#up in toke smoke lounge

[thedesertjourneys]

Check out my interview with Dharma Diana Souheaver, owner of Up In Toke Smoke Lounge in Slab City, CA.

[slamminslamminmcgill]

aaaaaaa i need poly deadclaws smoke session 🥺😵‍💫💖 you and wade being cringy stoners ripping wade's gravity bong together and logan walks in on you sitting in his lap on the couch.

"hey, honey badger, welcome home! aw, poor baby, you look so tired! you wanna hit?"

"the fuck are you two doing?"

“it’s called a gravity bong! a hallmark of stoner engineering! would you like a demonstration?”

"no."

“too bad.” wade puts the lighter in your hands, then squeezes them for encouragement. “show him, babes, just like i taught ya.”

you spark the lighter and carefully angle it into the bowl at the top. once it's lit, you grab the inner bottle and slooowly pull it upwards out of the water. the cloud inside it grows thicker, denser, bigger. it swells with the accompanying sounds of water underneath it. glug. glug. glug.

wade explains the mechanics to logan, “now THAT, boo boo bear, is about 2-liters of toke-a-cola right there. almost as fun as when they had cocaine in the recipe.” wade sneaks his hands under your baggy lounge shirt to pinch and pull your nipples, then gives you an open-mouthed kiss on your neck. he purrs his instructions to you. “chug it, honey-cunt.”

you rip the bowl out of the bottle, the smoke billowing out through the spout, and slurp it up as you sink the bottle down into the water. of course, the torrential cloud you had built was at LEAST 2-player content. you started coughing about a third of the way down, and wade had to take over.

“i got it, i got it!” he proclaimed, valiantly chugging what was left of the cloud. he blew some out and sighed with pleasure. “now… this kind of bong gives you… gives you BIG hits. so you get stupid fast.”

you nod in agreement, a hazy, air-headed smile on your face, “it also feels REALLY good for sex…”

"well, shit, why the hell ain't you lead with that?" logan climbs over the back of the couch and sits down next to you two. "give it here. show me how you work that thing.”

also i just KNOW logan gets giggly when he smokes weed it’s a fact god told me. he’s got cigar lungs so he takes to the gravity bong with surprisingly little coughing, but FUCK it makes him STUPID!!!! he gets super touchy feely too and he’ll prolly crawl on top of both of you.

“nngh, c’mon, lemme…” he grumbles, pawing for the bong that wade holds out of reach, “lemme hit it again…”

“i think the fuck not, babe! you will wait your turn in the rotation just like everyone else, young man!”

logan blows a raspberry at him and flops over to wade’s side. “pfft… bitch…”

“yes, sir, and that’s why you love me.”

he watches longingly as wade takes his rip, until his focus shifts to your shorts riding up on your thighs.

“hey. c’mere, boy.”

he tugs you into his lap and starts making out with you, stripping you from your comfy clothes, grinding his bulge up into your folds. you whimper, under your breath, and logan smirks, teasing you in hushed tones.

“ ‘s good, right?”

“mhm…”

“you gettin’ wet now?”

“mhm!”

once wade blows his smoke out, he notices what’s going on and gasps in mock offense.

“are you two seriously excluding me right now? what am i, ugly, or somethi—? wait, don’t answer that, i—“

“yes.”

“yep. knew that was coming. can’t even blame ya. i set you up for that one. anyway!”

wade pulls you to him by your hair and smooches your cheek affectionately before putting the lighter in your hands again.

“your turn, sweetie pie!”

and by the end of that rotation everyone’s clothes are off and you’re all touching each other’s junk 😌

[minisugakoobies]

Should be leaving for work but laying here (yes I got back in the bed) and thinking about best friend's bro San and the threesome with the Topaz bros

I got about 90 minutes of sleep last night so I took a sick day, so I'm more than happy to lie here and pick up your train of thought, Luce…

At the party, San brings two of his friends from the club where he's been picking up shifts as a bouncer. He tells you that Wooyoung, the dark-haired one with the cheeky smile, is the most popular bartender, and given that he immediately starts flirting with you as soon as San finishes saying your name, you can see why.

He introduces the redhead as Hongjoong, says he's the in-house dj. Hongjoong doesn't say much, just sort of nods coolly along with whatever the other two say as the four of you converse, but you feel his gaze on you the whole time.

BFF comes over to drag San away to meet some people she knows from work, trying to help her lil bro do some networking. San doesn't want to talk to them, but BFF informs him that she's tired of tripping over his hand weights and wants him out of her hair sooner than later, so he sighs and follows her. As soon as he's out of sight, Hongjoong inclines his head, silently asking you to come closer.

"We brought some party favors," he says, peeling back his bomber jacket to reveal three perfectly rolled blunts in his inner pocket. "There's one for San, but he's busy, so - you want?"

You do want, so you lead the two of them out onto the little terrace that's decorated with cheap lawn furniture from the thrift shop and several fake plants because your thumb is steadfast black. Woo pats the space on the lounge chair beside him while HJ sits on the folding chair on your other side.

HJ sparks up the first blunt, but rather than taking it for himself, the three of you pass it around. Woo asks you questions about what you do, where you're from, and HJ still mostly listens. Around and around it goes, smoke filtering through the dim lighting provided by the string of tiny bulbs hanging overhead.

When the joint makes its way back to HJ, he holds on to it for one, two, three puffs. You're already feeling a little loose, that pleasant buzzing snaking its way through your body, so you pout.

"Excuse me, I believe it's puff puff pass."

HJ's lips curl as he hums. "You're right, how rude of me. Here."

He inhales again, orange embers flickering briefly, and tilts his head to the side as he leans towards you. You eagerly slide forward, pressing your mouth to his. The tip of his tongue against your lips encourages you to open, breathing in the smoke he exhales. His lips linger, lazily moving against yours, and you hold the smoke as long as you can until your lungs are screaming for air.

"Fuck, that looks like fun. My turn," Woo insists, tugging on your arm to bring you back down to earth. Taking the blunt, you suck in a mouthful. You've barely tipped your face up when Woo cups your cheeks, pulling you in for a heated kiss. More smoke ends up in the air than it does in his mouth, but he clearly doesn't care, taking the opportunity to slip his tongue between your lips, whining when you caress it with your own.

"Damn, Woo, always so needy," you hear HJ laugh. Woo ignores him, continuing to plunder your mouth like a pirate. "Come on, dude, you gotta share."

You break away from Woo's embrace to ask HJ whether he means the blunt or you, only to catch sight of San standing by the kitchen window, staring out at the three of you, wearing the most sober expression you've ever seen on his handsome face. It shakes you a little, and you nearly drop the joint, stumbling to catch it before it lands in Woo's lap. When you look up again, the window's empty, and you wonder if he was really there or if the weed's making you see things.

By the time the last toke is taken, you've convinced yourself you were just imagining things. But maybe the three of you should go somewhere a little more private. You don't realize you've said that out loud until HJ nods and Woo jumps to his feet. Your room is off limits to the party, so there's no one inside when you enter, hand in hand in hand.

……tbc?

[slashervideo]

➠ @jesvshotsaucechristmascake asked: “ i’m not sure i know who i’m supposed to be anymore. ”

.·:*¨ ✘★✘ ¨*:·.  Josh considered the words carefully. He hadn't known Mike to be the doubtful type, but in the wake of the horrors they found on Blackwood Mountain, it seemed he was learning a lot about his friend that he didn't know before. One thing Josh did know for sure, though, was that Mike wasn't usually the type to talk about such vulnerability. He was good at keeping up the good natured, party boy façade. That made the confession hit all the more harder.

The pair had been sitting on Josh's back deck, sharing a joint. Wolfie seemed all too happy to be outdoors and was currently lounging by the pool, panting happily. The sun was starting to go down, making things a little cooler, but it was still nice out in Josh's opinion. "Maybe that's your problem," he offered, no hint of a joke or tease in voice. "Maybe you're not supposed to be anyone. Your mom's way too intense with your appearance, but it's not just her. In school, you always seemed to do whatever just to make your friends happy. Even Emily walked all over you when you guys were together. Not trying to be harsh, bro, but you literally went through hell. Fuck man, not even all of you made it back." He glanced to the missing fingers briefly.

"Maybe instead of 'supposed to be', you should be asking what you 'could be'." He shook his head and grabbed the joint from the ash tray, lighting it up for another toke. "Shit, I sound like an army ad." He breathed in, then added in clarification, "What do you want to be?" Exhaling the smoke, the offered the joint.

[twdsunshine]

Crazy For You (One-Shot)

Summary:  The reader unleashes her crazy side on New Year’s Eve.  Will Daryl Dixon be able to resist?

Pairing:  Daryl Dixon x Reader

Warnings:  None

Word Count:  1,684

Check out my bio for a link to my Masterlist!

Author’s Note:  Well, hello.  It has been a long while since I posted.  This blog has been open, on hiatus, open again, on another hiatus, closed for a while... And now, finally, I have found the urge and ability to write.  My main focus has been the new series I’m writing, which will start on Sunday, but I also threw together a couple of little one-shots for my Walking Dead faves to celebrate the holiday.  So, Happy New Year to you, my lovely followers and welcome back!  I hope you enjoy...

****

The main street of Alexandria was lit only by the porch lights of the houses that lined it and the silvery glow of the full moon, dancing off the rain as it continued to fall from the sky.  Narrow streams had formed where the road dipped towards the sidewalks that bordered it, and the gardens were saturated, water creeping up the length of the grass until only the very tips stood clear, gasping for breath.  The steady roar of the downpour drowned out any noise from those of your neighbours that were still awake, as well as the creak of your front door as you pushed your way outside to join the shadowy figure lounging on the porch steps with his back against the railings.

Daryl looked up as you settled yourself beside him, arching a brow at you before he took another toke of his cigarette, the end burning amber.  'Thought ya were sleepin'.'

You shrugged, tipping your head back to pick out the few stars that were peeking through from the dense cloud cover.  'Tried.  Couldn't.  Kinda wanted to see midnight, anyways.'

'Yeah?'  A wisp of smoke curled into the air when Daryl spoke, escaping from his lips on a warm breath.  'Why's that?

For a moment you wondered whether to keep it to yourself, whether the hardened archer sitting next to you would think you childish for getting caught up in the season, but eventually you murmured your answer, keeping your gaze turned up and away.  'Because it's New Year's Eve.'

He grunted, staring down at his own knees as his thumb worried against a hole in his jeans.  'It is?'

'Yep.'

'How'd ya even know?'

It was a good question.  Since the world had gone to hell, nobody was really paying attention to the date, time passing marked only by the acknowledgement of the endless cycle of light and dark.  You doubted anybody in the Safe Zone had a clue how old they even were anymore.  As much as you would have liked to take credit for being switched on enough to know the exact date and year that you were living through, you were as guilty as anyone else for letting the concept go.  'Eugene's been keeping track.'

'Course he has.'  Daryl's hair fell across his face as he shook his head, lips quirking in a smirk at the idea of anybody having the time or energy to monitor such things when there was a community to be fed and protected.  'Ya really think that stuff still matters?'

'I guess not,' you admitted, a shiver running through you as a cool breeze gusted through the railings at your side.  'Not really.  But… I don't know.  It feels kinda nice to mark another year passing by, another year that we've all survived.' You cast a sideways glance at him as he nodded, stubbing out his cigarette and twisting so that he was facing out into the near-darkness, leaning back to rest his elbows on the step behind him.  'Besides, this is the first time in forever that we've all had food in our bellies and roofs over our heads, right?  So, maybe it makes sense to see the New Year in, say goodbye to all the shit we've been through.  I haven't felt this hopeful in a while.'

A part of you half-expected the man at your side to shut you down, kill that small trace of hope that was keeping you going.  He was still suspicious of Alexandria, of the people that lived here going about their lives as if the dead weren't walking on the other side of the fences, and you knew that he felt out of place, uncomfortable, in this make-believe suburbia that had become your home.  But instead, he tilted his head to one side, fixing you with a curious smile, blue eyes crinkling.  'So, what would ya be doin' right now?  Back before all this.'

'Partying.'  The answer slipped from your tongue without thought and you couldn't help but grin at the memory of the reckless wild child that you used to be.  'Probably on my sixth double vodka and reeling some poor victim in ready for the ball to drop by now.'  His gruff laughter warmed you against the cold night air and you turned to see his amusement lightening his usual scowl.  'What about you?'

He shrugged.  'Prob'ly out with Merle somewhere.  Gettin' wasted.  Runnin' from the cops.  Nothin' special.'

'I think we would've gotten along,' you told him, imagining a young and impressionable Daryl Dixon swept along in his brother's slipstream.  'I was always up for doing something crazy back then.'

'Yer still crazy,' he pointed out, and you knew he was thinking of the risks you took when you were fighting for the group that had become your family.  You supposed you weren't really in any position to disagree.  So, instead, squinting at your watch to see that the minutes were ticking closer to midnight, you levered yourself upright, stretching your limbs, before grasping the hem of your sweatshirt and tugging it up and over your head.  Clad only in the vest top and sweats that you slept in, the cold immediately went straight to your bones, but you squared your shoulders against it, sucking in a deep breath as Daryl watched on, bemused.  'What the hell are ya doin'?'

'Something crazy,' you shot back before letting out a cry of exhilaration and leaping from the porch into the rain.  Your bare feet kicked up spray from the path as you pounded along it, darting onto the street and jumping with a splash into the deepest puddle you could find.  You were already soaked, your wet hair clinging to your cheeks, and you span around, arms outstretched, almost dancing as the icy droplets drenched your skin.  'C'mon, Dixon, get your ass out here!  It feels amazing!'

It wasn't a lie.  Despite the stinging cold, you felt alive, rejuvenated.  The lethargy that had come from months on end of fighting and killing and barely getting by was getting washed away in the baptism of the storm, and you let out a howl of elation as another cloud burst and the rain grew heavier still.  It was lashing down now, the wind whipping it into your face and you closed your eyes against it, kicking out to send ripples spiralling down the length of the road. 

Your fingers were numb when you raised your hands to clear the worst of the water from your vision, and, when your eyes flickered open once more, Daryl was standing in front of you, dark hair hanging in rats tails around his neck.  His proximity took you by surprise - you weren't sure you'd ever been this close to him, unless you'd been back to back during a fight - and your immediate instinct was to take a step back, but you stopped yourself, gazing up at him.  His body was racked with tension, his shirt plastered to his broad chest in a way that was more distracting than you'd ever admit, and you could tell that he was uncertain now he'd moved to join you, unsure of what to do next.  Your hand sought his, fingers lacing together so you could lift his arm and spin beneath it, laughing as you went, and he went with it, spinning you back without prompting so that you collided with the solid bulk of him, your face level with the crook of his neck.

Despite the temperature, the shivers that were rattling through you, heat still radiated from the archer and you couldn't hold yourself back from burying your face in the dip of his collarbone, immediately feeling his warmth thaw your icy nose.  His hand slipped from your grasp, coming to rest on the curve of your waist, and if you were surprised at the gentleness of his touch, then there was no time to process it as you brought your watch up to see that the hour had arrived.

'Happy New Year, Daryl.'

He didn't respond, his chin dipped to his chest when you lifted your head, his breath shallow and ragged, and you didn't bother to ask permission before you leant forward and pressed your lips to his.  He froze.  For several long moments, he stood stock still, as if he was afraid that any sort of movement might scare you, and then his touch shifted to graze up your spine and he was kissing you back with fervour, teeth clashing as the wild of the storm took over.  His scruff scratched over your chin, the prickling sensation only heightening the feelings that he was awakening within you, dormant since the world as you knew it came to an end.

Your arms crept up to loop around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer, and, if it hadn't been for the rumble of thunder that forced your awareness back to the cold and the rain, then you thought you might've stood out there all night, losing yourself in the man that you weren't sure you'd ever really seen properly until now. 

'C'mon, yer gonna catch yer death out here.'  His voice was rough, his breathing heavy, as he ran with you back to the cover of the porch, immediately pulling you back into his embrace when you reached the dry and running his calloused hands over you in a bid to rub some heat back into your limbs.  'Yer crazy, girl.'

'I know.'  Your teeth were chattering, and you knew you needed to get inside, to the warm, but you were reluctant to leave and break the moment that you seemed to be caught in, in case you might never get it back.  'It was fun though, r-right?  Tell me th- that wasn't the best m-moment you've had in y-years.'

'Might'a been.'  Daryl's lips were curved in a crooked smile, his touch finally stilling to linger on your hips, growing firmer and more confident as you moved closer, seeking his warmth once more.  'Guess, maybe, this year might not be so bad after all.'

'I told you so.'

*****

Feedback is always appreciated and reblogs make me crazy happy 🖤

Thank you for reading 

[marvellovegalore]

Hurting you

Chris Evans

Part Une - Loving You

Synopsis: You encounter your lost love Christopher and you talk about how you've done something awful.

Word Count: 1,954

Author note: This part is the follow-up to my latest write up, which I realise didn't garner much attention, but a second part was requested. Strongly advised to read part one.

Warning: Explicit Language, Mention of Drugs

Champagne showers your throat, its cool bubbles rippling inside you and all the way down your body. Your hips sway as you make your way through the tightly packed group of people. Laughter surrounds you as you re-join the dancing fray. A green-eyed model grabs you around the waist, his hands grabbing the thin material of your dress. The end of your dress dances over your high-heeled feet, you twist in the model’s arms and sway against him. Your back presses against him and he holds you tighter.

He whispers something in your ear, something or another about leaving with him to ‘fuck’ on the beach. You barely hear it over the music. Your eyes scanning over your friends that are sprawled around the room, all of them dressed in their finest threads. You would have taken him up on the offer, had it not been for the fact that you have been dating a particular Hollywood leading actor. You’d rather not have any outright fight at a party you’re enjoying because of ‘cheating’.

You move away from the model’s tight hold; you can almost hear his sigh. You dance over to a friend who beckons you to come with her to the bar. You gladly follow, reaching the bar takes a few minutes due to the crowd clambering over their drinks. You finally reach the bar; you lounge on the mirrored countertop. The barman approaches you, “Death in the Afternoon.” You wink at him, he smiles politely.

You turn and scan the room your eyes glazing the room, you catch sight of your date, hiding in a nook. He raises a glass to you, and you turn away from him. Drinking the sight of the partying people fills your stomach, many of them can’t help but stare at you, your presence like a diamond in the rough.

And there he is.

Your breath catches in your throat.

His arm draped across the shoulders of a tanned brunette; her eyes unmoving - glued to his. His lips ghost over hers, they way they used to do to your lips; giggles are whispered through her lips. Wearing a full suit with an undone bow tie strung around his neck - he looks like a drunken dream.

You want him.

He hasn’t noticed you. Or is pretending that he hasn’t.

It’s been six months since that night. You barely remember it; you were so intoxicated - on alcohol and Diazepam. An entirely irresponsible mixture, you try to pretend to yourself that you don’t know why you took what you did; but you know why. It was the only way that you had the courage to do what you did. Otherwise, you’d be with—

“One Death in the Afternoon.” The muscular barman places the crystal flute in front of you, you let a smirk grace your lips. If you weren’t in the same room as your date, you’d fuck him. But you’re trying to change.

You turn back in his direction, your friend also spots him, she promises that she’ll do everything to keep you guys apart. Your friends and family were informed of an amicable break-up with tears shed on both sides - by him. The media reported something similar - both PR teams sending well wishes to the other party and asking for privacy for those involved.

You weren’t aware of the amicable breakup until the email was forwarded to you by your PR head. You had blocked his number, but he had blocked you in every other way possible; you won’t pretend that it was unwarranted. Nor will you pretend that it didn’t hurt, but you couldn’t begin to imagine how much he was hurt.

You’ve done worse, but you don’t think you’ve ever done it to someone you actually loved.

You find yourself back in the folie of dancing, your dress billowing around your legs, its silky touch caressing your skin. You catch sight of the tanned brunette entering the dance floor; he’s following her, his hands toying with her waist.

They dance closely, his eyes roaming her body hungrily. You feel like vomiting. This isn’t fair. You close your eyes and knock your head back, willing the horrible sight away. The songs change twice before you open your eyes properly, your eyes immediately lower to where he is. Their lips are locked, their eyes shut off from the party, his hands dance on her arse.

You are most definitely going to throw up.

You rush away from the crowd, attracting concerned gazes, brushing off the offers of help, you finally manage to leave the house. You edge towards the pool and double over, you dry heave over the grass. You will the vomit up, but it is to no avail. You move away from the tennis style grass and make your way through the garden. Your walk leads you to the sea just beyond the expansive garden. The sky is a warm umber, the setting sun barely visible.

You don’t know how long you’ve been stood there, but you feel a presence behind you. You pray it’s not your date - demanding you keep him company.

You turn and feel your heart stop.

He looks beautiful. It’s the most undeniable beauty you’ve ever seen. He makes your heart throb.

Your heart swells, a feeling you’ve only ever felt once blanketing your heart.

Longing.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to trust someone so much ever again.” His voice is husky, his accent very noticeable. “I couldn’t figure out whether speaking to you would be a good idea, but I really wanted to understand,” he sighs deeply, his fingers whisking out a pack of Marlboros out of his pocket, “even a slither of your psyche.” He lights one cigarette and exhales.

You watch him intently but divert your gaze when he looks at you. “What do you mean?” You whisper. Your courage has left you, and your confidence has set itself on fire.

He nudges the cigarette towards you, “I know you’re more of a vogues girl, but you’re going to have to forgo that right now.” You take the offered cig and pop it in between your lips. It tastes of him somehow and you want to die. “I’ve been fucked up since I left Massachusetts, unbelievably so. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way.” He takes a tremulous breath.

You’re frozen. The cigarette needing to be ashed, he takes it from your fingers. He takes a swift inhalation. “I may have developed a mild dependency on alcohol… and on you. I can’t go to parties without thinking of you. I can’t get out of bed without thinking of you, I can’t breathe — without thinking of you.” His breathing is steady, his words stronger than the wind carried by the sea. You can’t breathe, his words taking the majority of your oxygen, he hands you back the cigarette.

“If I hadn’t done it then, you would have done it first.” You shiver with the cold breeze from the surf. If you could choose between kissing him or dissipating, you would choose to dissipate right into the sand.

His eyes flash across to you, his irises seething with anguish and droplets of anger. “It’s not a race, it never should be.” His hiss cuts across your chest, almost shattering your pearls. “I loved you, like I’ve never loved anyone.” His words make you look at him. The eyes that haunt your dreams are there, right there, less than a step away. The wind brushes his tendrils of golden hair across his face, he looks like a kaleidoscope manifested into flesh. “But I hate you now, in ways I have never hated someone.”

You feel like you’ve been stabbed in the neck.

You can feel a tear slip past your eyelashes, and you almost curse the skies. “That’s fine.” You choke quietly, your voice on the cusp of being drowned by the waves.

“I’ve moved on. I’m happy.” He sighs, he dashes the cigarette stub into the ocean, his hands going back into his pockets. His eyes don’t shift away from yours. “But you haunt me.” He looks away, towards the darkened horizon. “If I could choose between you dying or the Boston bomber - I would choose you.”

Your eyes widen with horror.

You’ve never been confronted with the pain you’ve caused. It’s never bothered you that men would desperately try to tarnish your image in salacious magazines. But this, this hurt you. Finally.

You can’t stop the tears now. You sink into the sand. The water washes against the borders of your legs. You choke a sob back.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice is small and dejected.

“That’s alright.” He’s lit another cigarette. He sits down next to you, offering you a toke. You take it, peaking at him from under your eyelashes.

Looking up at him, you’re met with a longing gaze.

You’re going to wonder forever what’s possessed him, but his lips find yours. They’re the light at the end of the tunnel and following the path to it guarantees his survival.

The embrace is bittersweet, sprinkled with pleasant familiarity. The taste of smoke tendrils dances between your tongues. His fingers swim in your hair, greedily pulling you deeper into his kiss. You want to die in his arms, it would be indeed the heavenliest way to die. You grab his shirt and hold on for dear life, his wine-soaked tongue intoxicating you further. Fireworks explode behind your eyelids and you sink further into him.

He breaks away from the kiss. His eyes riddled with unspoken secrets.

He stands up, his hand extending towards you. Lifting you to your feet and taking your hand in his, he begins to sway with you to the muffled music coming from the house. His hand rests above your bum, comfortably leading you in this dance. You lean your head against his chest, inhaling the smell of cologne and Marlboro Reds. The smell that used to wake you up on holiday weekends. A tear slips from your eye, a manifestation of your longing and your need for him.

Why do hurt people, hurt people?

You recall the day your father left your mother for dead.

“Where’s mum going, daddy?” You look up at the towering figure of your father.

His stern gaze remains on the distressed woman being handcuffed to the gurney. He brushes off your question with a glare embalmed with stone. You gulp and return your stare to your screaming mother; you rush to her, but a paramedic stops you in your tracks. Your mothers begs your father to let her go, her cries echoing around the front garden. Her roses seemingly wilt in sympathy for their weeping creator. She screams and fights against the paramedics, your father doesn’t wait until the doors of the ambulance have been closed before he closes the front door.

You rush to the living room window, standing beyond the curtain with your face pressed against the glass, you watch your mother being driven away.

You’ll never see her again and never know where she took her last breaths; and you’ll be transferred to board at your school. You see your father annually and eventually he leaves you for retirement in South Africa, you’re alone and unloved.

So, you steal hearts so that your own can heal.

Chris breaks your dance, his hypnotising spell diluted by the distance imposed by his now hardened glare. He turns and leaves, his shadow furthering away from your own. You watch in astonishment as he leaves you, cigarette smoke billowing away from his receding figure.

You can’t help the stream that washes your cheekbones.

He’s done the impossible - broke you.

-

Part 3 -

[realtennis]

PATRICK IS STARING into them anyways. y'know the look. like an idiot in love. "yes, abduction. if you're going to complain about being around me, i want us both to be there by our own will. makes it a lot funnier when you don't leave."

his body shifts from resting his cheek on his hand and staring at her, to half lounging across the table. his ear is on his bicep as he looks up at her, still using his other arm to gesture as he talks.

"no, they did." he smirks at her. "they taught me how to hit a ball with a racket and toke without the smoke alarm going off. two skills your cotillion classes never gave you."

GWENDOLYN SWEARS SHE may just roll her eyes so hard one day that they'll fall out of her fucking skull. “ abduction, really? it's like you want me to leave. be serious. ” that was asking a lot though, wasn't it? patrick didn't come off as someone who was serious at any point in his life. why would she expect it now? besides, his bullshit could be a little charming at times. “ everything you say sounds so dumb, all the fucking time. it's like they didn't teach you a single thing at that boarding school. ”

[spunkpunx]

Are Friends Electric? (Alex Turner)

Multi Part Series

Part 1: Dreamy Days

Sheffield 2002

"Is that a fookin' United shirt?"

"Yeah, so what? It's not mine, you know I support Owls."

"Am honestly disappointed in you, consortin' with the enemy an' that," Alex shook his head, refusing to look at the offending football shirt that I'd been forced into wearing.

"It was in lost property, an' you know what the PE teachers are like, they threatened to suspend me, Mam would kill me if they did," I replied, rubbing her legs in an attempt to warm them.

"Only 'cause you've been suspended before."

"Yeah well I don't want to do it again, she'd have me bloody guts for garters," I told him. He rolled his eyes. We were sat on an old bench around the back of the school, dressed in PE kits and smoking B&H cigarettes I had stolen off my mother. My football shorts were no match for the harsh January weather, but I was wearing a parka, hence why Alex had only just noticed the Sheffield United t-shirt. We couldn't leave school grounds yet, because in order to get out from behind we'd would have to go past the French classroom, and as the bell hadn't yet gone, there would still be Miss Kelly and a class of year 7s ready to catch us out.

"I'm fookin' freezing," Alex whined, putting out his fag on the wall and dropping it onto the floor. "At least you've got that bloody big coat."

I sighed and flicked my cigarette butt onto the floor, stomping it out with the toe of my trainer. "If we go over the wall you know you have to give me a leg up," I explained bluntly. He nodded along almost eagerly, likely desperate to get out the cold and home as soon as possible.

"I don't mind Jack, I just wanna leave."

"Right then," I replied, standing up, picking up my bag and putting a foot into a crack in the stone, grabbing the top edge where my fingers could just about catch grip on the rough stone. Alex came up behind me and put his hands on my shin, and using his hands to push against, I pulled herself up. Unfortunately, my foot slipped, and I began to fall back down, but my fall was stopped by the feeling of hands holding me up. Alex's hands, on my bum.

I felt my ears burning red, but not willing to have to try again, I pulled herself up using my arms and jumped down the other side. As soon as my feet touched the ground I climbed on top of the large wheelie bin that sat against the wall and grabbed Alex's arm as he clambered over as well. He was a lot taller than me now, he'd grown in a way only 15 year old boys do, all long limbs and clumsiness. I'd barely even noticed him shoot up. I helped him over and we jumped into the street below.

"Um... I'm sorry that I touched your..." Alex stuttered slightly, his cheeks going uncharacteristically red. I cut him off.

"Al, it's fine."

"I mean I-"

"It's fine," I repeated, more firmly. He shrugged and pushed his hands into his pockets, beginning to walk down the alley toward the road. I followed him, jogging slightly to catch up with his long strides.

"Am gonna join a band you know," he told me as we turned the corner onto the street. I looked at him in surprise.

"A band? Who wiv?" I questioned, confused.

"Matt."

"Matt Helders or Matt Sheppard?"

"Matt Helders of course! Av'e never even spoke to Matt Sheppard why on earth would I be talking about 'im?"

"Well I dunno do I? I didn't even know Matt Helders played an instrument, he's not singing is he?" I queried, scuffing my shoes along the floor.

Alex shook his head slightly. "He plays drums, I'm the singer."

"But you play guitar?" I could sense my brain was really struggling to keep up.

"I can do both, like Bowie."

"Don't compare yourself t'Bowie unless you go to your gigs dressed in a catsuit an' heels an' bat away crowds of lads and lasses who want to sleep with ya."

"I'm not against the crowds of lasses, but I don't think I could commit to the rest," he laughed cheekily. I gave him a playful punch in the shoulder.

"You're full of shit, you are," I grinned, as he rubbed his arm over-dramatically. Cars whizzed past as we reached the main road. Cars that caused slight rushes of air as the pair of us continued to walk, that's how close they drove past the pavement.  "Mine or yours?" I asked him.

"Yours, yer mam won't be back from work yet."

"Fairs."

A silence lulled in the conversation as we continued to walk down the street, Alex was scuffing his trainers along the floor. It was annoying as fuck but I didn't say owt.

"Did you hear what Rory Pike did today at lunch?"

"No?"

"He got his cock out on the school field," Alex divulged me, a laugh spread across his face. I couldn't help but join in the joke.

"Rory Pike is a world class minger," I told him, and soon we were both in stitches, adding extra gross details to the story to the amusement of each other.

"Did Cook finally ask tha' girl out then?" I changed the subject, catching my breath back from my laughing fit.

"'Course not, he jibbed again, then Simmo asked her instead," Alex explained.

"Simmo? Did she say yes?"

"Why would she? She clearly fancies Jamie."

"He needs to get his act together and ask her."

Alex nodded, momentarily in thought. He then very suddenly turned around and gave me a playful shove.

"First one to yours!" he exclaimed, quickly speeding off around the corner.

"Bastard," I muttered, beginning to run after him. I sprinted to catch up, but the awkward coat prevented me from getting anywhere near the speed his long limbs could get him. He legged it off and I was forced to slow my pace back down to a walk. The boy was clearly going to win and I had the house key so he'd have to wait outside for me anyway. I decided to take me time knowing I'd probably bump into Alex around the corner when he came back to see where I was. He'd probably be a bit moody about it, telling me off for being a fun sponge, and I'd apologise insincerely and then he'd give me an awkward side hug and tell me he couldn't stay angry at me, there's no way I'd let him. Then we would probably walk back to mine and be done with the matter.

This wasn't the case. I got round the corner, then the one after that, and didn't see any sign of Alex. There was no way he would still be running, he was too lazy and he would look like an idiot, racing against no one. He was a dafty but not that much of one. I began to get confused after I rounded the third corner and there was still not a sign of him.

"Oi Jackie!" Alex exclaimed, grabbing my shoulders from behind. I yelped in surprise and he burst out laughing.

"Fook you Alex Turner," I scolded him. "How did ya even get behind me?" He said nothing, and just tapped his nose conspiratorially.

Sheffield 2003

He knew everything there was to know about Jackie. He knew her favourite colour (red),her middle name (Arabella), her handwriting and everything else in between. Alex had known this for ages, but it had never weighed on his mind as much as it had recently.

It was the way he'd seen her the other night. There was a small gaff at someone or another's and Alex had gone with the boys. Jackie had showed up a bit later, dressed very differently to how he normally saw her. She had a leopard print mini skirt on and a tight, cropped t-shirt, along with her trainers and Adidas jacket. Of course he noticed her, lighting one of her L&B blues and trying to smoke it subtly; she was the only one smoking.

He had gone over and said hello, and she'd grinned when she saw him, glad of some company, he expected. Some 90s rave hit was playing, and cheesy lights flashed across the room. Trying too hard, he thought. She picked a beer off the counter she was leaning on and gave it to him. A Corona, lukewarm but still alcohol.

"D'ya wanna come for a spliff?" she asked him, patting her pocket, and he said yes. Her top was very tight, although he tried not to look, but he saw her bra, visible through the fabric. They went outside onto some kind of shitty balcony. She got what looked to be a large gram of weed and some Rizlas out, making an L and then ripping open a cigarette to get the tobacco out, she carefully sprinkled in some of the spliff and rolled. Alex didn't say anything, he just watched as she deftly rolled the joint. She lit the end and took her time, sitting down on a breeze block. He found himself a seat on the step.

"So how's t'band going, Arctic Monkeys i'nt it?"

"There's a gig coming up, at The Grapes," Alex told her, proudly. In fact, he puffed up slightly with pride. Jackie had never really got involved with the band, she said it weren't her business, but Alex still felt remarkably pleased whenever she showed an interest, especially if they were doing well.

"D'ya want me to come?"

"'Course! I thought you already were."

"Yeah I just... weren't sure, that's all," Jackie responded, unusually quiet. She was acting off with him.

"Is summit up?" Alex asked. She shrugged, taking another drag on her spliff and then handing it to him. "Jack?" he prompted further.

"It's nothing Al, jus' summit stupid," she replied. Her fingers fiddled with the edge of her sleeve. He decided to leave it, pushing her wouldn't make her tell him, it would just annoy her. He took a toke of the joint and they sat in silence for a moment.

"Wanna find some White Lightning and get hammered?" she asked and Alex grinned.

"Are you sure? That stuffs pretty lethal."

"Well fook it all we're not going home tonight," she replied, laughing slightly. Alex nodded, smiling, then passed her the spliff back. It was a still and cold night. Jackie let the smoke seep out her mouth and inhaled it through her nose.

They finished the spliff and went back inside. Alex found the rest of his mates and together they all got steaming. Simmo was acting strangely all night. Then Jackie started acting strange too. She was all quiet and snappy.

"Why were you being such a mardy bum yesterday," he asked her the next day. They were lounging about on the sofa at his, nursing two horrible headaches. She rolled her eyes at him.

"Not now Alex, I'm too hungover for this," she answered, misery clear in her voice.

"Just tell me and I'll stop naggin'" he told her, shuffling a bit closer so she couldn't turn over and ignore him.

"Your mate Simmo," she replied simply.

"What'dya mean? Look, I know the joke was a bit insensitive but tha's just what 'e's like," Alex began to explain, for some reason unknown to him, in Simmo's defence.

"It's not tha' you bloody great nit, he kissed me."

Alex couldn't explain why that came like a twist in the gut, but it did nonetheless. It made him stumble for his words for a moment.

"Oh," was all he managed to get out. "Did you kiss him back?"

"Of course not, he's funny, but a bit gross," Jackie replied, pulling a face, and Alex laughed. A strange sense of relief was felt somewhere in his system, although nowhere near enough to dull the queasy thud of his hangover. "'Sides, Chris asked me out the other day."

"Who the fook is Chris?"

"Chris Maher, from the garage."

"Him? You've lost your mind Jackie, he works at fookin' MotorWorld."

"He's funny! And he knows loads about cars, plus he can drive," she said stubbornly, crossing her arms.

"Why does it matter 'e can drive?"

"So I can get places, obviously," she responded dryly.

"I've almost passed me test!"

"Al, you're not even close to passing, I spoke to yer Dad an' he says you drive like you're drunk. 'Sides, I wouldn't want to get on your nerves, always cadgin' a lift." she explained, to Alex's disappointment.

"I didn't expect your type to be a guy who walks around in trackies, how desperate are ya?" Alex jabbed, a little cruelly. Jackie shot him a scathing look.

"Alexander, what is up with you? You were fine last night, an' now you're acting like I'm makin' you suck bloody lemons," she reprimanded him. She was trying to draw him into an argument, he could tell. He wasn't about to start a fight.

"Oh, it duen't matter," he said offhandedly, hoping to diffuse the issue, which seemed to work.

"He's actually a really lovely guy," Jackie added after a long pause.

"Ay, I'm sure he is," Alex replied halfheartedly.

[langdxn]

What would Michaels reaction be if he met Violet? Do you think Michael would get on with her considering she is his half- sister? Like would he be kind to her or what, just wondering. 😳

This is SUCH a good idea though, we never got to see how these two got along and Violet said she stayed clear of him, but surely they met at some point, right?

Given his obvious parentage, I think Violet would have refused to appear to Michael for a number of years. He’s the product of her lover raping her mother, she has every reason to deny him any contact. But I think it all comes to a head on the day Constance throws him out.

(gif by micheallangdons)

Pacing in disbelief down the stairs with his pulse thundering in his ears, the blur of tears brimming in Michael’s eyes blocked his vision of a girl stood in his path beneath the staircase. Crudely into her and spinning on his heels on impact, he blinked rapidly and adjusted his focus on her. Her sad eyes emerged through the wisps of cigarette smoke circling around her poker-straight dirty blonde hair.

“Don’t push her away,” she sighed, an air of wisdom lacing through her syllables.

“Wha… what?” Michael half-wailed through his hysteria, glass eyes searching her face for explanations. “Who are you?”

“Someone who knows,” her lips tapered into a pout as she took another slow, drawn-out toke. “Someone who knows how much family means to her.”

“She… she told me to get out!”

“She says that to everybody,” the girl chuckled lightly, turning to usher him into the lounge as they both took a seat. “She loves you, deep down. You’ve done some batshit things but she’ll never stop loving you. Look at...” she hesitated, voice breaking softly. “Look at Tate.”

Michael slumped into a familiar crease in the black leather couch, the same one he adopted through his sessions with Ben.

“My dad hates me too,” he snivelled into his faded denim sleeve, shifting uncomfortably at the thought of all his disputes with his biological father, all the feelings he couldn’t control, all the urges that made him do terrible things that ultimately pushed away the man he wanted to be like. “Everybody would be better off without me.”

“This house, it does shit to all of us. We say things we don’t mean, we do things we don’t mean,” she sympathised, leaning forward in her seat and drawing a long inhale on her cigarette. “But here’s what’s different about you, Michael — you’re still alive. You can get out of here, make something of yourself while you’re still young.”

“Why... why are you being so nice to me?”

“Because I’ve been there before,” she slumped back against the couch. “I’ve been at rock bottom thinking nobody cared, that nothing was worth fighting for, worth living for.”

Michael’s youthful brows furrowed, forehead wrinkling gently and his head cocking to the side as he computed her explanation.

“What happened?”

Gazing into the middle distance momentarily, she blinked away her thoughts.

“I got stuck here. Forever. With my parents in an eternal domestic fallout, my little brother in an eternal state of infancy... and sitting here talking to my half-brother who’s acting like the son of Satan.”

“You’re... you’re Violet?” Michael’s eyes widened, his head curiously cocking to one side.

“Yep,” Violet sighed, dramatically raising her cigarette to her lips. “Unfortunately.”

Michael paused in silence, awkwardly staring at the floorboards beside her.

“My dad,” Michael hesitated. “My dad loves you.”

“Sure,” she scoffed, waving a dismissive palm in the air and clocking her near-extinguished cigarette. “That’s what everybody says.”

“He loves you,” Michael repeated insistently, unexpected tears bursting their banks beneath his baby blues. He wanted so desperately to comfort Violet, but whatever he said would only be dismissed as a child’s ramblings. Drawing his lip between his teeth, he paused to think of a response. “He definitely doesn’t love me.”

Violet let out a defeated sigh.

“Tate wanted to be good, just like you. He tried so hard to be normal, but this house messed him up. It’s just happening to you now, that’s what nobody’s able to see through right now. But they will, if you give them time.”

A smash of glass and wild sobbing echoed from upstairs, Michael’s wide-eyed gaze darting to the hallway in fear.

“Go to her,” Violet suggested, nudging her head toward the source of the commotion. “Let her know you’re still her grandson underneath it all.”

“Oh—okay,” Michael hesitated, leaping from the couch and pacing tentatively to the hall.

As he stalled thoughtfully at the doorway, he cast a comforting glance back to Violet, now reclined in the chair and lighting up another cigarette.

“You know,” he called back, a warm smile creeping across his face, dried tear tracks littering his cheeks. “It’s real nice to have a sister.”

[jacksonroseroth]

Waste Love Chapter 1

A/N: This is my first MGK/Colson Baker fic. I’m not too immersed in the fandom, so some of my scenes might be wrong/off character. Let me know. Correct me. This is only my first one. :) Hope you like it.

Warnings: Swearing, Weed Usage

Words: 4,747

Moodboard by @badwolf-in-the-impala, none of the pictures are ours

~

Jersey lounged on the couch in the bus, earbuds in as she listened to music while editing. Propped up by the armrest of the couch, with her knees up, she rested her laptop on her thighs, editing the pictures she took from last night’s show. Being Rook’s visiting cousin had its advantages. Not only did Colson hook her up with a pretty sweet bunk; Big enough that she could comfortably sit up a little more while on her computer. He also began to let her take pictures at a few shows, field testing her as the band’s photographer.

Her own photography business was slow goings to get it completely up and running--At the moment it was stumbling downhill--And she was desperate to get out of, not only New Jersey, but the States in general. She had other freelance jobs and had traveled all over the country, but never outside. When she called up her cousin, Rook, needing a good laugh and a change of pace, Rook invited her to one of their last shows in the U.S., at EST Fest, before they headed off to the European leg of the Hotel Diablo tour.

Armed with the knowledge that she was going to be backstage at a Machine Gun Kelly concert, she remembered to bring her camera this time, every other visit was so last minute it was the last thing on her mind. She brought it, not only to capture backstage shenanigans but to finally get the pictures she wanted of Rook in his element. After showing them around the next day, Colson got a good look at them and asked her to come on tour with them to do a few shows.

Jersey decided to skip every other show, not only to give her a break from the madness, not fully realizing what she had gotten herself into, but she often found herself needing the 3 uninterrupted hours to edit the thousands of pictures she ended up taking. As she finished the last few pictures from the show in Tokyo, she felt the vibrations of music fade away. Pulling out an earbud, she heard Colson’s final goodbye to the crowd and smirked. When she heard they were going to be at the Leeds and Reading Festivals, Jersey was determined to only work during the Leeds show, while Colson performed, then join everyone afterward. She took a few minutes to put everything away; Her camera and cords, along with her laptop, stowing them in her bunk, before grabbing an old looking book and opened it. It was a false book and was filled with all possible manner of marijuana; Edibles, cartridges, joints, flower, and rolling papers. She grabbed a small baggie of gummies, two joints, and a lighter before flipping the book shut and putting it back.

She hurried out of the bus, jumping down the steps and waving to their bus driver, who sat out in the sun while she worked. She pulled her VIP badge out from her back pocket and put the lanyard around her neck as she approached the security gate. Though she had been there earlier in the day and the guards all knew who she was with, she still flashed them the badge as she strolled through, tossing them a sweet smile. Jersey weaved through the tents until she heard a sudden and wild Rook scream. Her head whipped around just as her cousin came tumbling into view, closely followed by Colson, laughing. Rolling her emerald eyes and tossing her dark hair over her shoulder, Jersey turned and headed for the group as they made their way through the crowd toward her.

“Oi! You fuckers better not be having fun without me.” She called, once they were in earshot. Rook turned, quickly, and smiled, chasing down his cousin to scoop her up in a hug.

“There you are! It’s about time.” Rook said, setting her down and kissing her cheek.

“Hey, the guy doesn’t pay me to not work,” Jersey said, breaking away from Rook to give Colson a quick hug before moving onto the others. Colson shrugged, looking at Rook and said, “It’s true.” He laughed and hooked an arm around Rook’s neck once he got close, rubbing his knuckles on the top of his head.

“Get off, fucker!” Rook yelled, shoving his friend away while he laughed.

“Hey, Picture Girl. About time you joined us.” Slim said, putting an arm around her to give her a side hug. “I thought you were gonna stay on the bus.”

“Nah, just until I finished the pictures,” Jersey said. Slim chuckled and nodded as he said, “Aight. How they look?”

“Not to toot my own horn, but... Guys? They’re kind of fucking amazing, okay? I’ve got a gift.” Jersey said in a fake Valley Girl voice. The guys laughed and continued along to their tent. Jersey sat next to Rook, leaning against him, and handed him one of the joints she brought, along with the lighter. Rook took it without question and lit it. As she tucked her feet under her, she opened the baggie of gummies and popped one in her mouth before passing it to Colson as he walked past. He looked through it before passing it down to Baze, who immediately popped two into his mouth, and Colson took the joint from Rook, taking a toke.

“Fuck yeah, man. Whose joint is this?” Colson asked, looking around at his group. Jersey smirked at him. Colson smirked and pointed at her, briefly. “Hell yeah, Sav. Come through. James send you some stuff from California?”

“Of course. But this is the stuff I got from Rosie out in Nevada, last time she visited her family.” Jersey said. Colson made a funny face and laughed as he took one more puff before passing it to the next person.

~

The next 7 hours went by like a blur of smoke, laughing, music, and food. Within the last half hour or so Jersey sobered up enough to lead her drunken herd back to the bus so they could make their way down to Reading for the next show. Once they cleared the gate and the rest of Colson’s crew, that wasn’t intoxicated, had them, Jersey skipped over to the bus and hopped on. She only had a few minutes before chaos boarded the bus again, as she knew the guys would take a while, sobering a little too much for their liking and needing a minute.

She hurried to her bunk and grabbed her stash, then went to the table, setting herself up, to roll a few extra joints with the kief she had left. By this point in the tour, Jersey had their routine down pat: By the time they all clamored onto the bus, Jersey had a joint or two lit, ready to be passed around. She had, by now, become more than just their photographer, supplying them with their first round of whatever drink each man asked for just so they could settle into relaxing a little quicker. Just as Jersey rolled the last blunt, she lit it as the doors opened and the drunk buzz of conversation climbed onto the bus. She smiled as Rook came to sit with her, going through her stash.

“Yes, Rook. Go ahead and take what you want.” Jersey teased, blowing smoke in his face. Rook snickered as he popped two gummies into his mouth with a wink.

“Thanks, cuz.” Rook said, quickly leaving the booth. Jersey shook her head as Colson entered the bus. He made a beeline for Jersey and the outstretched hand that offered the joint.

“Fuck, we need you here full time,” Colson smirked, taking a toke before passing it on.

“You think that now. We’re only 5 shows deep, babe.” Jersey laughed as she packed up the box, leaving two joints up for grabs. Colson chuckled and sat on the couch as Jersey stowed her stash back in her bunk before coming out and asking for drink requests.

Ever the hostess, even when she was a guest on the tour, she was a grateful one. Jersey made use of the one semester of bartending classes and slung drinks across the bus. Once each man had a drink in their hand, she went to sit next to Colson, who just got passed the joint. She waited until he took a hit, then plucked it from between his fingers and took a toke herself.

“Hey, so how was the show?” Jersey asked the room, it only just having occurred to her she never asked earlier. As she tried to decipher the loud, excited, and numerous answers, she shook her head and curled into Colson’s side, passing him the joint. “So, how was the show?”

This time, she directed the question to Colson, who put an arm around her with a chuckle, inhaling deeply before passing the joint.

“It was good. Dom was there. He came out for ‘I Think I’m Okay’. You just missed him when we found you. You should have come to this show, Savie.” Colson said. Jersey tried to hide the blush at the use of the childhood nickname he adopted from Rook. It was one that Papa Cap, Rook’s father, Johnny, gave her- ‘Savage’. Shifting in her spot, Jersey shrugged and said, “He’ll be in Reading on Sunday, right?”

“Yeah, that’s true. Hope it’s the same energy, though.” Colson said with a chuckle, smirking down at her. Jersey gave him a look.

“They always have energy, Kells.” She teased, making Colson smirk.

“Baze, man, move your fuckin’ feet, you fuckin’ ogre!” Rook said, kicking at the feet that were propping Baze up between both couches. Baze smirked and said, “Man, go sit somewhere else.”

“I want to sit next to my cousin, bitch! Move!” Rook shouted with a smirk. Jersey practically crawled into Colson’s lap, sensing the impending fight between Baze and Rook.

“So, fuckin’ kick Kells off the couch, punk-ass bitch.” Baze shot back with a smirk. Rook swiped at him and Baze lazily dodged the playful punch.

“Don’t bring me into this, Baze,” Colson warned, his lips twisting up.

“Stay the fuck out of it, Colson! Punk.” Rook shot as he snickered. Colson smirked and threw his empty Solo cup at him. “Don’t fuck with me, Baker!”

“Come at me, bro. Nah, fuckin’ come at me, Rook. I dare you.” Colson said. Colson had Jersey’s legs draped over his lap and she was tucked under his arm, as her new high began to set in.

“Dooooon’t…” Jersey whined, softly. Colson tightened his arm around her as he grabbed the pillow next to him and started swinging at him. Jersey kept protesting, though her voice was drowned out by Rook and Colson yelling over each other.

Finally, getting a little too rowdy, not to mention the fact that Rook took four straight shots of vodka before the bus even took off after taking the two gummies, he stumbled while trying to rip the pillow from Colson. Jersey shrieked as Rook’s too topped off drink tipped a little too far. The contents of his cup spilled all over her, drenching her hair completely.

A brief hush fell on the bus, then Colson scooped her up as he stood, setting her on her feet. “Shit. Jersey, are you okay?” Colson asked. Jersey pushed his hands away and tossed her alcohol-soaked locks over her shoulder and grabbed at Rook, punching his shoulder.

“Fuck, Rook! What the fuck?!” She cried. Baze quickly stood and shuffled to the side as she shoved Rook aside, hauling ass through the divider to their bunks and into the bathroom. Back in the front of the bus, AJ and Slim had begun to mop up the mess as Rook stumbled to the booth and sat down.

“Fuck.” He muttered, softly. Colson sighed and patted his shoulder as he made his way to check on Jersey. Closing the divider behind him to give them a little more privacy, he leaned next to the bathroom door and folded his arms. He waited a while longer before he knocked softly.

“Fuck off, Rook!” Jersey spat. Colson snickered and said, “Do you think he’s dumb enough to come back here? Fuck; You think he’s brave enough?”

Colson heard a soft sigh, then the sound of the locks unlatching and the door opened, slightly. The glare from her burning green eyes all he saw, she said, “What?” The word came out a little harsher than Jersey intended. Colson leaned over a little more to look at her, raising an eyebrow at her. Jersey sighed and opened the door fully, tightening the towel around her chest as she gave him a look as well.

Colson bit his lip, trying not to snicker. In a fit, Jersey rubbed a towel over her face to get the drink off her face, and in her haste to get away from everyone, she momentarily forgot she was wearing makeup. Her eyes were rubbed black and her cheeks were red and stained with makeup streaked tears and droplets of the spilled drink.

“Want me to wait for you?” He offered. Jersey shook her head and said, “Just bring me shorts and a tank top.”

“Ooh-hoo. No panties? Naughty girl.” Colson teased. Jersey shot him a look and said, “Is this the time for jokes?”

“Sorry,” Colson said softly with a snicker, turning to go to her bunk and pull out her bag to rummage through it. Finding what she requested, he put the bag back and sauntered back over to Jersey, handing her the clothes. Jersey took them and gave him a soft ‘Thanks’, then gave him a once over before she finally broke a smile and said, “Did you really think I was going to let you rummage through my panties?”

Colson laughed, softly, as she shut the door. He sighed and waited until he heard the shower start to run, before going back to her bunk, letting his legs hang over the side and laid back on the mattress, pulling out his phone. Half an hour later, the shower turned off and Colson watched the door, listening to the rustling as Jersey dried off and changed. Just as Colson went back to his phone, the door opened and she finally emerged, dragging a comb through her hair.

“Really? Why my bunk?” She asked, hitting his knee with her comb. Colson chuckled and sat up, making room for her to climb in next to him. Turning to her, both Colson and Jersey ended up facing each other, sitting crisscross. Jersey broke again and let out a soft giggle and shook her head. She glanced away from him, looking out the window, and finished combing her hair.

Colson leaned his head back against the wall and watched Jersey as she massaged a dollop of Biosilk into her damp hair. He kicked out a foot to nudge her and said, “Hey. You okay?”

Jersey looked at him and gave a shrug, grabbing one of her pillows and wrapping her arms around it. “I’ll beat his ass later...I mean...I’ll be fine.” She said with a light smile. The corners of Colson’s mouth lifted up a little higher, glad she was able to joke about it.

“Hey. Come here.” Shifting over and closing the small sliding door of her bunk to lean against it, Colson held out a hand to her. Jersey smiled and propped up her pillows to make them both comfortable as she shifted to lean against him. Jersey pushed open the curtains to watch the Leeds skyline pass by and Colson shifted to prop up his right leg, resting his arm on his knee. His other arm was wrapped around Jersey’s waist, comfortably resting his hand on her right thigh. As Jersey rested her head on his chest, her hands covered his and she felt a soft kiss on her temple. With a bigger smile, still watching the lights pass by, Jersey said, “Thanks, Colson. You always find a way to make me feel better.”

After kissing her temple, Colson pressed his lips against her hair, lightly. When she thanked him, Colson smiled and said, “I try.”

Jersey giggled softly before a hush fell on them, if only for a brief moment. For the next 3 hours, as they drove from Leeds to Reading, Jersey and Colson talked quietly to one another about every random thing they could think of. Just before the got to the hotel, once they finally pulled into Reading, Colson and Jersey both emerged to the front.

All conversation quieted as everyone kept an eye on Jersey and Rook, Rook’s smile slowly fading as he looked up at his cousin. It was an awkward silence until Colson yelled, “Skrrt! Make yourself scarce!”

Jersey rolled her eyes as the boys all scrambled over each other and back to their bunks to give them some time alone to talk. Jersey chuckled as she made her way over to the booth and sat across from him. Reaching for the last untouched joint, Rook handed her a lighter. Jersey lit it and took a hit, then sat back, watching her cousin.

Cracking a smile, she said, “You do that shit again, John Paul, and I swear to God, I will beat you with your own drumsticks.”

Rook smirked and said, “I love you too, Savie.” Jersey smirked and watched him as he stood, standing when he came to her. The pair hugged and Rook kissed her cheek, saying, “I’m sorry, Jersey.”

“Aww!!” Jersey grabbed a pillow from the couch and turned to the boys, but Colson rushed her, catching her waist and scooping her up to carry her to the couch as the others bum-rushed Rook. Jersey cried out as Colson kept her pinned down, hollering at his boys to get Rook. Jersey shoved Colson off and shouted, “Get fucking bent!”

Rook managed to wiggle his way out of the huddle and over to the couches. Colson punched Rook’s shoulder as he passed him. The cousins settled as everyone else fell back into their usual last-minute shenanigans for the last half hour of the drive.

~

Once they pulled up to the hotel, they all clamored out of the bus, dying for some real beds and comfort. Checking into their suite, they all claimed beds, AJ and Rook fighting for the last window spot. Once the bed situation was solved, they bust out one last bottle of alcohol and had a little more fun.

Music played as they got into their usual shenanigans. Jersey sat with Baze and AJ as they talked amongst themselves, trying to ignore Colson and Rook as they tore around the place. Around 4 in the morning, Jersey tapped out and went to the other room, pulling the blinds shut and snuggling into the blankets, scrolling through her phone for a while longer. The door opened as she set her phone down, ready to go to sleep. She looked over as AJ walked in and over to his bags that sat on the bed he would share with Rook.

“Going to bed?” She teased, snuggling to get comfortable with a smirk.

“Nah. The Energizer Bunny twins out there are still going.” AJ chuckled, rummaging through his bag. He glanced at Jersey then to the door and said, “Hey. So, what’s going on with you and Colson, anyway?”

Jersey turned over and sat up a little more and said, “Going on? What are you talking about?”

AJ stopped and raised an eyebrow with a chuckle. “Well, after tonight...I mean, dude was gone for 3 hours. Y’all were in the bunks when he could have been out with us partying.” AJ said. Jersey pursed her lips slightly and said, “I mean, he was comforting me…”

AJ chuckled and sat on the end of her bed. “Nah, Sav, nah. I get that. We all do. Shit, Rook felt so bad he stopped drinking and smoking, till you came back out.” AJ said. Jersey added her own, “Not that he didn’t have enough shit in his system.”

AJ snickered and nodded his head a little, then said, “True. But I mean, when have you known Colson to voluntarily skip partying on the bus?”

Rook and Jersey had always been close, so when he joined up as Machine Gun Kelly’s drummer, she started hanging out with them when they were home in Ohio the same time she was or if they came through New Jersey. Because of this, she had gotten to know the guys a lot over the years. Thinking back, AJ was right. Unless it was an important reason or an emergency, Colson never missed a chance to party. With a shrug Jersey replied, as she laid back down, “Maybe he just felt really bad? I dunno. You’d have to ask him.”

AJ chuckled and patted her leg as he stood. “Aight, Save. Whatever you say, baby. Get some rest. We want you bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at the show.” He teased. Jersey waved at him, getting comfortable again, and offered a soft, ‘Night. Have fun.’ Followed by a louder, “Don’t let those idiots kill themselves...Or each other!”

AJ tossed his head back and laughed as he closed the door. Jersey giggled and closed her eyes, drifting to sleep. If only for a few hours. When Colson, AJ, and Rook finally stumbled in, 2 hours later, Jersey let out a soft whimper at the disturbance and shifted under the blankets. Colson shifted Rook’s arm on his shoulder, trying to stand him up.

“You got him?” Colson whispered, taking Rook’s arm from around his neck as AJ took the weight in response and veered toward their bed, dragging the drunken drummer along with him. Rook suddenly started babbling, incoherent and loud. AJ swore under his breath and clamped a hand over his mouth and shushed him. Colson chuckled and shook his head as he tugged his shirt off and wiggled out of his pants.

“Shut the fuck up, Rook,” Jersey muttered, sleepily. Rook giggled and retorted back, “Why don’t you fuck the up shut...Wait...No, shut-”

“Goodnight, John Paul,” Jersey said, a little louder. Rook giggled as he slumped back on the bed. AJ took off his shoes and lifted his legs onto the bed. As Rook continued babbling in his drunk state and AJ quietly asked him to please shut the fuck up and go to sleep, Colson got in bed, slipping in next to Jersey.

“Y’all are fucking annoying. I get my own room next time.” She muttered, turning away from Rook and moving toward the sudden warmth with a shiver.

“You can stay in my room on the bus? Oof!” Colson offered, half teasing, but still earning a slap to his bare chest once Jersey reached him. She snuggled into his side and almost immediately fell back asleep. Colson chuckled and eased an arm around her and shifting to get comfortable, then drifted off to sleep.

~

The sudden, loud sound of the curtains being torn open woke Jersey and Colson with a start. Colson groaned and crossed his hands in front of his face, glancing down when he felt pressure and movement when he moved. He curled an arm around Jersey as she whimpered and pushed her face into Colson’s neck, trying to hide from the brightness.

Rook turned at the groans and smirked, “Well, good morning. Aren’t we cozy?”

“Fuck. Off. Rook.” Jersey said, her words muffled by Colson’s neck. Colson chuckled and glanced at her again, resting a hand on her arm as he gave her a quick squeeze before getting up. Jersey whined softly and slowly picked her way out of the sheets, yawning.

“Fuck, what time is it?” Colson asked, stretching with a yawn.

“Noon. We want to hit the pool. You guys down?” Slim said from the doorway, sipping his coffee. Colson shrugged as he scratched his head with a tired smile and said, “Shit. Sure. Why not?”

“Fuck. 12 O’clock? How long have you guys been up?” Jersey asked, reaching for her phone to scroll through her notifications, answering a few texts.

“Not long. We all slept the fuck in.” Slim said, laughing, along with Colson and Rook. Jersey locked her phone and looked up at Slim, taking a minute for the conversation to register before she giggled and smirked.

“Well, thank God for that.” She teased. Slim chuckled and caught Colson’s attention to start a conversation, allowing Rook to take his moment and slunk up to his cousin. “Cuddling up to Colson, I see?” He teased, lowering his voice as he sauntered up to her. Jersey gave him a look. He snickered and scooped up his bag to dig around for his swim trunks.

“Shut up, JP. Have you been talking to AJ? I’m gonna fuck him up if he’s-” Rook shushed her, gently, as he took a step closer and said, “Hey. Jers, what are you talking about?”

Jersey sighed and shook her head, moving his hands away. “Nothing. Nevermind. Don’t-Don’t say anything, Rookie, okay?” Jersey said, making her way to her bag. Rook shook his head and chuckled as he went to the bathroom to change. Jersey rummaged around in her bag before she gave a soft groan.

“What’s wrong?” Slim asked, still hanging out in the doorway. Jersey sighed and said, “I think I left my suits in my other bag on the bus. Fuuuck, I don’t want to deal with that…”

She pulled out a pair of leggings and a tank top, concealing a pretty pink and blue lace bra and panties. “You wanna hit the store?” Colson asked, with a laugh. When both Slim and Jersey looked at him, Jersey giving him a look, Colson said, “I fucking lost my trunks, bro. I must have left them in fucking Indonesia.”

Colson and Slim laughed as Jersey shook her head and smirked. “How do you lose those, Colson? They’re swim trunks.” She teased. Colson flipped her off as he grabbed a change of clothes.

“So, do you want to go get a new suit?” Colson asked as she passed by, spying Rook as he walked out of the bathroom. Stopping in the doorway, she skewed her lips in thought. Finally, she looked at him, cracking a small smile and said, “Yeah. Sure. Why not? Maybe I’ll find something cute.”

Colson shot her a thumbs up and a smirk as Jersey giggled and closed the bathroom door. Slim waited until Rook walked out, before stepping more into the room and giving a chuckle as he said, “Kells. Could you want her more? God damn, bro.”

Colson gave him a look. “The fuck are you talking about, bro? Want her? It’s Savage.” He said, pulling on his jeans. Slim gave him an unamused look.

“Man, are you for real?” Slim scoffed. Colson rolled his eyes as he pulled on his shirt and grabbed his deodorant and slipping it under his shirt to apply it. “Y’all are always cuddling and shit. Acting like y’all are in a relationship You like her, man.” Slim added another chuckle as he took another sip of coffee.

“Dude. She’s not my type.” Colson retorted.

“What? Hot?” Slim shot.

“A friend?” Colson shot back. “And she’s Rook’s cousin. It would be weird.”

“Bruh, he jokes about it as much as we do, Kells!” Slim laughed, shaking his head.

“Slim, if I actually started dating her, Rook would lose his shit. He jokes, but, like, if it happened? You’re telling me he wouldn’t be mad?” Colson asked, giving him a look.

“Who would get mad? About what?” Jersey asked, walking out of the bathroom and to her bag. The men exchanged glances as Jersey grabbed a hair tie and stuffed her wild hair into a messy bun. She looked between them, waiting for an answer, to which both men mumbled and looked away. Colson sat on the bed, tugging on his socks, and Slim shoved his coffee cup in his face and he turned and left the room.

Jersey shook her head and chuckled, dropping her sandals on the floor and slipped her feet into them. Grabbing her phone and wallet, slipping them both into the pocket on her thigh, she chirped, “Ready?”

Colson glanced at her and smirked. “Yeah. Let’s go.” He said, also grabbing his phone and wallet, the both of them heading for the door.

~

Next Chapter

~

Hope you guys liked it. If you want to be added to my taglist for this and/or future MGK/Colson stories, let me know! If you have any comments, feel free! 

@badwolf-in-the-impala​ @lovemythsworld​ @kellsfanficalltogether​ @mgkobsessed​

[bubblieywubbliey]

Drunk!Evan x Fem!Reader (SMUT) - Practice Part 4

This is based about a month after my last fic :)

7PM

You sat on your doorstep with Evan, his hand in yours on your lap as you both waited for Connor and Zoe to pick you up. You were wearing the black skirt that had got him so riled up once before, as well as a floral button-up and a dark blue denim jacket.

“Ev, are you sure you wanna go to this party? We can always just stay home and watch Netflix. There’s gonna be alcohol there and probably weed.” You ask, squeezing his hand sympathetically.

“Y-Yes. It’s Jared’s birthday! Plus we can’t, um, keep avoiding social stuff, people are gonna think we’re recluses or something.”

“Okay, as long as you’re sure. It’s completely up to you.” You smiled at him looking up you saw lights at the end of the street. “Here they come, last chance?”

“Let’s do it.” Evan said, more confident than you’d heard him in a while. You stood up and pulled him up after you, dragging him excitedly over to the car.

“Hey guys!” You greeted Zoe and Connor enthusiastically.

“Hey Y/N, Ev! Someone’s excited, huh?” Connor replied to your greeting and Zoe turned to smile at both of you.

“Well, we might finally see drunk Evan tonight and I’m very curious to see what happens, that’s all.” You replied, grinning at your boyfriend, who was turning progressively more red.

“Oh, I’m not sure there will be much to see, I’ll probably just fall asleep, hah…” Evan mumbled nervously.

“Mmh.” you sniggered and kissed his cheek. “Sure, Ev.”

7:30PM

You peeked out of the window as the car pulled up in the driveway. Evan got out of the car, coming around to your side of the car and helping you down from the four wheel drive.

“Thanks, babe.” You said as you slammed the door of the car and a vaguely familiar girl ran up to Zoe, hugging her. “Oh Zoe! Is this your new girlfriend?” You asked, teasing her.

“Sh-shut up... “ She mumbled, blushing before kissing the mystery girl on the cheek.

“Hi! My name is Brooke! I think we have Biology together?”

“Oh cool! I knew I recognised you from somewhere.” You smiled and the group of you walk into Jared’s house to grab some drinks

9PM - Drink No.1

“Jared! How did you even get your parents to let you have this party?”

“They’re out of town!” Jared replied, leaning back against his boyfriend. Connor’s arms were wrapped around his waist as they ground against each-other. The music was blaring and everyone had a drink in their hands. Evan stumbled over to you, clearly tipsy after being given a vodka lemonade that seemed to have been more vodka than lemonade.

“Oh cool! It’s nice to kick back, just chill with friends.” Evan reached the three of you as you danced and you pulled him to start dancing with you but he resisted.

“Not my thing, Y/N, you know that!”

“Oh lighten up, tree boy!” Jared shouted over the music, turning around to kiss Connor a little too vigorously for Evan’s tastes. He turned away from the amorous couple and to you. A slower song came on and you placed your hands around Evan’s shoulders.

“One dance? Please?” Evan nodded reluctantly and placed his hands on your waist. You pressed your forehead to his and he managed to slow dance with you without stumbling over your feet too much. You pressed your forehead to his and smiled, tipsy and happy with your boyfriend.

11PM - Drink No. 5

Five of you were lounging in the living room, with Zoe and Brooke casually making out on the floor. Connor was stretched out across the chaise longue with you in his lap as you chatted drunkenly while Jared began to blaze it. Evan stumbled into the room, a glass of water in his hand. Upon seeing you in Connor’s arms a wave of uncontrollable jealousy overcame him. He sat down on the sofa and beckoned you over to sit next to him. You looked at him confused, but got up and sat sideways across his lap.

“What’s up babe?” You asked, and noticed how ruffled Evan’s hair was, he had clearly had a few more drinks than you. “How many have you had?” You ask, concerned.

“Mmmhh.. Like f-five? Or seven? I can’t remember.” You run a hand through his hair and he grabs it, grunting, “Why were you sat in Connor’s lap?” His face was clearly flushed, was that anger? No… it was _jealousy?_ You sniggered slightly before regretting it as Evan slipped a hand up to rub your breast through your shirt.

“E-Evan?” You mumbled, looking around the clearly exposed room.

“You’re so hot… And mine… And I lo- I mean, god you’re hot.” He muttered into your ear as people around you danced and smoked weed.

“I, um, are you okay?” He reached his other hand under your skirt and rubbed circles on the top of your ass. You grabbed his hand and pulled it off your chest to avoid stares. The other hand was now groping our ass more roughly.

“God I want you.” He nearly growled in your ear and a blush spread across your face.

“Oh really? What are you gonna do about it?” You asked, almost daring him to take some kind of control. What you were not expecting was for Evan to slip his hand into your panties and push a finger into you under your skirt. A shock of pleasure ran through you and you struggled not to squirm in his lap as he roughly thrust a finger into you.

“I might just have to make you scream my name.” He whispered gruffly into your ear.

“Evan!” You squeaked in response as he fingered you.

“Yeah, that, but louder.” He pulled his finger out and glanced around to make sure no one was looking before he placed his finger into his mouth and sucked it clean. You could barely suppress a moan and kissed him, tasting yourself on his lips. He pushed you away from his mouth and grinned. His face was still hovering near yours, nearly kissing you but moving away just enough to avoid contact everytime you leaned in.

“What’s up baby? Were you enjoying that?” You nodded and pleaded with him through your eyes and instead of taking you home to fuck like you had expected, he instead kissed up your neck, sucking roughly in some areas to form hickeys while everyone was distracted. Suddenly his hands were on your hips and he was shifting you so you were straddling his lap in reverse cowgirl and grinding against him, small moans escaping you as you let out little yelps of Evan’s name as you warned him, telling him to stop and attempting to act like everything is normal while he kisses your neck roughly. Connor and Jared looked up from their flirting to stare at the pair of you.

“Jesus, what got into Evan?” Jared chuckled and took a toke on his blunt.

“Vodka, I’d assume, possibly Tequila too.” Connor responded, laughing too before yelling, “Get a room, breeders!”

You jumped and attempted to move of Evan’s lap as Connor called you both out, Evan pulled you back down and ground into you harder. You gasped and froze, completely still as you flt yourself getting wetter and wetter.

“Maybe we will.” He replied, groaning into your neck, “But they’ll hear you anyway, you’re gonna scream my name.” He whispered the last sentence into your ear.

“Evan!” You reprimanded him nervously. Drunk Evan was hot and dominant, which was a huge turn on, but it didn’t stop you from feeling extremely conscious of how many people could see you two getting off. Your boyfriend finally stopped grinding into you and just gently kissed your neck, you slid off of his lap and curled up next to him, hoping he was done being so horny for now, at least until you could get home and finally fuck him. He put his arm over your shoulder and reached over to down the rest of his drink. You felt his hand snaking it’s way up your thigh as you snuggled into his side.

“Evan?” You mumble into his ear, warning him once again. “You are a really horny fucking drunk.”

“You love it though, I can feel how wet you are.” His confidence was soaring as he saw the heat rise to your cheeks.

“Hey, I’m not complaining, I just wish we were… alone right now.” You replied, kissing his neck and ghosting your lips across his collarbone.

“Oh?”

“Well I just… I _need_ you, Evan.” Evan groaned and couldn’t wait anymore, his boner was getting too painful to bare within the confines of his boxers.

“Y/N, will you help me to the bathroom? I’m worried I might fall on the way.” You nodded, nearly and Zoe laughed, calling after you, “Use a condom!”

“She’s on birth control!” Evan yelled back and you ducked down half laughing half embarrassed, as if people might notice you less if you made yourself smaller. This wasn’t true as a chorus of “ooooh!”s followed you to the bathroom. You opened the door for him and he walked in, dragging you behind him.

As soon as the door was closed and locked he slammed you up against the door, roughly sucking your neck, wedging his knee between your thighs and you ground against him, whimpering as he groped your butt and continued to kiss your neck. More whimpers escaped you and he mumbled sweet nothings into your ear as he explored you. He slipped his hand under your shirt and rubbed circles on your stomach before unbuttoning the shirt and sliding it off you. He pulled his own shirt over his head and turned back to you, kissing you passionately and this time you slid your mouth down his jawline and onto his neck, but he only gave you the chance to leave one hickey on his neck and then on his chest before he slid to his knees, pushed you against the door again and pulled your panties aside. You couldn’t do anything but gasp as he slid two fingers straight into your slick entrance, rubbing your clit with his thumb, you were close to your orgasm almost straight away as he eased his fingers in and out of you, his speed building, getting rougher and faster with his ministrations. Evan’s other hand crept up your chest and rubbed your nipple through your bra. He stopped fingering you and replaced his fingers with his tongue, still rubbing your clit as you unravelled in his hand, unable to hold back a slightly-too-loud yell of his name. Before you could recover Evan had unbuttoned his jeans, pulled his dick out and pressed it up against your entrance.

He gave you a questioning look before asking, “This is okay, right?”

“Yes! G-God, _yes_.” You could barely get the words out and before you’d even gotten to the end of your sentence he was pushing your panties aside and then he was inside you, fucking you up against the door, ravaging your neck, the sound of your bodies thumping together and your moans, his grunts, it was unmistakable to passers by what was happening in this room. There was no time to adjust but somehow that made it better, you were soaking and he stretched you better than he ever had before. His hands held on tightly to your thighs under the fabric of the skirt he loved so much, your bra still on as well as your panties. You gasped his name quietly over and he indicated for you to jump, you did, legs wrapped around his waist. He leant you against the wall, unable to carry both of your weights for very long. He was pounding into you again in moments, gasping and groaning about how hot you were, how much he was enjoying making you moan, how he couldn’t wait to see your pretty face when you came.

Then he was spinning you to place you on the sink and he’s still ramming into you roughly, grunting, panting, your moans and whimpers driving this once shy boy to fuck you harder than even Connor had before. He began to whisper things to you.

“You like this?” He thrusts once “Huh?” another thrust to punctuate his sentence.

“Y-Yeah, oh my god yes, Evan, Evan, Evan!” You cried out with each thrust, barely able to deal with the pleasure he was supplying you with. His hair falls prey to gravity as it flops over his fact with his thrusts he flips it back and you moan with each thrust.

“Good, no one could never do you like this, not the way I can, right?” He thrust harder and harder, the jarring feeling sending shots of pleasure up your spine. His muscles, though he wasn’t particularly buff, rippled, clearly all that tree climbing had helped with his physique. You leaned back against the mirror, his grunting and groaning with every thrust turning you on even more.

“Never! Never…” You trail off as his thrusts lighten up and you take the opportunity to rest before he regains his intensity. He pulls out of you and flips you around, lifting your skirt and and pulling your panties down to your thighs and shoving his was back into you. You whimpered as he filled you again from this new angle, hitting new spots that make you nearly collapse in pleasure.

“F-Fuck, Evan! Evan!” You cry out his name, not caring now who could hear you.

He reaches a hand around to rub your clit and your body convulses with the pleasure as he fucks you through your orgasm and keeps pounding you, you realise he’s trying to get you to cum again, he’s never done this before. He slips a hand down your ass to your pussy, lubing up his finger with your juices before he slides a finger into your asshole and you nearly melt at the sensation.

“S-Someone’s been- oh god! - doing their, fuck, their research, huh?” You moaned and he grunted in response, moaning again about how good you are, then words are just spilling out of his mouth.

“God Y/N, you make me feel so good, I’m gonna fuckin cum, will you cum too? You’re so beautiful, I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you,” He moans and you freeze as he thrusts inside you and you moan again momentarily distracted as he thrusts and you can feel him twitching and spasming inside you, he gives you a couple of final thrusts while he rubs your clit and fingers your ass gently, making certain to be careful since you’d never had anything in there before.

“S-Shit, oh my god, shit I love you too! Fuck, fuck!” You yell way too loud for your own good.

The dual sensations along with him kissing your neck and back, a hand under your chin as he pounds you, you cum again and you feel like you might be peeing, gasping as your most intense orgasm, probably ever, hits you and he gasps, you were squirting around his dick and this sent him over the edge as he came inside you, hips going wild as you clenched around him and squirted. He slowed down his thrusts, riding it out as you came together.

“O-Oh my god… That’s never happened before… I just assumed that I couldn’t…” You panted, looking at the clear liquid that was dripping onto the tiles.

“W-What happened?” Evan asked, still slurring his words, confused. He was still inside you, leaning over your shoulder, panting in the afterglow, you could feel the throbbing inside you.

“U-Uh I squirted? It’s like, um, cumming, but for girls? No one really knows why it happens, but I didn’t think I could do it, lots of women can’t. It just means you were, really fucking good” You explained, almost embarassed at the mess but holy shit that was the hottest sex you’d ever had.

He blushes before replying. “Shit, clearly you um, you can.” You nod, almost giggling as he pulled out and clumsily pulled up his boxers and trousers. You stood up and turned to face him, his arms snaked around your waist and you could feel his breath on your face.

“Y-yeah…” He gave you a quick kiss. You stood up properly, pulling up your panties and grabbing a towel to clean up, straightening out your clothes. You are both giggling, laughing still tipsy, the awkwardness passes as soon as you look at eachother and he kisses you again, then again. You push him off and your post-sex lethargic feeling begins to fade as you open the door and the pair of you tumble out, still stealing kisses anywhere you can.

“Holy shit! It was totally Evan Hansen and Y/N pounding in there!” You heard Jake shouting to one of his friends. You both giggled again, and you went over to the kitchen to make another drink for both of you. His arms wrapped around your waist and pressed his lips to your neck. Then he was littering your neck with them again. You can’t help but smile as you turned to give him a quick kiss before continuing to pour vodka into your cups. Passing it to him, you asked.

“Down it?’ He nodded and the night continued.

2:30AM

“W-Was that, okay? For you?” Evan asked, apprehensive. The pair of you were curled up in an armchair together while you waited for your uber as people filtered out, the party beginning to wind down.

“Evan, I squirted for the first time, it was fucking amazing! Pun intended.” You reply quietly, giggling slightly. His face flushed red at the compliment.

“O-Okay I was just, I don’t like being rough but clearly drunk me does and I enjoyed it but it scares me a bit and I don’t know…” He trailed off and you took both of his hands in yours and replied.

“Hey, we don’t ever have to do it like that again if you want, or we just stick to it when you’re drunk, it’s whatever you want okay?” You smiled and he smiled back. You kissed him on the nose and he pressed his forehead against yours.

“I want to, if you enjoyed it too, then I want to.”

“I did.” You replied sincerely.

“I love you.” He says, your eyes widen. “Not just, ‘we’re um, boinking I love you’ but full I love you, unconditionally.” He smiled and you laugh softly at the word ‘boinking’ and kiss him.

“I love you too, Ev. A lot.” A car horn sounds outside and you see a notification from your uber.

“Time to go home?”

“Sounds good!” You both get up, stumbling to the door and yelling a goodbye to Connor and Jared, although you were sure they didn’t hear you, they were too busy making out.

3AM

You climbed into Evan’s bed, not even bothered to get into PJs, you slept in your underwear. Evan climbed in next to you and you curled up into his side, before you knew it, you were snoring away.

[axgmented]

🚬 : my muse steals a cigarette ( or lollipop ) from your muse & puts it in their mouth .

it's game night at reno's house. it's a way to keep their stress levels low, morale up, and altogether their familial bond strong. axel can be heard in the kitchen, muttering something under his breath about wanting to make the pizza rolls by hand and reno muttering back that they're all going to be higher than a junon pine in a few hours, what did it matter if they were store bought or homemade? rem snorted from the couch, dressed in her normal attire when she was out of her uniform; knee high socks and a long, comfortable t-shirt. the two go at it again, the sound of blows landing on naked arms before she peeks over the couch. yep-- axel's got him in a headlock and reno's pinching the inside of his thigh.

 " i'm start'n with'ou'ya fucks."

rem leans forward, picking up one of her perfectly rolled joints before lighting the end with her silver zippo, controller kept within her clutches. and true to her word, she's beginning the game without them; lounged against the couch on her side before the music fills the surround sound speakers in the living room. the scuffle between the two have stopped and they mumble half-hearted insults to one another before they start grabbing the snack and beer, reno protectively holding the pizza, before flocking to the living room and taking their respective places.

rem's got the joint burning away in her mouth, cheeks hollowing out as she sucks down a toke before a hand reaches up and swipes it from her lips. she frowns but her attention is glued to the screen before her fingers are tapping wildly at the buttons on the controller; she exhales the smoke in reno's direction as a clear sign she was not happy he confiscated her left handed cigarette.

" i rolled six; two fer each'a us. git yer own, shitfuck."

[kootenaygoon]

So,

Cold tears lingered on my cheeks as we hiked downhill through ankle-deep snow, icy wind gusting up from Kootenay Lake and flowing full in our faces. We trudged from one streetlight to the next, squinting into the swirling darkness, lurching unsteadily. There were four or five of us migrating from a house party further up the hill, and none of us were dressed for this sudden blizzard. Paisley had me around my hips as she took careful steps down the sidewalk, and I pulled my coat tighter around my face. I’ve always been a wuss when it comes to winter, having grown up on the west coast, and I was contemplating a U-turn towards home—it was almost midnight and I knew Muppet and Buster were waiting to be cuddled. 

Since the beginning of our relationship neither Paisley or I had done much partying, as we’d settled into an increasingly cozy home life, but over Christmas we found ourselves navigating increasingly bombastic social scenarios that left us feeling like clueless ancients. Before we’d been feeling bored and under-stimulated, staying home all the time to order takeout and re-watch the Harry Potter series, but now we had the opposite problem—we were scrambling to keep up. As we crossed through the final intersection and rounded down to Front Street I wondered if there was anything at this upcoming party that could compare to luxuriating in a hot bath.

“I’m starting to ponder the nature of suffering here,” I said. “I’m like one minute away from dying in a snowbank.”      

“We’re almost there,” yelled back our friend Caelynn. “It’s right up in that building, the Hall Street Emporium. Like only two blocks further.”

“The party’s in that building? The one with the new pot dispensary?” I asked.

“Yeah, he’s the one that’s putting it on.”

“Who?”

“The main grower, Niles. Apparently he’s handing out a bunch of free weed.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“That’s what my friend texted. She said there’s like 50 people there.”

I’d been keeping a close eye on the cannabis scene since the municipal election, but hadn’t actually pulled the trigger on any Star stories after the pushback I received from management over the Sensible BC thing. I didn’t want to come off to the community as overzealous, too pot-friendly, but marijuana seemed like the main Nelson story that wasn’t being told. There was a long-standing culture of silence around the controversial plant, of secrecy, but with legalization coming I felt like it wasn’t necessary for everyone to hide anymore. Paisley and I had checked out the new place a few weeks earlier, when gossip reached us, and we’d been surprised by how amateur the operation was. It was being run by a 24-year-old former forest fire fighter named Marv, and he’d essentially dragged a glass countertop into an empty room devoid of decorations and proceeded to sell weed and a variety of edibles to whoever walked through the door—he didn’t even check for ID. 

I figured it was only a matter of time before the police intervened.

“That guy Marv is such a heat score,” I said. “It’s like he’s daring the police to raid him.”

“What are they gonna do?” Caelynn asked, defiant. “It’s gonna be legal in like a year anyways, right? Fuck those pigs.”

“They may not be able to do anything right now, but he’s still going about this the wrong way.”

“What’s the right way, then?”

“People appreciate some professionalism. I mean, once legalization comes everything’s going to be so different, above board, and there’s not going to be room for people like him.”

“You wanna put money on that?”

I thought about it for a second. “I bet you 50 bucks he’s shut down within three months.”

Caelynn smiled. “Three months from today? 50 bucks? I’ll shake on that.”

A few minutes later we reached the party, and noisily banged the snow off our boots as we entered the building. The first thing I saw was a baby, unattended, crawling across the floor. Mounted speakers blared Shambhala-style EDM, there was a table crowded with ravaged grocery store appetizers, and a whole variety of bongs and smoking apparatuses surrounding a trio of leather couches. In the corner was a pile of air filtration tubing, attached to a heavy-looking appliance the size of a dishwasher, but none of it was turned on. Marv was drunkenly circling the party, taking pictures, and wasn’t wearing a shirt. He was scrawny to the point of looking emaciated, and his thin moustache was dusted with white powder. He careened across the room to embrace Caelynn, then fished a joint out from his toque and held it out in my direction. 

We lit it.

“Newspaper dude,” he said, taking a toke. “You’ve got a pretty fucking cool job.”

“It’s Will, and this is my partner Paisley.”

“Your partner?”

“I always hated the term ‘girlfriend’, and we’re not married, so…”

“You are fucking beautiful,” Marv said, as he shook her hand. “Don’t mind me, I’m really fucking high right now. I’m actually totally harmless.”

Paisley laughed uncomfortably. “It’s all good. Thanks for having us.”

“It’s not me, man. It’s all Niles. Have you guys met Niles yet?” he asked, his eyes darting. “He organized this whole shindig, he’s the guy. Hey Niles, Niles! Come here, man.”

Niles shook his head apologetically to the people he was standing with, then sauntered over. He was in his early fifties, with a Swayze-esque mane of golden hair, wearing a baby blue suit. His walnut brown tan made his eyes seem supernaturally white, his golden bowtie was comically oversized, and he even kept a chained watch in his side pocket. It almost looked like he was in costume, like he could be tea partying with the Mad Hatter himself.

“The Kootenay Goon,” Niles said. “It’s an honour. I’ve been reading your stuff for months now, wondering when I would get the chance to meet the new shit disturber in town.”

I shook his hand, half-standing from the couch. “Yeah, shit disturber’s about right.”

“And here we have your lady love—Paisley, right?” he said, turning to her. “That was one of the first articles I read by you, Goon, the column you wrote about her. I remember thinking: ‘people should write about love in the newspaper more often’! I thought ‘when was the last time you saw someone fill two pages of a community newspaper with an ode to his girlfriend?’ I find kids think it’s cool to be nonchalant these days, to never emotionally commit to anybody or anything, and I ask you: what ever happened to true romance?”

Niles sunk down on the couch beside us, crossed his legs and began bouncing his foot in the air. Paisley and I shared a quick glance, acknowledging his Shakespearean flamboyance with secret smirks. He took a few tokes from the joint and passed it to Paisley, then draped his elbow on my shoulder. There was an instant familiarity there, a comfort level I wouldn’t typically have with a stranger, and pretty soon our conversation had veered into philosophical territory. He asked me if I believe in pure, unadulterated love. Did it really exist?

I sat forward, tugging at my beard thoughtfully. “For me, there’s just so many things I’ve lost faith in — like I used to be a hyper-Christian teenager and then I ditched on the whole God thing — and love, like human love, is one of the last things I actually believe in, you know?”

“You were a Christian kid?”

“Totally. Worked at a Bible camp in the summers, did missionary trips, the whole deal.”

“And what ended things for you?”

“My youth pastor was arrested for molesting a teenage boy down in Mexico, summer of 2005, during a missions trip. He was a father figure to me, so I started questioning: if I can’t trust him, and he taught me about God, then how can I trust what I know about God?”

“What a funny word, God.”

“I thought you guys would get along,” said Marv, stumbling off. Niles whipped over to a nearby fridge and returned with three beers. We clinked them together and took long pulls as a handful of party-goers began to dance around us. I felt a pleasant heat in my eyeballs. It was starting to get crowded, and loud.

“The vision I have for this place, Goon,” Niles said. “This wouldn’t just be a dispensary. It would be a smoking lounge, a social club … I was thinking maybe massages too, like a spa. Maybe a counsellor, mental health coach, that sort of thing.”

“I’ve heard that there are multiple new ones getting ready to open. The Green Rush, they’re calling it.”

“Yeah, but everyone’s too chickenshit to pull the trigger because they don’t know which way city hall will swing. They let Phil run his club because he keeps things below the radar, but nobody’s really tried strutting out into the light with their balls out yet.”

“Well, except for you.”

He smiled humbly.

“Well, Deb Kozak’s supposed to be more pot-friendly than Dooley,” I said. “That could make a difference in how things go down.”

He sighed. “They’re all the same. All three of them. There was no real choice there. It’s not about their opinions on cannabis, or their public stances or whatever. At the end of the day it’s about the money, and when the time comes they’re going to want their cut. Doesn’t matter who’s sitting in the big seat. They’re all so full of shit.”

He paused for a moment to take a thoughtful pull from his beer, then continued.

“I mean I’ve lived here since 1976, and there’s never been an honest politician in this town. Not once. They’re all lizard-fucking slime bags, all of them dirty in one way or another. You can’t trust a single word they say, remember that. It’s all the same pablum bullshit they’re force-feeding everybody. They say they’re going to act, they have all kinds of pretty words, but what do they actually do? What do they actually accomplish?” he asked. 

“Nothing.”

After chatting intensely for twenty minutes, Niles circulated off to the rest of the party and Paisley and I found ourselves awkwardly clutching our half-finished beers. Caelynn pulled up a chair, sat down on it backwards, and we re-started an earlier debate on the moral standing of Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer. I engaged hard. Paisley put her head on my shoulder and we accepted another joint that was being passed around, sitting comfortable in the rolling fog of bong smoke. My consciousness began to fuzz.

“Oh, I love him,” I heard Paisley say. “What’s his name?”

I tried to locate my partner, distinct amidst the chaos of bodies around me. There were lots of colours. She was down on one knee, laughing, as a German shepherd took happy tongue swipes at her face. Brutus. I looked beyond her to where Snapper stood, leash in hand, wearing a sleeveless jersey that nearly reached his knees. He said something to Paisley, and she said something back, while I tried to maneuver into a standing position. I tried to take a swig of my beer but found it empty. When did that happen?

“Oh, that was tragic,” said Blayne, appearing beside me. She was wearing a bright red jumper, and had her hair braided into pigtails. “You should’ve seen the look of disappointment on your face.”

I smiled. “All these beers keep ending up empty.”

“Funny how that works.”

“I was just heading over to rescue my partner from Snapper before you showed up.”

“Oh, come on. He’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad?” I laughed, and then I doubled over and laughed some more. “Not that bad! Not that bad!” I knew my reaction was disproportionate, maybe nonsensical, but it was just one of those evenings. Blayne had her hand on my shoulder, trying to pull me back under control, and she was laughing now too — but she was laughing at me, laughing.

“You can be kind of an asshole, huh?” she said.

“I’ve made peace with that, yeah.”

“What’s Snapper ever done to you?”

I looked over to where he was chatting with Paisley. I didn’t like how close he was standing to her. She glanced over and made eye contact with me, then looked away again. I’ve never been a particularly possessive boyfriend, but something told me I needed to keep her away from him specifically. I turned to find Blayne blinking up into my face, because I’d failed to answer her.

“He hasn’t done anything to me, I just don’t like his energy.”

“He’s actually a really generous person. You guys could be friends, if you gave him a chance. You’d just have to stop being such a fucking snob.”

“I’m not a snob.”

“No? What are you then?”

Blayne and I sat back down on the couch, still bickering. Dru and Cy were sitting on the couch opposite from us, hand-rolling cigarettes on the coffee table. The music had a pulse, like a heartbeat, and I felt time melt. What was this sensation? I lifted my hands and marvelled at how the blood pulsed into my fingertips. My gaze settled on a dude wearing a psychedelic hoodie, on the sunburst erupting from his armpit. Wow. A woman walked by with a toddler on her hip, her billowing brown hair interlaced with red highlights, beads and little scraps of leather. I wondered what was going on in the minds of these strangers, if they were experiencing a fraction of what I was. This was one more moment, in this interminable line of moments, and who could say if it was any more special than any other? I wondered if anyone else were to tell a story about this moment, would it be different? What were they feeling, what did they see?

The Kootenay Goon

[psychotropicplague]

Let me start off by saying; if you’re not ready to try it, don’t do it.

Part of the experience is to be completely at ease and go into it with an open, positive mindset.

I can’t stress it enough that it can change your perception in the matter of hours— and if we’re being honest: it has been years since I’ve had it.

This was also the first time I had a joint in over a year. Everything leading up to the trip was completely dry from anything and the clarity I obtained whilst clean was undoubtedly the best I’ve felt in a long time..

But you’re probably wondering how it went...

I took one, my friend took three— mainly because he didn’t believe it was real, in-fact the first half hour after he had his first two, he kept telling me he didn’t feel anything, i warned him that it would creep-up on him and it would only be a matter of two hours before he’d peak.

Mind you, we’re going through Daylight Savings Time, so time itself was going really slow, I guess he got impatient and took another one.

I took mine with a swig of orange juice around 9:35pm and within minutes I started to feel a bit of a glowing sensation. Like a small spike in my awareness of what was going on— no introspective thoughts but aware that if I took two, I would not be going to work the next day (I had work at 11am the following morning) and I told him that it would be a strong sensation that would come up gradually. Believe it or not minutes after I had taken my first and only tab of the night, I took two small puffs of a joint and got baked instantly, it was somewhat overwhelming because it was as if the synapses and receptors in my brain usually occupied with fueling my medication (Lamictal 100mg, Invega 3mg and Vyvanse 50mg) was now slowing down and now combined with an unknown amount of THC, I felt stoned but at the same time kind of sore, naturally one should take into account that cannabis is a depressant and the combination of two mood-stabilizers (antipsychotic) and a stimulant with a hallucinogen is bound to make anyone feel kinda sluggish especially if they haven’t done anything like this in a really long time. It was only 9:45pm when we were talking, my voice sounding like I was balancing a coin in my mouth, but he was on the phone most of the first half-hour so we weren’t talking directly to one another but an occasional snide-joke was to be expected from him because he’s facetious as hell.

By 11pm, I could tell he was peaking— he was smiling and laughing, we were giggling because our voices were ridiculous sounding with his dissolving on his tongue. The thing that might’ve thrown him off thinking it was bunk was because sometimes in rare cases, you’ll get the kind that doesn’t have that distinct chemical taste that makes up the compound. For a first-time, you’re going to have to expect the unexpected.

My friend had turned on blue Christmas lights on in his room, which gave everything a bit of a sharpened outline, if you stared at something too long and closed your eyes you’d see the imprint of it on your eyelids and that’s how I know I was already gone. Not only did I see the imprint of these objects but at the same time I was also feeling like Jello, my body loosened from its tenseness it felt a half hour before but my heart was pumping quicker, I couldn’t really lay still and I wanted to cuddle something or someone because it made my tactile senses feel incredible; his bed felt like a cloud since it was memory-foam and I started to sprawl out and close my eyes to enjoy the closed-eye visuals which had a kaleidoscope-effect now. I grabbed one of his pillows and held it at arms length and tried to wrap one of my legs over it, it legitimately felt like I was cuddling another person because my breathing felt like someone else was in my embrace.

By 11:35pm, he turned off the blue-light and turned off all-lights in the room which amplified his trip tenfold; he tried to get up off the recliner he lounged in but couldn’t— just like me he felt very Jello-like and was both comfortable and taken by surprise by how it hit him like a ton-of-bricks. At this time I grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around me because he had his window-open and the cold breeze was coming into the room or maybe it was just my hypothalamus unsure of what temperature I was feeling because I went from cold to warm to cold to hot. I decided this was the opportune moment to play some trippy music, I picked Merriweather Post Pavilion by Animal Collective— which is PERFECT to play when you’re on any kind of trip, I had the volume on my phone set to two-clicks above silence, which normally wouldn’t be that loud (I mainly did this as to not stir my friend’s step-dad and to be respectful) but even two-clicks made the music sound like an amphitheater and really time-stretched it, a few minutes into one song felt and sounded like an eternity where you could truly appreciate the amount of work that went into making their album as mindblowing— as I laid on his bed, my brain disassembled some of the synthesizers and other sounds that made the song and could feel their unique distortion. I wanted to listen to the entire album but after a while with how time stretched it was, I had to turn it off because it only intensified and became almost too mellow.

We sat in silence for a while, maybe like another hour or so. I had brought my PlayStation 4 over his house and asked if we could play it, because I have never tried playing a video-game whilst tripping (I still haven’t) but he said no because he made it pretty clear to me he didn’t want to be staring at a screen all-night which partially made sense as it would’ve consumed a lot of time and the blue and white-light would keep us awake longer than we needed to be which would’ve ultimately made us completely sleepless— he just wanted to relax and so he asked if he could lay down on his bed, I let him lay down and I’d sit in the recliner he sat on for the past three hours and he sighed of relief when he got onto his bed, I tried to get comfortable on the recliner but it was difficult; to go from a really tranquil bed to sitting upright was by no means producing the same blissful effects as laying down flat.

I tried to get relaxed but it wasn’t easy, I laid my head on the pillow he gave me but as you can imagine, reclined on one of those chairs plus resting your head on a pillow on one of the arms of it is quite awkward and trying to find a way to curl-up isn’t pleasant either but this didn’t give me a bad-trip, I’ve never had a bad-trip.

Eventually I found my comfortable position and took a few hours nap while my brain basically started thinking about my life— what I’ve accomplished before all of this, a year of sobriety which now had to reset, but I somehow felt okay with that— to take a year break from cannabis and LSD didn’t seem to bother me, my brain thought of this trip and toke as a reward but I also thought about how some of my friend’s I’ve known for years are now doing alright for themselves and not doing this kind of thing which kind of made me feel sad and hopeless, I wanted nothing more than to have my own space where I could be cuddling and making love to someone passionately and slowly, bonding over the hallucinogen as you should— yes this is one of those things where it’s setting and individuals that factor into how much fun you’re going to have and how relaxed you’ll feel, if you’re tripping with someone you genuinely love and appreciate romantically, those feelings will be cranked to the max-level they can be; but sadly I’ve never experienced that either— and I really want to but it’s not easy at all to find it and you may or may not get opposition.

The next morning, literally around 8am, I had literally what felt like two hours of sleep— but I didn’t, I had six hours— I felt extremely deflated and sluggish as all hell; virtually no uplifting energy as I had the night before and even before I embarked on my trip. I had work at 11am, so I started packing my belongings and drove home— which surprisingly had no negative effects on my driving, if anything I was driving the posted speed-limits and didn’t make any mistakes, that alone kind of made me feel accomplished that I somehow managed to pull that off despite being lethargic and foggy-headed.

When I got home, I took my morning medication, took a shower and hoped for the best— that I’d go to work feeling fine and go about my day as normal as possible— but it didn’t go nearly as well as one would hope, because on-top of feeling the comedown and afterglow of the substances, my mind kept racing about things that were going sort-of awry in my life, I thought by doing what I did last night made me a failure in my family’s eyes— it’s bad enough that I had to hide behind the guise of a strong anti-smoke scent spray so I would come home and go to work inconspicuous but I couldn’t shake these thoughts and when I did finally get to work (earlier than scheduled) I got there at 10:15am, I decided I’d relax in my car for a while and try to meditate these racing thoughts into more composed ones, but I still felt scattered and drained of any kind of rational thinking.

I work at a bowling-alley which for the most part is pretty quiet until leagues or open-bowlers occupy the lanes we rent out. Around the time I clocked in, I paced around some to see if there was anything that needed to be done, we had a children’s party being held in an hour or so which occupied four lanes; while I was looking to see if there was anything I could do I still can safely admit, I was underperforming, nowhere near my seemingly manic energy that I had the week prior; my manager must’ve had some idea something was-up so she set me up with a challenge— to rearrange all of the balls on the floor in size-order, which is really counterproductive because no matter how you’d organize it, anybody who does open-bowl will almost never put them back where you organized them. I was with another coworker when my manager made us do this which required a lot of exertion and moving back and fourth between lanes and memorization, something my brain could not quite compute because I’m being told several different ways to organize them and we have so many different weights that it felt futile but I still tried my hardest, while this was all going on, the first league started coming in on the low-side of our building which began slowly increasing my anxiety so I stopped and began doing another task— degreasing any glass we had (usually the pictures we have hung-up around the center and the arcade machines and windows) but even then I’m told by my coworker that it isn’t necessary to do that: “We do that once a month” yet I do it mostly every shift I’m scheduled just so I can occupy any idle time I have because I know part of my job is to not stand-around and you have to be constantly moving...

Then the party came in, holy hell, this is where the center went from slow to now becoming gradually packed with patrons so I was stuck just doing tedious things like “mopping” the approach which is basically spraying alcohol on the wood approach and moving a rag attached to a stick to-and-fro, I tried doing so but I couldn’t quite grasp that either, my anxiety was getting in the way of doing anything right and it really began to become obvious something wasn’t right and I felt like my manager knew that— she offered lunch to me but I politely declined, something I wonder now if it would’ve had any effect on how I felt, she didn’t really have much to say— I think it might’ve made her upset to be honest.

After that I went into each of the rooms we have mats where my coworker suggested we power-wash them which was a much easier task and didn’t require nearly as much effort as you’d think— but still the center itself was packed with people and even when I finished doing that task I couldn’t quite figure out what to do next, so I waited some, took the garbage out, set-up some ramps and sat down to take a breather— it was only 1pm and 5pm felt like eons away— as soon as I stood up my manager startled me because she was right behind me, she claimed to have radioed me “5 times.” But the radio she gave me had a busted antenna and only gave me static, I explained this to her and again she had nothing to say, so I also explained that I was feeling anxious and overwhelmed about what truthfully has been troubling me— my father, which is partially true, he had gotten seriously injured by burning his hands on November 2nd and hadn’t told anyone, I brought him to the hospital on my birthday and he isn’t really doing too well mentally. Presently, he’s in a rehabilitation clinic recouping but I can see that he’s making small progress, this alone was a lingering thought all throughout the day.

My manager told me to clock-out and go home— “Maybe I’ll take you off the schedule for a few weeks..” she threatened, which would’ve been terrible given the fact that I have just started working here fairly recently and the last thing I’d want is to go without any income for a while.

So, all of that aside— today I feel somewhat more level-headed then I did yesterday and I’m hoping I can perform better at work today, I had two cups of coffee and I feel like a 7/10, which is waaaayy better than I did yesterday, I mean literally yesterday I felt like a 2/10.

My advice to anyone— if you’re going to do anything like this, make sure you don’t have work the following day.

[bentonpena]

What it's like to get high and eat nachos at America's first cannabis cafe

What it's like to get high and eat nachos at America's first cannabis cafe http://bit.ly/2M5wGpW

Aesthetically speaking, Lowell Cafe is like any other West Hollywood restaurant: the nachos are vegan, the outdoor patio is lined with live plant walls, and the dappled sunlight sets customers up for a perfect boomerang of them ripping a bong.

Stylized as Lowell Farms: A Cannabis Cafe but also referred to as Lowell Cafe, the restaurant is the first of its kind in the United States. Part dispensary and part eatery, guests choose from an extensive menu of pre-rolled joints, ounces of flower, vape pods, and dabs. Customers can also snack on a variety of dishes designed to compliment the inevitable munchies. It's almost like visiting a gastropub, but instead of splitting fries and sipping whatever beer's on tap, you can smoke whatever flower is in season.

 "You’re entering the world of post-cannabis prohibition," the press release for the cafe promised. 

When I arrived at the cafe on Tuesday afternoon, the line of walk-in hopefuls was already wrapped around the block. 

All guests, regardless of whether or not they consume cannabis products on-site, must be over 21 years old. At the door, a bouncer with a tablet scanned my ID, which was added to an internal database used for cannabis purchases. After being seated, a Flower Host stopped by to give us the rundown. Instead of checking my ID when I later ordered weed, the host checked her tablet for proof of age. 

Image: FREDERIC J. BROWN / AFP / Getty Images

Because regulated cannabis is a legislative nightmare, Lowell Cafe is actually two different businesses. Under California's current laws, cannabis lounges like Lowell Cafe aren't allowed to sell food or beverages, so the front patio facing the street is a basic, run-of-the-mill eatery that serves food but can't sell weed. The interior and enclosed back patio are 420-friendly areas where patrons can order food from the restaurant, buy cannabis products, and consume it. The restaurant, which serves food, beverages, and as soon as it secures its license, wine, is a separate entity from the dispensary. 

Basically, as West Hollywood's community and legislative affairs manager John Leonard told Eater LA, there are "two separate businesses on two separate premises."

"Patrons in the cannabis consumption area are allowed to order food from the adjacent restaurant," he continued. "And the food from the adjacent restaurant is delivered to the consumption area."

That whole set-up made ordering both weed and food pretty confusing. Guests order from two separate servers, one for food and one for weed. Likened to a sommelier, the Flower Host — the person serving weed — explains the various products, suggests food and flower pairings, and shows you how to use the paraphernalia available to rent. 

This is where the confusion comes in — since there was one server for food and a separate one for weed, figuring out who was staffing each overlapping section in the hectic restaurant seemed like a guessing game. 

Choosing weed can also be a ride. Lowell Cafe's cannabis selection is packaged in an intimidating leather-bound menu similar to wine menus at fancy restaurants. The cafe is a fully stocked dispensary, and its selection includes pre-roll packs ranging from six to 14 joints per package, edibles with up to 100 milligrams of THC, and an eighth of flower. And like buying alcohol in bars or restaurants, expect a steep up-charge; eighths will cost you $55 to $65. Patrons can also bring their own weed for a "toke-age" fee of $20, like a corkage fee in a traditional restaurant. 

For the most part, buying a pricey bottle of wine or an elaborate cocktail is justifiable because the party is likely to finish it before leaving. Only the strongest of stoners can finish off an eighth of weed or 14 whole joints in the recommended one and a half hours sitting at Lowell Cafe. Thanks to municipal regulations, guests can't take the leftover weed home with them, which can lead to some absurd speed hits in an effort to finish products, and will inevitably lead to wasted weed or upset guests. 

Granted, it didn't seem like the Flower Hosts stopped anyone from sneaking unfinished weed into pockets as diners paid their bills before leaving. 

I told our first Flower Host that I tended to stay away from THC-intense indica strains because of my tendency to cry in public when I consume them. The Flower Hosts' familiarity with cannabis varies. The first one I spoke to recommended whatever pre-roll had the highest amount of THC, but another, a former weed farmer who goes by Circa Suicide, told me that first time visitors should try to stick with low doses in case they get anxious. 

My friend Rebecca and I ended up splitting a pre-roll sativa joint called Kushberry Cheesecake, a 21.88 percent THC joint that cost $20. (A similarly fruity sativa pre-roll with a similar THC content, for reference, goes for about $10 through marijuana delivery services. Many dispensaries in Los Angeles will also toss in a pre-roll for free with the purchase of an eighth.) The menu described it as "Invigorating, Active" and it yielded the kind of high that makes the world more visually interesting while still letting you think clearly. It's also the kind of body high that motivates you to demolish a plate of vegan nachos at an alarming, but almost admirable pace. 

I was worried that once I started smoking, I'd be overwhelmed by the cafe. I've visited Amsterdam's coffeeshops before, and while most of my experiences were lovely, I have felt suffocated by the smoky air, dim lighting, and crowded spaces. I can get pretty paranoid when I smoke weed that contains just THC and no CBD, but I felt at peace lazily passing off that joint. At times, the tightly packed tables were a touch claustrophobic and a particularly lengthy cover of Fleetwood Mac's Dreams felt like it was four decibels too loud, but the "Invigorating, Active" part of this high never felt overbearing. The air inside wasn't excessively smoky, either, thanks to the cafe's ventilation system. 

"I would bring my parents here, I would bring my partners here," Circa Suicide said as I snacked on what may have been the best burger I've eaten in L.A. (That might have been the weed deciding that, though.) "I would even bring my coworkers here. It's a really nice, neutral vibe."

Circa Suicide added that since not everyone does well getting high in such an overstimulating environment, she recommends not smoking at all if you're anxious about being anxious. If you do decide to partake, take it slow. 

"Take one hit, put it out, give it ten minutes," she said, explaining how first-time smokers should try it out in a public setting like Lowell Cafe. "You can always go back in for one more. If you're feeling weird, we're here to bring water and talk to you." 

At times, the Flower Hosts seemed more like well-meaning parental units checking on an after school hang than typical budtenders. When the couple next to Rebecca and I fell into a couch lock, punctuated by bursts of giggles, a Flower Host stopped by and offered them bottled water. When I put out the last of the joint in the Lowell Farms-branded ashtray, a food server asked if I wanted any other munchies-quelling snacks off the menu. Circa Suicide recommended pairing the ice cream sundae with a Banana OG pre-roll before leaving to teach a first-time smoker how to roll a joint. 

Image: Frederic J. BROWN / AFP / getty images

Overall, the first public American cannabis cafe didn't exceed high expectations, but that's more the fault of regulatory confusion than poor planning. On one hand, Lowell Cafe is just a public place to smoke weed. On the other, it's also pioneering the way American culture approaches consuming cannabis in public. Considering the exhaustive list of limitations Lowell Cafe had to work with — separating businesses, a ban on serving cannabis-infused food, and state laws forbidding the sale of alcohol and cannabis on the same premise — Lowell Cafe managed to pull off an impressive blend of bar culture and weed. 

But regulating weed like alcohol also holds back the cannabis industry. Laws that work for alcohol, like not allowing patrons to bring home extra product, don't make sense when applied to weed. That, though, is in the hands of municipal governments to reform. 

Lowell Cafe's social impact is complicated as well. Paying for overpriced weed and taking the afternoon off to get baked is an immense privilege. As L.A. Taco noted earlier this year, greater Los Angeles' booming marijuana industry is promising, but it leaves convicted felons with non-violent drug charges behind. People of color have been, and still are disproportionately incarcerated for it. Part of the application process to secure a spot as one of eight approved cannabis consumption lounges involved taking "social equity" into account, which includes prison reform and minority inclusion. In its FAQ, Lowell Cafe says it gives "special employment consideration" to recently pardoned, non-violent cannabis offenders. But like L.A. Taco says, "being given priority to work minimum wage or low paying jobs at the bottom of a billion-dollar business feels like too-little-too-late." 

I left Lowell Cafe satiated by delicious food and gently toasted, not quite baked enough to want to take a walk. Over 750 people visited during its opening day, according to a Lowell Cafe spokesperson. While it wasn't revolutionary, smoking on a lively outdoor patio certainly beat the "prohibition"-era experience of hotboxing a friend's grandpa's car and messily ordering pizza. And it's paving the way for the not only West Hollywood's cannabis consumption lounges, but the many sure to pop up as legalized states figure out how to regulate it.

Lowell Cafe sits at the awkward crossroad of legalized weed and clumsy regulation — the marijuana industry is moving forward, but the government can't keep up. At least the food is good while the rest of us wait. 

Tech via Mashable! http://bit.ly/2nGI2sr October 3, 2019 at 10:42AM

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Legal Weed Resources

Check out... https://legalweed.gq/420/madcow/

Madcow

In this guide you will learn

Effects

Fragrance

Flavors

Adverse Reactions

Medical

Growing

Flowering time

Madcow is one of the most interesting Sativa-leaning strains to come out in the market. Though mentally stimulating and energizing like a typical wake-and-bake bud, it quickly drains users of vigor with its calming euphoria. It dissolves all tension from the muscles, resulting in a wobbliness in one’s gait while walking toward the couch for a quick nap. However, it renders the body immobile as a heaviness in the limbs quickly turns into sleep.

The process of creating Madcow was interesting. Presumably, its unknown breeders wanted to create a Sativa-dominant strain that engulfed the body in an Indica’s soothing buzz. And, what better way to do that than to cross Purple Cow with Durban Poison? Both have high-flying Sativa highs that have been genetically engineered to produce the body-melting effects of its offspring.

Tip: make sure to download my free Grow Bible for more information

Indeed, Madcow lives up to its parents’ potency but is a little bit forgiving to beginners with its buildable high. Still, it must never be over consumed especially in its concentrated form. A single toke has the power to subdue even the most seasoned of users.

Information About Madcow Strain

ORIGIN Durban Poison and Purple Cow EFFECTS Sleepy – 10 Relaxed – 10 Uplifted – 2 Energetic – 2 Talkative – 1 FRAGRANCE Sweet, butterscotch, earthy, spice, chemical FLAVORS Sweet, butterscotch, spicy, earthy, ammonia ADVERSE REACTIONS Dry mouth – 10 Dry eyes – 1 Anxious – 1 MEDICAL Stress – 10 Insomnia – 9 Lack of appetite – 9 Cramps – 1 Depression – 1 FLOWERING TIME INDOOR 10 to 12 weeks FLOWERING TIME OUTDOOR Late October to mid-November PLANT HEIGHT Unknown THC CONTENT % 14% to 20% CBD % Unknown INDICA/SATIVA % 30%/70% INDOOR YIELD 12 to 16 ounces per square meter OUTDOOR YIELD 16 ounces or more per plant CLIMATE Warm climate GROWTH LEVEL Unknown RESISTANCE TO DISEASE Unknown

* 10 is the highest * 1 is the lowest

Effects

Consumers should tread lightly with Madcow. Its rapid effects manifest within minutes after the first two to three puffs. In swarming the mind with a rush of energy, it can be quite overwhelming – especially for users with unprepared for its potent THC levels of up to 20%. However, the surge in vitality should be expected of the Sativa leaning herb.

During the initial onset, it reinvigorates users and leaves feeling many uplifted. The upbeat disposition is immediately noticeable too, as one revels in happy memories and bright ideas. The eyes twinkle while smiles grow wider and frowns turn upward. For a moment, the innate confidence that remains dormant for most of the time is roused from its hiding place. Enthusiasts engage in conversation with friends to share ideas, stories, or simply build camaraderie.

Madcow Strain Effects – Image Powered by thespot420.com

The effects quickly wane as each hour passes. As though totally stripped of energy, a heaviness plants itself in the muscles. It intensifies with each puff until it eventually covers users in a blanket of relaxation. The body loses its rigidity as it melts like butter. The urge to kick back and lounge around in the couch grows stronger too. In all likelihood, users will find themselves fast asleep with this strain.

Though most are capable of staying active or functional when using Madcow, it is clear that it is unlike the typical wake-and-bake Sativa strain. As such, it is best used at night where does not need to think about work.

Fragrance

A single whiff of Madcow is enough to entice the senses with an interesting smell of sweet caramel and butterscotch. There is a subtle hint of earthy spice once the buds are broken apart that gradually develop into a more chemical, ammonia smell during combustion.

Flavors

Madcow is quite sweet, boasting a similar flavor to butterscotch. It is accentuated by notes of freshly-picked spices with a blend of earth. On the exhale, its acrid smoke leaves a sharp ammonia aftertaste on the mouth.

Adverse Reactions

Like other strains, Madcow inhibits moisture from the salivary glands and tear ducts. As such, it is not uncommon for the eyes and mouth to dry albeit only mildly. Downing a few glasses of water, as well as staying hydrated throughout the day, is usually enough to ease the ache. If anything, the worst experience users have with the Sativa-dominant herb is an increase in anxiety levels.

Medical

About a third of cannabis enthusiasts in the United States use the herb to relieve stress. And, through the combined effects of its cannabinoids, Madcow also reduces chronic levels of the same health issue by stabilizing emotions and calming the mind. As such, the strain can also be used as an anti-depressant to manage symptoms of depression, PTSD, and other mental health issues.

The stimulating head high also encourages a hearty appetite. And, with an equally jovial mood, users take a bite out of a meal with enthusiasm and fill the stomach with delicious food. The revived appetite is great for patients with difficulty eating due to conditions like anorexia or cachexia.

Madcow Strain Medical – Image Powered leafly.com

In high concentrations, THC develops into a natural painkiller that soothes away physical afflictions like cramps. Enveloped by relaxation, it hastens one sleeping routine by drowsing users. Eventually, the eyelids droop with a heaviness until one drifts off to a deep, unencumbered slumber.

Growing

The biggest challenge Madcow poses to users is finding seeds due to its rarity. However, once aspiring growers get ahold of it, the strain is relatively easy to grow. It boasts the typical lanky structure that many Sativa-dominant strains have, as well as a high resistance against moisture due to its airy buds.

Madcow Strain Growing – Image Powered by leafly.com

Outdoors, it thrives in a warm, Mediterranean areas where it can stretch as tall as it wants in the garden. However, this does not mean the bud will perform poorly in the cooler weather of the northern hemisphere. In fact, it produces a hefty yield albeit after giving it a few extra weeks to flower.

Basic gardening techniques such as refraining from overfeeding the plant are required to grow Madcow. Apart from that, it is also crucial to provide support to its thin branches and stalks during the flowering stage. Pruning, on the other hand, will not only encourage lateral branching but also improve air, light, and nutrient distribution.

In controlled settings, Madcow grows well in hydroponic systems. It grows faster, yields higher, and produces buds that free of pesticides. However, it may be less flavorful. If one prefers cultivating its terpenes, the best medium is soil.

TIP: Looking to buy seeds? Visit the ILGM marijuana seed shop

Flowering Time

Indoor It takes a long 10 to 12 weeks for Madcow to flower fully. Once ready for harvest, the strain produces a good 12 to 16 ounces of buds per square meter.

Outdoor In the northern hemisphere, Madcow flowers from the last week of October to the middle of November. However, the plant rewards its growers with 16 ounces or more of buds per plant.

Have you ever smoked or grown your own Madcow? Please let me know what you think about this marijuana strain in the comments below.

Robert

Read Madcow on I Love Growing Marijuana.