lu- I-”

“Sh, come here.” I wrapped my arms around him reassuringly, “Stop blaming yourself for every little thing, Vince. You’re a rockstar and not everyone else’s problem has to be your own.”

I know they wanted to be here for me but it seemed like the complete opposite.

Once he took off himself, I stood there in front of Nikki. For some reason, I wanted to just let it all out, “Sorry I stood you up last night,” I gave him a sad grin followed by a hoarse laugh. Desperately trying to hold in the tears.

“What the fuck, Lucy? You think that’s what I’m worried about?”

“I don’t think you ever worry about anything except yourself.” I didn’t mean that I just needed to let out some of the anger and Nikki wanted to go off but held it in. He knew I didn’t mean it.

He shook his head, grabbing me by the shoulders so his eyes could gaze intensely into mine, “That’s not true. You’ve had my back from the second we met and I am going to do the same for you, okay?” I didn’t say anything whenever his fingers grazed my sore cheek, instead, I choked out the words, “It was so bad, Nik. I was so scared.” He did the last thing I expected him to do next.

-Nikki’s POV-

Seeing Lucy break down in front of me tore me up in ways and caused feelings I didn’t even know I had to flare up like a fire. Why did I have such a soft spot for her? I almost killed that motherfucker last night if Ryder hadn’t yanked me off. I hated it but I knew he was right, the last thing Lucy needed was for a friend to end up in jail.

Whenever she told me she was scared, I didn’t know what to do. Lucy didn’t come across as someone who was scared of anything. She loved living her life, she loved being in the moment. After a nano-second of thinking, I carefully scooped her up into my arms and carried her back into her room, carefully laying her down back in bed and pulling the covers over her, “Look, it’s still early. The show isn’t until tonight so, get some rest, okay?”

I was about to turn around and leave until I heard her, “Will you lay with me?” She asked, and I smelled like shit. But I didn’t want to be rude, “Yeah,” I nodded, kicking off my shoes before crawling into bed next to her. She immediately moved closer, wrapping an arm over my torso and letting her head rest upon my chest.

I didn’t do this. I didn’t cuddle. I wasn’t there for people. If anything, I was the worst. Yet here I am, holding this girl while she cried softly into my shirt. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe here,” I rubbed her back, trying my best to comfort her. She only cried harder which only made me think I was making it worse.

“Thank you, for everything.” I didn’t respond. Instead, I just let her tears fall. Dampening my shirt, sometimes that’s just what someone needed.

I can’t explain why, but I just wanted to be what she needed.

[chraneness]

Exert with Felix in it

it’s sort of an exert, special for @brittanyisart . hope you like it my dude!

I pace the room as we listen to the boots outside. They are heavy, just like may heart when Alyssa…NO! move on from her, you idiot! She is dead, you hear!? Get it through you thick skull!

           I look up at Tann. She is smoking her pipe and looking through the cracks of the metal. She looks like such a skinny creature right now. I could overpower her easily and take charge of this mission here and now.

           “Psst-hey!” I spin and my tail flicks but it’s only Felix’s shadow in the dark. He must have followed us like the nervous form of Davix that is also pacing the floor. “Don’t dare, he will kill you.” I hate it when he does that. He reads my mind and calls it like it is. I growl. Tann hears it.

           She throws back her messy blond braid onto her dark tan skin as her head flicks in my direction. “Hey!” she whispers, “No fighting in there!” Good. She misunderstood. If I’m going to fight anyone, it’s going to be her. She will never see me coming.

           Now, though, is not the right time. Felix was right as always. So I go and sit down on a pipe next to Felix. In our matching leather jackets, boots, and similar haircuts, some people say we are twins when we sit close together, minus my wings, horns, and tail. You would think we were, with his ability to know what I was thinking. Nope. I adopted him as my little brother when we worked the stalls together.

           Davix growls next, scratching at the holes in his head where most people have ears. “How the fuck are we EVER gonna get outta here with our heads?!”

           “Sssh!” Tann whispers at him. “Pax will bail us out.”

           Davix groaned at the thought of the conman helping us again. He had made clear his feelings for him. Davix is scratching at the holes in the sides of his head still. His dark skin, darker than Tann’s, almost lets him blend into the dark completely, if not for the light gray skull and crossbones on his shirt. He begins to bite at his nails as he paces. “He will just get us into more trouble! That no-good-thieving-son-of-a-bitch!”

           “Sssh!!” it was Tann again, blowing out smoke from her metal joint. I don’t think that thing has left her hand or mouth in years, she may have even been born with it. Family heirloom anyone? “Just shut your trap and stay low.” As she crouches to the floor and everyone in the cargo space follows suit. I have only one instinctive thought. I will be meeting Alyssa very soon. 

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! reblogs are much appreciated! 

I’m also gonna tag people who might wanna see my writing. 

@hblovecraft2001 @the-violet-writer @omlettedoesartz @elephantlovecoffee @pied-piper-of-hamlet @thescribesloft @happy-hammer-head 

Tell me if you want to be added or removed!

[angrylizardjacket]

mouth full of white lies {Machine Gun Kelly} 3

3. i thought love was a kind of emptiness

Summary: So you’re in love with him. Not great. And you wanna tell your brother about it, but that means coming clean about everything, and you’re not gonna do that! So you’re just gonna suffer, because it’s for the greater good. And you’re not gonna make things weird. Speaking of weird though, how is this even going to end? Colson sounds kind of like a masochist when he talks about it, but there must be a way to make neither of you seem like the bad guy... When this all ends. Which it will, much to your chagrin.

A/N: watch me have no idea about american geography

the brainstrust: @sataninsatin @silvertonguedserpent @juliarose21 @kellysimagines @estxxbritt @machine-gun-casie @harringtonstudios @misscharlottelee @narcvissa @hiworlditishumbleme @angelwarner28 @nevilles-insinuations @rumoured-whispers @mgkobsessed @edwardtriggerhandzz @suckerforbarnes @wastelcve @bakerkells @local-troubled-writer @freddiessmallnipples @oopsiedoopsie23 @mayaslifeinabox @mrs-machinegun-norris @hxbbit

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For the record, and if anyone asks, when Colson sends you a photo of himself in full Tommy Lee makeup, your heart definitely doesn’t skip a beat. The long wig, the sharp contouring, the eyeliner, it does absolutely nothing for you. You definitely don’t spend a good five minutes contemplating how much you want his lipstick to stain your mouth. Because he’s not your real boyfriend. You’re doing this to minimize the amount of nasty messages you get online. The fact that he’s hot and funny and surprisingly kind and weirdly observant, and god, have you already said hot? Because he tends to walk around your shared hotel room in shorts and little else and it’s really not doing great things for your productivity. 

The point is, all those things are a bonus! A happy little accident, if you will, a positive side-effect of this whole arrangement. Like getting a job and realising that you’ll be working with your brother, who currently is quickly becoming very, very close with your fake boyfriend.

There’s no-one you trust more in the whole world than Douglas, but if you tell him that your relationship is fake, you’ll have to tell him why you’re in a fake relationship, and he’s not above starting an online rampage against people sending his little sister death threats. Which, by the way, you’re not getting a lot of since dating Colson, honestly you might even be getting less than before, so it’s working.

Your absolutely fake relationship with Colson Baker, whom you have no feelings for whatsoever is functioning exactly as intended. 

Except for the fact that when you’re on set, and you see him in costume, smiling, it kind of makes your day. Watching him play drums? He just looks like he’s having so much fun, and you can’t help but be endeared by it! This was outlined as low commitment, high reward, and now your feelings are ruining it for everybody. Well, just for you. Because it’s just a small crush, and he’s your friend, so you’re not going to make it weird.

Which, right now, it isn’t. He hogs the blankets, which you pretend you’re annoyed by, and sets about fifteen different alarms for himself that have you waking up at the crack of dawn so that he can go in early to get his tattoos covered, even though you don’t need to be there until much later than he is. So you grumble into the blankets, and when you get to set there’s always a hot drink waiting for you. 

He’s out most nights, not late enough that he’d need to oversleep to be functioning the next morning, but it’s not uncommon for you to be curled up on your side of the bed, usually scrolling through social media, and he’ll come in, sometimes humming something, sometimes chattering away on the phone. Sometimes he’ll shower, but he always smokes, watching the stars, right before he comes to bed.

Or you’ll join him. 

On the weekends, you’ll grab dinner together after filming, and he’s in his eyeliner, the foundation sometimes a little worse for wear, and you’ll explore the nightlife that LA has to offer, seeing live bands, or going to clubs. Of course, as a famous musician, DJs will pull Colson up into their booth, to play a song or two, and you, without fail, always managed to feel out of place. So you hang back, maybe have a dance, or maybe get a drink, or even just people-watch. You enjoy it, but you enjoy going back to the hotel more.

Tabloids, or the modern equivalent at least, get familiar with your name, and it’s not long before your image starts to change.

About six minutes into a twenty minute ‘tea spilling’ video, the host says your name.

“Now, [Y/N] Booth, DuckDuckBooth, whatever you know her as, has been all over the mainstream media lately because - shock horror - she’s in a relationship with someone with a bad reputation! Because that’s what we love here, ladies and gents; rumours and slander,” the host, a young woman with bleach blonde hair and a thick English accent rolls her eyes, sarcasm dripping from her tongue, “so a bit of a run-down for those who don’t know, [Y/N] is a lifestyle and, I don’t know, entertainment industry insider - YouTuber? She makes videos on what it’s like to work all different jobs in the industry. And her brother’s famous? I think?” She looks to a point off-screen, presumably where her laptop was sitting, letting her look him up. “He was in Jupiter Ascending, he was the weird prince-dude; Douglas Booth, and he was in a bunch of stuff that was only really released in the UK.” 

It cuts to a new shot of the host tucking her hair behind her ears.

“So [Y/N] recently started dating Machine- MG- uh, I don’t know how to say it, it sounds wrong coming from me; Machine Gun Kelly? He’s a rapper I think? He’s been in a few shows on like, streaming services? I don’t know, I don’t know him that well, but apparently he’s one for scandal - allegedly.” She emphasises, before taking a deep breath, “and now he and [Y/N] are working on the same project, and have started dating, like two adults who like each other might start doing!” It’s condescending, as if directly responding to some less than polite criticisms she’s seen online, but she shrugs it off flippantly.

“Anyways, I’ve been following [Y/N] for a while, I’ve seen her recent uploads and Instagram stories and such; they’re cute, okay? I don’t personally enjoy his music, but that’s just my tastes, you know? And I don’t understand all the negativity she’s suddenly receiving; you all know she’s an adult, right? Like not just in the UK, she’s over 21, she’s allowed to go out and drink, and be a human being. It’s not like she’s suddenly become a different person; just because she’s not acting in the way your overly-sanitized view of her should, doesn’t mean she’s a different person, or that she’s corrupted or whatever. She’s not a bad person for enjoying herself.”

“Everyone speculating about whether it’s fake or not, like they have nothing in common, well it’s almost like you don’t know them personally; if it’s fake, who even cares, that’s -” she laughs a little, “that’s Hollywood, isn’t it? I think the people hating on her, or on him, or wanting them to admit it’s fake or just break up, are jealous, honestly, because even if it’s fake, it’s a hell of a commitment.”

“Do you ever worry?” You can’t help but ask, it’s late, much later than you know you should be up, but he’s awake too, yawning, looking at his phone. Both of you tucked up in bed, he takes a moment before looking at you. There’s something about the shadow of eyeliner he hadn’t quite been able to remove that just makes him look edgy and gorgeous.

“I try not to,” he answers candidly, “but about what?”

“About people finding out about us.”

“Usually,” he cracks a half smile, “when a girl asks me that, it’s about people finding out that we are together,” and he’s smiling, but you just frown in the dark, unable to appreciate the humour. 

“What’ll they say? Of course you’ll be fine, but I-” you swallow, shaking your head, “sorry, asshole thing to say; of course I care about what they say about you, just as much me, but -”

“But you’ve got a lot further to fall than I do,” he says with a surprising honesty, and you meet his gaze in the glow of his screen light, “honestly I have no idea how this is gonna end, I thought you did.” And you feel your stomach drop. 

How were you supposed to respond to this?! There is absolutely no way you can say what you’re thinking, that you don’t want this to end because you’ve started to catch real feelings. 

“I’m winging it,” you admit softly. Something about his expression softens, but his screen goes dark before you can see it, “I know you’re a good person but-”

“Then you don’t know me that well, Ducky,” he laughs a little, though the sound is hollow, and you can hear him rustling around as he looks up at the ceiling in the dark, “kid, you don’t know me at all -”

“Don’t call me kid,” you bristle, quietly defiant, but he just seems to ignore you.

“I know I’m a bad dude, okay? And if you want this whole thing to end with everyone thinking I’ve broken your heart, then do it, I’ve been through worse. I’ve done worse; if you wanna just worry about yourself, you can.” 

“So it’s black and white; I’m red riding hood and you’re the big bad wolf? That’s how we end this?”

“You think in fairy tale analogies,” he huffs an almost disbelieving laugh, “I’m just saying that if you didn’t have to be with me, you wouldn’t be; you wanted scandalous but not a scandal, I get it, okay? I’m good at that; good at both, actually, but I guess you’re cute enough that you can pick one and not the other.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You snap, feeling angry, almost betrayed by his callous words. In the dark, you can make out the shape of his silhouette against the stars.

“You’re all clean and shiny and shit, you’ve got a philanthropist big brother, and a life in the entertainment industry without the actual pressure of being an actor, and yeah, YouTube is hard, I get that, now more than anything else, watching you ‘s definitely given me a new appreciation for the effort that goes in, but -”

“But what? It’s not a real job?”

That shuts him up fast. 

Fuming in the dark, you clamber from the bed, and head onto the balcony, slamming the door behind you. The night air is cool and crisp against the warm anger bubbling just beneath your skin, and you take a few deep breaths. Why you’re out here, you’re not sure; you should have gone down the hall and stayed with Douglas, but here you were, cooling off on the balcony. 

You’re in his seat, the seat he always sits in to smoke before bed, and it feels strange, but you’re not going to give up the seat, even as he opens the door. He doesn’t look at you, instead, he leans against the railing, looking out at the ocean glittering with stars.

“I wasn’t -” he starts, before sighing, “fuck, I know it’s a real job, okay?”

But he’s met with silence.

“I was gonna say - fuck, there’s like, a quote thing someone once told me, I think it was Shakespeare or some shit - there’s more things in Heaven and Earth, you know, than are dreamed in your philosophy.” He paused, “I’m dealing with more than just your shit, you know? Every fuckin’ person wants to hate me right now; your shit is small fish, Ducky. If you’re not getting hate, then it’s worth it, okay? And after all of this, I’ll still be averaging the same amount of hate as I always get, not that I give a shit. It’s pebble in a stream stuff.” When again, he’s met with silence, he sighs gently, hanging his head, before heading back inside, though he doesn’t close the door.

On your own, for only a moment, you feel your insides twisting, frustrated at overreacting, heart warming at his words, just a little. 

“Pebble in a stream stuff?” You ask quietly, when he joins you once more, this time with a joint and his lighter.

“Immutable,” he says, voice flat as he focuses on lighting up, before taking a long drag. After a moment of holding the smoke in his lungs, he breathes out, watching it as he speaks, “like a river, if you throw a pebble in, it creates a ripple, but the current always corrects itself. No matter what you do, the river just keeps flowing in the same direction.” 

“Deep,” you muse.

“It’s from X-Men,” he responded, and there’s a beat, before the two of you break out into laughter at the absurdity of it all, of his philosophical ramblings being ripped from a comic book movie, of the idea of the two of you ever getting into this situation in the first place.

When the laughter dies down, you find yourself smiling at him, watching him while his grin is turned up to the stars.

“You say I don’t know you, even though we’ve been doing this for almost a month and a half now; I wanna know you,” you tell him as genuinely as you can manage in your tired state, and he turns to you with an unreadable expression, and you catch yourself before you act on the fluttering in your chest, “to make it more believable.” You add, and he nods, and his gaze goes back to the sky; if it was a little disappointed, you try not to think about it too hard, “so you don’t like cutesy dates like fairs, what do you like?”

Licking his lips as he thinks, he finally turns to you, eyebrow raised.

“Honestly?”

Why does his gaze right now make your pulse race?

“Honestly.” You dare not break his gaze.

“I like going to clubs with you, to see bands and shit,” he tells you, and... oh, you weren’t expecting that. There’s that soft, unreadable expression again, though he seems endeared by your genuine surprise, “but I sometimes get the feeling that you feel, uh, out of place?” He seems concerned.

“I mean, not really, it’s fun and all!” You try, but he gives a smirk.

“You don’t have to sugar coat it -”

“It’s sticky, and it feels weird with all the dudes trying to grind up on me when I’m like, meant to be with you. I always feel like someone’s about to pull out their phone, snap a photo and accuse me of cheating.” You blurt out, and Colson’s expression turned from surprised to amused.

“Stick with me then -”

“I don’t wanna be a bother; I’m not a music person, I shouldn’t be in like, a DJ booth I don’t think.”

“You’re with me, you can go wherever you want.”

The night is cool and crisp, and he’s got an early start, but the two of you sit out there, talking, laughing, actually getting to know each other. He tells you all about Cassie, about how proud he is of her, how much he misses her, and how proud she is of him in turn. You, in turn, tell him stories of yourself and Douglas from your childhood, of how he’d always been your biggest fan, and your first defender, and how you’d been to all of his premieres. At this, Colson’s eyes glaze over a little, lost in thought.

“I have no idea how this is gonna end,” he says gently, before looking to you, “but whenever you wanna call it quits, say the word.”

But you hear I’m read to cut and run at any moment, and you know it’s selfish, but it’s not what you want to hear.

“Thanks,” you respond, with a small smile instead, “same to you; don’t just stick around for my benefit,” you try to laugh, but it doesn’t quite come out right. It’s quiet after that, though it had to be said, and it’s not long before the two of you go to bed.

It’s a turning point, it’s where you start to really try to get to know each other, rather than just being around each other. Maybe it’s just hope, but it feels a little more real with each day that passes.

“Hello! Hello and welcome back, ducklings! Today we’ve got a very special guest! And if you’ve read the title of this video, you know who it is! That’s right, my boyfriend is going to try and teach me the basics of drumming!”

The comments of the video tell you that you both look so happy, look so cute, look so in love.

“You’re a good actor,” Colson tells you, as if he believes the starry-eyed looks you give him are a carefully calculated ruse. You, on the other hand, feel like a fool only moments from being outed as being in love with your fake boyfriend, which was ridiculous; he’s the only person who needs to believe it’s a ruse after all.

Even Douglas tells you the video is good, and suddenly you’re starting to feel like an asshole for lying to him for so long.

But it’ll work out. It has to. And neither you nor Colson is gonna be the bad guy. Because he’s not, no matter what he says .

He keeps buying you hot drinks if his alarms wake you up, and he keeps you close whenever you go out, and he gives you a blanket whenever you fall asleep in his trailer during breaks, and -

“Has Duck ever told you about how she found a frog when we were little, like a live frog,” Douglas was grinning over lunch, while you were slowly becoming more embarrassed by Colson's side, your forehead pressed to his shoulder as your brother recounted one of his favourite stories, “and she named it after me, because she was always a bit of a menace, but it got free, and mum and dad almost lost their minds when she came crying about how ‘Doug was missing in the woods!’” He grinned, both fond and a bit sharp, “they only realised she was talking about the frog when I joined the search party after getting home from a friend’s house.”

You heave a sigh, but Colson gives you a gentle, reassuring pat.

“No, that’s fuckin’ adorable, but no she hadn’t told me that; but I had heard about how you made the both of you duck costumes for your school’s Halloween,” and Colson gives him a toothy grin as Douglas flushes with embarrassment, though he seems endeared by the nostalgia of it all, “primary school, was it?”

“Not Halloween, it was a book fair,” Douglas corrected, and you surfaced finally, leaning into Colson, who wrapped an arm around you, and you level a soft smile at your brother, who returns one in kind, before his gaze flicks to Colson’s, and back. A smile. A nod. A silent approval. Fuck, you hate lying to him.

But you’re not above a little white lie to the internet for some advice.

r/AmITheAsshole posted by u/idkquackythrowaway

AITA for falling for my fake boyfriend and lying to my best friend about it?

So hello, throw away account because if either of them find this, I’ll be mortified and have to run away to canada and live as a goat farmer.

So I started ““““dating”“““ my “”””boyfriend””””, let’s call him C, a few months ago, because all of our friends kept accusing us of dating, and it was easier to just go along with it than deny it - there’s a lot of extenuating circumstances here; and yes I have issues lying to my friends, but I can deal with it for the greater good. It’s better for C and me in the short-term anyways.

Anyways so my best friend, D, is someone I’ve never lied to, we’ve always been so incredibly close, but now he’s getting to be good friends with C too, and approves of the two of us, but I’m just worried he’ll be betrayed if I tell him it wasn’t real.

Also, I might have real feelings for C, which he Does Not Have for me, so I feel like I’m betraying him too, by pretending that it’s not fake. ANd I wanna tell D about this, but then I’d have to come clean about everything, which....... its a lot. 

So Am I The Asshole for catching feelings in a fake relationship, and lying to my closest friend about it?

[324 comments]

The reaction is mixed.

And mostly unhelpful.

A lot of people are calling you the asshole, which, ouch, but you had kind of already come to terms with that. A lot more people, however, are just abstaining from making judgement, considering there was definitely more to the story. You’re not sure how to deal with those comments; you want to defend yourself, or give more context, but you also know you absolutely cannot. 

Eventually you decide to come clean.

“I’m in love with Colson.”

About the wrong thing. To the wrong person.

Douglas blinks slowly at you, a smile slowly spreading across his face.

“Really?”

“Really really.” You sigh, with an air of defeat, though this has him frowning, putting his fork full of pasta down. 

“What’s wrong, did he do something?” Douglas is playing the protective older brother, just as he has done for as long as you can remember, but it’s all you can do to shake your head.

In truth, Colson’s been fucking perfect; despite his reputation, he’s a fantastic - fake - partner. Perhaps it’s that you work together, so he doesn’t have to find a distraction outside of his main focus. 

“Duckling,” Douglas says it so gentle, taking your hand over the dinner table, “I’m happy for you, as long as you’re happy.” And what can you say to that? Another lie? You feel like you’ll be ill if you let another lie pass your tongue in front of Douglas.

“I love him,” you say, weakly, and you feel your eyes misting at the implication, the reality of your words. 

“What’s wrong?”

“I-” you choke on your words, and tears start to gather, threatening to spill, “I think I love him more than he loves me.” It’s not a lie, but it’s enough for Douglas. 

“I’m sorry,” he sounds so genuine, holding your hand tight in his, finishing dinner, and taking you both back to the hotel. He does the only thing he can think of to cheer you up; put on a movie on his laptop and wrap you up in blankets like he would when you were kids. The movie’s a little outdated, but he’s trying, and that alone makes you feel a little better. 

“Hello! Hello and welcome back, ducklings! Today we’ve just got a low-effort video, it’s just a top ten comfort movies from childhood that survive a modern rewatch! As decided by me and Douglas!”

Filming is set to move locations soon, from being on-location on the Sunset Strip to a back-lot about an hour away, somehow closer to the hills, and you feel like you can hear the ticking of a clock counting down.

“When filming’s over, we can end it if you want,” you tell Colson as you’re packing up your suitcases.

“Oh,” he seems surprised.

“Oh?”

“That’s soon,” is all the clarification he gives, but he doesn’t sound happy about it, “are you sure?” 

“I mean, I don’t wanna outstay my welcome,” you try to joke, but he makes a noise that you can’t quite decipher, “what?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Just thought it would maybe go until the premiere.” He admits, and you pause, actually surprised at his words, and he clears his throat, “it would be weird seeing you there if I was with someone else, right?”

“Right,” you muse quietly, before going back to folding your clothes, “that’s a year away still, I’m pretty sure.” You tell him, and he hums, but doesn’t seem bothered by it.

“Well I’ve got a few events before then I need a date for,” he says, noncommittally, “and we’ll see each other before then; if you wanna be convincing you can crash at my place if you wanna, in The Hills, at least for a bit, if you ain’t got anything else to do sort of thing,” he actually sounds a bit hesitant, and you swallow hard, before letting yourself smile, pleased.

“I think you like having me around.” When you look at him, he’s trying to hide a smile of his own.

“'course I do.”

[terramythos]

My liveblog/commentary on October Daye #11 "The Brightest Fell" or "Friendship ended with Sylvester Torquill. Now SIMON Torquill is my best friend"

God if you told me that's a sentence I'd write when I read book 1 I'd call you fucking insane. We had this whole Cain and Abel thing going and Seanan McGuire had to go be a GOOD WRITER and make them COMPLEX CHARACTERS and shit.

Also featuring a "Resurrect Your Gays" novella at the end so.. that's nice

-Wow, this opens with a story so far section and everything 👀

-who would be like "gee the October daye series sounds interesting. Let's start with book 11"

-omfg The Luidaeg singing Poor Unfortunate Souls. Fucking hell yes.

*stares at my vampire crack theory* *stares at that line* *stares at the camera*

-(To be fair, it does parallel when Simon showed up in book 8, which is probably the actual intent, but uhhh)

-then AGAIN, half the foreshadowing lines in this series had double meanings in context

-Amandine calling Simon "your father" oh oof.

-oh my god Amandine is AWFUL. Jesus christ. Insults everyone in the room then kidnaps 2 people and just strolls out. This puts Tybalt, one of the more OP allies, out of commission for like the whole book lol

-Definitely Impossible Quest: find this character that disappeared over 100 years ago who Simon spent the last century committing misc atrocities to find

-This does lead me to wonder what motivated Amandine to show up suddenly and force October to find August. Is she just unstable/crazy as has been implied, or is it something more?

GOD shes awful!

-So oh boy we are actually waking up Simon! I'm glad we are getting more development for him cause holy crap he's an interesting gray morality character.

-Sylvester using the same binding spell Evening used on October in book 1, but this time to keep Simon from hurting October, sure draws some.. uh.. interesting parallels.

👀

-Amandine shows up again and is just fucking AWFUL. I'm trying to figure out if she has any real sympathetic traits. This is the first book she really shows up as a character out of flashbacks and the trippy shit in book 4.

- "Oh yeah Toby the reason I abused you and twisted your blood human as a kid was I wanted to mourn the daughter who disappeared and then let you die asap" like. Yikes

-Simon, established as an Arch Villain just being an awkward dad (at least toward October) is interesting. I'm kind of waiting for the other shoe to drop.

-oh hey saving the pixies in book 5 actually set up a Thing in this one. Huh.

-Surprise that random pixie you saved in book 5 is relevant and a full fledged character now.

-The Luidaeg is a sympathetic character and a consistent ally in the series but BOY does she have her moments. Egads. (Quentin, who adores her, was NOT amused. We'll see how that shakes out...)

The Luidaeg just.. resurrecting an extinct race here. No big deal. I'm sure this has zero future implications.

-oh fuck the Babylon Road is back. Oh shit book 3 vibes. Oh shit

-lmao they literally end up in Blind Michael's lands. Just fuck me up

-ok theres a line that basically implies Blind Michael wasn't even that bad of a guy at one point, that he did The Ride with the best of intentions and for the life of me I am trying to figure out what they mean by that

-also intentional parallel between Blind Michael and Simon with the whole "best of intentions" thing.. Simon started as like, the arch villain. And now look where we are. So what is that implying about Blind Michael? 🤔

-I mean Blind Michael is the closest this series has come to a Dark Lord character. He was fucking awful. I'm interested to see if we are going to explore from a different angle?

-Goddamn world tour here showing up in Annwn.

-Oh duchess Riordan.. she's so pleasant. I'm glad we get to see what the fuck she's been up to since being trapped there

-Oh fuck they found Officer Thornton. He is not Well. I remember speculating what we were going to do with that plot thread lol

Are you FUCKING kidding me

-That was book SEVEN. I fucking REMEMBER that part. August was a fucking throwaway background character??? Chekhov's missing sibling?

-And it was intentional because of the door thing! She was described in a weird amount of detail for a background character! What the fuck!

-AAAND we found August. And the first thing she did was attack and basically turn October almost human. Whoops.

-And she doesn't recognize Simon. Her father. Because the Luidaeg's price was her way "home". Which includes Simon. Yikes

-omg Simon's magic finally smells like it does in flashbacks before he got corrupted. Smoke and mulled cider. Maybe I'm kinda sappy but I like that that paralleled the whole redemption arc thing

;____; FUCK dude

-October accidentally makes herself almost entirely human to save Simon. Whoopsie daisy!

FUCK DUDE ;______; full redemption arc shit there I'm gonna cry

-OK so I'm inserting this after finishing the book. And I realize this sounds like a MAJOR "not as much of an asshole as you could have been" award. But Simon had NO reason to treat Toby well. And he certainly did not in the brief glance of him in the book 1 prologue. That's changed by his second appearance (book 8). She's a changeling (always seen as inferior in Fae society) and she's the bastard child of his wife. He has every reason to treat her like shit. Yet he doesn't. He seems to want to be a father figure for her, even though she isn't really his blood related daughter, and this book reinforces that attitude. He even gives up things he wants--on multiple occasions--in order to save October, simply because he wants to. Compare him to his wife, October's actual biological mother, someone who literally created her as an expendable coping mechanism and resents the fact she's still alive? Despite everything he is WAY more of a parent to her. Found family sure is a thing in this series, huh.

-i like how instead of going all emo that she turned basically human October's just like "oh yeah I was raised in a street gang" and beats the absolute SHIT out of August

-Simon: uh excuse me did you just hit my daughter in the back of the head with a CLUB

October: she'll be fine

Well SHIT. The other shoe dropped, but not how I expected it.

-Like Simon genuinely redeemed himself, saving both August AND October despite everything. And he just sacrificed all of it. That was the final price of redemption for him. Yikes. YIKES. Like I knew it wouldn't be that easy, but this SUCKS.

-And this basically states that he wont be back to normal until fucking Oberon returns. I know the series has been leading up to that but... when the fuck. That seems like it would be the endgame.

-this is somehow worse than killing him off. How the fuck.

-August might have some redeeming traits. Shes an asshole but she is genuinely distressed when she realizes what Amandine did to October. Amandine? I'm pretty sure theres nothing to redeem her at this point. Shes fucking terrible.

-Jazz and Tybalt come back.. completely traumatized. Yeah. Ok. This entire last third is just complete despair I guess.

And award for "bleakest ending in the series" goes to...

-i think "The Brightest Fell" is the most fitting title in the series. It works on so many levels and for multiple characters. Especially in the context of the Shakespeare quote.

-i have.. thoughts. I think I'm going to do a compilation of said thoughts when I finish the next book and am officially caught up.

For now, there is also a novella @ the end so I will read that!

-"Of Things Unknown" (the novella) can basically be summarized by:

It's cool to get April's perspective! And some good old fashioned "resurrect your gays" on top of it.

-The Luidaeg: hey toby you know how you brought me back to life? You probably should not have been able to do that. You probably should not make a habit of raising the dead.

Toby: *resurrects like 5 characters who got killed off in book 2*

The Luidaeg: *breaking down the door* What the FUCK did I just say

-I am sure that January (a fucking month name) being resurrected has absolutely no future implications whatsoever :')

-Oh god theres one book left then I'm caught up. At least the novella softened the gut punch that was this book a little bit.

[cascadeliclavlyf]

Burnt Out in Los Angeles

This summer I had the privilege to go out to Southern California and perform some of my crazy rap songs to some hardcore hip hop fans. It was super exciting; I had an amazing time. I’ve been to LA a couple times, but this time was extra special because it was the first time recreational marijuana was legal in California. 

California has always been the weed capital of the world in my eyes. I remember going to the bay area when I was fresh out of high school and seeing medical dispensaries for the first time in Oakland. The weed was amazing, you could tell that the growers had perfected the craft of growing high grade marijuana. Over the years in Alaska before weed was legalized, I always took notice on the effect that California cannabis had on the “hood” economy. It was sought after to have the “Cali” pack. People would charge more for it, whether it was purple or cookies. A lot of dealers made a living off of the cheap wholesale prices in California, receiving the pot through the mail. Sending packs became a hustle within itself. All you had to do was go to Cali and find a plug. The influence from California was evident, just go to Mountain View and see Samoans with blue flags hanging out their pockets and old players driving around in Cadillac’s with a strong scent of weed pouring out of their slightly cracked tinted windows. 

Fast forward to 2018. I’m fresh off a plane ride from Anchorage to LAX. I took a bus into the city and instantly I found myself walking around Melrose early in the morning, waiting for my hostel room to be ready. I looked at google maps to see if there were any dispensaries in the area open early. I found one called the Green Room and I was the first customer through the door at 9 AM. I was amazed to see the top shelf selection. I ended up grabbing an eighth of OG Platinum, but that Honey Cocaine strain they had smelled super potent. There’s just something about California weed that smells so “dopey” and condensed. The texture of the buds is much harder and compact compared to Alaskan weed. Like I said earlier, these guys have mastered the art of growing cannabis. After I obtained the loud pack, I commenced to find the nearest gas station and grab a two pack of swisher sweets. I quickly rolled up a blunt and started smoking while I walked to back to check into the hostel. It was a beautiful day in West LA, the sun was shining and I was in awe, watching the morning ritual of men and women starting their working day while I blew a fat blunt of Platinum OG kush. I stepped into the hostel and the high hit me harder than a motherfucker. As the lady went over the hostel rules she made a comment about marijuana consumption being prohibited. I looked at her, eyes red as shit and asked her what if it was off the property. She instantly saw how high I was and proceeded to give me a warning. The smell was what they were concerned about for people with allergies. I was concerned that I was going to get kicked out of the hostel and have no where to stay, but that wasn’t going to stop me from fully enjoying my Southern California Rap Tour which included soaking up the LA weed culture. 

(Above: The Album Cover for “Rare Rap Record”, the album I was promoting in LA)

Over the next couple days you could find me hovering around somewhere outside the hostel smoking a fat ass blunt, drinking a dos equis. I ended up meeting many interesting people this way, including a dude in a wheel chair named Squid who loved smoking weed just as much if not more than I did and a writer from New York named Renny who was in a life transition and came to LA to figure it out. Smoking weed isn’t just about getting high, it’s about meeting people and having stimulating social interactions. At my first show in LA, I smoked with my rapper buddy Cleen some of the good weed I picked up before the show. It was just a nice overall experience, as it seemed to me that weed wasn’t looked down upon considering they had so many other wild things going on in the city. I was finding different shops, some seemed on edge of legality which I felt was interesting considering the risk these shops were taking. But it’s not like Alaska where it’s a small community that’s easy to keep track of, LA county has over ten million people.

While I was in Fullerton, visiting the burger records store I went on an adventure to find a weed shop. On the google maps, it said I was close to a dispensary in a strip mall so I walked over to the strip mall to investigate. I did not see any indication of a dispo, so I walked into a turntable shop to ask someone if there used to be a shop here or what. I said, “Hey, did there used to be a weed store or something in here?” The man who looked Albanian and was wearing a throwback Anaheim Angels hat turned to me and said, “Who said there isn’t a weed shop in here.” He smiled as he asked for my ID and I gave him a CD. He then as a joke said, “Yeah, just go through the door.” I looked at the wall and laughed. “What door?” I asked this as he hit a button and the wall opened up to expose a full blown dispensary with two younger ladies behind the counter. 

The prices in California were so much better than Alaska. It was ten a gram instead of twenty. If you bought a decent amount like an eighth usually they threw an extra gram and it was never more than the street price of forty. I was in heaven while I was down there. Everywhere you went throughout LA, you could find really good cheap weed. At my show in Lancaster, which is a suburb outside of LA similar to Wasilla, weed was abundant. I found myself after the show in a pile of jack in the box, smoking great home grown weed listening to drum’n’bass DJs scratch up old records in a big party house. I thought to myself, I never want to leave. All this was manifested by my existence, as Alaska Based Jesus A.Gee. I obviously love California.