#yeah my self worth has hit rock bottom now knowing that if i were to stop drawing a focus

[kazzsk2]

Me watching myself get into an art slump that I'm not sure I'll be able to get out of this time:

[wolveria]

Inside Your Wires - Chapter 1

Pairing: Human!Connor x Android!Reader

Summary: Assigned all cases involving android-related crimes, saddled with a prototype that follows him around like a plastic puppy, Detective Connor Anderson knows this must be karma for all the bad shit he’s ever done.

He thought he'd hit rock bottom, that he didn't have much left to lose, but he's proven wrong by the android sent by CyberLife. And Connor learns just how much further he can fall.

Prompt: For the @dbhau-bigbang​ 2020 challenge!

Series Warnings (18+ only): Eventual smut, slow burn, fantasy bigotry, violence, brief noncon elements, angst with a happy ending

AO3

(Story moodboard by @uh-kitty-got-wet​​)

November 5th, 2038

Friday 11:21PM

The whiskey was harsh and burned like liquid fire as it slid down his throat. He dropped the shot glass onto the bar top and closed his eyes and savored the bloom of the cheap booze warming his chest. The music from the old jukebox behind him belted out tunes that would have been considered outdated when the place opened.

It was like this most nights. He was alone, exhausted, and well on his way to a pleasant buzz. The one thing Connor had going for him was that he hadn’t started in on his third drink until 11 PM.

That had to be some kind of record. On a Friday night, he was usually shitfaced by 10. Call it the long hours he’d been working, or maybe the fact he felt more self-loathing than usual, he’d somehow managed to hold off on spiraling until nearly midnight.

Definitely a record. And Connor deserved to celebrate.

When he tipped the glass with one finger and caught Jimmy’s eye, he nearly looked away in shame. The bartender had never given him shit before, at least in a verbal sense, but the cool stare he gave Connor now made him want to crawl into a hole and die there.

But Jimmy didn’t say a word, just gave him another dose of poison and turned away, leaving Connor in relative peace to enjoy the game. Denton Carter was kicking ass tonight, so at least there was that.

It was all going beautifully until the door opened and the sound of rain echoed throughout the tiny bar, along with a distinct smell of wet asphalt and dirty concrete. Out of the corner of his eye, Connor saw two of the other regulars shift in their seats to stare at the newcomer.

Not another regular, then. And by how lengthy the stares were and the sudden shift in atmosphere, Connor guessed the barometric pressure had taken a drop due to a pair of long legs and pretty eyes.

Turning his body only far enough to get a glance for himself, Connor was not disappointed, eyeing the stranger from their black dress shoes, up their shapely legs clad in dark jeans, past curvy hips and—

Oh.

Connor turned back in his seat, hunched over and grimacing in disgust, put there by the sight of a blue triangle on a lapel and a glowing armband around one arm. He hadn’t even needed to look higher for the LED to know what the fuck had just waltzed into the joint like it actually belonged there.

He nursed his whiskey, praying the thing would pass him by and leave him the fuck alone. Or better yet, Jimmy would throw it out.

No such luck, of course.

“Detective Anderson,” spoke a smooth, raspy voice to his right. “I’m the YN800 model sent by CyberLife.”

He elected to ignore it. Maybe if he did so for long enough, it would take the hint and go away.

Again, Connor’s luck was not holding out.

“I called your cell phone, but you didn’t answer,” the voice continued, unimpeded. “I then looked for you at the station after checking your home, but you weren’t there either. Your colleagues indicated you tended to frequent the bars in the area, and I was fortunate to find you at the fifth one.”

His eye twitched. This thing had gone to his apartment?

“Well, here I am,” he answered, dry and caustic as he stared straight ahead at the wall of bottles. He calculated how angry Jimmy would be if he took out his service pistol and shot it through the head.

Pretty angry, Connor decided. It would probably leave a stain. Also, he didn’t want to compensate some asshole company for property damage.

“What do you want?” he finally growled, scratching his nail into the bar top already marred with various scuffs and dings.

“You were assigned a case earlier this evening. A homicide.”

Already, a headache was forming between the eyes at the sound of the android’s irritatingly friendly voice.

“Yeah, and?”

“It involved a CyberLife android,” it said in that same smooth inflection. “In accordance with procedure, the company has allocated a specialized model to assist investigators.”

You have to be shitting me.

Connor grit his teeth and clenched his glass tighter, a flush of heat moving through him that had nothing to do with his blood alcohol content. A fucking android was sent to help cops do their job?

Fuck that, and fuck this hunk of junk.

“Good for them,” he answered as he tipped the glass up to his lips. “I couldn’t give less of a shit. Now get the fuck out of my face. We don’t need any help, especially from a plastic pair of tits like you.”

He should have known that wasn’t the end of it. The android spoke again, adopting a tone of what it had probably been programmed as “sympathetic.”

“I understand you may be experiencing reluctance to having an android’s assistance in this matter, but I am—“

“—ruining a perfectly good evening, butting your nose where it doesn’t belong and sure as fuck isn’t welcome.”

Connor put his glass down harder on the bar top than he meant to, nearly spilling his drink.

“I suggest you leave before I void your warranty.”

Connor thought the machine got the message when it finally went silent. He could even see its mood ring spinning yellow out of the corner of his eye before it settled on that annoying placid blue.

He’d just brought the glass halfway to his lips when it said, “I’m sorry, Detective, but I must insist.”

Connor set the glass back down and started to count to ten. He couldn’t lose it now, he’d promised Jimmy he wouldn’t break anything else after the last brawl he’d gotten into.

But the fucking thing just kept on talking.

“My instructions stipulate that I have to accompany you.”

“You know where you can stick your instructions?” Connor growled before downing the glass of whiskey.

It was a good thing he had, because its next words made him choke on spit.

“No. Where?”

Connor set the glass down, and for the first time that evening, fully turned toward the android and stared at it.

The damn thing was staring back, head slightly tilted like a curious puppy. It had large eyes to match the image too, earnest and innocent and entirely too sincere. Its attire at second glance wasn’t the typical android faire. A smooth grey android jacket and a dark, patterned tie marked it as something different. Unique.

And just a little too pretty. Every designed, group-focused imperfection on its face made it that much more appealing. Its hair was neatly coifed, pulled up and pinned behind its head, exposing the smooth curve of its neck.

Hanging down the left side of its face was a strategically-placed lock of hair that Connor immediately want to twirl his finger around. He suspected that was the point.

The further down Connor’s eyes traveled, the more he lost his train of thought. The perfectly sensible tie was lying on the slope of its breasts, something even the jacket couldn’t cover. Why the fuck androids had breasts to begin with, Connor couldn’t begin to fathom, and it seemed even more ludicrous now seeing them on a “specialized model.”

The android hadn’t moved apart from its artificial breathing, another thing about the machines that was uncanny. They weren’t human, and the fact CyberLife kept trying to pass them off as such was a goddamn insult to humanity.

He met the thing’s eye, gave an unimpressed huff, and went back to nursing his drink. If the fucking tin can didn’t understand a dirty innuendo, he certainly wasn’t going to ruin its pristine, virginal programming.

Connor doubted everything that had just gone through his head as those unnecessarily realistic tits were pressed against his elbow, without warning or any sense of decency or a concept of personal space.

“How about this, Detective?”

Connor fumbled, nearly spilling his drink, a massive what the fuck! warning flashing in his head as the machine pressed closer.

“I’ll buy you another drink, on the house. Surely that’s worth a few minutes of your time? And if not, you can send me on my way.”

Connor couldn’t speak with that voice right into his ear like a close confidant, sultry and low and borderline pornographic, so it was a good thing the android didn’t bother waiting for a response.

Instead, it turned to Jimmy and said in a louder, more normal tone, “Bartender, another round for the detective, please.”

Jimmy turned from where he was cleaning glasses on the counter, eyebrows shooting upward as he looked from the machine to Connor. It had backed up a few inches, but there were a lot of reflective bottles on the wall. Connor wondered just how much Jimmy had seen.

Connor gave a little helpless shrug as if to say, Don’t look at me, I don’t know what the fuck it’s doing!

But when the damn thing actually brought out real paper money and set it on the counter, Jimmy got moving. Seemed he wasn’t picky about where his money came from, and Connor almost resented the fact he hadn’t thrown the android out on principle.

Who the hell gave it money in the first place? CyberLife? What, did they hand it a few bucks of allowance before letting it off its leash?

Despite all his reservations, and there were a great many of them, Connor was not about to turn down a free drink. Or two.

“Make it a double,” he grumbled, purposefully avoiding the android’s focused gaze. He could practically feel the thing staring into the side of his head, but at least it remained at a distance and wasn’t pressed against his side like a drunk, horny badge bunny anymore.

“Thanks, Jim.” Connor took the glass and tipped it back, drowning it in one go. The slide of the familiar burn down his throat, spreading throughout his limbs, did quite a lot to help ease the tension in his muscles.

He released a heavy exhale, pushed away from the bar, and got to his feet.

“You want to play plastic cop? Okay, then. Keep up,” he said, tilting his head in its direction without actually looking at it. “Or I’m leaving your ass behind.”

Connor didn’t wait for a response, only raised his hand in parting to Jimmy, and pushed open the door to let the rain-drenched Detroit night swallow him whole. But even through the sound of the rain pinging off the hood of his nearby car he could hear the even footfalls behind him, just a little too close for comfort.

Fucking androids.

Next Chapter

[briamichellewrites]

55

“How do you become a fucking billionaire before you’re twenty fifth birthday?”

Leo invited Jayde to a party with him and his friends. The party was laid back without drugs, just alcohol. How did she manage to become a billionaire? First of all, she had been working her ass off since she was eleven years old. Then, she invested in the stock market. A guy she thought was her father stole five hundred million dollars from her, so she sued him and got the money back. Did she still have investments in the stock market? Fuck yeah.

How was she working since the age of eleven? That’s when she signed her record contract. Her first album came out a year later. What company did she invest in? It was some company Jay Z owned. Her net worth was close to two billion, fifty thousand dollars. What was she going to do with that money? She had no fucking idea.

“I’ll buy a fucking island out of the middle of fucking nowhere Caribbean.”

“Damn. Where did you get such filthy language”, Leo joked.

“I think it’s the alcohol talking”, she joked back before taking another sip.

They laughed. Matthew McConaughey, Zac Efron, and Gisele Bundchen were all taken by her. Leo had introduced her as the little sister he never had. How did they meet? It was at a party for Victoria’s Secret models when she was around nineteen years old. She was a Victoria’s Secret model? Yeah, for two years. She had fun doing it, she just decided not to renew her contract because she wanted to focus more on her music.

She did print and runway. It was fun, though she didn’t take it too seriously. What was she doing now? She was songwriting for different artists. It was more adult contemporary. What artists has she worked with? Train, Gavin DeGraw, Bruce Springsteen, Jason Mraz, Rob Thomas. It kept her busy, which was great for her ADHD.

He jokingly asked her about Robin Thicke? We don’t talk about Robin Thicke. They laughed. Was there a story behind that? She rolled her eyes, making Leo laugh. Yeah, he was obsessed with going out with her. He told them about the Fourth of July party he had where he had to keep him away from her. She didn’t like him? No, she thought he was a creepy older dude. Leo could tell that something was going on by her body language but he didn’t know what.

He had read that she had been in the hospital for an alleged drug overdose but he didn’t know if it was true. Drugs were something he had zero interest in. After the party, he pulled her aside. What the hell was wrong with her? He knew something was wrong because he knew her. Was she using drugs? She backed away from him.

“Jayde.… you’re better than this. You might not believe it but it’s true. You don’t need drugs. You’re my little sister and I love you. I’m sorry for what Adam did. He’s not going to apologize, so I am. I’m apologizing for him.”

“What do you know about that?”

“I know that he left you for another guy and he took your daughter with him.”

“He fucking was done with me.”

“I know. You didn’t deserve that and I’m sorry. Please don’t do this. I’m going to get you help, okay? I want to help you get sober?”

“I love you but I’m not ready to get sober. You’re one of the only guys who don’t want sex.”

With that, she walked out while in tears. Matthew, who was walking back in, asked if she was okay. Yeah, she was. He could tell she was lying but he determined it wasn’t his business, so he went back inside. Leo sighed. What the hell happened? She’s a drug addict and was refusing help. He sighed and asked what he was going to do. I don’t know.

She was his little sister and he didn’t want to find out she died from an overdose. How old was she? Twenty one. Her fiancé and her broke up. He then moved on right after, breaking her heart. She was using drugs to self medicate. He felt helpless. Legally, she was an adult and could make her own decisions. He had to wait for her to hit rock bottom and decide to get help. I know. They walked back into his living room to continue drinking.

Jason. He had spent the night with her. They didn’t hook up because she was not in the right state of mind and he didn’t want to take advantage of her. Instead, he let her get everything out. She had demons in her head that she wanted to get rid of. The way she was doing that was with heroin. It was the only way she could forget that her ex had left her.

She had the drug with her. He watched her shoot it up in her foot while in her bathroom. She laid down on the floor after taking the needle out. He sat down and made sure she was still breathing. She was. He saw a girl in mental pain. She was also struggling with taking care of her mother and feeling alone. He wanted to cry because this was not the girl he used to know. She was sick. The drug was slowly going to kill her. He felt the tears going down his face. This was addiction.

Even if she wanted to, she couldn’t stop. It would always have a hold on her.

jaydejohnson: When you can stop you don't want to, and when you want to stop, you can’t. – Candy. #addiction

Heath didn’t know where Jayde was. He had been trying to reach her but she wasn’t answering his calls or texts. She was likely off with other men or had been forbidden from contacting him. Finally, she called him in tears. He invited her to his hotel room as he breathed a sigh of relief. She was still alive. When she got to his room, he pulled her into a hug as he closed the door. He then kissed her and she pulled him closer, lifting up his shirt.

He let it fall to the floor before taking off her shirt. They then went to the bed, where they laid down. He kissed her in between apologies. She forgave him. I love you. He loved her, too. Once they were high on cocaine, they made love on his bed. For the rest of the night, they did heroin, cocaine and pills. Anything to keep them high.

I can no longer cry. I groan a few times. Through the slits that are my eyes, I stare at my shoes, at the gray swirls of the concrete floor, at the bright orange lid of my syringe. And I realize—it’s a kind of horror—that this is my life. And I can’t stop. I just can’t stop. I can’t stop anymore. - Candy

The next day, her phone was blowing up with messages from Leo, Mike, Jon and Chester. Call me please! She woke up and went to the toilet to throw up. Heroin withdrawals were coming and she knew what to expect, as she flushed the toilet. She made herself get up to the faucet to rinse out her mouth. Heath also woke up feeling ill.

His body was getting rid of the chemicals he had put in it. He wanted to stay in one place because every move was torture. Together, they went through the process of eliminating the drugs from their bodies. One symptom at a time. One moment at a time.

@zoeykaytesmom @feelingsofaithless @jovichic-bonjovi4ever @borhap-au @beneathashadytree @duffs-shot-glass @geo-winchester @lokolokong-manunulat

[bookofmirth]

Am i the only one whos like,,,kinda happy we go to see this toxic possessive side of azriel? Not even in a "omg that's so hot" kind of way but in a, wow this character isn't as calm cool and perfect as we all thought. He has flaws and he can be an asshole and i still absolutely love him because this means he'll have growth 💖

I am too! And yeah, not in a “take me now” kind of way, but in a “so that’s how you think” kind of way. Sorry this got long, I can’t answer an ask without writing a mini essay 😂

Az has been not calm and cool and perfect for a long time, and I really enjoyed the fact that his chapter expanded that and helped us really see and understand it. It likely comes from extreme loneliness, the work he does, the fact that he has unresolved trauma from when he was a kid. I’m not going to diagnose him because I do NOT have that kind of knowledge or experience or education. But I can point out commonalities with other characters, and connect it to my own experience with mental health problems.

Az is the perfect character to have his own story because sjm has set him up to show that he’s in such a dark place. And I think that his dark is much closer to Nesta’s than Feyre’s, if we’re comparing to characters in the same series. Lemme explain.

Feyre never hated herself. I don’t remember (and if I’m wrong, someone let me know) her experiencing mental health challenges that were chronic. Everything that Feyre went through was circumstantial, it was the result of external events and factors. Once those events were resolved, she was able to deal with her response to them. She may continue to deal with PTSD (again, I’m not an expert!!!) but it’s not because of something innate to her personality.

Nesta’s darkness was obviously a result of things that happened to her, but as we saw in acosf, a large part of what haunts (haunted?) her was her own mental health, her own lack of self-worth and sense of guilt and resentment. I wouldn’t be surprised if this is something that Nesta continues to struggle with. And she found someone who understands that about her and can let her have that space, and it’s perfect!

With Az, it’s very similar. He obviously has experienced trauma and continues to immerse himself in it with his work, but there is a very strong thread of unworthiness driving his darkness. When he mentions not wanting Elain to touch him, the way he clings to the impossible (Mor, then Elain). If he can’t have them, then it reinforces his belief that he isn’t worthy of them. It’s a self-fulfilling prophecy because (besides the fact that Mor is queer), refusing to deal with his lack of self-worth compounds his problems and end up making him unable to be in a healthy, mutually supportive relationship.

Both Nesta and Az have given off strong vibes of feeling unworthy of friendship, love, family, etc. and while Nesta has had to work through that after nearly self-destructing, Az still has that work to do. He hasn’t hit rock bottom the way that Nesta did. Nesta isolated herself rather than face rejection, and I’m not sure how Az has decided to “cope”? Maybe the torture is his version of the drinking? I’m not sure. But his chapter and the other scenes in the book where his anger and refusal to listen to orders, to me, showed that he is potentially about to hit rock bottom. And idk what form that will take. 

EDIT - also lowkey saying, just to push my point home, that while Nesta is now in a happy, healthy relationship, that work didn’t start happening until AFTER she had hit rock bottom and was forced to get better. Az hasn’t reached steps 1 (hit rock bottom) and 2 (acknowledge need to change) yet.

[woulddieforsamwilson]

Paper Rings

It wasn’t like he didn’t know who James Barnes was, he just had no reason to become friends with the boy. He didn’t think they’d be very good friends anyway; James was always with the stronger kids, the ones that would beat Steve up at the end of the day, and that’s where he belonged. James was strong and sturdy, both reasons that half the girls in their class swooned over the boy. But despite all this, James never picked on Steve for being as thin as a stick or beat him up for fun. And Steve swears that one time, during art class when Steve was being praised for his work, James smiled at him.

It was probably nothing.

It wasn’t nothing.

The moon is high

Like your friends were the night that we first met

Went home and tried to stalk you on the internet

Now I've read all of the books beside your bed

Steve didn’t know what happened, one second he was walking home so he could clean before his ma got home, the next he was pulled into a familiar ‘ally.

“Hey there Rogers” Robert, a boy a few years older than Steve who looked 10 years older, “how’s old dad?” Steve glared and squared his shoulders, Robert laughed, “‘think if I were married to your ma with you as a kid, I would want to die too” Steve growled and clenched his fists, ready to hit the boy in front of him, but before he could try, James-fucking-Barnes strolled into the ally.

James was smiling brightly like the best thing in the world just happened to him, which, from what Steve could tell, was probably true, “hey Rob what-” James’ face fell as he saw the scene before him, “what are you doing?” Robert turned and looked at James, “just talking to Rogers. I think we’re gonna be best friends!” Robert and his goons laughed loudly, but James didn’t.

“Right well… why don’t we go get some pie down at Anne’s, hear she’s got a new apple pie out” Robert smiled, “sure James, but first, wanna ‘talk’ too little Stevie here?” 

“No, now can we go?” Robert rolled his eyes, “fine, let me just finish up our chat, then we can go,” Robert kicked Steve in the leg, sending him toppling to the ground, Steve groaned as his head hit the trash can behind him, but he always got up. 

Steve opened his eyes and pushed himself into a crouching position and looked up just in time to see James punch Robert in the face.

“What the hell!” Robert yelled as blood poured from his nose, “pick on someone your own size!” James yelled, crossing his arms and standing protectively in front of Steve, “you’re crazy Barnes!” Robert said, turning away and running back to whatever hellhole he came from, his goons followed.

When they were all gone, James turned to look at Steve, his gaze was piercing and comforting, like the look, his Ma gave him when he came home with bruises. “Are you okay?” Steve glared and pushed himself fully up, “I’m fine,” James looked instantly relieved, but Steve continued, “but you don’t have to stand up for me, I can take care of my self” James scrunched his eyebrows like this was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard, “you call getting your ass kicked ‘taking care of it’?” Steve rolled his eyes, “yes, because if you would’ve given me a few more minutes I would’ve had them right where I wanted them” James laughed-and for a moment Steve’s heart stopped-but then it was over and he was talking, “right, see ya later Stevie” Steve sputtered in protest, because the only person who could call him Stevie was his Ma, but James was already gone, possibly taking Steves heart with him.

That night Steve made it his life goal to become friends with James Barnes.

The wine is cold

Like the shoulder that I gave you in the street

Cat and mouse for a month or two or three

Now I wake up in the night and watch you breathe

Bucky was an idiot. He’d been working up the courage to talk to Steve Rogers since he first saw him, but he could never muster the strength. But of course, his stupid brain chooses to introduce himself to Steve at the worst possible time.

And now, he lost half his friends.

Was it worth it? Probably. His ‘friends’ shouldn’t have picked on Steve. Steve who weighed less than his book bag, who was always sick and bruised, who only had a mom, Steve who was perfect in every way.

The next day, a Saturday, Robert and his goons showed up at his door. “Barnes. Can we talk” Bucky nodded and stepped out of his house, closing the door behind him slightly. 

“Is this about yesterday? Cause if you think I’m gonna apologize-” Robert rolled his eyes “yeah we figured you wouldn’t apologize. But we still want to be friends” Bucky smiled, these guys weren’t as bad as he thought, “but we don’t want you to talk to Rogers anymore” Bucky’s smiled faltered, he didn’t want to stop talking to Steve after he just got up the nerve to speak to him, but he also didn’t want to lose all his friends in one swoop. He could go back to just admiring from afar, like before, “alright, but only if you stop picking on other kids, especially Steve” Robert nodded and held out his hand, ignoring the rock at the bottom of his stomach, Bucky took Roberts hand and they shook. 

Bucky was the worst person ever. After he defended Steve, the younger boy had tried to approach him several times, always nervous-and as time went on-expecting the worst. Bucky wanted to be friends with Steve, but Robert was somehow always around, and so Bucky always shut poor Steve down. 

Eventually, Steve stopped asking. 

Bucky was walking home again, he could already smell the dinner his Mama was making back home, and his stomach growled in anticipation. “Wow your little crush on Barnes must be huge, no other reason you would keep talking to him even when you know what we’re gonna do to you” Bucky stopped dead in his tracks, Robert had promised, he wasn’t going to hurt Steve-or anyone else, but baby steps-Robert may be many things but a promise-breaker wasn’t- ”I can do this all day!” He heard Steve’s voice call out, surprisingly confident considering his situation.

“Hey!” Bucky yelled, stepping into the now-familiar ally behind the movie theater, “thought we promised?” Robert sighed, clearly exasperated, “c’mon James, have you not seen how this fairy has acted around you? He’s in love with you! Wouldn’t you beat him up if he was in love with us?” Bucky glared, “no” and then he punched Robert for the second time.

It was the start of a beautiful friendship.

Kiss me once 'cause I know you had a long night

(Oh!) Kiss you twice 'cause it's gonna be alright

Three times 'cause you waited your whole life

(One, two, one two three four!)

Years later they had graduated high school. Bucky was working at the docs and Steve was taking art classes. 

One night Bucky came home completely exhausted. He sloppily untied his shoes and undid his shirt buttons. Once he was done he wobbly walked over to the couch where Steve was sitting, a drawing pad on his lap and a pencil in hand. 

Steve looked up at Bucky’s disheveled self and blushed, but didn’t comment. Bucky flopped down on the old couch and sighed at the comfort that enveloped him. 

“Buck?” Bucky hummed, acknowledging he heard Steve but not opening his eyes, “could I kiss you?” Bucky’s eyes shot open, staring up into Steve’s own eyes, which were full of fear, before his mind could even process what his body was doing, he was nodding excitedly. 

And then, for the briefest of seconds, Steve’s lips were on Buckys, and then they were gone. 

But Bucky wasn’t done. He sat up quickly and looked at Steve, “Steve?” the younger boy nodded, “could I kiss you?” he nodded again, and that night was filled with small kisses and happy feelings. 

I like shiny things, but I’d marry you with paper rings

Uh-huh, that’s right

Darling, you’re the one I want and

I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this

Uh-huh, that’s right

Darling, you’re the one I want and

Paper rings and picture frames and dirty dreams

Oh, you’re the one I want

“Marry me?”

It was a question both had thought about before, but neither brought up, too afraid to scare the other. 

But on a particularly rainy afternoon, it was blurted in the middle of the kitchen.

“What?” Steve asked half in shock. 

“Marry me” Bucky stared at Steve, love, and devotion clear in his eyes. 

“We-I” Steve took a second to control his thoughts, “we can’t get rings,” he said simply. “Steven Grant Rogers I would marry you with paper rings,” Steve’s heart melted, but quickly broke when he thought of all the terrible things getting married would do.

“Steve? It’s okay love we don’t have to I was just thinking…” Steve looked up at Bucky with tears in his eyes, “I can’t do that to you! You have your entire life ahead of you, I could die any second! You deserve someone better, someone, who could take care of you and love you till you grow old! I can’t do that Buck!” Steve cried out, all his insecurities leaking out.

It was silent for a full minute before Bucky stood up and walked toward Steve, for a second he thought Bucky would slap him, but instead, Bucky grabbed his face and kissed him harshly.

“Stevie, you’re the one I want. No one else, just you” Steve looked at Bucky’s face and knew it was true, “yes.”

Bucky froze, “what?” Steve took a deep breath, “yes, I’ll marry you” Bucky’s face broke out into a beautiful grin as he laughed, Bucky picked Steve up and spun him around, making the blond laugh giddily. 

A day later, in their small apartment, they were married.

I want to drive away with you

I want your complications too

I want your dreary Mondays

Wrap your arms around me, baby boy

The Grand Canyon was going to be their honeymoon. They had been saving up all year to go anyway, but since their wedding, they had decided to make it an unofficial honeymoon. 

A week before they were going to leave, Bucky received a letter telling him he was drafted.

[itsclydebitches]

Discredit Pt. 2: More Recommended Reviews For A.Z. Fell’s

Alright, folks. Some notes first: 

1. You all rock. I’m sending out 20k+ virtual hugs for all the notes I NEVER expected to get on this nonsense. 

2. This is probably the final section, just because I’m not sure I can adequately follow up part one and it might be foolish to attempt it here. Let alone twice. But for now, here we go. 

3. Kudos to the anon who reminded me of Aziraphale’s cash-only policy <3 

4. Nicole Y’s review is based off an actual comment I read years ago, but heaven only knows where online it was. I’ve got the memory of a goldfish. 

5. Trigger warning for the use of a queer slur in this. It’s the same review as above, number 5 if you want to avoid it. 

6. There’s a text-only version of just the reviews at the end, after all the images. I’ll upload that to my Sparse Clutter collection on AO3 in a bit. 

Bonus 7. People thinking this is a real shop deserve all the good things in this world. 

That’s all I’ve got. Hope you enjoy! 👍

****************************************************************************

I’m a simple guy who likes simple jokes. If there’s a whoopee cushion I plant it. I will call you up to ask if your refrigerator is running and then tell you to go catch it. (Actually that one died out so thoroughly it’s actually capable of a comeback now!). Yes, I’m a dad and yes, I have a t-shirt that says Dad Jokes? I Think You Mean Rad Jokes! which I wear un-ironically every Saturday. All of which is just to say that my wife was well prepared for my stupidity when I walked into Fell’s.

I? I was not.

You see the bibles when you walk in? The ones to the left? Let them be. Don’t even look at them. Definitely don’t pick out the fanciest one you can find and absolutely don’t walk up to the owner with it held in your pudgy little fingers, grinning like a loon, cheerfully asking whether this should be in the fiction section. Just don’t. Mark my words you’ll regret it. Though your wife won’t. She’ll get a great old laugh out of it all.

In conclusion: it’s quite possible that mama did raise a fool and he just got his ass verbally whooped by a guy in a bowtie.  

***

Shout-out to Mr. Fell for being the only decent bloke in this city. I’ve popped in and out of his store for years—including before I started transitioning. So he knew my dead name, dead look, whole shebang and I was definitely nervous to play the ‘You know me, but this is what’s changed and are you gonna throw a fit about it?’ game.

You know what he said? “Oh, Rose! What a lovely choice. Crowley dear, why aren’t you growing any roses? Some white ones would look splendid next to my Henredon chair.”

That’s it. He just went straight into dragging his partner for not giving him roses. So hey, Mom? Next time you’re snooping through my social media why don’t you explain to all these nice people why the 50+yo book seller accepts me in ways you won’t. Don’t go telling me age is an excuse or that you’re ‘Stuck in your ways.’ I’ve watched Fell dress in the same damn clothes since I was ten!!

Yeah. Sorry. Rant over. Fell’s a gem. That’s my take. Rose out.

***

Anyone else in the shop when that guy started yelling about buying pornography? And then got escorted into the back room for some ‘private conversation’? Well done, Mr. Fell! Didn’t know you had it in you.

***

Alright alright alright alright I am TOTALLY calm about this.

Went into A.Z. Fell’s last Thursday. Not because I knew anything about the place. Just because I’ve been hitting up every bookshop within a twenty-mile radius, asking if they’re hosting any book signings. Long story short I self-published my novel Blight last month—which you can get for a mere £5 here but I swear this isn’t a promotional thing I’m just BROKE—and have been looking for networking opportunities, tips, stuff like that. So the owner listened politely as I explained all this. Then said he didn’t do anything of that sort, which didn’t surprise me given the shop’s vibe.

But then? Then??? He offered to let me do a signing there??????

As said. Totally calm about this. This man either plans to kidnap me or is actually giving me my first shot at an audience outside my blog. AKA totally worth the risk.

Tuesday the 9th. 7:00pm. Just in case anyone’s interested ;)

***

holy sweet baby jesus i was tripping balls last week you tryin’ to tell me that kING KONG SIZED FANGED FUCK SNAKE IS REAL

***

Witnessed the most perfect exchange the other day:

Grumpy Dude With No Manners: “You. Boy. Where’s the man I spoke with over the phone?”

Mr. Fell’s Partner Who Knows Damn Well Only Two of Them Work There But Clearly Doesn’t Like This Guy’s Tone: “Did this man give you his name?”

Grumpy Dude: “Might have. Don’t remember. Sounded like a fairy though.”

Me: “....”

My girlfriend: “....”

This Poor Sweet Startled Kid On Our Left: “?!?!?!?”

Fell’s Partner In The Drollest Voice I’ve Ever Heard: “None of us have wings. Out!”

***

This shop gets full stars simply because every time I walk in they’re playing Queen.

I mean, I’ve walked in once, but once is enough when you’ve got Crazy Little Thing Called Love blasting full volume.

***

Okay, I’m still kind of shaken up but I needed to write this out somewhere and this seemed as good a place as any.

I spilled my latte on a book. Just tripped on thin air, popped the lid, and chucked a venti’s worth of coffee all over a very expensive looking text. I didn’t mean to, obviously, but it happened and I just started bawling on the spot. Full on sobs because this semester has been absolute hell, I ruined this guy’s antique, there’s no way I can pay for it, I can’t even sneak away because I’m drawing the whole store’s attention...just all the things all at once. I really was straight up panicking and was seconds away from pulling out my inhaler. I couldn’t breathe.

And then Mr. Fell showed up.

Jesus it’s embarrassing to admit but I think I hit him once or twice. On the arms I mean, because he was trying to touch me and I figured, I don’t know, it was a restraint or something. He was going to call the police and hold me until they got there. But then he managed to start rubbing my back and I lost it like I hadn’t already been bawling my eyes out in this shop. Ever cry into a perfect stranger’s chest? I have! But if Mr. Fell seemed to mind he definitely didn’t show it. Just kept holding me while I probably ruined his shirt and then took me into the back and made me a new coffee in this cute little angel mug. He let me stay there while I called my sister and waited for her to arrive.

She’s a good twenty minutes outside of Soho, so we talked for a while. It’s not like Mr. Fell could fix my shit roommate or bio classes, but I guess just talking about it all really helped. I was a lot calmer by the time my sis arrived and Mr. Fell insisted I come back any time I wanted—for browsing or more coffee.

Of course, sis offered to pay for the book herself. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone look so surprised in my life. “Certainly not!” he said. “Contrary to popular belief, no one should pay for their mistakes. It’s what makes you all so wonderfully human.”

So yeah. Thanks, Mr. Fell.

***

This little shop must have started a book club for kids! Lately I’ve seen the same group of children hanging out at Fell’s. Three boys and a girl. They’re a bit rambunctious at times, but who isn’t at that age? So wonderful seeing literature passed down to the next generation. Even if some of it is rather questionable looking...

***

It’s an honest crime that more of you aren’t talking about what a wonderful bookstore this is.

I’m a book lover at heart and Fell’s always makes me feel like I’m coming home. I just arrived somewhere safe and familiar after a particularly harrowing day. I’ve slipped under the covers of my bed after dinner and a bubble bath. It’s something like that, but with an element of surprise too. One of the reasons why I adore private and used shops over chain stores is that little touch of chaos. You walk in and sure, there are general sections to browse, but everything is just a little bit disorganized from people leafing through books and then putting them back somewhere else. There’s no real record keeping, you’ve just gotta head to one particular corner and hope for the best. It’s not the sort of place you go to if you want something specific because the chances of them having it are slim—that’s just how the universe works—and even if they did no employee knows where it is anymore.

But if you wander the shelves for a while, crouch down low to get a look at everything on the bottom shelf, pay attention to the books that don’t have easy to read titles or any summaries to speak of... you just might find something you didn’t know you were looking for. That’s Fell’s: the comfort of the familiar and the excitement of the unknown.

*** A lot of people might assume that these stories are embellished or outright made up, but as a bookseller myself going on twenty years I believe every single one of them.

That being said, I accidentally moved a rug and found chalk sigils that look like they belong in a cult. Make of that what you will.

***

There’s a special place in hell for 21st century shop owners that only take cash. Who carries cash anymore? Not me! I haven’t bothered with that nonsense in years! You can get a card reader for 15 pounds on Amazon. Or you know what? Be stingy and pay 7 for the little attachment on your phone. This place is nuts if it thinks it’s going to survive much longer on a cash-only policy, especially with some books that look like they’re worth hundreds or thousands of pounds! Yeah, yeah, just let me pull out this giant wad of bills for you. I’ll carry them around a crime-laden city because there’s no ATM near you either.

I mean jesus, you’d think this guy didn’t want to sell anything.

***

I walked in. There was a man screaming at a fern while another threatened him with an umbrella. I walked out.

5 stars do recommend.

***

I once walked in on the same (?) guy yelling at a book for daring to fall on the owner’s head. I think that’s just a Thing over there.

***

Like a lot of people here I didn’t actually go to Fell’s for any books (flat tire, Angel Recovery taking forever) and ended up staying three hours (not because of Angel). No, I wandered towards the back and found this ancient CRT set propped on a table of books, the kind that my Dad used to watch Twilight Zone on. This lanky guy had a marathon of Gilmore Girls going... though how he was managing that with a broken antenna and no DVR, I really don’t know. But yeah. He told me to pull up a chair and I did. Guy gave me popcorn.

I wish I’d paid a little more attention to his name. Charlie? Curley? I really can’t remember, but thanks for the enjoyable afternoon, man.

***

I BOUGHT A BOOK HERE

Not sure how though. Just kinda happened. First edition of Just William. Frankly I didn’t even want the thing, but the owner basically shoved me out the door with it when I took two seconds to look at the spine. Odd that he was so willing to part with this one.

Update: ... hold up. I didn’t buy a book because I never actually paid the guy. ‘Basically shoved me out the door’ was literal. Do I go back??

***

This page has really gone feral the last couple of months so I’m just gonna bite the bullet and say it:

Anyone notice that Fell’s snake and Fell’s partner are never in the same room together?

***

I really don’t like the implications of this…

***

This is precisely why the Internet has turned into a cesspool. You all should be ashamed of some of the stuff you’re writing here. Can’t two men just be friends anymore? Two real life men? These guys aren’t some characters for you to ‘ship’ or whatever. Quit making outrageous assumptions about their sexualities and use this website for what it’s actually for: reviewing the bookshop. Honestly I’m so sick of this sort of this shit.

***

Dude. They run a queer-focused shop together with a flat on the second floor. Fell calls the guy ‘Dear’ and he’s always calling him ‘Angel.’ People have literally seen them kissing. If you want I can give you the number of my physician. He might be able to help you pull your head out of your ass.

***

What the hell is your problem? I’m literally just reminding people to stop making assumptions. It’s gross and insulting. These guys check their Yelp page. You really think they’re gonna be okay with this stuff?

Also: I’m not the five-year-old relying on insults, so.

***

Making an account purely to set the record straight: I’m the hot twink in question and I married that angel. Peace

[vrednic]

COLLATERAL DAMAGE (PT. 2)

Teen Wolf x Vampire Diaries AU

Prompt: Teen Wolf, but with a twist. Scott McCall has a twin sister… and she falls in love with Derek Hale.

Summary: After Scott refuses to join his pack, Peter Hale turns Serena McCall into a werewolf. Will her transformation be for better… or for worse?

Word Count: 3,285

Author’s Note: This series will skim the events of seasons 1-3. I have a lot of content planned, so there will be some skipping around at certain points, but it will all work in unison, I promise! I hope you all enjoy part 2! Please let me know if you’d like to be added to my taglist. As always, feedback is greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading :)

*PART ONE IS HERE. *

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Werewolves.

The topic of lycanthropy was one I hadn’t visited since freshman year english. I thought back to the unit of Greek mythology, and how we had been assigned research projects on famous Greek myths. My english teacher gave us the liberty to choose our own myths, and I had naively chosen Lycaon of Arcadia. Lycaon, the king of Arcadia, attempted to trick Zeus into eating human flesh, testing to see if he was truly all-knowing. Angered by Lycaon’s blasphemous actions, Zeus punished Lycaon by turning him into a wolf.

Oh, the irony of it all.

For the past three weeks, I have been given gradual insight into the world of the supernatural. The full moon was fast-approaching, and I needed to learn everything I could as quickly as possible. I wasn’t yet sure how I felt about my transformation. I was amazed at how quickly I began noticing changes. Overnight, it seemed, my senses had been dialed up to a thousand. I was stronger, faster, and more confident. I could smell, hear, and sense things other people couldn’t. One of the most fascinating things about my newfound abilities was that my body’s healing process was nearly instantaneous. The only downside of it was that I had yet to experience the brutality of the full moon. I was afraid that I would see things differently after, that I’d realize that I’d never be able to control it. Would my supernatural powers really be worth being enslaved to an insatiable bloodlust every month? Would it be worth putting my friends and loved ones at risk, especially when one slip-up could mean death for any and all of them?

I had been training tirelessly with Scott every day since I was bitten. Before school, after school, and during free periods. He had effectively taught me how to make my claws appear and disappear at will, how to partially shift into my werewolf form, how to follow scents, how to decipher chemo-signals, and how to trigger the healing process of an injury using pain. I was impressed with my progress, but I knew that I had only been exposed to bits and pieces of the extensive supernatural spectrum that I was now a part of. I had always been good at the technical side of things, so I knew that learning the basics of lycanthropy wasn’t going to be an issue. I considered myself to be on the smart side-- I had no problem displaying resourcefulness or creativity or administering critical thinking in complex situations. One thing I wasn’t very good at, however, was regulating my emotions.

When our parents got divorced, Scott and I handled things very differently. He was always a mama’s boy, and I was a daddy’s girl. Our father was an alcoholic and a cheater; something I knew all too well, but was also something I wanted to remain oblivious to. I’m assuming this realization is what made it easier for Scott to hate him, to be okay with moving on without him. It was harder for me to cope with his absence because our dad had always been my rock -- my hero --  and I couldn’t picture him ever hurting anyone. Especially me.

The night my mom kicked my dad out of the house for good, he had come home drunk. He instigated an argument with her over something, as usual. But with them it was never just an argument; it always ended up with them screaming at each other. Scott and I shared a room back then, and it was located right by the staircase, which was where they happened to be arguing that night. Not surprisingly, their heated voices turned into shouts, and we were both awoken. We peered through a crack in the door as our parents fought. My dad could barely keep his balance; his cheeks were flushed, his eyes crazy, violent words spewing from his mouth fueled by intoxication. I remembered vividly how he had lost his composure and grabbed my mother by the neck, slamming her against the wall. I let out an audible gasp and stood frozen in horror. Scott flung the door open and rushed into the hall, immediately wedging himself between our mother and father. My dad grabbed Scott’s arm, attempting to pull him out of the way, but yanked my brother with too much force. He was flung against the railing of the staircase, and he tumbled down the stairs. He was unconscious at the bottom of the stairs for maybe 30 seconds, and when he came to, he didn’t remember a thing. My mother ushered us back into our room and put us into bed. I fell asleep crying that night, but I didn’t know exactly for whom I was crying. Had it been for my brother? Had it been for my mother? For the loss of my dad? Or was it for me?

I hadn’t had the chance to say goodbye to him. I woke up the following morning, expecting him to be there, bags in tow, waiting to talk to us one last time. But he was already gone. I knew he didn’t deserve it, but I couldn’t help but miss him. When the plea for divorce was initiated, there was never a discussion about shared custody or visitations. Once the divorce was finalized, I knew that he was never coming back. It was because of his betrayal and abandonment that I grew up with issues when it came to trusting people. I was filled with this deep, aching feeling of isolation, and it made me angry. Very. As I grew older, I got better at suppressing it, but I knew that somewhere deep down, it was still there. With the full moon prodding and poking at my resolve and self control, I knew it was only a matter of time before those feelings resurfaced.

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The day of my first full moon, I felt the effects as soon as I got out of bed in the morning. I felt my heartbeat rising with every breath that I took. When I got to school, my senses immediately began to feel overstimulated. Everything was brighter, louder, and more jarring. The sound of the bell ringing made me feel like someone was hammering nails into my skull. The people I passed in the hallway blurred together, all of their emotions and scents hitting me like a door to  the face. At lunch, the sound of people’s voices and laughter made me want to tear their heads off. I looked around the cafeteria, feeling myself grow angrier and angrier, for seemingly no reason at all. Rationally, I knew that these people had done nothing wrong. Emotionally, they were the piece of gum stuck under my shoe. My gaze locked on Jackson Whittemore, and I fantasized about how good it would feel to tear his tongue right out of his head. He had always been an asshole to my brother, so why shouldn’t I kill him? It would be extremely satisfying to watch the smug look on his face disappear as I stood over him, my hands drenched in his blood, as I began to tear him limb from limb…

“Uh, Serena? Are you okay?”

Scott’s voice brought me back to reality. I was suddenly overcome with anxiety as I realized the vile intrusive thoughts that I was just experiencing. What was the matter with me? This wasn’t me. I wasn’t a killer. Only, maybe that wasn’t exactly true anymore.

I nodded, fabricating a smile. “Yeah, no, everything’s great. I was just thinking about my research paper for… biology. It’s due tomorrow and I have no clue where to start.”

“That’s fair,” he said. “But remember that it’s perfectly okay for you to be feeling on edge today. It’s your first full moon and I promise nobody will blame you for not feeling or acting like yourself.”

I felt the tension in my shoulders ease ever-so-slightly. I nodded once more, reassuring him that I was in fact okay. I felt better knowing that out of all of the things that had changed, our sibling bond hadn’t. He’d be there with me to make me feel safe and to teach me control. Before long, I would be able to be just like him. I trusted him, and I knew he had faith in me. That meant only one thing: I had to have faith in me too.

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Later in the evening, as the sun was setting, I began feeling the effects of the full moon amplifying. My heartbeat was nearly erratic and Scott was nowhere to be found. I was in the bathroom, standing over the sink and looking at myself in the mirror. There was a flicker of golden yellow in my eyes, and I nearly sobbed out of pure anxiety alone. I balled my hands into fists, trying to focus on anything other than the impending sense of dread that I was experiencing. I felt a warm, slippery substance course down my wrist. Blood.

I opened my fist up, revealing four deep punctures on both of my palms, where my claws had dug into. The temporary flicker of pain was small, but enough to bring me out of the frenzy. I took this opportunity to set out to find Scott.

I didn’t remember the way to the Hale house all too well, but what I did remember was its scent. The smell of charred wood and smoke would be very hard to miss. I maneuvered my way through the darkness, making sure every step I took was careful and calculated. Scott had mentioned that Beacon Hills Preserve was littered with traps set by hunters. It was also a full moon, so I knew there would not be any shortage of hunters roaming around town tonight, hoping to catch and kill their next supernatural victim.

As if on cue, I heard voices from a distance. By the sound of it, there were maybe four or five of them, all men. I swallowed, trying to think of an escape plan. I couldn’t run. It was fall, and the weight of my body against the leaves on the ground would give my location away immediately. I could have hidden, but I knew that they probably had some sort of a thermographic camera. If they happened to get me in one of the shots, I would have considered myself dead.

I tried to weigh any and all other options, but I had none. The best chance at escape that I had right now was simply to run. They sounded far away enough so that even if they did hear me, my superhuman speed would give me an advantage. I decided that now was as good a time as any, and began moving. I tried to keep to the shadows, not daring to make any unnecessary sounds. I noticed too late that I had no idea where I was going. I looked around me, but I couldn’t pinpoint any familiar landmarks. I could have sworn that I was heading back in the direction I came, but judging by my surroundings, that wasn’t the case. I stopped for a moment, attempting to gather my thoughts.

“Come on, Serena,” I whispered to myself. “Think.”  

I was jolted away from my thoughts when I saw a red light from my peripheral vision. I was frozen, completely unsure what to do. More red lights emerged from the darkness, pointing straight at me. Lasers. It was then that instinct spoke to me, telling me to run. And that’s exactly what I did.

I turned on my heel and bolted away from where the hunters had been. I didn’t take the time to care about the tracks or the noise I left in my wake. I had the advantage of speed, but they had the advantage of knowledge and experience. These were professional killers. I wouldn’t be surprised if they knew what move I’d make next even before I did. Through the commotion, I almost forgot why I had been in the woods in the first place. The fury of the full moon hit me, unforgiving. It was as if she allowed me only a few moments of peace before the storm. I looked up at the sky and the moon glimmered at its peak. Almost instantaneously I was overcome with an animalistic urge to go back and rip the head off of every single hunter that was on my trail.

My claws and fangs appeared as if by magic, and my eyes were aglow. I felt angry-- so angry. But it was that anger that gave me power. I felt strong… unstoppable. Against all rational thought, I turned back around, using my infrared eyes to see through the darkness. A few rows of trees ahead was where I spotted them. Two of them were kneeled down, examining the tracks that I had left behind, judging the direction I must have taken. The other three were behind them, standing guard. They looked around, weapons drawn, ready to fire at any given moment.

I growled. It was a sound that conveyed equal parts rage and purpose. I was hiding behind a tree, looking for the perfect moment to attack. Just as I was about to launch myself in their direction, a pair of hands snagged me from behind with tremendous force. Before I could growl or scream, the person used one hand to cover my mouth and tucked me against his chest, making sure our bodies were still shielded by the tree. I tipped my head back to see who it was, and was met with the fiery gaze of Derek Hale.

He broke eye contact first and peered over my head, trying to come up with an escape tactic. His stone cold composure made it clear that it wasn’t his first time evading death by the hands of werewolf hunters. I, on the other hand, was terrified. I felt an equal amount of shame and embarrassment once I realized how foolish I had been. It was a night of the full moon and I wasn’t in control, for one. I also felt extremely stupid for walking into woods that were infested with hunters; ones that wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet between my eyes. Another shame-inducing component was the fact that Derek just had to be the one to find me. I had gotten a brief description of him from Scott, so I knew that he was hardcore. He also hated liabilities, and at the moment, that’s exactly what I was.

“Now’s not the time to wallow in shame,” he whispered to me, his voice gruff. “If you hadn’t noticed, they’ve got us completely surrounded. It’s a miracle they haven’t seen us yet.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but he cut me off. “Don’t bother denying it. The smell of embarrassment is rolling off of you like a stench.”

Your commentary isn’t exactly helping, I wanted to say to him. But I knew better than to push his buttons, especially when we were on the brink of being discovered. I kept my back against the tree, waiting for further instructions. After a few minutes, Derek finally spoke again.

He lowered his mouth next to my ear, his warm breath sending a tingling sensation onto my neck and down my back. “On my signal, you run. I’ll stay behind and cause a distraction so you can get away.” He pointed behind him to another row of trees. “Run that way. Get out of the woods as fast as you can.”

Before I could get a word out, he was gone. He roared loudly, capturing the attention of the hunters that resided a few yards away. As they ran to him, he turned back to look at me, flashing his icy blue eyes. That was my cue. I took off running in the direction he had said. I heard the commotion of the fight almost the entire way. Growls and roars from Derek’s end were met with the sound of guns firing. I found myself secretly hoping that he would be okay, although in the back of my mind I knew he would be. He was Derek Hale, after all.

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I made it out of the preserve after only a handful of minutes of running. At the end of the treeline, right where the road started, a vehicle’s headlights cut through the darkness. The closer I got, the more details I could make out. It was a blue 1980 Jeep CJ5. Standing beside it were two silhouettes, both male. I let out a sigh of relief.

I jogged the rest of the way and launched myself into Scott’s arms. He squeezed me tightly and ushered me into the Jeep. Stiles drove onto the road, taking the route that led back to my house. Scott turned to look at me from the passenger’s seat.

“Why the hell were you in the woods?” He asked. His tone was firm but still held a touch of delicacy. We both knew it was more for my sake than his. “Didn’t I tell you about the hunters? The preserve is not a safe place for a werewolf on a night of a full moon. Argent and his hunters have memorized every square inch of those woods. You’re lucky Derek found you when he did. If he hadn’t, I’m sure Gerard would’ve turned you into a human kebab by now.”

I felt my throat tighten in frustration. “The imagery really isn’t necessary. I know what I did was stupid, and I’m sorry, but I didn’t know what else to do. I felt like I was losing control and you weren’t there, Scott!” My voice caught on his name, and I had to take a few moments to collect myself. “You weren’t there and, quite frankly, I have no one else to turn to on this. I don’t have a best friend like yours. I don’t have one that’ll pick up my call in the middle of the night and be willing to be a part of the world of the supernatural. I don’t have a best friend who’ll chain me up on a full moon and help me find restraint. I was all alone in my home, which I could have easily torn apart if I had lost control of myself tonight. I was counting on you to help me, and you weren’t there.”

The air was thick with tension. I could sense the sadness emanating from both Scott and Stiles. I felt guilty for taking all of my frustration out on my brother, but everything I said was true, and I wasn’t going to apologize for how I felt. Scott was a natural leader, and I admired that about him. Being a leader meant taking on responsibilities, and I understood that he wouldn’t be around all the time. Over the weeks following my transformation, I got a chance to see just how much people needed him.  Peter wanted him in his pack. Derek wanted him as an ally. Stiles wanted him as a best friend. Hell, even the lacrosse team needed him as team captain. But tonight was the one night that I needed him. I needed my brother, and he wasn’t there.

“I’m so sorry, Serena. I can do better, I promise. If you’ll just let me--” he began.  

“No,” I said, cutting him off. “I don’t want to talk. Just take me home.”

With that, I turned to face the window, looking at the blur of lights, cars, houses, and dark, desolate streets passing me by. Scott sighed, but he didn’t protest.

We rode in silence the entire way back.

TAGS

@broco8

[saint-eridell]

Overlook | Deku/F!reader smut

Idk how but @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten​ and @the-angriestpineapple​ put my writer brain on another plane of existence. I will forever be proud of this one and the fact that it turned Nev into a Deku fucker. Thank them for the inspo behind this - I kinda jammed my foot through the wall of their universe and let myself in, oop. Pray for them and their sanity, since they have to deal with this level of bullshit everyday.

3.2k, kinda proofread. All characters depicted are in their mid- to late-twenties. Major tags: Public sex, voyeurism, face sitting, sex tapes, established polyamory, dirty talk.

The mid-afternoon sun peeks through the canopy above the walking path as you and Izuku meander along, your arm threaded through his while he leads the way with his hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket. You’re alone at this section of trail, only the sounds of your shoes crunching into gravel and the distant noise of a park off the trail just ahead to fill the silence that lingers between you two. It’s a comfortable lapse that you’ve enjoyed with your head rested on his shoulder, his attention pulled to the light tree cover that surrounds the walking path.

You look up at him with a faint smile. The gears in his head are flying at full tilt, his focus somewhere way off despite how steadfast he held the trail. Trickles of light bounce off his brushed curls where they poke out around the edges of his red beanie. He doesn’t notice you staring for several seconds; when he finally notices, he gives you a slightly awkward smile. “What?” he asks, glancing around as his cheeks light up a pale shade of pink.

“Nothing.” You hug his arm closer to you, and are answered with a jump of muscle as he flexes under his jacket sleeve. Your smile creeps wider, but you don’t acknowledge it verbally. Izuku doesn’t show off; the little peeks of confidence that were beginning to come out when you’re alone are rare but worth their weight in gold.

He pulls you across the trail, toward a set of moss-covered rocks about three stories high. “Come here,” he says as he lets go of your arm and pulls his hands out of his pockets. “I wanna show you something.” You follow him as he carefully climbs up the side of the rocks, a beeline set for what looks like a clump of hanging ivy dangling over a large boulder about three feet above ground level. Izuku reaches the vines and brushes them aside, revealing a small alcove just large enough to stand up in and for maybe three people to lay down in without their feet hanging out. Three dark fleece blankets are folded up in a corner, too fresh to be left by someone more than a day ago.

You squint at Izuku as you follow him behind the ivy. “Did you plan this out?” you ask, eyeing the blankets.

He scratches at the back of his head. “Uh… yeah,” he admits with a sheepish smile. “I did.”

You pause. He’d framed the outing as a casual walk around the park; he’d made no mention of secret caves or cute little overlooks. You look him up and down, momentarily stunned by the gesture. He squirms on the spot, the hand at the back of his neck sliding down to grab the opposite bicep. “I’m sorry if this is weird, I just like it here. No one seems to know it exists, so it’s great for clearing your head or if you just need a second to-”

You press a kiss to his mouth before he can ramble anymore. He reciprocates it with a gentle moan, breaking away before it can become anything but chaste. “This is awesome,” you assure him as you take one of his hands. “I just didn’t expect it.”

Izuku grins, his self consciousness disappearing. “I get that a lot,” he jokes, but you can tell there’s an undercurrent of truth to his airy response. You know he does, and it’s amusing to watch such a complicated person show their true selves.

He grabs all three blankets and tosses them over the smooth stone floor, his hoodie going on top of it all before he sits down and beckons for you to follow. You oblige, crossing your legs under yourself as you lean into the side he has bared with an arm braced slightly behind you both.

He leans in to rest his cheek against your hair. As you settle in, you catch sight of the park beyond the curtain and walking trail. The angle prevents anyone from seeing into the alcove, but your view is as clear as the ivy curtain allows. Izuku tucks himself up to your side, the arm propped behind you both circling around to rest against your back.

“It’s a nice view, huh?” he murmurs. “Kacchan showed it to me.” You glance upward, brows arched; you’re well aware of their physical status, but until now neither of them have brought it up on their own. “As long as you keep your voice below talking level, no one outside can hear.” His free hand spreads over your upper thigh, fingers pressing into the inseam of your shorts. Any question you had about how much they’d done was answered in an instant and, knowing as much about Katsuki’s predilections as you do, you can’t deny the mental images that flicker through your head.

“You sound like you’ve got experience,” you say back, doing your best to keep your tone level.

Izuku chuckles in your ear. “You know him,” he replies casually. “He doesn’t like it when you disobey. He had to put three fingers in my mouth to keep me quiet.” You squirm under his hand as it snakes further up your thigh. So Izuku’s a bottom. Interesting, but unsurprising. You seem to attract his type by the flock.

His hand trails up to the juncture of your hip, ghosting over the apex of your inseam. You suck in a quiet breath through your teeth. “Felt it for three days afterward. He fucks like he’s trying to break you in half.”

You one-hundred percent know that to be true. He catches an earlobe between his teeth and gently sucks it between his lips. You squirm again, suddenly aware of the fingertips pressed to your clit through the fabric of your shorts when you accidentally grind against them. You gasp, and his fingers immediately leave your core. He presses against your tongue with his index finger to keep your jaw open. “Shhh,” he urges. “Wouldn’t want anyone to hear, right?”

...Maybe? You can’t say no for absolute sure. You close your lips around his finger and swirl your tongue around it. He groans quietly as your cheeks hollow inward, a lewd little pop echoing around the alcove when he withdraws the digit. “Oh, maybe you do,” he purrs quietly. You can see the moment his pupils begin to dilate and he closes in for another kiss not a moment later, his tongue prodding and insistent the moment your lips meet. “You’d like that, huh?” he asks between lewd swipes of his tongue. “Someone to come along... to see you on your knees… to see you throwing yourself back on my dick.” You let out a quiet mewl and he tugs your legs over his hips, crossing his own around you where you sit on the floor so you can brace yourself and grind against his lap. You take to his guiding eagerly, tugging on his lower lip with your teeth when you get settled across him.

“Thought so,” he rumbles. He pulls back so you can’t lean in for another kiss, a devious smile playing along his wet lips. When you try and chase him down, he threads a hand into the hair on the back of your head and tugs hard to keep you in place. The grip kicks something primal in your gut and you grind against him again as your neck arches around his touch. “Should just cut the ivy down and let the whole fucking park see.” You sink your teeth into your lower lip, and Izuku’s grin widens. “Bet someone out there would love a taste.”

That suggestion hits you like a lightning bolt. You paw at his shoulders in an effort to get his attention, your head immobilized in his commanding grip and words failing you as your scalp prickles around his fingers. He looks through the ivy like he’s pondering that exact idea, and you squirm hard against his half-tented pants. He looks to you again with a brow raised. “Eager slut today, aren’t we?” he asks. “Tell me this - if there were someone watching you right now, from a safe distance but with a view of everything we’re doing, would you be okay with it?”

You look at him, suddenly confused through the fog of arousal that clouds your brain. He spots your frown and lets go of your hair, his fingers rested to your scalp to support your head instead of forcing it upright. “I told you Kacchan showed me this spot,” he continues. He said he’d be interested in seeing how we got along, so…”

He pulls his phone from his jacket pocket, immediately showing you the blank screen and lack of recording light. “It’s not going yet,” he adds hastily. “It was just an idea he had, and I don’t mind it. He seemed pretty eager about the idea.”

You consider it in thickened silence. Katsuki is an asshole, but he’s reliable and true to his word. He isn’t the type to go leaking sensitive stuff like videos of you fucking a common boyfriend in a park. After a pause you nod once, and Izuku quickly props the device up by its expandable stand arm’s length away from the blanket pile. You notice the hand that checks the angle and readjusts the placement is shaking ever so slightly.

He turns to face you again when the camera is rolling and set at an acceptable angle, an eager grin slapped across his face. He kisses you again, long and shameless, one hand spread over the small of your back as you grind tight circles against his stiffening lap. You give back everything you get, nails dragging through his hair to free it of his beanie and circle his scalp. He groans quietly into the kiss, then breaks away and let out a quiet moan as you run across the sensitive scalp behind his ears.

“Did Suki have any special requests?” You breathe into his ear.

He laughs quietly. “A few,” he replies as he palms both sides of your ass and gives it a firm squeeze. “He said your ass looks best when you’re bent over, so we’ll be exploring that later.” He smacks the right side playfully, and you jump in his lap with a quiet giggle. “When we were here, he ate me until I had to put a sleeve between my teeth.” He leans in and grazes his teeth below your ear. “I plan on reciprocating the favor.”

You shiver again, harder this time, and Izuku lays back underneath you with his head rested on his bunched up hoodie. “Those shorts are in the way,” he points out, and you immediately agree with the way he’s signaling up with his chin. You strip them quickly and oblige his invitation to crawl upward, your thighs settled next to his ears.

He glances up once to make sure you’re in frame, then settles his hands over the gap under your hip bones and guides you onto his waiting tongue. You hiss, immediately captivated by the soft muscle that teases around your clit and dips ever so slightly into your hole. You watch his eyes gently shut, along with his lips as they find your sensitive nub and circle around it. You shove a knuckle between your teeth to muffle the squeal that threatens to erupt out of you, and he groans against your slit.

His eyes crack open just a tiny sliver. “You taste fucking incredible,” he rumbles before diving in. Your hands find the top of his head and seize two handfuls of soft curls as his deceptively long tongue buries itself inside you. You sit up and slap a hand to the stone wall as you swallow almost all of a high pitched noise, your knees offering just enough leverage to lift up and ride his tongue in slow, agonizing circles when your body demands that you move.

He groans again, muffled against your core but the rumble echoes through his chest. For a long while the alcove echoes with quiet, obscene pops as he torments you with his lips and the hitched whimpers that bubble from you every time you rock back onto his mouth. He spreads his hands across your ass and lifts, reducing how much leverage you have but also taking your weight completely off your lower half. Your hands flatten to the wall of the small cave, jaw wide open as you choke on the desperate moan you only barely manage to wrangle down.

As your thighs twitch together around his ears, his eyes open and he fixes you with a look that could cut diamonds. He angles you onto his tongue further, and when he sucks around your overstimulated core again it’s all over. You plant your open mouth to your bicep and well up every noise that bubbles from you in the top of your throat, praying to God it’s enough to keep it inaudible as your thighs alternate between dead weight and clamping hard around Izuku’s ears.

When you finally stop twitching he relents with a final vulgar noise, his grin soaking wet in the dim light of the cave. He looks absolutely fucked out already, drunk on your taste and still eager for more as he pushes your hips up off his chest.

“No time for breaks, sweetheart,” he says between hard breaths. He slides out from under you and turns around out of your sight, and when you look over your shoulder he’s seaming up to your back with a hand working on the fly of his jeans. “Shorts might have been a bad idea. You’re already a mess, and I haven’t even put fingers in you yet.” He growls directly into your ear from behind as he lines up, eyeing the camera lens in front of you both with half-open eyes and a lusty grin. “You want it that bad, huh? All it takes is letting you ride my face for a few minutes and you’re already dripping for it?” He purrs into your ear as you squirm, searching out the head of his cock as he swipes it through your folds. “Or maybe that’s me. Maybe poor, meek Izuku isn’t such an idiot after all. Maybe he’s gonna be what you think about tonight, when you’re still turned on after getting fucked raw in the wide open and try to reenact it with a video and your fingers.”

The last word drops to the base of his chest as he pushes into you, a hand on the right side of your ass preventing you from throwing yourself back into it. You groan at the limited contact and squirm against his hand, but he merely chuckles through a breathy noise and slips himself out again. “Or maybe you’ll get Ei or Suki to give you another round. Is that it? Gonna think of me when they’re in the back of your throat or balls deep in your ass?”

He teases you with just the head of his dick, one hand at the back of your neck pinning your head to the cave wall while the other prevents you from going any further onto his shaft. He rolls his head back with a quiet moan. “I can see why they’re so crazy about you,” he rumbles, though it comes out slightly garbled. “You were made for this.” He rolls his hips and slides in halfway, your mouth dropping open with the sudden rush of intense friction. He answers back with a quiet, sharp noise of his own, and you vaguely wonder how he can tell you to be quiet when making so much noise himself. If anyone is gonna get you busted, it’s him.

He bottoms out with another guttural moan. You spread your knees and flatten yourself against the stone from chin to chest, back arched into him at the perfect angle to let him fuck you into the cave wall. Quiet pops of skin against fabric echo around the small alcove; he kept his boxers on, the smart bastard. The lack of skin-to-skin contact is somewhat annoying, but the noise reduction means he can drill into you hard and quick without concern over the noise carrying past the vine curtain.

He breathes hard behind you, his face rested in the crook of your neck to muffle anything that comes out of him. You watch the phone screen and the scene being committed to his memory card has your gut twisting hard; the side of his face that you can see is absolutely wrecked, his eyes shut and his jaw slackened around the quick breaths that ghost across your shoulder. Your hip snaps hard every time he drills into you, doubled up as you’re finally able to meet his movements, which become shorter and rougher until his breath freezes in his lungs.

He reaches over your hip and drags his fingertips over your clit, and the rapid-fire pace officially becomes too much. You bite into his forearm where it wraps over your shoulder, your back arched hard as you lift up off the wall and wail quietly into his skin. He does the same at the crook of your neck, mouth latched around the very bottom where your shirt collar will only barely cover the vicious hickey that muffles his ragged moans. He lights up your insides once, twice, three times, then buries himself as deep as he can go while you squeeze and clamp around him.

“Nnh, yeah, take all of it,” he growls against your neck. “Wouldn’t want any leaking out on the way home.”

You’re still floating too high to care, but the realization of exactly how you’d be walking out both exhilarates and mortifies you. Izuku chuckles and gingerly withdraws himself, a quiet moan escaping him as you separate. He lets out a quiet sigh. “Mm, not a bit came out,” he observes. “Good girl.” He lays a surprisingly tender kiss to the curve of your ass, then sits up to retrieve your shorts.

As you turn to take the shorts, you seize him by the shirt collar and tug him into a demanding kiss that he eagerly reciprocates. When his tongue invades your mouth, still heady with your own taste, you shoot a half-lidded glance to the phone sitting arm’s reach away. He kisses you back like a man starved, and when you finally break apart you realize he was staring at the camera as well.

Once you’re decent and the blankets have been stashed once again, Izuku holds the ivy curtain back to let you step out first. “Wait, what about the blankets?” you ask, glancing back to where he’s left them folded in a corner.

“The same person who dropped them off will grab them,” Izuku replies casually. You give him a confused look, and as Izuku follows you back to the trail he pulls his phone from his pocket. “That wasn’t a recording, love,” he murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear and no one else. “Though I have no doubt he saved his own copy.”

Your eyes go wide as your cheeks flush carnation pink. Izuku laughs, open and carefree, as he leads the way down the walking trail in the direction of your apartment. “Come on, babe. Let’s go see if his head has exploded off his shoulders yet.”

---

Moar tags - @deadassqueeraf​ @cherrycolabomb​

[misssophiachase]

All You Never Say - Part 4a

Mr Mikael and Mrs Esther Mikaelson and Dr Grayson and Mrs Miranda Pierce request the pleasure of your presence at the wedding of their children:

The Hon Elijah Edward Mikaelson and Dr Katherine Elena Pierce

On the twenty-third of June, twenty-twenty one, 1400h at Ely Cathedral followed by a reception at Mikaelson Manor, Ely Cambridgeshire

Dress: White Tie

23rd June 2021, Mikaelson Manor, Ely Cambridgeshire - 8:47am

“What do you mean the beagle ate the wedding cake?” Caroline hissed, shutting the door behind her so as not to alarm the bride on her big day.

“Well, I can detail the stages of destruction, but yes, the Mikaelson's beloved pet dog decided to taste test the cake early, long story short.” Caroline was certain that the housekeeper’s use of “the Mikaelson’s beloved pet dog” was clearly by design.

Caroline was all for adorable dogs, especially those that were photogenic for the wedding album like Tully, but not those who scoffed the cake before the ceremony had even begun. Especially given that extra amount of fondant and extra tier which cost the earth.

But given the way Tully looked at her with those imploring, brown eyes and the telling evidence of frosting smeared across her chops, she was close to calling it a day.

Who needed cake anyway? It was worth way too many calories and most people would be so drunk that far into the festivities it wouldn’t even matter, right?

“So, I see you’ve met our cute but pressing problem.”

Caroline turned to see the best man in all his glory. And by that she meant those unkempt curls, sly grin and a fitted, tank top that should be illegal given those arms on display. 

Was this their thing? Just running into each other partially clothed. She looked down at her ensemble self-consciously glad for the shorts, t-shirt and the Maid of Honour monogrammed robe that she greedily pulled across her chest.

“Our problem?”

“Because a problem shared is a problem halved right, wedding buddy?”

“Wedding buddy? Oh, you mean the same guy who wanted to document the lost ring for speech fodder?”

“It was a joke but clearly you don’t know what that means, grouchy.”

“Oh, like that time you let your dog, albeit cute, eat the wedding cake before the ceremony. I only hope the Bride and Groom figurines are still firmly intact at least?”

“Well, their passing was most definitely mourned,” Klaus noted. Caroline was trying to be mad, but he was doing that thing where he looked cute so as to avoid her wrath. Bastard.

“So, what you’re telling me is that we have no cake or cake topper and the wedding is due to start in 5 hours?"

“I mean there’s some cake left, albeit a mess, but if the guests want to eat it off the floor...”

“Yeah, I can see the Prime Minister doing that. You are not helping, Mikaelson. Look, I’ll call the baker, they must have a back-up cake on hand, otherwise why are we paying them such an exorbitant amount? I mean it’s a cake, like it’s hard to bake one of those,” she rambled, the reality of the situation making a sudden and ugly appearance.

“Okay, I didn’t want to tell you this because you are clearly already upset but the baker has no wedding themed alternatives,” Klaus explained, shooing away both the guilty canine and her loyal housekeeper in the process, no doubt by design. This was not the news Caroline wanted to hear and clearly he knew it.

“What?"

“You are not going to lose it, not on my watch, Forbes.”

“I am not losing it,” she hissed, finally finding her voice. “But she is your dog and that makes you responsible for my mood.”

“She is a Mikaelson, I mean expensive taste comes with the territory,” Klaus replied. Caroline, meanwhile, felt the brief spell he had over her lift.

“Can you please stop offering up annoying commentary? We have an emergency, one that needs to be rectified STAT.”

“What I didn’t get to say was that the baker has two other cakes on hand.” Caroline’s ears pricked up, maybe all wasn’t lost.

“I’m listening,” she murmured.

Klaus pulled his cell from his pocket and swiped through his phone. “These are the options.”

He leaned in closer so she could see the photos but in the process his arm grazed hers and she was momentarily blindsided and not focused on the pressing emergency. It reminded her so much of two years ago, when she’d felt his arm encircle her waist and pull her towards him. 

Caroline told herself he must have been dreaming at the time but that didn’t take away from how it had felt. It felt good, really good.

“Alright, love?” She looked up into his blue eyes, only deciding too late that it was a bad idea. A very bad idea.

“I’m just shocked by...” she paused, her eyes hurriedly flickering to his cell screen. “Congratulations on your Retirement, Bernie?”

“I’m sure we can change a few letters around or something,” she gave him a look which plainly said it wasn’t going to happen. “Right, here’s the other one."

“Happy 6th Birthday to our Unicorn Princess? Don’t think Kat would mind being called a unicorn princess at all but not sure about Elijah...”

“Well, what suggestions do you have, Forbes?”

He had a point, there were none that forthcoming but then it hit her.

“The bomboniere.” Caroline was surprised she thought of it given she was so caught off guard by his close proximity and the unfolding situation.

“The what?”

“I don’t have time to explain wedding terminology right now, I have a bride to reassure that everything is peachy. Just meet me in the kitchen in twenty minutes and put some clothes on while you’re at it.”

“Only if you do,” he smirked. Caroline didn’t wait before slamming the door in his smug face.

There were so many things to reconcile with Klaus Mikaleson and not just her feelings. Last night they’d shared more than a sandwich in the kitchen and two years ago...well that was another story.

Perch, Los Angeles CA - 14 February (two and a bit years earlier)

Caroline felt like she’d finally hit rock bottom.

Not because it was Valentine’s Day.

Or that she was single.

That wasn’t the worst part of her predicament. She was currently...well, before she could lament her situation a bell rang out, breaking Caroline from her regretful thoughts. She didn’t have time to bid Phil the Chiropractor farewell because a burly looking brunette appeared immediately in his place.

“Tyler.” Apparently there was no need for an actual greeting or for Caroline to ask his name in the first place. I suppose they only had two minutes so he was getting straight to the point. Caroline couldn’t blame him given how painful this whole thing was.

Caroline was going to kill them. First Bonnie, who wanted their apartment to herself tonight so she could cook a romantic dinner for current boyfriend Jeremy. Clearly he hadn’t been present at her most horrific of food failures given they were still dating.

They’d been living together since Bonnie relocated to Los Angeles nine months earlier and Caroline was enjoying rooming with her best friend again after so long. Then she got a boyfriend, even if he looked twelve, and Caroline was relegated back to her usual existence. It wasn’t like Caroline wanted or needed a boyfriend because her schedule was busy enough.

Which took her to the second person she had to blame. Lexi. Her colleague and friend, who decided they should spend the evening speed dating so Bonnie could “get it on with her boyfriend” as she put it. Caroline figured the fact she’d already signed them up weeks earlier and only asked right before a deposition hearing were the main reasons why she had no choice but to agree.

Now, here she was, pretending to be interested in Tyler and shooting deliberate looks in Lexi’s direction who seemed unaffected given the way she was attempting to read her guy’s palm. Smooth.

“I don’t think I got your name?”

“Huh?” She looked into his warm, brown eyes feeling guilty she’d been blatantly ignoring him.

“Your name?” Before she could reply, she heard a very familiar voice call out her name.

Then he appeared in all his gorgeous goodness, his ability to wear a suit had not waned since they’d seen each other last at a mutual friend’s engagement party. Why he was here of all places, she had no idea.

“Caroline, sweetheart.” Sweetheart?

“Do you know this guy?” Tyler asked, the confusion obvious. She didn’t blame him.

“Of course she knows me, I’m only her boyfriend.”

Her what now? Caroline was too shocked to speak let alone reprimand him for being a presumptuous idiot.

“You have a boyfriend? Then why are you here?”

“I’d like to know the same thing, mate,” Klaus agreed, his hands crossed over his chest. Caroline was madly trying to crawl under the table just so everyone would stop looking at her like she was some two-timing girlfriend.

Lexi meanwhile seemed to be enjoying the entertainment from afar, raising her champagne glass in salute, even if she had no idea what was happening. Caroline wasn’t enjoying it at all. She wanted to scream at him for being such an ass but at the same time a rescue from this situation was an equally enticing prospect.

“I…”

Before she could find the words, he found them for her.

“It’s my fault, sweet cheeks,” he implored, pushing past Tyler and placing his hands in hers. Caroline was trying to ignore the electricity it generated but also the horrible pet name he’d bestowed. Like he couldn’t have come up with something normal? “I neglected you and for that I am so sorry but just know that I will love you, always and forever.”

Was he kidding? Next thing he’d be pulling out a cracker jack bracelet or resembling any one of the romantic leads in a Nicholas Sparks adaptation. Caroline made a note to tease him about his taste in movies and television later.

However it seemed their audience didn’t mind one bit. Women and men nearby were more interested in fawning over the scene playing out than resuming speed dating. Even their organiser seemed transfixed.

She hated him, especially for interrupting her night and being the smug pain-in-the-ass she knew so well but she needed to get out of there fast and he was her ticket.

“Honey bear,” she cooed, noting the slight twitch in his jaw. Caroline knew he was trying to withhold his signature smirk. But why did he have to smell so good withholding it? His hands were still firmly intertwined with hers too. “You took me for granted, so why should I forgive you?”

Now he was trying to contain an eye roll, only someone who’d known him for that long could tell. And she was loving every moment especially if he was going to crash her speed date and embarrass her in the process.

“And for that I am eternally sorry, baby cakes.” Caroline had to really try not to dry reach. “But you are the one for me. We are destined to be together forever, like soulmates.”

As much as she wanted to draw this out and force him to eat those horrible and predictable platitudes, this show needed to end. Now. Given Tyler’s defeated expression she knew it wouldn’t be too difficult to transition to the bar and to a much-needed straight vodka on the rocks.

“You were an imbecile, Mario, but I’m willing to consider a reconciliation if you stop being an asshat and promise to worship me forever.”

Before she could relish in her response and the slight tugging at the edges of his crimson lips, he’d pulled her up and moved them towards the direction of the bar. No doubt because her demands were slightly out of the question and he was starting to feel embarrassed himself. Served him right really. Given half of the people were entranced by their conversation and the rest were clearly dubious she decided it was good timing to high tail it out of there.

“Worship you forever, someone clearly has tickets on themselves,” he muttered, gesturing to the barman. “And who is Mario? I so do not look like a Mario.”

“Says the man child named Mario who called me sweet cheeks and baby cakes."

“I was clearly being sarcastic,” he shot back, gesturing for a shot. “What was honey bear all about then?”

“You barrelled into my life uninvited, and last time I checked you don’t live here.”

“I'm in town for business and was having dinner with colleagues. Had I known it was going to be dinner and a show I might have arrived sooner.” Caroline chose not to respond immediately, just drank her vodka in one, long gulp. “Someone is thirsty.”

“I need to drink to deal with you.”

“Says the girl speed dating,” he whistled. “I mean you can be difficult and kind of abrasive, Forbes, but I never thought you’d speed date in a million years.”

“I am only doing this for Bonnie because she wanted the apartment to herself to cook for her date and then my friend Lexi signed me up without telling me,” she rambled.

“She’ll have another vodka,” he gestured to the barman. “So, I take it this boyfriend hasn’t sampled Bennett’s cooking yet? I just hope you left the fire extinguisher in plain view.”

“That’s what you took from all of this?’"

“I feel like if I delve too deeply I’ll be too immersed in all the Rebekah type drama and we both know that is not my thing.”

“I’ll be sure to pass on your best wishes to your sister,” she growled. “So, why involve yourself and embarrass me like that in front of total strangers? Let me guess, you’ve got no one to play with and were bored?”

“Don’t underestimate my ability to find a playmate, love.” The way he drawled “playmate” was making places below feel like they hadn’t in a long time. So much so that she didn’t even try to bite back. “Anyway, I thought it would be fun,” he teased, his left dimple making an unwanted appearance at that exact moment. “And I could tell you you needed rescuing.”

“I’m not some damsel in distress you need to save, Mikaelson,” she argued.

“Says the girl who looked like she’d rather be anywhere but here,” he shot back. “So, you’re welcome.”

“Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss!” The patrons began to chant and tap their glasses, Caroline only just realising they seemed to have an audience of very interested speed daters watching their every move.

“I’m going to need more vodka,” she muttered, “But not here.”

Roosevelt Hotel, Beverly Hills - 2 hours later

“So, this is where you bring all your playmates?” It was the first thing that came to mind when Caroline spied the king size bed taking pride of place in his suite. They’d spent an hour at 25 degrees, the hotel’s poolside bar and were now in his suite.

Inexplicably.

Okay, maybe not so inexplicably.

Caroline wasn’t one to go to a guy’s hotel room - especially this particular one - but between the vodka buzz and the fact Lexi had picked up and Bonnie was enjoying her night in their apartment there wasn’t much choice about where to go.

The vodka had helped loosen her usual inhibitions and, although she’d never say it aloud, Caroline was enjoying his company. Although, if anyone asked about this temporary bout of insanity she’d blame the alcohol.

“ Says the woman who was questioning the existence of said playmates only a few hours earlier.”

“So, you won’t mind if I do this?” She stated, not bothering to ask his permission as she discarded her heels and jumped onto the perfectly made bed. He stopped what he was doing momentarily, his eyes transfixed on her short, black dress and bouncing, blonde waves.

“I’m going to have to tip the maid extra now,” his voice was low, husky almost.

“Maybe she deserves it,” Caroline shot back.

He didn’t respond immediately, just shrugged off his suit jacket and loosened his tie. She was watching him do it like it was in slow motion. Then he rolled up his shirt sleeves. Who knew forearms could be so...appealing?

Caroline was starting to think that she was entering some sort of alternate universe she needed to escape, if only just to keep her sanity and self respect. I mean he was Klaus Mikaelson and she wasn’t one of his “playmates.” Not by a long shot.

“Drink?”

“Water, please,” she replied immediately, he cocked an eyebrow as if to say she was no fun. “I’m a cheap drunk, what can I say? And who knows what else I might trash in this place under the influence?”

He seemed to accept her response, busying himself with drink preparation. “So, why exactly did you go speed dating in the first place?” He asked, filling a tall glass with ice cubes.

“I told you,” she panted, finally tiring of the activity and making herself comfortable on the expansive bed. “Bonnie…”

“I heard that version,” he pressed. “But I want the real one.”

He passed her the water and made himself comfortable on the bed, his aftershave combining with the dizziness and messing with her overall composure.

“It’s Valentine’s Day, and maybe you don’t understand, but spending it alone can kind of suck,” she confessed. “Especially when your roomie kicks you out of the house.”

“I just hope you kick Bennett out on Halloween as payback.”

“You like Halloween?”

“You have no idea, love,” he chuckled. “No rose petals or corny ballads, just blood, guts and general mayhem.”

“Noted.”

“It’s just this ridiculous Hallmark Holiday,” Klaus offered, stretching out further and grazing her legs in the process. “It creates unrealistic expectations.”

“So, it’s Hallmark’s fault?”

“Hallmark is the tip of the iceberg,” he explained. “Every candy company, every florist, every jeweller and don’t even get me started on those terrible things they call romantic comedies.”

“You don’t like romantic comedies?”

“I try to steer clear for my own sanity, Caroline.”

“Not tonight,” she murmured, an idea suddenly coming to mind. “If I’m forced to stay in this mediocre hotel with you then...”

It was a lie and they both knew it but suddenly the less tipsy version of herself felt like she needed an excuse to stay the night with her best friend’s brother in such close quarters.

“I demand a movie marathon.”

“Terminator, Rambo, Rocky?”

“It’s Valentine’s Day, Mikaelson,” she shot back. “And I happen to know there is a marathon on television tonight.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me?”

“I’m deathly serious,” she answered. “But before we start, I’m going to need some popcorn and a shirt.”

“You want my shirt?”

“Not the shirt you’re wearing, lover boy, don’t get so excited. But I can’t sleep in this dress.”

His eyes seemed to linger a little too long on her body and Caroline was trying to do everything in her power to remain calm. Luckily he broke the silence not too long after.

“I’ll get you a shirt, but I’m not going to enjoy these movies at all, understand? I am only watching these ridiculous excuses of cinema because you’ve taken my television hostage?”

2 hours later…

“So, the apparent “virgin who can’t drive” ends up with the step brother? I mean I’m not surprised given the poor and predictable plot but is this kind of union legal in the state of California?”

“For the fiftieth time, he’s not related,” she growled, throwing a few popcorn kernels in his direction. This is about Cher realising that material things in life aren’t everything.”

"Whatever you say, Forbes. Although, tell me after this movie ended she ditched the mansion, the jeep, the designer plaid and knee sock combination outfits and moved to the Valley?”

He was annoying but also eerily observant.

“Yes, I mean maybe? People with money can change.”

“They’ve clearly never met Mikael or Esther.”

He said it quietly but Caroline couldn’t mistake the pain in his voice. She knew about his difficult past but they’d never been close enough to discuss it and given they were lying in the same bed it didn’t seem like the best time to open that pandora’s box.

“Do I have a great choice for you next,” she promised, her eyes sparkling, hoping to lift the mood.

2 hours later…

“Are you crying?”

“No, for the last time I have allergies, Caroline.”

“Inside?”

“The pollen level was high today and the doors in these rooms are forever opening and closing. Maybe the maid doesn’t deserve such a big tip after all.”

Maybe it was cruel, but it was on television and there was no stopping the effects of the Notebook on even the most emotionless male.

2 hours later…

“I thought I’d seen everything,” he scoffed, stretching out tiredly. “She paid a guy to be her wedding date?”

“Not just anyone, he’s hot.”

“He’s an escort.”

“I think it adds to his overall appeal. He knows how to treat a woman because of his experience.”

“And how many escorts have you met?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Wow, if you ever show up to a wedding with a stranger, I’ll be asking for their credentials,” he joked. “Wait, you think he’s attractive?”

“Didn’t I just say that?”

“Each to their own I suppose, but that aside, the whole premise is just unrealistic.”

“It is a movie.”

“Yeah, a romantic comedy,” he shot back. “Case closed. Now, can we please sleep already? I think I deserve it after that marathon effort.”

“Fine,” she conceded, leaning across to turn off the lamp. “I have to say your shirt is very comfortable.”

“It should be," he replied, snuggling into the covers. “That’s my lucky Ramones t-shirt.”

As her head hit the pillow, Caroline was wondering why he gave her that particular shirt to wear. She couldn’t deny just how good the worn fabric felt against her bare skin and how the faint hint of his aftershave consumed her senses.

Sleep was immediate.

When she woke up the next morning and felt his arm encircle her waist and pull her towards him Caroline relished in the feeling. She assumed life would go back to normal but for now she was happy to live in the moment. It was probably better that way.

Read on AO3 HERE 

[magniloquent-raven]

@bambixxblue wrote this absolutely gorgeous piece and i got a little carried away writing my take on billy’s pov and so here we are lol pls enjoy!!

--

Billy always figured rock bottom for him would be something Shakespearean. Self-inflicted tragedy. Family bullshit gone too far. Madness and mayhem and spectacle. 

He did not picture this. Dying slowly of boredom, too fucking exhausted to even stay pissed at Max. When he got to Hawkins all he had was his anger. With the ocean two thousand miles away and his first and only relationship ended with an awkward, “Clean break, y’know? Don’t really...want to do long distance.” The guy couldn’t even make eye contact when he said it. But then, he never could stomach looking at Billy’s bruises. 

It felt empty. Their breakup. Billy barely felt anything afterwards, and that numbness had...grown. Spread. Without any of the things he used to give a shit about, he’s drifting tetherless and cold and so fucking lonely. He hit rock bottom in Hawkins, Indiana, when he shrugged off Max’s needling because he just can’t bring himself to fucking care anymore. 

She’s noticed, he knows she has, he isn’t subtle. He isn’t terrorizing her anymore and she’s started to poke at him again. Hesitant, asking about innocuous shit, trying to figure out if he’s forgiven her, but he can’t tell her it isn’t as simple as that. So he ignores her. 

As much as he can, anyways, he’s still playing the big brother in front of Neil. Driving her around and shit, pretending he isn’t counting the days until he graduates and he can ditch her. This town. Everything. 

He hasn’t found anything in Hawkins worth sticking around for. It’s not like he has friends here. Tommy and his posturing, Carol and her wandering eyes, they don’t give a fuck about him. None of the people who hang around him do, they’re just idiots trying to seem cooler than they are. Or get in his pants.

Makes pretending easy, at least. It’s not like there’s a shortage of girls to hit on. 

Even though he kind of wishes there were. Wishes going through the motions didn’t make him feel so sick, didn’t leave his stomach hollow and his heart heavy. With girls back in California it was...whatever. It was fine. Something to do. It made him feel wanted, and that was enough sometimes. But now… now he knows what it’s supposed to feel like, and he hates how wrong anything else is. 

There was this one girl, Heather, and talking to her was actually nice. They got along well enough that he didn’t have to fake laughing at her jokes, smiled a little more real around her. Except the whole time she was playing with her hair, and biting her lip, and he had to act like that was what he was focused on, not the fact that they could actually be friends if that was something he was letting himself do. 

Because Hawkins isn’t worth his time. It isn’t. Fuck this town and fuck Indiana and fuck trying to make this shithole more bearable because having one conversation with someone he actually got along with opened up a chasm in his fucking chest. He cried himself to sleep that night. Felt everything he’d been pushing away since he moved to Hawkins. All the ways he missed California, and feeling like he belonged somewhere. 

The taste of salt made it worse. He hated crying. Biting his lip hard enough to draw blood and holding his breath until it hurt because he couldn’t make a fucking sound or Neil would hear him. He’d always hated it. But especially now. When the taste of salt makes him ache for things he can’t have anymore. Nights by the pier, stolen kisses that tasted like cheap beer and the saltwater still on their lips. Afternoons spent teaching Max to surf. The precious few memories of his mother, sunshine in her hair and sand between their toes. 

He avoided Heather after that. Hadn’t exactly started keeping to himself as much as...trying to disappear into a role. The one Hawkins High had assigned him. Brash outsider, newcomer, bad boy, whatever. He made damn sure that was all anyone would see him as. Acted the part. Didn’t talk about anything that mattered. 

And he kept driving Max around. To school, mostly, since they were both going to the same one, which was fucking weird, but made shit easier. To the arcade sometimes. And to her little nerd club.

She’s talked about it, he’s sure, but he couldn’t be bothered to listen. It was enough that he got her there, he didn’t need to know what she was doing once he dropped her off.

But she still chatters away, gushing about having friends and talking to people who get her. He’s not jealous. He isn’t. 

He turns the music up a little and ignores her scowl at the obvious brush-off.

He also ignores how hard she slams the door when she gets out. It’s passive-aggressive, but they’ve perfected being assholes to each other in several languages by now. She doesn’t flip him off as she stomps away though, and he’s not sure if that’s progress. 

Billy’s itching for a cigarette. Neil hates it when he smokes around the house, and if he brings Max back stinking like Marlboro Reds... well it wouldn’t be good. So he can’t even smoke in his own fucking car.

But it’s cold as fuck in Indiana and his leather jacket isn’t enough.

He shifts in his seat. Fuck it. He’ll wait. He can smoke anywhere that isn’t the high school fucking parking lot. He’s about to take off, one hand on the steering wheel, when he looks up and-- 

Oh. Fuck. 

There’s another car in the parking lot. There’s… fuck the car, there’s this guy in the driver’s seat, and--

Forget Indiana being cold, he’s suddenly warmer than the California sun, could heat the whole damn state with what’s unfurling in his chest. 

Because...because holy fuck. 

He was already looking at Billy, with big fuckin’ doe eyes, soft lashed and expressive, and sparkling with something Billy doesn’t quite have a name for. 

And somewhere in the back of his brain he remembers Tommy whining about some guy, some guy who drove a beemer, always toting those kids around. Max talking about one of her friends’ babysitter or whatever, talked about him like he hung the fucking moon, and--

And Billy kind of gets it now. Understands the fuss over Steve goddamn Harrington. 

The smile tugging at the corners of Steve’s mouth-- that mouth, goddamn-- is...it’s soft and small, and weirdly intimate considering they’re making eye-contact through two sheets of glass. Billy almost feels like he’s intruding on a moment, except...the warmth in Steve’s eyes is inviting. Makes him feel more at ease than he’s been in...ever. 

Jesus fucking Christ, the way the September sun makes Steve shine, his thick brown hair well-kept and glossy, the faded remnants of a summer tan making his skin glow. He’s beautiful. Like a work of fucking art, somehow made flesh and living in Indiana of all places. Billy could spend hours looking at the lines of his profile, the cut of his shoulders, the way his hair falls across his forehead.

Three seconds and one smile. That’s all it took to make him waver. To light him up and make him forget about not caring, about keeping his distance and running the second he gets the chance.

He’s run from a lot of things in his life. Some things he regrets, but he knows he wouldn’t regret anything like he’d regret running from this. 

So he smiles back. Almost. Enough. Enough to bring a pretty flush to Steve’s cheeks. 

Yeah, this is going to be fun.

[gayenerd]

Another old article saved in a Word document, which I can only find behind a paywall now (but I linked it in case someone does have access to a subscription)

Green Day Rising Metal Mike Saunders, Bam, 28 January 1994 Popcore Ascending? Or Is That Just The First Phase Of 'The Greatest Band In America'?

'We were down in Irvine and Mike was having a pillow fight outside with his girlfriend. He was running away from her, and at the top of his stride he turned around, right into a horizontal beam five feet off the ground – Vhoom...Out cold. So that suggested the concept of ...misery.'– Billie Joe

WHERE IT all it the brick wall for me personally was 11th grade carpool. Four high school boys jammed into a VW bug, or worse, with the AM radio on for about 20 minutes en route to Hall High, Little Rock.

It was the season of the great Bubblegum Wars, that pint in time where the underground FM vs. plastic AM trench wars had reached the point of no return. Kids vs. pigs, rednecks vs. longhairs. Combat was the order of the day, even in music.

In the fall of 1968, the musical lightning rod was 'Chewy Chewy' by the Ohio Express: 'Turn it off' and 'Turn it down' were the majority opinions. I was for sure the only one going 'Turn it up!' The same routine was repeated just a few weeks later with the Archies and the 1910 Fruitgum Co. (the later with the classic top-five hit 'Indian Giver'), and it seems like ever since that point in time 'pop' has been a derogatory term. Something less than…what? 'Rock'?

What does this have to do with Green Day? Well, it’s like this: There’s this real lame tag – 'popcore' (say it once and erase it forever, pul LEEZE) that was kicking around for a while last year and was affixed to the East Bay trio’s style of music. Aw, hell, they’re just a great rock band.

If Santa came and went recently and there’s still no Green Day in your house, here’s a shopping list: 39 Smooth (Lookout!), Kerplunk (Lookout!), and Dookie (Warner Bros./Reprise). Forty-eight killer tracks by this country’s greatest band and, considering that only in the preceding 12 months did its members start to hit drinking age, possibly just the beginning of what could turn out to be an amazing career.

Proof is no farther away than the band’s new album, Dookie, its first for a major label, but proceeded by two LPs and three 7-inch EPs on Berkeley’s Lookout! Records.

Anyone who’s seen the threesome knows they can play like gangbusters; the difference between a tiny indie-label budget (try about $3000 for all 34 Lookout! Tracks combined) and a major-league endeavor is that for the first time you get proof 10 times over on tape. So you get raging guitar sounds and cracking snare rimshots that explode like the early who. Even the band’s chronic shortcoming – weedy studio vocals – has been corrected to an encouraging degree.

"Yeah," volunteers 21-year-old lead singer/guitarist Billie Joe, "for my vocals we used a Beyer microphone, which was used on some of the early Elvis Costello stuff. I’m really happy with the way it came out."

The entire album is a veritable role model for any guitar-heavy rock band. Says producer Rob Cavallo: "In the case of a raw, live-sounding record like this one, what I try to do is capture on the listener’s speakers the whole left-to-right stereo spread – what we heard in preproduction, listening to the band blast away in their practice room. The key to this, in Green Day’s case, is that they have such a focused idea as to what they sound like, and they’re great players in that style."

Specific elements of Dookie’s production style include a live rhythm guitar on every song, singletracked lead vocals only, and all vocal harmonies done by the second-stage voice, 20-year-old bassist Mike Dirnt.

Warner Bros.’ hands-off role, a characteristic of the company in the wake of its Mudhoney "creative control"-type underground signings, was crucial in shaping such a record. "Warner Bros. stayed out of the way and let us do exactly what we wanted to," says 21-year-old drummer Tre Cool. "All I can say is if you can get on Warners, you are one lucky son of a gun!"

The inclination to make a guitar-heavy record was present from the get-go. "I definitely wanted to get a bigger sound," recalls Billie Joe, "something with more meat to it." Which is achieved, in parts thanks to a borrowed vintage 1972 Marshall head hooked up to the same blue Stratocaster Billie Joe’s been battering since he was 11.

The wall of guitar sound was achieved with a live track and just one more rhythm guitar dropped in. "We had experimented a bit on previous records, stacking guitar tracks to try to get a thicker sound," recalls Billie Joe. "But this time with just the two rhythm guitars; we got a better distorted sound."

Like any other trademark-sound band, it’s the deviations on the record that are most interesting. We’ve got three here: 'Pulling Teeth,' 'When I Come Around,' and the album’s first single, 'Longview,' 'Pulling Teeth' leaps out of the album like a K-Tel cut buried in a techno set; it’s the tune Dave Edmunds never had to break his career Stateside. Tight harmony vocals frame a straight guitar-heavy country-rock melody with a conciseness worthy of the masters. Not one wasted word or second.

"We were down in Irvine," recalls Billie Joe of the song’s lyrical genesis, "and Mike was having a pillow fight outside with his girlfriend. He was running away from her, and at the top of this stride he turned ground – vhoom…Out cold. So that suggested the concept of…misery."

'Longview' hits a whole opposite style. It’s something you might imagine as a late’70s FM track, with a loping dumbo beat ("a rumble," suggests Dirnt) not too far off Tom Petty’s 'Breakdown', Lyrics about nothing, really-killing time, punching the cable remote, getting high. A two-chord riff to nowhere, then a basic garden-variety three-chord chorus. The trick is that the whole darn song is a hook. Simultaneously the dumbest and catchiest Van Halen guitar licks panning across the speakers.

"In a way, that song was cheap self-therapy for watching too much TV," recalls Billie Joe. "It was another case of writing about whatever mood I’m in."

Especially near to my heart (I’m from the South, y’all ) is 'When I Come Around,' an unintentional dead-on-evocation of Lynyrd Skynyrd at its top-40 hookiest. With a lazy turnaround beat like 'Sweet Home Alabama', it’s just about five degrees westward of the slightly ‘70s ballads 'Christie Road' and 'No One Knows' from the earlier Kerplunk album.

"On that one, we weren’t thinking country rock, but rather something that had a groove to it, almost like you could imagine having a martini and listening to it at the same time," explains Dirnt.

See, 80 percent of Dookie is in the trademark Green Day raging pop-punk. It’s this deviant 20 percent that makes one suspect they can pull off almost anything they want out of the trash-dump of earlier under appreciated rock styles. A mainstream audience could forge a very, very interesting alliance with this group.

Of the trademark pop-punk onslaught, averaging an airtight two minutes, 30 seconds apiece, 'Basket Case' and 'Sassafras Roots' are two of the strongest numbers. 'Basket Case' was about a friend who’s pretty loopy,' explains Billie Joe, 'but a bit about myself as well – like seeing your own trails in other people where it’s been taken to a total extreme. There are a lot more songs on this record that are about other people’s experiences, even though I might still be singing in the first person.'

The recording of Dookie went fairly fast by industry standards, the music and vocals finished last summer in three and a half weeks (at Berkeley’s Fantasy Studios), followed by an initial mix. The band then headed out on 40-date fall tour with the veteran LA punk band Bad Religion, which enabled them to come back to the project with a clean set of ears. The entire album was remixed with engineering whiz Jerry, Finn who paid special attention to the record’s amazing bottom end. At that point, the band’s 'creative input' reached its most extreme.

"We all three sat there for 10 days straight, 15 hours a day, and listened to every minute of the remixing sessions," recalls Tre Cool. Which is just short of four working-Joe (like me) work weeks without a day off.

Dookie is one of the rawest melodically oriented rock records to show up on a major label in the last zillion years. Usually when bands go from an indie to a major label, the result is a slicker product.

"When I listen to bad rock music occasionally, I just wind up going, ‘What the hell were these guys thinking of?" agrees Billie Joe.

I speculate that there have now been entire generations’ worth of bad drum sounds committed to record. "Huge room sounds on the drum with shitloads of reverb," responds Dirnit. "Flanged drum rolls," adds Billie Joe.

My favorite, rolls across the chromatic-tuned rototoms, comes in a close second.

While most bands with almost 50 tracks into their recording career hit the point of labored songwriting (that old saw about a band’s first album being its best), that hasn’t been the case with Green Day. "Actually, I think I was more comfortable with my songwriting on this record than I ever was before," insists Billie Joe. "I had a real good handle on what kind of melodies and hooks I wanted to come up with. Didn’t rush myself, just let them come out naturally. It was the previous time out, on the songs on Kerplunk, that I was consciously trying to outdo my previous songs."

The variation from Green Day’s uptempo style, now comprising a good one-quarter of the band’s most recent two albums, will continue. "We definitely are going to continue to expand the scope of our material; we don’t want to get into a rut where we rewrite Kerplunk or Dockie over again," explains Billie Joe. "There’s a lot of musical tastes that run through this band."

I did my homework on the band’s "song-about-girls" label (a tag, Dirnt complains, 'we got caught up in') going back to January 1992’s Kerplunk and assigning topics to each song. The tally was girls, four; mortality/meaning of life, three; neurosis/insanity, one; one novelty song; and alienation, motivation, and coming of age, one apiece. Dookie is more of the same, with topics ranging all over the map, the median perhaps being the pissed-off frame of mind of 'Chump' and 'F.O.D.' The girl-songs ratio is down around 30 percent.

The "girl-songs" tag must have sprung from what was the band’s classic 1990 debut, 39 Smooth, written and sung by Billie Joe and Dirnt at the ripe old ages of 17 and 16. A good 70 percent of the album’s songs related to the opposite sex, with the lead off track, 'At the Library', ranking as perhaps the best song ever written by a high-schooler.

One facet of a Green Day performance that’s impossible to capture on paper is the continuous bantering and riposting between the band and the crowd, much of it hysterical.

"It’s all part of making our audience feel like they’re at home, communicating on an eye-label basis," offers Billie Joe.

"See, before a show we’re usually making fun of each other – making a mess by playing baseball with apples or whatever, meeting new people who are funny and have jokes we haven’t heard – so we’re totally stoked by the time we get onstage," elaborates Tre.

It’s safe to say that after two trips to Europe, half a dozen ('at least') full American tours, and over four years of nonstop gigging, performance anxiety does not figure into this band’s equation. "We never have a list, we just make it up as we go," explains Tre.

I offer my theory that no matter how many fans a band has, there are five times as many people who think they stink, and 10 times as many who don’t care.

"I would see it as three different sections: the people who really like you, the people who really hate you, and the vast majority who are totally oblivious," muses Billie Joe.

The vast size of the record industry contributes to making yesterday’s barely gold act today’s 'Who?' (think Britny Fox, Vixen, and a half-dozen gold Loverboy albums). Indeed, if everyone who ever made fun of Motley Crue videos were assembled in one place, we would surely fill the Oakland Coliseum.

Speaking of videos, the world doesn’t faze our subjects – not yet anyway. "We’ve never done a video. They’ve got us scheduled to do one, so for now we think videos are cool," laughs Tre.

"We’re probably shooting the video in our house," adds Billie Joe, the "house" being what appears to be a subterranean Berkeley abode, complete with a tiny band-practice room; it’s not squalid, it’s absolutely slacker). "So…we figure our video concept will be kind of ‘Looks That Kill’ meets ‘Hot for Teachers’ meets 'Rock You Like a Hurricane'," quips Dirnt.

Given the absolutely superb quality of the band’s Warner Bros. debut, the only mystery is that a major label bidding war on Green Day took so long to materialize.

"Warner Bros. was the label initially considering the band," recounts band co-manager Jeff Saltzman. "But it was when Geffen and Sony/CBS jumped in with serious interest that Warners got serious about picking up the band."

Green Day never would have gotten so much done so fast, however, without the astute ears of Lookout! Records’ president and perpetual talent scout, Larry Livermore, who sent the band into the studio two months after first seeing the trio to record an EP called 1000 Hours, which was followed by the 39 Smooth album, which was recorded at the end of 1989 for less than $500.

"I knew Al Sobrante (Green Day’s drummer through mid-1990) from Isocracy, so I knew about his new band, Sweet Children [renamed Green Day six months later]," recalls Livermore. "My band, the Lookouts, were playing a house party up in Mendocino County, February 1989, so I invited Al’s band up to play also. I was so impressed with the band and their attitude, playing just in front of 15 people, that I hooked up with them immediately to record for Lookout! I never had any doubt about their potential, musically. I thought they were great the first time I saw them."

© Metal Mike Saunders, 1994

[oh-mother-of-darkness]

hello this isnt abt batfam or batman but i saw your age and was wondering how do i survive till 23? i am 18 now and 5 more years is very hard to survive please help

Interesting question. I turn 24 in ten days, and sometimes even I’m not sure. I guess I’ll talk about how I personally stayed alive this long before I try to give advice.

The very first thing I would say is that I am religious, and that worldview makes a difference. I don’t mean that in a “everything happens for a reason” kind of way, and as a matter of fact, I very much dislike that line of thinking. It does a lot of damage, and I’m aware that it rightly puts a lot of people off from religion in general. 

I hold two beliefs that I think are helpful in terms of survival. First, I believe that humans are by nature bad. Counterintuitive in this conversation? Stick with me. Every day, but especially at my lowest moments, I hate the things that I am. In a metaphorical sense, my mind whispers to me that I am selfish, that I am cowardly, that I think bad things and I am capable of worse. I’m hateful, I’m terrifying, and I am absolutely broken. At my core, there is something fundamentally wrong, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t fix it. 

I am disgusting. I’m several thousand evil things in a trench-coat pretending to be anything but myself, and I’m not fooling anyone. 

Well, yeah. Yeah, I’m all those things and more: manipulative, lying, self-obsessed, angry, unforgiving, and judgmental. I could, of course, go on.

Here’s the thing-- everybody is. I am no better and no worse than any other person in the universe, and though I am ever abhorrent thing, I am. I have the same dignity, the same worth, and the same life as any human anywhere. The dark things are part and parcel of my humanity, but although I am not good, I do good. 

I will never be perfect because that just isn’t possible, but I can be kind. I can be loving, I can be strong, and I can be wise. 

Shit, doesn’t that set me free?

There’s a lot more to this conversation, and the rest goes, in brief, like this: at the bottom of the darkness that is every soul, we have one great fear-- if I am truly evil, no one will ever love me. Good news on that front, there is a God who does. If that’s something you want to talk about, hey hit me up. I’ll evangelize on my own time. 

Back to it. My second belief is a kind of understanding about the passage of time, and it’s sort of hard to boil down into a few sentences, but I’ll try my best. I believe in a grand struggle between good and evil. I know the beginning of that struggle. I know the end of that struggle: that good will win. I am a part of the middle. 

I see my role in the universe as extraordinary small but absolutely necessary. I have a two-fold purpose-- love God, love humans. I interpret both as a call to help others in any way I can, and I think in the way my life has worked out so far, that’s really the most important thing keeping me alive. 

I see all of this through the frame of my religion, but I would argue that everything I’ve said so far is applicable outside of that frame, because a lot of folks get to the same place from a fully secular point of view. I cannot be perfect. I should care about and fight for other people. That’s really all we’re working from here. 

A few years back, when people asked me this question-- how do you stay alive?-- I used to answer “spite,” and that’s not untrue. I am a very angry person, and the grand majority of that anger is directed at what I perceive as unjust acts. I have a deep-seated hatred of establishments (including the established church), and you’d be shocked at how much of a motivator that can be. 

I grew up in an environment that was very intentional in teaching me to identify injustice. Though I have radically departed from many of the teachings of my childhood, the part about fighting for others was something I learned at day one, and that bit has stuck around. For the most part, I grew up in an environment where everyone was on the same page about it. 

And theeeeeeen I went to undergrad. Hello, Texas A&M. I hit campus as an 18 year old fully incapacitated by anxiety. I was the kind of person who didn’t-- in fact couldn’t-- speak in front of others. I had always lived my life in a way that minimized myself, because if I never spoke, if I never disagreed, if I never drew attention, I would never make anyone angry. I knew from experience that angry people hurt me, and I was afraid of pain. 

Then I experienced the absolute shenaniganry of conservative Texans. The culture shock sent me to space and back, and on the return trip I decided that I couldn’t be quiet anymore. 

I learned to speak my freshman year so that I could scream FUCK YOU. It was incredibly painful, and I can’t tell you exactly how I managed it other than I was angry, and I didn’t want to lose. 

I fought a similar battle on my homefront against parents that didn’t know how to deal with a daughter that disagreed, or even worse, a daughter that wasn’t okay. I wasn’t a perfect child anymore. I knew I had anxiety, I knew I was depressed, and we all knew who I blamed for that. They hadn’t been the perfect parents they thought they were. 

I found myself growing, little by little, into a person that could write and argue and hold her ground. That’s personal growth for sure, but it didn’t necessarily help my mental health. As a matter of fact, my health declined all through undergrad, and in my third and final year, I cracked.

I was desperate. I was isolated. I was flooded by fear and despair, and I was falling apart. I don’t remember huge chunks of undergrad because I was so depressed that the memories didn’t stick, but I do remember my tipping point.

It was something small. The ceiling fan in my bedroom was broken. The lighting chain worked fine, but if anyone pulled the fan chain, the whole thing would stop working. I mixed up which chain was which, pulled the wrong cord, and broke it for the fourth time. 

For some reason, that was it. I lay down on my floor and cried for an hour, and while I did, my mind went to, as the kids say, a dark place. Finally, I called my mom and begged for psychiatric medication, something I had always been afraid to ask for. At the time, my parents believed that antidepressants were overprescribed, and they mocked parents that let their children take them. 

At around the same time, I was deciding what to do with my life. I was about to graduate, and I had always wanted to be a kindergarten teacher. Instead, everyone in my life pushed me towards law school. I didn’t know what to do, but I began fantasizing, not about going to law school exactly, but about being the kind of person that could go to law school. 

I knew that law school would be entail public speaking and constant conflict and the kind of work that would be hard for a person who sometimes couldn’t leave her bed. I wanted to be someone who could do all of that, but I didn’t believe I was.

Enter Donald Trump. Post-November 2016, I struggled to understand how something like that could happen, and I watched everyone else deal with it too. I began confused, moved to distraught, then returned to what I always am: angry.

January 2017 was the inauguration and shortly afterwards, the “Muslim ban.” I read the news on my bedroom floor, and there was one specific part that stuck out to me. There were pictures of lawyers flooding the airports. There was a court case headed for SCOTUS.

I suddenly realized that one group-- one very select group-- was doing what I was powerless to accomplish. I hated establishments, and there was one group that could challenge and change them. Some people could fight in the way I wanted to, and those people were lawyers.

I have a very distinct memory of looking into the bathroom mirror of my third-year apartment and thinking, “I will be miserable for the rest of my life, no matter what I do or what career I pick. I might as well be a miserable lawyer.”

So I took my antidepressants and I went to law school. I’m not going to rehash everything that happened there in this particular post, because in this topic, I don’t think it matters. The relevant part is that I went, and I had my reason why.

Sure as hell can tell you that law school wasn’t good for my health. The last three years have been, in terms of sheer stress and despair, the worst of my life. I picked up a self-harm habit, endured consistent humiliation, cycled through six different antidepressants, had horrible relationships, and developed a psychotic disorder. Don’t get me wrong, there were good things too. I met people that are important me, and beyond that, I grew. 

I know that 18 year old me would be absolutely flabbergasted by the woman I am now, cracks and flaws included. I wouldn’t say I’m healthy or okay, but I am more healthy and more okay. I’m coming out of this mess with the institutional power I wanted, and now I get to decide what to do with it. 

I was wrong three years ago when I looked in that bathroom mirror. I know now that I won’t be miserable for the rest of my life. I’m going to be happy someday, and to the parts of me that say otherwise: fuck you. I’ve learned to say it now. 

I graduated law school this week, and this month, I’ve felt better than I ever have before. I’m singing again, I dropped two medications, and suddenly, everything is so, so funny. I’ve been laughing so hard my face hurts the day after. 

This is a huge turning point in my life, so I’ve been meditating on my past. I’ve come to the conclusion that in most of the ways that matter, I won. My family has been forced to accept what I am. I became the person I wanted to be, even though I thought I wasn’t capable of that. 

I know for sure that there will be times in my life where I hit rock bottom again, and that’s not gonna be fun. It’s likely that with my mental health issues, I will always have to work harder than my peers to get the same results. That’s unfair. 

I also know that high points exist, and I will have them. I am having them, and I will again. 

I guess in recap, I know that I have deep flaws and ugly parts, but I am at peace with that. I know that I must help others, and in pursuit of that goal, I became a person I like more than the girl I used to be. 

You have exactly the same potential. I want you to know that whatever you are now, that’s not your forever. Circumstances change, and you will change too. We’re human, you and I, and that’s an exciting thing to be. 

Your worth comes from your humanity itself, both evil and good, not the things you do or the fights you win. You never have to compare yourself to others because you are exactly the same as everybody else-- no better, but certainly no worse. You’re a person. That’s enough. 

I’m telling you all those things, and as advice, I’ll say this: get angry and fight. Fight for others. You can help them, and you should. Fight for yourself. You are worthy of respect, and everyone else should give it to you. Fight yourself. Any part of you that preaches despair is wrong. 

Find the thing that makes you angry and use it. Things are fucked up! There’s a lot to be angry about. I put it this way to my classmates, now my attorney peers: you get one hill to die on. What’s your hill? Go and defend it. 

Here’s an interesting thing, anon. Your hill can be yourself. There’s nothing wrong with that. You’re right. Five years is a lot, and all the years beyond that are more. Take your antidepressants and go.

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt.10

When the others finally left for the night, Lance was mentally jumping for joy. Hunk was driving Shay home, Lance had his fingers, and toes, crossed that his best friend would finally profess his feelings. His joy lasted until his stomach rolled, telling him it was time to purge the human food he’d forced down the evening. Bolting for his upstairs bathroom, he gripped the toilet hard as his stomach rolled and everything was vomited out forcefully. Keith’s stupid blood was still in his system. The effects should have been wearing off by now, not lingering around like his unwanted house guest.

Hunched over as he heaved, there was a soft knock on the bathroom door

“Lance?”

Ugh. Shiro the goddamn hero. He was none too happy with him at the moment. Humans always made things so bloody complicated, no pun intended. Behind him the sink tap was turned on, the sound of the water hitting the basin was like a fucking waterfall again rocks, the noise coming to an end not a second too soon

“Here”

Gazing up with glassy eyes, Shiro was holding out a wet hand towel, Lance taking it from the man and draping it over his face. Thankfully Shiro had been kind enough not to turn the bathroom light on, though that hadn’t stopped him being stupid enough to put the damn cloth over his glasses

“Are you okay?”

“Fantastic”

“Can I do anything to help?”

“Yeah, you can keep your damn distance from Pidge”

Shiro shuffled his feet

“I...”

“If she knows, she’s going to want that bite. Matt is doing everything he can to protect his family, but Pidge... Pidge is so goddamn smart. Do you know what kind of situation you’ve put me in”

Lance heard the rustling of Shiro’s clothes before he felt man sitting down beside him

“I never thought she’d be Matt’s brother. It was stupid of me to speak out. Look. It’s not my place, but I know the look of someone haunted by the past. Speaking of Matt, that brought something up you’d rather not remember, didn’t it?”

“Someone should give you a damn medal. Shiro, you’re not my friend. You don’t know me. There’s nothing you can do to magically help”

“I can listen”

“Yeah, so you have more evidence to use against me when you finally kill me”

“It’s not like that...”

“Then what’s it like? Feeling pity for the sick vampire? Keeping him alive purely to help your brother? Now I’m left lying to Pidge for however long I’ve got left”

“I’m worried about you...”

Lance would have laughed if he wasn’t so shocked. What did Shiro have to worry about?

“... you’re not getting any better. You drank Keith’s blood to save him, and you’re still suffering from the effects. I don’t know what to do to help you”

“There’s nothing you can do”

“There has to be something”

“There isn’t”

“Then is there someone I can call? Someone who knows more about what’s going on?”

“I’m not going to bring a hunter onto the doorstep of anyone”

Shiro sighed

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let Keith take control of the mission. We haven’t reported back to our supervisors one way or the other. Your name came up flagged under suspicion of being a vampire with no confirmation. I don’t know who reported you, and I still don’t know what to make of you. You were polite and kind to both of us, yet helping Keith has made you this ill. Right now, I don’t want to kill you. I don’t know what to feel. You bit and turned my brother, yet you deny it. You openly socialise with humans, keeping as close to human as you can. You turned into a bat, despite claiming you carried no powers. All of this is confusing. Then there’s Keith. He’s my brother. My only brother. The only family I have here. I need to do what’s right for him”

“Then stop filling his head with ideas. He’s not a vampire. You enabling him isn’t helping anything. You guys can crash out in front of the TV if you want, help yourselves to whatever you want in the fridge. I’ll do the dishes tomorrow, so for now, let me just go to bed and be done with today”

“Lance, I...”

“If you say you’re sorry again, I can’t guarantee I won’t snap”

Shiro gave a nervous kind of a laugh, his hand squeezing Lance’s shoulder

“Alright. I get it. We’ll talk in the morning. Are you sure there isn’t anything I can get you?”

“I’ll be fine once your brother’s gross blood passes”

“That’s good to know”

*

Lance could hear Shiro and Keith talking about him as he laid in bed with Blue. Shiro was attempting to reason with Keith, who’d broken down over being bitten. His mouth ached, arm between his teeth as he rode through the pain of it all. This wasn’t normal, not for him. He needed to go see Coran. Coran would know what to do and how to help, and laying about in bed wasn’t going to magically cure him.

Dressing, it was a little after two in the morning when he crept down his stairs. So many thoughts were trying to push themselves to the forefront of his mind, yet none were clear enough to reach out grab. Stepping off the last step, the light in the lounge room flicked on, Shiro appearing in the doorway, rubbing at his eyes like Lance had woken him up

“Lance?”

“Go back to bed, Shiro”

“Going somewhere?”

“To get some blood”

Shiro saw through his lie

“Dressed and with your car keys?”

“Going to get some blood from Platt?”

Lance cringed at his tone, and at his big mouth

“Great, I’ll come for the drive then”

“Shiro...”

“You’re in no condition to drive yourself anywhere. It’d be irresponsible to let you go alone”

“What about Keith?”

“If you’re going to see some one about blood, then they have to know what’s going on with him... Your arm’s bleeding”

Lance looked down at the dark patch spreading across his sleeve. He’d bandaged his arm, but for some reason he was still bleeding

“It’s nothing. Look, go back to bed and we’ll talk in the morning”

“I can’t do that”

“Leave me alone!”

Shit. As if Shiro hadn’t caught enough of his bad mood of late

“I’m sorry, Shiro. I’ll be back by morning, but I can’t take you where I need to go. You’re not one of us. They wouldn’t even let you inside the lobby”

“Look, it’s late. I think you should go back to bed and we can all talk about this in the morning”

And what if he flipped out in the mean time? What if he really was as bad Keith thought he was? He didn’t want to hurt Shiro... or Keith for that matter. Maybe shave Keith’s mullet off, but not hurt him physically

“I can’t do that”

“Why not?”

“Because there’s something wrong with me and I don’t want either of you being hurt. Please, Shiro, I have to go. I promise I’ll be back as soon as possible”

“How can I trust that you’ll be back?”

“I’d never leave Blue. Plus Pidge would be merciless if I went missing. I can’t do that to her and Hunk”

“Alright... just... stay safe”

“You, too”

The drive to Platt passed in a blur, Lance doing well above the speed limit in the long straights of the road. The city it’s self never seemed to sleep, but the roads were clear as Lance slowed to the posted limits, the last thing he needed was a speeding fine, or to bite a cop. Parking in front of “Castle Altea”, the building front marketed itself as a 24 hour bookshop catering to the obscure. The whole block was actually owned by the organisation Coran ran, shop owners paid half the price of rent in the area, probably thanks to the complex that ran beneath their feet. Gripping his arm, he just about fell out the driver’s side, head swimming to the point he thought he’d vomit.

Passing through the bookstore, the woman behind the counter hit the button under the desk to let him straight through the back doors and into the elevator that’d take him down to Coran’s first level. There were only two buttons in lift, one up to the bookshop and one down to “VOLTRON”, the name of outreach network for Platt. Lance knew the “V” stood for “vampire” and the “L” stood for “lycanthropes”, and maybe the end “ON” stood for “outreach network”, but the others he’d been clueless on. He didn’t really need to know the name, only that he was going to the only truly safe place for him in his current situation. He couldn’t even tell how many metres the lift went down, but the more the better right now.

The doors open to bright lights of the reception, Coran pausing mid pace, before rushing over to him

“Lance, what happened to you, my boy?”

“Mercury... poisoning...”

“Oh, my boy. You came to the right place. Here, lean on me. How’s your hunger?”

Lance felt so awful he didn’t even know if he was hungry. Coran felt safe and warm, his arm slipping around Lance, deceptively strong as he took his weight

“My teeth really hurt... all of me hurts... Coran, I’m scared”

“Hush, my boy. We’ll get to the bottom of this. You’re safe here”

“Thank you... I’m sorry... for turning up like this”

“Nonsense. Let’s get you comfortable”

Taken down another two levels, the doors opened to the medical floor. Coran leading him to the first available examination room, and assisting up onto the examination bed. Whimpering at the lights overhead, Coran switched them off, leaving the lighting in the room to come from the computer in the corner and the lights under the bed

“Hypersensitivity... Atypical for simple poisoning. Lance, can you tell me what happened?”

“Hunter”

Coran let out a small gasp

“A hunter?”

“Poisoned himself with silver and mercury... sucked it out of him... I’ve never fed off a human before... Coran.... what did I do?”

Coran smiled softly at him, brushing Lance’s sweaty fringe off his forehead

“You did a brave thing. Mercury in blood makes it very potent. I suspect the trauma of your first feed and the metal have come together to make a rather nasty combination for you. How long ago was it since you bit them?”

“Wednesday...”

“Oh, my boy. Let’s do a full work up. You’ve been through enough trauma as it is. Have you had any blood since?”

“A bag and a bit... it’s not helping”

“Alright. Let me see what I can do. You relax, you’re safe here, Lance. This is a safe place”

“I didn’t want to bring you trouble”

“Hush now. No ones going to get you. Close your eyes and just relax”

Lance felt eyelids start to grow heavy, Coran’s words a spell on his senses as he felt himself slump completely against the bed beneath him. Coran knew his traumas... Coran knew everything about his life. He shouldn’t have left Shiro and Keith at his house... but coming here was the right thing to do.

Allura came in as they waited for his blood tests. With practiced hands she set up an IV line, direct to a fresh bag of blood. Coran had helped him out his jacket, mortified he’d bitten himself to starve off the pain of his teeth

“Lance, it’s Allura. I don’t know if you can hear me, but I’m going to take a look at your arm”

“Hey, ‘llura. Sorry for the trouble”

“Nonsense. Coran said you had a run in with some hunters. We knew there were new guys in town, yet I hardly expected they’d go after to you”

Why wouldn’t they go after him? He shouldn’t exist according to them

“I bit a human... I’m going to be put down”

“You’re not going to be put down. You’re not a typical vampire, but you’ve got a kind heart. You’d never hurt a human if you could help it”

Tell that to his teeth... and Keith’s fist

“I still did it”

“Lance, you’ve always been kind and sensitive. I promise you that we’ll get this all sorted”

As Allura applied ointment to his wound, Lance let himself float. His mind that was, not his body. Shiro was wrong, he couldn’t turn into a bat. And he was handling being caught out rather poorly. If Shiro and Keith did hunt the big bad things in the night, then he should be grateful. They’d probably saved countless lies by not thinking twice, whereas he was laying here being completely useless. He’d never killed a vampire, not even when tempted by their behaviour. As she worked, Allura hummed along, her humming somewhat soothing his headache. He liked Allura. She was smart, pretty, funny, and brave. She had so many things going on, yet she wore all her pressures on his delicate shoulders with grace

“Healing has already begun, it should heal without a scar. But do try to take it easy for the next few days”

“Thanks, Allura. I’m still really sorry for how I showed up”

“Nonsense. I would have been mad with you if you hadn’t come to us. Have you got enough blood at home to see you over?”

“The hunter’s got to it. Trashed my house, waited for me to come home, the whole nine yards”

“Do you need help with the repairs? Furniture replacement? Is your home safe to return to?”

“Yeah. No, I’ll be fine. I’ve got somewhere to go”

“If you’re not safe, you can stay here for as long as you need”

“I’ll keep that in mind, but I’m safe for now. I’ll take some blood though. Healing this is has taken more than I expected”

“Anything you add blood too amplifies it’s effectiveness. Being stabbed by a mercury dipped dagger has a much different affect than ingesting it”

Lance hummed

“I didn’t think about it like that”

The room to the examination room slid open, Coran letting himself in. Allura smiling at him, their conversation now dead in its tracks

“Sorry to interrupt. Allura, how’s our boy doing?”

“His arm’s started healing. He seems more lucid too. I would like to see him in three weeks for reassessment. I’ll be logging 21 bags of blood on his record, I don’t trust that his supply hasn’t been tainted”

Tainting the blood seemed too much effort to be a Keith move. Shiro had the patience, but he’d brought him up blood to help him heal... poisoning Lance was a sure way to ruin any chance of getting information from him

“Excellent. Now, Lance, I’ve got your results right here. Silver and mercury were found in your bloody, both in trace amounts. My advice would be draining what we can from your system, then rehydrating you”

“How long will that take?”

“Twelve hours, give or take. Then a nice nap in your grave dirt, for a couple of hours, just to make sure no hidden nasties are left in your system”

“I don’t have time to do that”

“I’m sorry, my dear boy. You’ll need to make the time. Your levels across the board are all over the place, and you’ve had quite the shock. Anything else could affect your will power to fight the curse. You could find yourself performing actions with no memory of the event”

Stupid fucking Keith. This is what he got for helping him, when he didn’t deserve it. They’d barely talked, not when the man hated him with the passions of a thousand suns. Now he was stuck being drained like a car having it oil changed. He’d be breaking his word to Shiro. He’d said he’d be back in the morning, now he was going to be stuck in Platt until mid afternoon at the earliest

“Coran, I need to make a phone call... I need to let my friend know I’ll be back later than planned”

“Sure, my boy. Do you know the number?”

Shiro’s number? That was a no. He knew his home phone number because he still had a land line. Pidge had laughed and called it “antiquated”, no one had house landlines anymore, according to her. Lance wasn’t about to take advice from someone who’d never he the displeasure of growing up with one family landline in the living room where everyone overheard your conversation. Lance didn’t know Keith’s number either, not that Keith would answer if he did

“They’re at my house. They insisted on sleeping over in case someone came back”

“Oh, dear. You must be worried about them. Give them a quick ring and let them know you’re all safe and sound”

Shiro didn’t answer the home phone when Lance rang, Lance leaving a message on the off chance Keith decided he snoop about in Lance’s office again, Lance quickly explained he needed to stay in Platt longer to sort the situation he was experiencing, and that it was best for everyone involved if he remained until the afternoon. Taken from the examination room once the IV had run through, he was taken to a much more depressing room that held a vertical board for a bed. Thick straps came off the sides, his head, neck, arms, legs and torso all strapped down, preventing him from escaping should he flip out from being drained. The device looked barely a step above something that’d be used to hold prisoners being tortured

“Now, this is going to be quite painful and uncomfortable for you. I know you only ingested trace amounts, but the stress has made your system a bit, shall we say, whacky. We’re going to introduce a sedative to your system, before running a line from your jugular. You’ll be both awake and asleep for the procedure. The injection keeps the brain from registering and reacting. All very safe, all very well researched. We’ve had particular success with werewolves poisoned with wolfsbane”

“Alright. Do what you need to do. I don’t want to feel like this anymore”

“You’ll feel good as new when we’re done. Then we can have ourself a talk”

The bed behind him was stiff, the whole room white, and the straps cold against his skin. Cool air was pushed through the single vent in the room above the doorway, as Lance waited for the injection in the back of his neck to kick in. He should really be billing Keith for his time. From Wednesday until now, at douchebag wanker lawyer fees, the man would be pushing three grand for all the time Lance had wasted thinking about him. Was Keith fighting with Shiro as he “lay” here? Was he still going on about being bitten and turned while Shiro didn’t balls up and prove to him that he was still human? Keith should know better. Shiro should know much better. Those purple eyes that seemed to see his soul were bright and unclouded. A rare fire burned behind them, not the fire of a confident man, but the fire of someone who still very much alive in the human world. Keith had his whole life ahead of him, yet he must have his reasons for joining the Blades. If only Keith and Shiro could have both walked away, Shiro wouldn’t have lost his partner, and Keith could have a normal happy life without the bloodshed and fear of being turned. Why the fuck was he stuck now thinking on the man who hated his guts. Keith hadn’t even been willing to talk, let alone listen. He was hot headed and rash, leaping before he looked... Keith was going to be pissy that he’d skipped out on explaining things in the morning. Coran would fix Lance right up, only for Lance to go home and die. Letting out a sigh, Lance closed his eyes. When he’d been 18 he’d had to spend three months sleeping as he made his death soil. If a wounded vampire could get back to their death soil, most damage could be overcome... His death soil now sat in his garden, but he did have a shoe box of soil in his wardrobe, to remind him not to get too comfortable in his current life...

[fyexo]

191031 SuperM Reveal How They Reacted When They First Found Out About the Supergroup

What does it take for a K-pop group’s first album to debut at No. 1 on the Billboard 200 chart? For SuperM, it takes a lot of hard work and a hefty dose of jumping and popping.

To understand SuperM’s success on the charts is to understand its members, company history and sound. The supergroup is comprised of seven members from three different SM Entertainment groups: SHINee’s Taemin, EXO’s Kai and Baekhyun, and NCT and its Chinese sub-unit WayV’s Ten, Taeyong, Mark and Lucas. In their respective groups and individual solo careers, the members have sold over 14 million records combined, racked up more than 4 billion views on YouTube with their music videos, and have more than 120 million followers online.

While this is not SM Entertainment’s first attempt at the creation of a supergroup (that title belongs to 2012’s Younique), SuperM is unique as a joint venture between Capitol Records and SM Entertainment. The group’s debut single, “Jopping,” is a quintessential “SM Music Performance” track — a term coined by the company to describe their genre-bending style of rock, hip-hop and R&B that, combined with stellar music videos and masterful choreography, creates an experience that leaves a lasting impression long after the first listen.

It’s this self-defined genre of music that has fans around the globe hooked on SM’s artists, and SuperM’s debut single “Jopping” is no exception: with its pulsating garage backbeat, sleek choreography, Baekhyun’s chills-inducing high note, and sampling of the Avengers theme, “Jopping” is truly a high-octane ride from start to finish. However, sections of the song harken back to past hits, like EXO’s “Wolf,” NCT 127’s “Cherry Bomb,” and TVXQ!’s “Catch Me,” rooting the track in the company’s signature style while still exploring a new chapter in SM history.

With a Billboard No. 1 debut album and a knockout showcase in Los Angeles under their belts, SuperM is currently preparing for their first tour, the aptly titled We Are The Future Tour — serving both as a callback to the 1997 song by first generation SM Entertainment K-Pop group H.O.T and setting SuperM’s goal of musical domination all at once. Kicking off in Fort Worth, Texas, the tour will see SuperM performing in ten different cities spaced over three months, and promises to showcase not only dynamic group performances, but their “individual characteristics” too, according to Ten.

PopCrush caught up with SuperM to discuss the group’s first practice session, their upcoming tour and the group’s dream of becoming the first Asian artist ever to perform at the Super Bowl.

You held your first official performance as SuperM on October 4th! What was it like performing in front of fans at the Capitol Records building?

Taeyong: It was awesome!

Mark: It was really, really fun. It was our first time performing as a team live in front of our fans and it was like a new experience — we all felt the same emotions together. I think that’s what really stood out to me; last night we were all getting nervous. We were all warming up together. It’s these kinds of things [that] make it feel like we’re actually a whole team. We feel kind of powerful.

Taeyong: We were all really, really nervous about this whole performance. We wanted to show so much to our fans because it was the first time we were performing in front of our fans as SuperM. Because of that, a part of me feels like I wish I could’ve shown more, so hopefully ... I can show off more next time.

How long did you know about SuperM before it was announced to the world?

Baekhyun: One year ago, but our younger members didn’t know then.

Mark: I learned about SuperM on NCT 127’s tour, so this year. I learned about it a couple months before preparing.

Taeyong: Yeah, me too.

What was your first reaction when you heard about SuperM?

Group: Wow!

Baekhyun: So powerful!

Mark: I actually wanted to say this once. During our early filming all together, I went to Taemin’s room and I asked him, “What did you feel when you first heard about SuperM?” He actually said, “This is actually something that can only happen now.” I actually totally agreed with him once he said it. It’s something that the world never thought that they needed, but now they’ll know that they needed it once we come out. We’ve been preparing a lot and we’re ready to show why we came and why we are SuperM.

Baekhyun: That’s right.

Take us into your first practice session together as SuperM. What was it like?

Lucas: First time, it was a little bit awkward.

Taemin: Awkward!

Ten: Because we’ve never worked with the seniors in our company before, we didn’t know what was going to happen when we started practicing, right? First, the atmosphere was so tense, but then Baekhyun came in and he just kept making jokes about stuff and the fences just like dropped down. From then, we started to get to know each other for the first time.

Baekhyun: I think for us, we felt more comfortable working with them. Also, I was really curious what it would be like to work with the younger, more recently debuted groups. They were more innocent and cuter than I had thought originally! That kinda made me want to take them under my wing and helped us grow closer.

Lucas: And because the seniors kind of looked after us, we felt very comfortable and that was kind of what brought us all together.

How was “Jopping” selected as the lead single?

Mark: We chose “Jopping” because we believed that it had the potential to contain our performance in terms of our dynamics. The way we are as a team, we’re very diverse; we have a lot of talents all rolled in one. We felt that “Jopping” had the capability of holding all of those talents in one piece. We definitely knew that it was going to be the song that we were gonna release as our debut single, and through it we wanted to show our strong side and how strong we are together.

Taeyong: SMP!

Ten: SM Performance — ”Jopping” is in that category.

Taeyong, you helped write and compose “No Manners.” Where did you get the inspiration for that track?

Taeyong: I got the inspiration from it from the movie Sid & Nancy, which I mention in the lyrics. It’s about a couple that have a bad break up even though they’re so in love with each other. Just going off that, I kind of thought, rather than having the relationship end on such bad terms, like you ending up hating that person, maybe it’s actually better to cut it out... [Stops talking and turns to Baekhyun] How do I put it?

Baekhyun: Let me help you out. If the relationship hits rock bottom, you end up hating each other. Rather than letting each other be the worst ex you ever had, it’s sometimes necessary to break up cold turkey before you start hating each other. I think that’s the message of the song.

You’re embarking on a huge tour beginning in November! What are you looking forward to most about performing in the U.S.?

Taeyong, Taemin and Kai, singing: We are the future! [Writer’s note: This is a reference to the H.O.T song of the same name.]

Kai: Oh my God.

Mark: It’s our first tour as SuperM. We are all lovers of performing and so having a tour itself just excites all of us, but to excite as a whole team together is just a total different feeling and so we’re looking forward to it. We’re still rehearsing it; we haven’t fully finished preparing it, but we’re actually thinking about a lot of things that we can show the fans other than just the album. I feel like the fans would love seeing how we all kind of collaboratively work together and I think that’s the best part that we can show the fans from the tour, so I hope a lot of people come.

This tour will see the group performing at prestigious venues like Madison Square Garden, some members for the first time ever in the U.S. How does that feel?

Ten: For me, I’ve always wanted to come to the U.S. and do a tour, and this time I get a chance to work with my SuperM members.... I still can’t believe it that I’m getting to do this! I want to thank all the members for working hard for this opportunity and thank you to Soo-Man Lee [SM Entertainment founder and executive music producer of SuperM] for giving us this opportunity and Capitol for helping us. This show, it’s not just the team, we get to show our individual characteristics too.

What’s your goal for the future of SuperM?

Taeyong: I wish that people all around the world would get to know us, would like our music, and would get inspired by us.

Taemin: I agree and want to add that fans also inspire us. This give and take with the fans as they support SuperM, SuperM also reciprocates that to the fans and I just want it to continue.

With a Billboard No. 1 debut album, what’s the next goal for SuperM?

Taemin and Ten: Super Bowl!

Taeyong: To become the first Asian artist to perform at the Super Bowl Halftime show.

Kai: With Capitol…

Taemin: With Capitol’s support, we can do it!

Lucas: Yeah!

Baekhyun: Let’s go!

source: popcrush

[headoverhiddles]

Out On Bad Behavior - Ron Tully (SOA) x Reader [Smut]

Synopsis: Tully’s out on parole, and he hasn't seen you in months. Things are gonna get rough.

Notes: Hi yes hello, I’d sell my soul to satan to fuck Ron Tully. Thx for coming to my ted talk 

Notes Notes: No, I don’t condone his ideology. This is his character, minus that. 

"You got a girl, Teller?"

Tully's voice is deep, calm, and his dark eyes speak volumes. Jax studies him.

"I got girls."

Instead of taking the plural response personally, Tully just smirks, sitting back in his seat. "The only reason a guy don't have a main girl, is if she don't fuck so good. You stick with the ones that fuck good and fuck often, you're set for life. Not only do you get great pussy when you need it, you've got a girl who'll stick with you through thick and thin, cause she knows she'll never get better dick. And it's one in a million if she's not a fuckin' psycho bitch."

Jax raises his eyebrows. "I'll try to remember that." Tully taps his head. The blonde biker folds his arms. "Alright. You got a girl on the outside, I'm assuming."

"Mmm. My girl is the real deal, man. Ride or die. And the sex?" He leans back, grinning.

"That good?" Jax indulges, unable to suppress his own boyish smile.

"Like you wouldn't believe," Tully nods, biting his lip. "She’s takin’ care of my dogs while I’m gone. My real dogs.... can't wait to get out and see her again."

Jax lowers his voice, glancing around in that conspiratorial manner that Tully wishes he'd stop doing. "You may just get your wish soon, man. I overheard some guards talking about you. Said you'd be out within the month on some parole deal they’re all pissed about." 

Tully stares. "Well, look at that. I guess behaving myself gets me somewhere in life."

You haven't seen him in months, and it's like a freight train hitting you. Pent up feelings of loss, love, and affection bubble to the surface as you see him walking toward you with that same swagger, escorted by two cops who don't even know who they're fucking with. You wait patiently, and the strongest feeling of all takes over.

"Tully," you whisper, and he locks his pinky finger in yours.

"Baby girl."

Unable to hold back, he loops his arms around you, and squeezes you against him in a deep kiss he’s been waiting for for months. You kiss back eagerly, moaning into his lips as his hand travels between your legs. When he finally lets you go, he side-eyes the two cops who escorted him out. 

“Got your kicks for the day, boys?” They shift uncomfortably, and Ron chuckles as you latch onto his arm like his pretty little plaything. 

Once he gets you home, it's like a ticking bomb has been set off. He wants you and you want him, but there's a dance involved. You want to ask him about jail... but not now. Later. All that shit can wait.

Tully speaks.

"Missed you."

"Likewise."

He takes a good look at you, lust in his eyes rising. You inch your top up, as if trying to decide whether or not to take it off. "You're my pretty little kitty, isn't that right?"

"Yeah..." 

"With that sweet little pussy," he groans, biting his bottom lip. "That pussy still nice and wet for me?"

"Mhmm."

"Bring your gorgeous little self over here, show daddy."

You sway your hips as you approach him. He watches you, erection obvious in his tented slacks. He looks so good sitting there, dominance clear in his eyes. There’s no question who’s in control here.

"Now, I'm gonna cum inside you faster than usual," he murmurs, brushing his fingers against your thighs, "I haven't been 8 inches deep in you for 7 months. That's enough to drive me insane, baby. Of course, I made do," he smirks, "Man's got needs. But it was never the same."

You moan, imagining what Tully must have looked like fucking someone else as you crawl into his lap. His chin lifts, and he lets you settle yourself there, his clothed erection sliding nicely to fit between your parted thighs. You think of him getting what he needs in prison... you imagine he'd grunt, taking them for all they're worth, showing them who's boss, who their daddy is.

"Tell me about it?"

"Mmm," he hums, stroking the hair out of your face, "You wanna know about the bitch I fucked in jail?"

"Mhmm."

"Hearing about it'll get you nice and wet down below, baby?"

"Yeah..."

"Well. He had a pretty little hole... just like you." He leans in, so his lips are beside your ear, hot breath in your hair and stubble scratching your cheek. "I pretended that pretty little ass was you, begging for my cock like I knew a fucking little whore like you would."

"Oh," your breath hitches as you grind down into his lap, and Tully convulses a little in a full body shudder, obviously not used to the physical stimulant of a real girl’s touch again.

"-But oh, how I missed you. How I missed... this." He slips two fingers past your panties and into your tight heat, curving them to make an obscene wet noise. "Look at how wet she is for her daddy," he cooes in that buried, genteel southern edge, "All for me. All thinkin' about me... fucking you to high heaven on this cock."

"Oh god, Tully," you gasp, grinding.

"You ever had a cock bigger’n this?"

"Never..."

"Tell me, who do you belong to?" he growls.

"You."

"Did you go slutting around town while I was incarcerated?"

"N-no, I swear!"

"Nah, you wouldn't give it out for free. You’re just too goddamn good for that," he nips your earlobe, and uses his thumb to rub your clit. "Did you dream about this?"

"Uh huh."

"Every night, I dreamed about all the shit you do to me. Dreamed about that cunt. The blow jobs you give me whenever you're feeling nice and slutty. Woke up hard every morning, and all the guys got a nice wake-up call when I started to fuck my fist and call your name as loud as I fuckin' could." He chuckles, stroking your stomach. “It was like a community alarm clock of sorts.” Your thighs start to tremble, thinking of how he must have looked jerking his cock for you, thinking of fucking you deep with it. His eyes fall to your breasts, and you can tell by the ravenous look in his eyes he wants to squeeze them, touch them, suck on them. But he restrains himself, keeping his hands firmly planted on your hips, in control as always.

"That's so hot, daddy."

"Mm? What's hot, baby girl? Tell daddy. Wanna hear it."

"Thinking of you..." you gasp, pussy clenching as he strokes you just right, "...touching yourself, thinking of me. Getting cum all over your chest calling my name."

He hums again, the deep sound sending shivers down you. God, you want him so fucking bad.

"Would've been nice to have you there, to lick it all up," he murmurs, dark eyes searching you, "Hm? My little cumslut'd like that, wouldn't she? Tasting daddy's cum, cleaning him up good?"

"Oh... Jesus, yes."

"Go ahead, baby. Do what you been waitin’ to do since you saw me again. Hold onto daddy and cum as hard as you need to, like the good little whore you are."

He knows how names like that turn you on. You picture what he described, how he looked walking toward you, cuffed then uncuffed in that white wifebeater. That look he had in his eyes, like a wolf, like he wanted to absolutely devour you. With two more pumps of his fingers, you cum, coating them. He pulls his fingers out, and has you lick them for him.

"That's it. Beautiful." He watches you breathe heavily, head cocked, and lets you suck on his fingers for a bit longer. Then he pulls them past your lips with a pop. "I think it's my turn now."

"You gonna fuck me, daddy?" you moan, enticing him with your breasts.

"Yeah," he drawls, unzipping his pants, “I think so.” He takes it out, giving your ass a nice spank before parting you and lining himself up. When he pushes in, you think you've never felt something so fucking good. It's been too long since you've had him. It's been far too long.

His head rolls back as he admires how your ass moves up and down against him, as he bounces you on his cock.

"Goddamn. You were made for this, sweetie," he moans, tugging your hair back and closing his fingers around your neck. The labored breaths ripping from him are evidence he's working hard for it, and you give right back, working your ass down. He chokes you a little harder, and it all comes rushing up on you.

"Fuck, I'm gonna--" you wheeze, and his low, growled out grunts increase as he pounds faster. "Ahhh, god," you whine, and cum hard on his cock again. Feeling you coat him with wetness, he thrusts two, three more times, and with a grunt of your name, he cums as well, deep inside you. 

"That's the girl I missed," he muses, chest rising and falling. Sweat dots his forehead and arms, but you don't care. You wrap yourself up in his big arms, and cuddle against his tattooed chest, feeling the pudge of his stomach rising and falling gently. He holds you there, rocking, kissing the top of your head.

"Not goin' anywhere now, baby girl. That's a fuckin' fact you can count on."

[afictionaladventure16]

sebastian stan with a teen!reader whos an actress that meets on set. she started out young, maybe at the age of 6? so she has depression and anxiety for all the pressure. so she has a past with self harming, and she starts doing it again, sebastian finds out and tries to help her, taking her under his wing??? sorry that is so long!!! i love you and your writing by the way💞💞 stay healthy and happy 💞💞

To Write Love on Her Arms (Sebastian Stan x Teen!Reader)

A/N: Awww I love you too!! and It’s okay! It gave me an amazing idea for the fic!! 

Masterlist

Warnings: Mentions and descriptions of self-harm. small Mentions of depression.

Word Count:  1,376

You had been in the acting industry since you were fairly young, six years old to be exact. The pressure that came with the fame, you were a pretty popular actress but with all the popularness you had no privacy and privacy was important for teenagers.

You were currently doing a press junket with your costars Anthony Mackie and Sebastian Stan for the new Avengers Inifity War movie, you had landed a role as Tony Starks enhanced daughter, back in the first Iron Man movie, this made your popularity skyrocket. 

“This question is for (Y/N),” the interviewer asked, you perked up, sitting up in your seat, “throughout the years, you’ve gotten more popular. Your breakthrough role when you were only six years old, put you well into the spotlight and everyone knows about your breakdown a couple of years back but now it’s obvious that you are doing better, what would you say to the audience that looks up to you that could be going through something similar?”

The question felt personal, way too personal, you felt a bit angered that the man would just bring up your mental breakdown from a couple of years ago, “Well,” You began to say, you looked over at Sebastian who just gave you a comforting smile, he could tell the question made you uncomfortable. Sebastian looked over at Anthony, giving him a small nudge.

Anthony smirked, “As my friend Nishka would say,” Anthony began to say, causing you to laugh.

“What would Nishka say, Mack?” Sebastian said.

“He would say something that’s for sure,” Anthony said as he looked over at Sebastian.

You laughed at the two men who were trying to lighten up the mood, “oh gosh, anyway, um- to answer your question… I would just say that once you hit rock bottom, there is only one way to go and that’s up.” The interviewer thanked you guys for coming, everyone began to wrap up.

Your manager, Janet, came over to you, “Alright, we have a couple of more interviewers,” she began to say to the three of you.

“Actually,” You started to say, “I don’t feel so good, so I’m just gonna sit these out,” You got off your chair.

“What? Are you sure, (Y/N)?” Janet asked as you grabbed your iced coffee from the ground.

“Yeah,” You said quietly, you then walked out of the room.

Janet looked over at Sebastian and Anthony, “what happened during the interview?”

Sebastian sighed, “interviewer brought up her past,” he mumbled.

Janet let out a frustrated sigh, “Alright, two more interviewers and then you guys are done for the day.” She then walked away.

“Should we be worried?” Anthony asked Sebastian.

Sebastian was already worried, he had grown close to you over filming Infinity War, he thought highly of you and was impressed at how you handled the fame. When he found out about your past he thought of you as a strong young girl and knew you could overcome things that people his age were going through. “Yeah, we should,” Sebastian replied.

** trigger warning **

You had just gotten out of a shower, you let out a shaky breath as you looked at yourself in the mirror, your eyes darted over to the faint scars on your wrist. Battle wounds from the war within your mind, you wore those wounds on your flesh as a reminder of what happened. Of a reminder of how weak you felt.

“Fuck!” You exclaimed as you slammed your hand against the counter, the stinging sensation from the impact felt nice, it helped you feel something when you just felt nothing but numbness inside. You were drawn to this familiar sensation. You couldn’t fight it anymore, you grabbed your razor and broke off the blades in a desperate need to feel something. The blade felt like a perfect fit between your fingers, the sharpness of the blade was everything that mattered at the moment.

You brought the blade to your wrist, slowly dragging it across your skin. Each stroke was deeper than the other, you stopped as you watched the crimson liquid form on your wrist, it slowly dripped down your wrist and onto the sink. Letting out a relieving sigh, you were back to playing Russian roulette with death. The game you often played when life was too hard to handle. The game you told young fans that looked up to you to never play. You warned them it wasn’t worth it but you knew, that truth was that once you started, you were always going to have the fallbacks. It was an addiction. An escape.

You cleaned yourself up, wiping away the tears that managed to escape. You changed into a long sleeve and skinny jeans.  you heard a knock at your door, you quickly cleaned up the sink and walked over to the door. You opened the door, you smiled at Sebastian, “hey, what’s up?” You asked as you gestured for him to come in.

“Just checking up on you,” He said softly as you closed the door, “I know that interview got to you,” he began to say.

You shrugged, “it’s fine,” you sat on the bed, “I’m used to not having privacy, I mean anything I do somehow ends up circulating within the media, even if I try to keep my life private.”

“See, it’s not fine,” he sat down next to you, “you shouldn’t have to go through this, there has to be a way where we can put a stop it.” Sebastian gently grabbed your wrist, you winced in pain, he took notice of this. A frown appeared on his face, “(Y/N),” he said softly.

You quickly pulled your wrist from his grasp, not looking him in the eye as you held your wrist close, “I’m fine, Seb.”

Sebastian shook his head, “no you’re not, sweetie,” he sighed. “You have to trust me, (Y/N). I just want to help you.” You looked over at Sebastian, this man had been there for you more times than your actual father in only a year of knowing him… He treated you as his own, you knew you could trust him. But you felt so guilty for relapsing, you knew how proud he was of you for being so strong. You gave him a small nod as you looked down. Sebastian gently grabbed your hand, pulling up the sleeve. He let out a sigh at the sight of the wounds you inflicted on your self. “Okay,” he said softly, he got up from the bed and walked out of the room.

You let out a small sob, you knew you were such a disappointment, “Hey,” you heard Seb say. You looked up to see him holding a first aid kit, “it’s okay,” he whispered as he engulfed you in a hug. He slowly let go after a couple of seconds, sitting back down next to you on the bed, “these look fresh, kid,” he said as he rummaged through the first aid kit.

“Because they are,” you admitted.

Sebastian let out another sigh, he gently wiped antibiotics on your wound, you flinched slightly as they stung, “sorry,” he whispered. He couldn’t help but noticed the faint white scars that were mixed with the fresh ones. He wondered what drove you to do such a thing. “I’m gonna help you through this, (Y/N). We’ll find you a better way to let your feelings out, okay?” You gave him a small nod, “I want you to tell me whenever you feel like harming yourself, you have to communicate with me on these things, kid.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

Sebastian wrapped a sterile gauze around your wrist, he then placed a small kiss on the top of your head, “don’t be sorry, doll. Just promise me you’ll let me know next time?” He engulfed you in another hug. You gave Sebastian a nod, “What do you say we watch a movie? I know Evans has been begging you for a Disney marathon.”

You chuckled, Evans always did mention a Disney marathon whenever you were around, “Sure.”

“Alright, I’ll give him a call,” Sebastian let go of the hug, “Love you, kid.” He ruffled your hair, you rolled your eyes at his action. For once you felt okay, feeling emotionally supported by a father figure made you feel like you could get through difficult times.

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