#i have smoked weed twice but never tobacco. bad for you

[sailorhyunjinz]

~ High on hatred ~

Warnings: SMUT, college!au, stoner!jisung, fem!reader, goodstudent x badstudent, illegal substances, fingering, blowjob, aggressivity(?), choking, hairpulling, penetrative sex (stay safe :c), nicknames (babygirl, slut..), hickies, cuddles!

Word count: 3,134 words (ok cherry slow down ffs) 

Requested: yesyes~ thank u anon for requestiiing cc:

Note: ok huge note here! i literally know nothing about drugs/illegal substances (or even legal substances for maybe except my raging caffeine addiction)  (where im from most substances are illegal heh) so please understand if this shits written like shit) also bad boys x good girls is my WEAKNESS since i always want some “bad boy” to wreck my good girl agenda hahahsh 

Jisung wasn’t the most outstanding student in college but somehow you ended up being partners for a group project. The quiet straight A kid with the failing stoner, you could already imagine how this would go. You sat next to him in the lecture hall after your professor had announced the pairs and dreaded introducting yourself but your parents raised you with the belief that kindness comes first so you took a deep breath and said: 

“Hi! I’m y/n” you smiled at him. His gaze met yours, those dark brown eyes were somewhat bloodshot and his aura reeked of smoke. 

“Sup, Jisung” he waved with his thumb, pointer- and middle finger lazily towards you as his gaze scanned your body. You felt a bit uncomfortable by his predatory stare so you shifted in your seat, adjusting the white flowy skirt you had on. 

“Ehm.. so.. how do you want to structure up the project? I was thinking that we could divide the parts by-” you were stopped by his scoff. You looked at him in confusion. This would be much more difficult than you anticipated.

“Come over to my house tonight babygirl” his corny smirk and raspy voice made you want to punch him. Taken aback you turned your head slightly as you said; 

“What? So I can be another one of the girls you fuck?” your blood was boiling. Who does he think he is with his snapback and  dangly silver earrings? 

“Chill, I was thinking about working on the project but you seem to have other plans in mind with me” he smirked, still observing you. 

Your face turned beet red and Jisungs cocky attitude did not help in the slightest. 

“I.. I d-didn’t mean that..” you stuttered but you decided to shut up to not make the situation worse. Jisung reached for the post-it notes that were by your side and wrote something down. He teared it off the pad and just as you stood up, hoping to walk away and never see him again you heard him say;

“Babygirl, come at 7″ he stretched out his arm, hand holding the note. 

You grabbed it aggressively and stomped off as you heard him yell “Come safely babygirl” 

♡ 

On your way home you crumbled up the note and stuffed it in your pocket. You had no intention of meeting him but when you arrived home you reached for the pink note in your pocket as you took off your backpack and sat down in the kitchen. The pink note had his adress on it. The urge to just scream and rip up the note was strong but something stopped you and that was the fact that you needed to get this project done. You were not going to fail because of some stoner. You unpacked your bag and started studying on some of your other courses but the note always lurked in the corner of your eye. 

Hours later you stood infront of your mirror putting different shirts on hangers against your torso, comparing the colors. Being preoccupied with choosing the cutest shirt you didn’t notice the fact that you tried to look your best for Jisung. Eventually you snapped out of your good girl side that always wanted to look presentable. Why do I care about what he thinks of me? You rolled your eyes and put the shirts back into your closet as you took out a sweatshirt and a matching pair of sweatpants. “This will do” you said under your breath as you slipped into the comfortable fabric before you ordered a taxi. 

“Shit better be worth it” you sighed as you clicked “proceed” and saw the sum. You packed your bag with the necessary stationary, threw on a fluffy ivory jacket and grabbed the keys with a jingle. 

You greeted the taxi driver whose taxi stood infront of the apartment complex. Before you headed out you managed to grab the pink note and now showed it to the driver that nodded whilst the soft radio static played in the background. The town looked so peaceful in the evenings, the artificial lights from the thousands of offices reflected in your glistening eyes as you looked out the window. You noticed that your shoulders were tense signaling that you were nervous which was dumb. Why would you be nervous to meet a dirtbag that has the right to call you ‘babygirl’? A shudder cascaded down your spine at the though of that awful nickname, especially when it echoed in your head in Jisungs voice. 

The taxi halted infront of a long block of brick apartment complexes, the nightlife being busy as usual in the big city you resided. A small “thank you” slipped out of your tongue before you opened the car door and were met by the cold breeze. The entrence had grand glas and wood double doors which opened with a loud creek. You looked at the note once again, checking what apartment number the boy lived in. “248″ you muttered as you made your way up the stone staircase. “Found it”, you stood infront of the slightly bashed ivy colored door. Your hesitant fist made it’s way to knock on the door and after 5 nervewracking seconds the tall, slim boy opened the door with a joint between his lips. Smoke was emitting from behind him and the organic scent hit your nostrils. 

“You came babygirl” he leaned against the door frame as he drew in the smoke from the joint and blew it towards you. You coughed and waved your hand infront of your nose, clearing the smoke. 

“What you standing for? Come in” he snapped his head backwards as a sign for you to step in. You looked down and entered the small smoke-filled apartment. He went to his room and you followed behind with small steps observing the disorganised living space that was cluttered with takeout boxes and photos of friends. His room wasn’t any better. Piles of laundry sat everywhere in the small room and the bed wasn’t made. Did he seriously think that the two of you could do the project when there was a mess wherever you looked? He kicked a pile of clothes away from the carpet and threw a cushion from the bed towards you. He sat down on the carpet as he drew in another breath of smoke into his lungs. Reluctantly you sat down on the cushion opposite to Jisung that was dressed in a boxy white t-shirt and black basketball shorts. 

The big bunch of papers that were required for the project came out of your backpack that was sitting beside you. You spread out the papers on the carpet to make sure Jisung could see but he didn’t seem interested. Instead he kept on smoking as he stared at you intentively, that preditory gaze of his returning. As you were about to start talking about the ideas you had he stretched out his hand offering you a puff. You furrowed your eyebrows as a response to his action. 

“No thanks, I don’t do... that..” you said whilst shaking your head gently. 

That teeth-gritting smirk was plastered on his face as he said:

“You sure babygirl? It will help you relax” he heightened his eyebrows at you. 

Normally you would be very stubborn. You never let anyone do something to you that you didn’t like but in that moment you were swooned by his presence. Was it your feelings or the smoke that you had been breathing in? Without thinking twice you grabbed the joint from his hand to which he licked his lips, grinning.

You put it against your lips and puffed deeply, tasting the smoke in your mouth and feeling it spread in your lungs. A loud cough startled Jisung a bit and you passed the joint back to the brown haired boy. Instantly he looked thousands times more attractive. ‘I must be crazy’ you though as you gently shook your head and tried to concentrate at the papers laid out infront of you. In your peripheral view you saw Jisung shift closer to you and you lifted your head up to look at him. There was something intoxicating about him. The way his brown locks hanged over his eyes or how his piercings shined in the light from outside or maybe it was that veiny hand that held the flaming joint. Whatever it was you found yourself leaning closer to him. Just as he hit the joint again, the smoke spreading in his mouth, you attached your light pink lips onto his plump ones. Jisung opened his mouth in the kiss, crashing his tongue on yours which made the smoke enter your mouth. Being to caught up in the moment Jisung put out the joint on the dark wood flooring which probably was a huge fire hazard but did either of you care in the moment? No. 

The kiss was passionate coming from the tremendous amount of sexual tension in the air. Jisung veiny hand cupped your blushing cheek for a second before it snaked around the back of your neck, pulling you deeper into the wet sloppy kiss. You broke the kiss for a moment to stand up and Jisung did the same but only for a moment as you were pushed down against the unmade bed. It smelled just like him. The substances he was smoking accentuated his natural smell because of course it wasn’t just weed but tobacco as well. You remembered the countless times he had been smoking a cigarette with his friends outside the college department and the momentary eye contact the two of you made before you hurried off to your other classes. It always seemed like his gaze lingered on you even as you walked away. 

You landed with your hands beside your head. As Jisung hovered above you he held both of your hands in his, pinning you to the bed. The wet patch in your panties was growing simply by seeing him on top of you. He leaned down to kiss you once again, biting so hard on your bottom lip that it almost drew blood. The two tongues fought for dominance but the second his hand crept underneath your sweatshirt you lost, a low whine escape your mouth in defeat. Your heads twisted as the makeout session got a slow but steady pace. His hand was warm but more substantial than you though against your boobs which he squeezed harshly through your white bra. Involuntarily your hand grabs a fist of his hair making him smirk against the kiss.

“Desperate babygirl?” he coaxes you. 

“Desperate to get this over with so we can work on the project” you answer inbetween kisses.

“I think you have a much bigger problem to worry about” he growled and looked down for a split second.

As if the smoke wasn’t enough this just added fuel to the fire, both to the deep red color your cheeks were stained with and the wetness in your panties. His clothes were off in a blink and before you knew it he was pulling away yours as well, leaving you with nothing but your slightly embarrassing pink panties that were decorated with a small animal print. 

“Aren’t you adorable?” he cooed at you as his hand trailed down your torso and plummeted into your panties. 

“Shut up-ahh” your attempt of trying to bring his cocky attitude failed once again when he brutally entered two fingers into your sopping cunt. You couldn’t help but to moan as he started to pump his digits inside of you obviously enjoying the sight of the good girl being demolished beneath his touch. When he started to circle your clit with his thumb you held on to his wrist, digging your nails into his skin in order to stop a loud moan. Jisungs fingertips grazed your g-spot and by this point your small whines turned into breathy moans. 

“I though you didn’t like me?” he said arrogantly.

“I don’t” you tried to keep your composure even though his fingers felt so good inside of you. 

“Judging by your wet cunt you seem to like me very much, babygirl” he said while grabbing a fistful of your hair. You couldn’t argue because if you really hated him why were you so desperate to have his length inside of you? 

Jisungs fingers pulled out of you, your juices covered his digits and as his fingers got closer to your face you opened your mouth and sucked them clean. He harshly pulls you up by your hair, now sitting on the edge of the bed as Jisung stands infront of you. His dick had both girth and length which made your mouth water by just the sight. The red tip was decorated with a bead of precum and as he still held your hair he put the tip against your lips. Instantly you started sucking him off. First you kitten licked the tip of his immense dick being a bit afraid of his size but Jisung got impatient and yanked you by your hair once again, making you take him fully in your mouth and choking. Your eyes burned as they teared up but that didn’t stop you from sucking him off, hollowing your cheeks and bobbing your head profusely. He didn’t seem too impressed though. 

“I think I found one thing babygirl can’t do. Sucking dick” he grinned as he looked you deep in the eyes for a second before he bucked his hips into your mouth and facefucked you. His length hit the back of your throat everytime he fucked into you but you were to busy looking at his perfect face. Those sinful grunts that came out from his mouth made you rub your thighs in desperation. How could someone you hated look so ethereal with his dick in your mouth? The way sweat beads formed around his temple and coated a couple of those light brown streaks. The way his big hand held your hair tightly and most importantly those sounds. Those lewd sounds that rolled off his tongue. 

He rolled his head back and then looked back at you, catching you staring at him. 

“No I definitely think babygirl likes me. Those loving eyes don’t lie” he uttered, staring at you and stroking a piece of your hair behind your ear. 

As he pulled out you caught your breath and coughed a for bit before you scooted back on the bed, dragging Jisung by his hand which landed him on top of you once again. He seperated your legs with his knee and lined himself up with your entrance before slowly pushing into you. His girth with the slow movement made you roll your eyes back, the feeling of being filled made you content. 

“Fuck...you feel so tight” he said, brows furrowed as he started to slowly push in and out of you. You wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him into a kiss to muffle your moans. The pace steadily increased as you bit his bottom lip while kissing, returning the favor from before that contributed to your swollen lips. When the kiss broke a string of spit seperated your lips as the both of you panted from the thrusts that were becoming more aggressive. You moaned as you gripped onto the bedsheets upon which your knuckles whitened. Jisungs noises turned you on crazily but when he snaked his hand around your neck you could only whine in response. He choked you and held you pinned down stopping you from squirming away.  The other hand was circling your clit which only heightened the pleasure, eyes rolling back into your skull. A squeak erupted from the bed everytime Jisung pounded into your soaked cunt but that wasn’t the only sound. The both of you moaned in unison which fit the sound of skin slapping that was filling the room. You tightly shut your eyes trying to silence a moan but opened them soon after, meeting Jisungs brown orbs. His lids were low from the blunt smoke but that only gave his arrogant attitude a boost. 

You could feel that he was near by the way his dick twitched inside of you. Feeling cocky you decided to clench against his length which also pushed you closer to your own release. He was clearly getting pissed and leaned down to your neck, sucking purple marks onto it which would be impossible to cover up. You whined and squirmed as you needed to go to school tomorrow and couldn’t bear the strange looks from others when your neck was covered in bruises. 

“That’s what you get for clenching around me like a little slut” he growled against your neck as you clenched around him once again earning a moan from him. Now he was getting really close and so were you. His thrusts got harder but sloppier, your boobs bouncing with the pace. You clenched around him one last time and that was the trigger for Jisungs release. The vein on his neck popped up to the surface as his jaw hanged open. Your cunt filled with his warm load which made you cum grip tightly on anything beside you. The both of you rode out the orgasm which made your legs shake and spine bend up from the mattress. Eventually Jisung pulled out leaving you feeling empty with his white cum dripping out of your hole. He layed beside you and panted, chest heaving. You layed there in silence for a minute, only the sound of heavy breathing could be heard in the dark evening. Deciding to clean up the mess he had made you stood up causing the cum to leak down your unstable leg but before you could take a step Jisung grabbed your soft hand and pulled you down onto the bed again. You looked at him in confusion. 

“You weren’t planning on leaving me without any cuddles?” he said with a slightly whining voice.  

You couldn’t believe what you heard. Before another thought could cross your mind you were already snuggled up in his arms, your head against his heaving chest. It was cozy and you felt safe despite that you barely knew him. You stroked his cheek gently as you observed his perfect facial features. Sure, his attitude could use some work but his face had a flawless charm. 

“We should study more often” he muttered against your hair as he kissed you on your head. 

Even if the caring boy was high off his rockers your heart fluttered at his words. You blushed as you snuggled closer to his chest, falling sound asleep in his grasp. 

#stray kids smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids fanfic #stray kids drabbles #stray kids reactions #skzsmut #skz smut #skz fanfic #skz x y/n #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x reader #stray kids x stay #jisung smut #han smut #han x y/n #jisung x you #jisung x reader #jisung x y/n #han x reader #kpop smut

[futurewriter2000]

Okay, I know this is going to get probably a lot of defensive comments that I will probably not care to read but I've been thinking and I don't know... I wanna post it. So fuck it.

The thing I never understood, was smoking. Since I was a kid, I grew up with my parents smoking and since then I told myself that I will never smoke in my entire life. I always asked my dad, why he smokes and he never answered me... except like sometimes he annoyed mumbled "It calms me down." which to my 9 year old self felt the most wtf answer ever.

I was like... okay? What calms me down is music and a walk through the park and a book and writing and art and going on a coffee with friends and getting that vitamin D from the sun.... And my mom stopped smoking but my sister started smoking and my mom always nagged my dad and my sister and then I got naggy as well but now I really don't care if somebody smokes or not. Like it's their body, they can do whatever they want with it.

It was so funny when one day at work, everybody were like on a smoke break and I was there too because everybody I know smokes and well, I don't mind if they do. I just wanna hang. And they all asked me like. "Aren't you tempted to smoke? Like since all of us are smoking? Aren't you tempted at all?"

And I was like... "Nooo... I mean, I don't mind you guys smoking."

"But you are a passive smoker."

"Not by choice."

And everybody was like. Oh, man. I don't think I could ever be in a group of smokers and not smoke. And I was like, why not? Like what's the point of smoking anyway? - I asked them and one of them goes.

"What's the point of you not smoking?"

And I was like...."The fucking obvious reasons. I never got the need to smoke. I have all this air and I'm gonna inhale burnt tobacco?"

"You smoked weed tho?"

"Like twice in two years together and weed is different."

"Don't you like weed."

"I do but not that I would smoke it every day or like daily or like make it a habit."

"Why not?"

I don't know how I could explain to somebody that I just don't want to fucking smoke. And it's not because I am afraid or that it stinks (even though disgusting smell) but I just... I don't see the fucking logic in it. It's like, and this sounds really blunt and rude, but like people who smoke for no reason at all are so stupid to me. And I'm not saying they are stupid. Like a lot of smokers are smart and intelligent as hell but like it's stupid when it comes to smoking.

And every smoker that I had met, were like; I can stop whenever I want to stop. Yeah, but you don't want to stop because you're addicted. And everybody would deny that they're addicted. They know it's bad, they know it's just throwing away money and their health but they don't care.

Which is what pisses me off. Like I don't care if you smoke but if you're somebody close to me and I see you smoke and I'm like okay, everybody has flaws, whatever. It doesn't make me love you less and I am not about to lecture a person about quitting that shit or not quitting that shit. Like they know they're throwing away their health and money and that they don't want to smoke but they do because they want to and that it calms them down and blah blah blah. I get that they have their own reasons and excuses to smoke but I don't know... sometimes I see their mentality weaken.

Like a problem occurs in their life and their first solution is to go smoke. They're hungry- go for a smoke to destroy their apetite instead of making themselves food. They're mad- go for a smoke because they can't deal with the problem head on. They're bored- go for a smoke or two. They're happy, smoke. They're tired, smoke. They sit on a bench with a nice view, smoke.

And I guess, I will never understand that mentality, ever. I don't want to understand that kind of mentality. I actually find smoking aesthetically pleasing and when a guy I like smokes, I fucking enjoy the smell of it but I had always seen what smoking does to a person. When you're young and smoking, there isn't much of the consequences that you see but smokers usually feel it. Like how tired their body feels, their throat is usually scratchy, they can't go up a hill without getting so exhausted so fast (Tho not all. My smoker friend almost ran up the hill without getting tired) but then it starts to show in their apparence, which I won't get into because everybody knows where it shows (rotting teeth, yellow/grey-like skin, eyebags, sunk cheeks, tired eyes...).

I just hate it so much because I just see how smoking ruins a person through life because I think that nicotine fucks up smoker's brain so much that it convinces them that the solution to their problem is to smoke; to inhale that shit into their lungs and then think "Well, I'm gonna die anyway." and that's the sort of mentality that I see in so many smokers. That mentality that they smoke and they subconsciously realise they are ruining their health and they just go into those depths of sadness and hopelessness. I don't hate smokers. I don't mind smokers at all. I care about smokers- it just pisses me off that they don't care about themselves. Which is really not my problem tbh but sometimes it is so hard to watch them get so weak.

#it's so confusing #I know #lmao

[poisxnyouth]

bad influence dave part 6 (d.d)

A/N: hey whores!!! enjoy this. it’s a good one! i’m very proud of it. as always, let me know what you think of it. spark up a conversation about something in it with u and i’ll give u a big ol smooch. i love you and thank you for reading <33 -hailey

WC: 3.35K

David is sitting in the pews with you during Mass, arm draped around the back of your seat as one of your brothers, next to you, discreetly slips a wad of cash into David’s dangling hand. He removes his arm from around you, fingers quickly counting the amount – seventy dollars for seven grams, split between Mark and Matthew – and reaches into his breast pocket. David passes you the two miniature pill bags, each containing an eighth of an ounce, and watches as you quietly place them in Mark’s hand. 

 David casually rests his arm on the back of the pew again, eyes scanning the cathedral warily for any witnesses. He does more business at church than he’d like to admit – which is of your doing, not his. The list no longer begins with Michael and ends with Mark; his clientele has amassed, and a good chunk of his dealings are done after church. You and David meet people as they are heading to post-Mass breakfast in places throughout the city, forcing him to leave large amounts of weed in his car unattended. He doesn't like it, and fears getting searched by dogs, causing David to quadruple seal the amount of weed he intends to sell.

 The night before, Saturday evening, he weighs everything out, separates it for each person, puts it all in one colossal Ziploc, and puts the Ziploc inside of another one. Four times. These bags have earned the chief title of his weed Russian dolls, and David seals up the final plastic bag by wrapping it tightly in duct tape. It’s a grueling process, and he hates that he has to do it.

 You and David deal afterwards, mint toothpicks in rotation as he makes his pit stops, replacing the ideal cigarette his fingers are desperately itching for. Part of him has a desire to quit his horrible habit; maybe get prescribed Chantix, switch to Nicorette, anything else he could possibly do — but every time he thinks too deeply about it, he instantly changes his mind.

 David likes the routine of it all; he likes the purchase of the Camels, heartily tapping the bottom of the plastic wrapped pack against the dirty gas station counter as he glances down at the scratch offs and slides his debit card through the reader. He likes hopping in the car and rolling his window down, unwrapping the new pack and opening the top. He can smell the crisp scent of the tobacco at the mere thought of a new box, and he likes the tight wiggle of the first cigarette as he tugs it out. He likes tearing out the little foil at the top for easier access later down the line, and he likes flipping his lighter open loudly, thumb rolling the spark wheel and bringing the tip of his cigarette to the flame. He likes the smell of the smoke, and he likes the feeling of his lungs filling up as he takes the first drag. He likes how the scent infiltrates his clothing, his hair, his skin – many people despise it, but it's his favorite. It’s a distinct red flag of the addiction he has a soft spot for, the one he wouldn’t want to give up, for others to see and judge him upon. He doesn’t mind it and doesn't care for their opinion; it is something many people hate themselves for, but he takes pride in it. He loves that he smokes. 

 You don't know the extent of it, but he feels this way about sex, too.

 David takes you on expensive dates at opulent restaurants, and he swears he feels his eyes zero in every time you take a sip of the dry merlot he ordered for you, your suggestive gaze peeking at him over the rim of the glass. He attempts to not pay attention to the way your lipstick has tainted the edge of it, momentarily considering the image of what those specific lipstick prints would look like at the base of his dick. He tilts his head to the side as he watches you wipe politely at your lips after taking a sip, blush coming to your cheeks at whatever provocative joke he had just made. He hates lipstick, but adores the mess it leaves behind, depending on the night, the dress, and the purse. Sometimes he has trouble getting a deep plum out of the collar of his dress shirt; a delicate and innocuous pale pink blended into the skin on his chest; or — his favorite — a deep scarlet smeared down his first two, maybe three, fingers as he slides them slowly into your mouth, last knuckle tucked in as you give him doe eyes. 

 He even likes when he wakes up the next morning hungover, bowtie still hanging around his neck and dress shirt unbuttoned as he looks in the mirror, a ruby red smeared across his mouth and cheeks from the night prior. He likes peeking over at you out of the bathroom door, knocked out in his bed and still in your dress, with the same red smear evident across your face. 

 David has no desire at all, but also every desire on the planet, to have sex with you. You’re too clean — it makes him nervous.

 He hints at this fact over dinner one week when the subject of sex comes up as he nurses a whiskey sour in a stout glass, waiting for your food, “I roughen you up…”

 “And I let you roll around in the dirt for a while,” David continues, eyes glued to yours as he takes a sip and smacks his lips, “But you go home and you rinse it all off, and I start all over the next day, and the next day after that.” 

 You stare at him with big eyes, not saying anything. He opens his mouth to speak again, placing his cup down on the cocktail napkin and sliding it around in a fidgety manner, “I want you to let it sink in, and let it stain.”

 You nod at his command, reaching for his glass and taking a liberal sip. Your lipstick stains it. “What if sex is the way to make it all stay?”

 David pauses, scoffing slightly, “It could be. Honey, you go to church twice a week. You bless yourself at every turn.” 

 “How do you even picture it?” He asks curiously, leaning forward, “Like every teenage girl? Candles around the bed? Romantic sex with your beau?”

 You don’t answer him, taking a long swallow of your wine, and he continues, shaking his head, “I can promise you right now, sweetheart – if that's what you’re hoping for, you won’t be getting it.” 

 “Does it matter how I want it?” you reply, playing his game, “What do you want?”

 “I want to chew you up and spit you out,” David replies easily, signaling for your waiter, “Do this again.”

 “But I’m not going to,” he rejects, fiddling with his gold cufflinks, “Just know that I want to.”

 “What does that mean?” you ask him, “Give me details.” 

 “I see you right here and right now, dressed in my money and my hustle. That dress is so tight that you wiggle side to side when you walk, and you could barely sit down in the booth earlier. I think about taking you to the Waldorf – up a few streets, and over a few streets, by Lake Shore – getting us a room, and having my way with you all night.” 

 “Why a hotel?” 

 His second drink comes, cutting him off before he begins. David takes a long sip, eyes not tearing away from you, “Because you walk out with the same things you walked in with. We get to do that little messy walk of shame all the way back home to Wilmette on the train, and you finally feel like the whore you’ve always been. You will find something out, my love — your God,” he pauses slightly, “can do anything and everything but pull the slut out of you, sweetheart.” 

 “You’ve thought about this a lot,” you respond, finishing your glass of wine, “Why don't you?”

 “Don’t tempt me.”

 “I know there must be more,” you state, watching as David fills your glass again with the bottle on the table, a silent beckoning to continue drinking with him. “Go on.”

 “Why ruin the surprise?” He asks, speaking too duplicitous for him to not have something hidden under his sleeve, tainted by his guise of promiscuity. “I know you think about it too.”

 “Yours are better,” you tell him, urging him to continue, “Hearing you talk about it means seeing how you look at me when you speak.” 

 David pauses, taking another swig and meeting your eyes, “I want to unzip that dress as slowly as I can; so slowly that you just beg me to get it off you. Self-control is the one thing I have that you never will. I can’t share that with you.” 

 “And I see that little crucifix of yours always staring right at me, meaning more to you than me, and for a split second, I feel a little guilty. You do your time and your due diligence; you go to church every Sunday, pray every day and night, all of that. But then…,” he trails as he looks away, shaking his glass and listening to the ice slide around.

 “I think about you afterwards,” he meets your eyes again, “Messy. You asked for it but didn't know what it would entail, or when you feel bad that you enjoyed how I made you feel. Better yet, when you’re kneeling at the side of the bed on your bruised knees — evidence from me — praying for absolution and salvation.”

 “...But?” you ask quietly, clinging to his every word.

 “But…” David continues, taking another casual sip and speaking slowly, “It’s too late. The damage is done. I get to see you do that, and I get the satisfaction of knowing that I just ruined your life.” 

 “I’ve always said that I want you to, though,” you quip, “And you’ve always said that you want to. If that's the answer to keeping me…” you roll your eyes at the word you’re about to say, blush coming to your cheeks, “dirty, then do it. I’m a big girl; I can handle it. I dare you.”

 “I would jump your bones right now if I could,” David swears shamelessly, “Think about all of the hoops we’ll have to jump through. The food, the check, getting to the hotel, booking the room…”

 “We don't need to eat,” you offer, “Let’s finish our drinks, pay, and leave.” 

 “I should've known that you’d be impatient,” he says, “You’re going to be drunk off your ass if you keep going, sweetheart. I don't like the ethics of where this is going. I’m still fine.”

 “Then you have another drink,” you give him a solution, “Or however many it’ll take for you to get like me and keep talking to me. I’ll cut you off when your words are slurring.”

 “Your words are slurring, baby,” he shakes his head, sliding the orange slice off the cocktail pick and dropping it into the liquor. David removes the Maraschino cherry and passes it to you, staring as your teeth tug it from the stem.

 He makes a soft noise at the sight, and bites at his lips when you slip the stem past your lips, speaking, “Don’t tell me you know how to do that shit.” 

 Seconds pass and David continues staring as he finishes his drink, eyes trained on your mouth before the knot emerges and you drop it on his cocktail napkin. He exhales and drops his voice, “I will bend you over this table right now.” 

 He motions for the waiter, “Change of plans – no food for us. Water and a lemon drop for her, and I’ll switch to a Manhattan.”

 “You know, every cocktail is twenty bucks,” you say, watching him play with the band of his watch, “The wine was-”

 “Don’t count the tab, sweet girl,” David shakes his head, refocusing his attention on to you, “I don't even look anymore. Neither should you. Price doesn't matter.”

 The drinks come moments later, and he continues, “I’m cutting you off after this. You’re drunk.”

 "Keep talking,” you giggle, eyes on his, “Your voice is sexy, and I like hearing what you want to do to me.” 

 "You don't know what you're in for,” David says casually, dunking the cherry into the liquor before passing the cocktail pick to you, listening to the delicate noise of your teeth scraping the metal while you take it into your mouth. “I might make you walk to the hotel just so I can see that sway of your hips. I love that dress you're wearing; the bow on the back makes you look like my little present. What else will Santa bring me this December?”

 “You’re so cocky,” you comment offhandedly, “Not everything is for you.”

 “You and I both know that’s not true. Quit lying,” he shakes his head again, laughing slightly, “Don’t tell me you don’t think about it every day.”

 You feel yourself flush as you drink more, still attempting to decide if it’s from the alcohol or his words before he speaks again, slutty drawl, “Look at you! I haven’t seen you this red since we first met. Cute ass.”

 “What can I say,” you shrug, embarrassed, “You’re sexy.”

 David leans forward interestedly, forearms resting on the table, “Am I?” 

 You nod sheepishly before he continues, eyes on yours, “Your napkin is on your lap?” 

 You nod again, now confused, but David clarifies his motive, ordering in a low voice, “Slip your hand up your dress, under your napkin, and tell me how wet you are.”

 “Make your next drink a double and it’s a deal,” you offer, thighs pressing together as you already obey him, playing off your rebellion.

 “Don’t bargain with me,” he shakes his head, eyebrows scrunching together, “Do as I say, or the only place we’ll be going tonight is back home.”

 He watches your face deliberately as you listen to his demand, eyeing the way you take your lips between your teeth, “Stop touching yourself, you whore. We’re in public.” 

 You stop, embarrassed, and he continues after finishing his third drink, “I made reservations here just for you to cancel the food, beg for sex and touch yourself under the table. Why do I try to take you anywhere nice?”

 David’s drinks are hitting him, now, and before you can reply to him, he’s motioning for the waiter again, “The check and another Manhattan for me. Can someone get us a cab? I think it’s obvious we’re in no shape to drive.” 

 “Yes, sir,” he says, looking between you, “Where are you headed?”

 “Waldorf Astoria,” David replies, “Thank you so much.”

 David finishes his drink once it's on the table, fingers reaching for the check. He doesn't flinch at the steep price and tips well, nearly fifty percent, and puts three hundred-dollar bills on the table after removing his money clip from his pocket. 

 The cab is dirty, as they all are, and David instantly tugs you into his lap, groaning softly, “You smell so good.” 

 You giggle slightly and attempt to undo the top button of his dress shirt, fiddling with it until it's undone and untying his bow tie. His palms reach around and squeeze at your ass through your dress as you plant kisses down his chest, marking your man until the lipstick prints run clear. 

 He kisses you, now, tongue sliding against yours and making a drunken noise of satisfaction, “You want this?”

 You nod against him, his hands gripping your waist and you kiss David again, “Yes. I dare you.” 

 “Be careful what you wish for, sweet girl,” he pushes your hair from out of your face as you drown in skyscrapers, tugging you closer by your chin, “We’re getting a suite, and I’m fucking you on every surface possible. Don’t say no.”

 ++

 Too much liquor in David’s system turns him into an even bolder character, and you’re both drunk as you lean against the receptionist counter at the Waldorf Astoria, attempting to book a suite. 

 The all-too-patient receptionist tells him a price — more than you would ever pay for a hotel room — and David reaches into his pocket for his money clip. He quickly counts it out and she shakes her head, but you’re already too disinterested and don’t bother paying attention. Five minutes later, he’s lacing your fingers together and tugging you through the lobby, impatiently pressing the elevator button numerous times. 

 “Jeez,” you comment, eyeing the lipstick print peeking out of his rebuttoned dress shirt, “Someone’s antsy.”

 “You’re a fucking tease,” David excuses, pulling you inside and hitting the button for your floor, “My dick’s been hard since the restaurant. It’s all I can think about.” 

 He kisses you until the elevator pings, still tasting of liquor and the cigarette he smoked in the courtyard, “I love you.”

 You repeat it as he leads you by your waist to the room, watching the sway of your hips and the little bow flounce with every step you take. David doesn't know how this took him so long.

 He quickly slides the key in and out of the reader, opening the door for you and allowing you to walk in. David instantly shuts the door and presses you up against it, wrapping your legs around his torso as he kisses at your neck sloppily. Your fingers from both hands find the length of his bow tie, tugging his head up and attaching your mouths. You move to hastily unfasten the buttons of his shirt, untucking the garment from his pants. David blindly shrugs off his jacket and his shirt, carelessly dropping the items to the floor as you kick off your heels. 

 You feel his fingers tug slightly at the zipper of your dress before stopping himself, relocating his hands to your ass and pushing you forward into him. You both make a noise at the friction into each other's mouths, giggling slightly and urging David to quickly turn you around, bending you over against the door and pressing your face against it. 

 “Should I take these off or are you matching? Don't wanna miss that,” he slides his touch upwards and hooks his fingertips into the sides of your underwear, leaning over and cross necklace dangling. 

 “I’m matching,” you reply before he murmurs an incoherent response, pushing your dress up and sliding your underwear to the side in place of tugging them off. 

 “Mmm,” David mumbles at the sight, spreading you slightly before slowly putting his mouth on you. His hands hold your thighs apart as he drunkenly works, eyes closed. 

 “Are you gonna fuck me right here?” you ask him, words slurred as he stops his movements, standing and spinning you back around.

 “D’you want me to?” David replies, hands resting delicately on your waist as he presses gentle kisses back down your neck with a different kind of sensual candor.

 “Fuck yes,” you nod, eyes closed, “But get this dress the fuck off of me.” 

 “I told you so,” David responds cockily, reaching up near the nape of your neck and slowly tugging at the zipper, “Did I not?”

 “You did,” you nod again, feeling the air slowly hit your back as he undoes it as deliberately as possible. You take it upon yourself to reach down and begin unbuckling his belt, undoing the top button and unzipping him. 

 He doesn't stop you, hitting the bottom of your zipper as you tug his dick out and spit in your hand, beginning to work him over. David makes a noise and pushes the sleeves of your dress over your shoulders, forcing you to momentarily stand. It pools at your feet before he’s propping you against the door again, arms wrapped around your torso.

“We’re drunk,” he comments, kissing you sloppily, “What’re you so tense for? Relax.”

#david dobrik #david dobrik imagine #david dobrik imagines #david dobrik fanfic #david dobrik fanfiction #david dobrik fic #david dobrik fics #david dobrik fiction #david dobrik x you #david dobrik x reader #david dobrik x y/n #david dobrik x oc #david dobrik x o/c #david dobrik au #vlog squad #vlog squad imagine #vlog squad imagines #vlog squad fanfic #vlog squad fanfiction #vlog squad fic #vlog squad fics #vlog squad fiction #vlog squad x you #vlog squad x reader #vlog squad x y/n #vlog squad x oc #vlog squad o/c #vlog squad au #ENJOYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

[writtenwhalien]

53, 91, 92, 99 😋

hellooo anon! ☺️❤️

53. opinion on smoking?

I wouldn’t say I hate it, but I don’t like it either. (I’ve never smoked and I wouldn’t). I think it’s really unnecessary especially with the health problems it causes.

91. have you ever been high?

so I kinda lied above lol — I’ve smoked weed and I’m pretty sure there’s tobacco in that but I don’t smoke weed/anything regularly guys! 😂😂 it was one time (I was in Amsterdam soooo I just had some fun w my friends 😂).

answering the question properly, yes, I’ve been high. I only smoked once in Amsterdam and I took edibles a few times. idk if this is with all weed but smoking it was stronger and after like half an hour I hated how I felt. but any time I have edibles, I’m super chill and wavy (once or twice I’ve had a bad high from edibles but hey I used that experience and it helped me write the prequel drabble of post blue 😂).

92. have you ever been drunk?

not drunk, but tipsy i guess ? I don’t drink though, it was just one time although I wouldn’t be opposed to doing it again, I just wouldn’t wanna get drunk bc it doesn’t seem nice, maybe tipsy/buzzed. (I have a friend who has offered to come w me bc he drinks all the time and says he’ll look after me so I’ll see if I want to 😂)

99. what is your zodiac sign?

pisces ☺️

send me an ask! 💘

#anon #ask game

[mae-tuck-drives-a-minivan]

crutchie!jesse (au collab event)

It was never about the water. 

It was 1808. Jesse Tuck was seventeen. He carved a T on an ancient tree, a deep-rooted tree, a vengeful tree. The tree spirit cursed them all: let them carve their mark as deep and long as they could. Let them tumble across the face of the earth, rootless and deathless, until they learned their lesson.

It was 1893. Jesse Tuck was seventeen. Winnie Foster was eleven. He gave her a vial of water, uncertainty bubbling in his gut. Miles and Ma and Pa had warned her about the cost of eternity, but he saw the gleam in her eyes. She was like him; if her mother allowed her a pocket-knife she would have marked every fence-post and tree-trunk in town. He had no hope that she had learned from their mistake, but the water was rightfully hers, so he set out to find every place in the world that would make immortality seem like a blessing. If you never stopped moving it was almost okay.

It was 1899. Jesse Tuck was seventeen. So was Winnie. He was in New York City, trying not to think about their reunion. It could wait, he told himself as he pushed through the crowds, thick with the smell of sweat and tobacco. If he didn’t know she had drunk the water, it was like she hadn’t, and they both still had a chance, for a few more days, or weeks, or months. For now.

He surveyed the Brooklyn Bridge from the roof of a nearby building, nodding with satisfaction, and added it to his growing sightseeing schedule, between the Statue of Liberty and that deli with the excellent salami sandwiches. It would be a good decade before the novelty of eternal life wore off. It was the best he could do.

Jesse folded the paper, its creases worn soft, and shoved it in his pocket. The sun was sinking, stretching long grey shadows across the rooftops. He gauged the distance to the rusting fire escape of the nearby building. Miles would chew him out for jumping, but he hardly thought twice, flinging himself through the air. His fingers scrabbled against the metal, slipping. For a second, he clung to the twisted metal lip of a step; then, with a resigned sigh, he fell like a stone.

He didn’t flinch until he hit the ground. His legs hit the concrete and crunched. He’d never heard a sound like that. A wall of pain slammed him, as solid as the ground he’d hit, blazing through every nerve. He lay on his back, gasping for air, unable to rise. The sky was purple overhead. One foot was twisted; the other broken, for sure. He hadn’t broken a bone in ninety-two years. Realization flashed like lightning through the daze of pain. She’d done it. Winnie had refused the water and lifted the curse from them all. The curse was gone.

He began laughing. He was mortal. He was mortal again and he’d already managed to get himself stuck alone in sketchy alley with a broken leg. His head was pounding, but he couldn’t stop laughing. It was worth it. Maybe his brain wasn’t even processing the pain correctly; his hands were scraped and stinging and his eyes watered but all he could think was I’m free, I’m free, I’m free.

“Kid, you might not wanna hang-- are you okay?”

He turned his head to see a boy standing in the alley opening. Jesse was suddenly aware of how bad this must look-- his legs twisted, his arms bleeding, with tears slipping down his cheeks. He laughed again. This time it sounded more like crying. The boy’s look of concern intensified. His head throbbed. “I’ve been better,” he sniffled.

“You look like you need a hand,” said the boy, kneeling beside him.

“Maybe some crutches, too,” Jesse said. 

“You’re not walking on that leg for a good week, crutch or no. Do you have a place to stay?”

He winced. “Not that I can get to right now.”

“Wait here,” the boy said, and he disappeared from sight. Jesse stared at the sky. The first stars were appearing. Hundreds of miles away, night would be falling over Winnie. It was fall in Tree Gap, and the wind from the woods would be crisp and lovely. She had chosen not to drink. She had put down roots there, among the colored leaves and white fences and endless starry nights. He felt pride swell beneath the pain. She deserved everything good that life offered.

The cold air and cold ground sapped the warmth from his aching limbs. He could die here, he realized, the thought running like a shiver through his body. He could just lie here and wither away, like a weed pulled and cast aside. He closed his eyes, imagining each sight he’d seen and step he’d walked turning to ash on the stirring evening wind.

And then his eyes snapped open again at the sound of footsteps. The boy was back, looking determined, flanked by two more kids. “You still there, crutch? Specs here is gonna tie your legs up good and tight, then we’ll get you somewhere safe to sleep.” Almost before he knew what was happening, both of Jesse’s legs were splinted and one arm bandaged, and then the three boys lifted Jesse like he was as light as a baby, carrying him to a dilapidated lodging house a few streets over. By the time the moon rose over the roofs, shiny as a new coin, he sat on a bottom bunk, wrapped in a moth-eaten blanket and full of warm broth.

The boy that had found Jesse made his way around the room, counting heads and settling disputes and ruffling hair. Jesse grabbed his sleeve as he passed.

“I never heard your name.”

Caught off guard, the boy answered “Jack-- Jack Kelly.”

“Thanks, Jack. For bringing me here.” With a bemused nod, Jack continued his rounds. Jesse eased himself onto his back. The mattress was lumpy, the air stunk of cigar smoke, and shouts from the street mixed with chatter inside the room-- and he felt completely, utterly happy. He could live like this. He could put down roots here.

In the morning, he’d see if he could find a pair of crutches.

It was 1900, and Jesse Tuck finally turned eighteen.

---

Make sure to check out my LOVELY partner, @fleetwoodworm​‘s, artwork!!!

@tuck-everlasting-shitposts this was vv cool, thanks bruh

#tuck au collab #tuck everlasting #tuck everlasting fanfic #crutchie!jesse au

[birthdaylobotomy]

I Took It And I Ran

WIP                                                                                                                      Currently still very much in progress. However, I wanted to share this! 

CONTENT WARNING: Alcohol, drug use, violence, sexist/sexual language. In later parts there will be suicidal ideation, self harm, prostitution, sexual abuse,  homophobia and racist language among other thing. 

I do not share many of the ideologies my main character does. Remember- you are seeing this through the eyes of an angry kid in the early 90s. He says many things that are, in general, very bitter. 

@sec-lude, @misfitwings, @cohldhands, @smoke-the-woke and anyone else who wants to be put on/taken off the tag list let me know!!

With that out of the way, I hope you enjoy!!

CHAPTER ONE (Part One)

The first time I met Luke, I was at that house party Monica was throwing for her ugly friend Brittney. I don’t remember all of the details, mostly because I was completely and irreversibly hammered. I just know Britt was sad about something, probably her baby daddy not paying his support- he never did- and Monica, who knew everybody up and down the block, decided to throw a party. What can I say? Monica was great at making people forget their woes, until the next day and pounding hangover, of course. Monica, pretty Monica.

I remember the scene at least, the setup. Assad was ranting off to me about some dumb shit I didn’t care about, but I had to pretend to care because as long as he thought we were friends, I would get my weed cheap. Was I manipulative? Oh, for sure, but I didn’t care back then. I didn’t care about anyone.

“This bitch was all over me, I swear,” he sighed, doing the thing he always did, which was tug at my shoulder twice and clap his hands together when he caught my glare. “But, but, I knew I had a girlfriend. She knew too!”

I had already checked myself out mentally from what he was saying. It was always the same shit anyways. He would be dealing to a girl, and she would have no money, “No nothin’ but her body, and damn was her body rich!” And Assad, poor Assad, would be faced with the trial of either going ahead and having the fuck of his life, or staying loyal to his baby. His baby that he sure had the habit of cheating on.

“Yeah, yeah, this bitch- oh!” He cringed his face tight and smacked his hands together twice. “Her ass was so fucking fat, I almost had a- a seizure, just lookin’! My baby can’t find out, she won’t. I won’t let her.”

I nodded twice. I hated men who cheat, I still do. They are scumbags who deserve to be found out. Assad was no exception.

The party was packed. Monica’s parties usually were. Over 100 shady people, all squeezed into one tiny apartment. People who I had never seen, who’s scent I hadn’t even smelled yet. Everyone knew Monica though. If they hadn’t fucked her or her sister, then their boyfriend had. Despite this, everyone loved her.

The room stunk, and that was coming from a smelly punk who lived in early 90’s Detroit. Even my roomates, a former prostitute and her shithead boyfriend, smelled like a flower shop compared to the mess of people I was in. Assad didn’t seem to notice- he must’ve been high off his ass. His skin gleamed with sweat, and his afro seemed to be weighed down with gunks of stale perspiration. He wiped his face a few times and licked his lips constantly.

“Fuck, man,” Assad groaned, giving one last tug at my shoulder before swinging his head in the other direction. “I gotta go. Monica’s parties always end with someone either gettin’ cursed or killed or pregnant. I gotta go.”

I made no attempt to keep him at that party. Instead, I nodded in support of the concept. “Listen, man, if you need to leave, leave. I definitely wouldn’t blame ya,” I said, gesturing of the swarm of drunk criminals that buzzed everywhere I could see.

He bobbed his head three times, each time slower than the former. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Take care, white boy.” I sighed at his awkward goodbye- was it well meaning or an attempt at insult? I would never know or care. I nearly shoved him away, which I disguised with a rough pat on the back, and Assad quickly vanished into the crowd of rats.

Since I was alone, I decided now would probably be my only chance at a cigarette until some other phony friend would find it to be the right time to attack me with their personal crisis.

So, with nothing but a cheap pack a cigarettes and a half empty bottle of warm beer, I escape from the soup of musty kids and into the lukewarm night.

It was such a blessed night. And chilly, too. The raggedy holes in beat-up jeans soaked in the cold and made the skin on my knees prickle up underneath. I kept swinging around the bottle, my arm rubber, as I chucked it out into the street. Even my swaying, drunk eyes could see the glass explode like fireworks.

“Fuck.”

I didn’t even realize just how freezing it was until the vapor rose out of my mouth, like smoke from a dragon. I rubbed my hands against my naked arms and cursed the invention of wife-beaters.

I was mad. I had been for a long time, for a lot of different reasons. The most recent fuel to my fire was the fact that I had fallen bitterly in love with Monica. The queen of whores, sitting on a throne of the men she had fucked and left in the dirt. Pretty Monica, with her cherry red lips and big brown hair, her perky tits and squeaky voice.

I dug a cigarette out of my pocket. I didn’t know a single guy that wouldn’t get a hard on when Monica would wiggle her way into a room, spill a few tacky flirts and wiggle right back out. Something about her left guys, even ones who were damn well smart enough to know she was nothing more than polite slut, drooling after her and her tight little-

I couldn’t find my fucking lighter. My dead old jeans were ripped right through as I forced my hand through my pocket. It came out on the other side, the hole shredded and unfixable. I completely stopped for a long minute. My favorite pair of pants, torn but not in a way I could frame as being some punk bullshit.

“Oh, fuck off!” I grabbed whatever my hands could snatch- a nearly empty pack of smokes- and I flung it as hard as I could muster into the sidewalk. A few wandering crackheads were the only ones to notice as I stamped my heart out against the pack. Up and down I threw myself, until the pack was nothing but a flat stomped out pile of tobacco crumbs and mashed paper.

I stared at the ground. A pile of mediocre cigs, wasted.

Why was I so angry back then? I knew it was just more than Monica. I knew it, but it would have taken a gun or war to make me admit what it really was.

This block was a rough one. Buggy eyed homeless people, all high on dope and some other shit would always come swaying around corners, like feral dogs waiting to bite. Just walking to Monica’s apartment, only seven o’ clock, made me paranoid. The city was going through a great death those days. The auto industry had fled, racial tensions were so strung that you could cut them with a knife. I think everyone was angry, waiting to burst.

I stood there like some kind of scarecrow. I had no cigarettes and no beer. No knife either. As the sound of police sirens acted as a distant lullabye, I was reminded of that. I had left my blade at the apartment. I always did when I came to Monica’s place. The why was really dumb, but I just told anyone who would ask that if Gloria, my roommate, ever got into shit with her scumbag boyfriend, that my blade would save her life. Now that I think of it, she never used that blade, not once in her short life.

That’s when I saw- no, heard first- a man who I would come to know as Luke Evans.

It started with the pounding of his feet- an anthem against the black tar. I heard his sneakers slapping against the earth before I saw him. And when I saw him, I saw all of him.

His feet were a blur, he was running faster than anyone I had ever seen before- you know, if he had for whatever reason changed his life and poured his being into being some trackstar, he would have left Bolt in the dust.

His face- his face was filled with some primordial fear, something out of a nature documentary. His eyes distant but near, wide wide open but closed tight shut, peering. He bounced up and down as his feet touched and released the ground, and he sported an oversized jacket- like a little kid trying out his dad’s old coat. He sprinted with his arms, pumping almost as quickly as his legs did. When I made him out I stopped breathing. I wasn’t afraid of him. I don’t why I wasn’t, but for some reason, I immediately felt the urge to guard him from whatever beast he was escaping.

He ran straight, right through the center of the street. I was to his left- probably just a blur, a small mark on a large map of shadowy, red-brick row homes. But to me, Luke was something like an asteroid. A comet.

Ten more seconds. In a wild racing screech, blared honking and two blinding lights- the beast was revealed.

A truck, torn inside and out with big blocky bullet-holes, shredded to the point it could barely even be called a vehicle. What monsters in human bodies could have destroyed something so thoroughly? I began to sweat as it all came closer. Monsters that lived in each and every apartment as far as I could see.

This is when I, a twenty one year old child, brimming with rage and lust and depression, saw a decision, that I seemed destined from the day I was born to make. I saw the option more clearly that I had seen anything else up to that point. I could save this stranger, who had done something, something big and bad enough to cause that chase, and that anger. Or I could save myself. I could allow myself to continue this existence of standing to the side and nodding to get what I want. A life of putting in no effort, no care, no risk of change. A life that would keep me safe but miserable.

Of course, in that moment, it wasn’t laid out like that- I didn’t think of it that way. However, even young and dumb me knew I needed to do something.

So, in one of my few moments of selfless risk, I made the choice to save him.

It was swift- the flash of my arm thrusting out, the smudge of the darkness and Luke becoming one thing, and, of course, the look. The look we traded as this happened, as he had finally passed me on the street and I, a formerly minor distraction on the sideline, became a central figure. In that moment, I made myself almost as important as the car, with its headlights licking Luke’s heels.

As he looked at me, I swear to this day his baby blue eyes held no fear. He was confused, as anyone would be in that moment- but he wasn’t scared, at least not of me. I don’t know why.

I wonder what I looked like to him. He would never tell me. Maybe a hero. I like to think that at the very least. I fantasize and tell myself I had a manly shine and glimmer, my eyes determined and my mouth a fine line of focus. I wish I had asked him.

But in that moment, I wasn’t thinking of me. I wasn’t really thinking about Luke either, truthfully. In reality, I was thinking about the car.

The car, which screeched as it came closer, closer, a giant hulking monster that would kill me in an instant if I refused to move any longer. I sprang, my legs weak and bouncy but strong. Strong enough to leap across the small plot of grass in front of the building, my arm a leash and Luke barely connected. I spotted the bush- the bush that all of Monica’s drunk boyfriends would piss in, littered with cigarette butts and and wrappers and whatever other shit people would be too lazy to actually dispose of.

In that moment, that nasty fucking bush was a paradise- something sent from God himself to rescue me and this beautiful blonde criminal attached to my arm. I threw myself fully into it, the thin twigs popping and crackling as they snapped around us. Everything was so fast, so urgent, that the moment we sat the world came to jolting halt.

Silence.

We were as silent as two panting, terrified children could be. I could only hear the sounds of our bodies and the city then- the constant warning of police and their wail, the close hum of the party in the building right against the shrubbery, and the car. The car, wheezing and sputtering like an old man. Its engine coughed and spat below the hood. I could hear shouting- what did they say? They sounded angry, and dangerous. I put my hand instinctively over my mouth, and I tried to slow my breathing one trembling huff at a time. My eyes couldn’t help but stray to the person inches away from me.

The light of the car moved slow, slow. It winked at us, walked across our bodies, the shadows of the leaves that crossed us looking like spots of black against our persons. The glint was too powerful and in a moment of impulse, I turned my face. I saw Luke, not move, not even blink. The light gave him a holy glow, a halo. He did not look at me. He looked only at the truck.

It seemed to last a million years. When finally the shouting stopped, I heard something like a mumble, and then the tires screamed against the street, and the truck sped off and away.

Neither Luke nor I moved for a full thirty seconds. Nothing. The car was gone- it was truly gone. I had been the first to hint at our safety; I looked at him and couldn't help but smile, big, goofy and relieved. Out of the corner of his eye he assessed me cautiously, before finally turning to face me fully for the first time. When he did, the corner of his mouth was a boyish grin.

Even in the hidden darkness, his eyes twinkled like Christmas lights. I could make out his dimples that shined through his babyish cheeks. There was something so alien about that youth, and those eyes. I couldn’t help but feel myself fall in an exhausted but hearty laugh. And he started laughing too, and I remember so cleanly both us giggling and sobbing with this brilliant feeling of ease.

When we eventually were became too sore to keep dying over nothing, we fell quiet again. I noticed Luke move his head side to side, as if he were searching for something. I could only see the darkness of his silhouette. I looked at only him.

“This bush smells like urine,” he said. That brought me back to a level of reality. It did smell like piss- and drugs. And whatever nasty shit people has dumped into it.

“Fuck, let’s get out then.”

“Okay.” Both of us moved at once- Luke, not drunk like me, popped up out of the bush with a flurry of broken and dry leaves. He yanked me up without me having to ask. We both stood there, very close, the brier scratching at our waists. It took my slightly intoxicated sway to get us moving again.

When we were back in the clear, Luke looked over up and down the streets as he yanked up his pants and held his huge jacket closed. He didn’t explain anything, but instead looked to me and nodded with gratefulness. “Thanks, man. Really.” I told him no worries, and picked a few thorns out of my knees. “What’s your name?”

My head jerked up. This was the crossing of a great bridge. I hid my happiness by raking my hand through my mess of hair. “Ryder. You?”

With one hand clutching his jacket, he stuck out a small, twig-sliced hand. “Lucas Evans. My friends prefer Luke, though.”

Did I plan it? Did I do it on purpose? I like to think I didn’t, and that I either was too stupid to realize it- which is much more likely- or that it was fate somehow. The idea of me doing it consciously makes me cringe.

“Alrighty, Luke...We should probably go inside.” Without hesitation, I took and shook his offered hand.

And in that moment, I didn’t just cross the bridge, but I flew across it, not even thinking to look back. Just by changing a few minor letters and shedding an S this person, who I barely knew but had still saved, went from being a complete stranger who owed me to a friend.

I saw him look to the ground in- in what? In pleasure, embarrassment, childish joy? But when he looked back up his dimples dotted his cheeks grandly.

“You’re right. I don’t-” He peaked over his shoulder again, scratching the back of his head, “I don’t think it would be all that smart of me to go back into those streets.”

“No kiddin’,” I said, leading the way back to Monica’s cluttered party. “If you just stay here for a bit you’ll be fine.”

When I opened the door I was hit with pounding, pungent reminder of why I left in the first place. Girls caked with makeup and sweat, greasy punk boys shedding their shirts to try impress someone, anyone. I let out a heave of a sigh and turned to Luke with a flip-flopped expression. “Just so you know, be weary of everyone here. They aren’t good people.”

#i hope u guys enjoy #alchohal tw #drugs tw #violence tw #ok #wip #my wip #work in progress #i took it and i ran #lgbt writing #lgbt characters #um #punk #punk 90s #90s #oc #original content #original characters #original character #i hope u guys enjoy!! #ask to tag

[blackrosesfanfic]

Chapter 196

Next day

Cammie

I cried in the shower this morning. I cried changing Caden's diaper. I cried after crying because I couldn't believe I was crying. It's crazy even to me. Now I'm thinking about it and feeling like I'm going to cry.

"Jay, did you pack?" Trey asks. I sniff. "Jayla, come on, Love. You said you could do this. Why you making it hard?"

"I sorta think you don't have an attachment to our son."

He rolls his eyes. "We both know why it's easy for me and not easy for you. Has nothing to do with how much we love our son. Jayla it's not even that long. They only have enough breast milk for 48 hours. So it’s impossible for you to stay away for more than a day."

"48 is 2 days."

"They need extra in case of an emergency or theyre wasteful. So really about 30."

I sigh. "I can't be you."

He picks up a bag. "You don't have a dick, you short, and you cry too fucking much. You sure as hell can't be me. Are these your clothes?"

"I figured if it's a day, I won't need clothes."

"Jayla." he says sternly. "We are leaving in 2 hours."

I fall on the bed. "April is not even here."

"Rollie is taking them to April. You know that."

"I think my baby's first plane ride should be done with me."

"Exactly why we are leaving in 2 hours instead of at the end of the day. Cammie, you acting like a brat. We went over all of this. Were you crying too hard?"

I stand up and go get my bag out of the closet. "Maybe. I need some reason to say no."

"Camille! We are going..."

"Tremaine stop yelling." I snap.

He blows. "Im headed to the airport."

I come out the closet. "Already?"

"I can't be here with you going through... Whatever this is. What are you carrying?"

"My clothes." I say dropping the bag then kicking it. "Enough for 2 days."

"You have clothes in VA. 3 days."

I swat him off. "I can wear the same outfit."

He gets really mad. "No, the fuck you can't. What the fuck?"

"I... Whoa now. What is your problem?"

"You not married to no fucking clown. Ain't no way the wife of Trey Songz is going to be seen anywhere with an outfit she fucking wore two days before. What the fuck are you trying to do? Give the fucking blogs some A1 shit to fucking talk about? Fuck no. You put 4 fucking outfits in that bitch after talking like that."

I sit on the bed and cross my arms. "I don't want to go anymore."

"I can't believe that shit. I must be broke as fuck or fucking stingy as a bitch. Hell no."

"I have 3 outfits. Shut up." I say resting my head on the bed.

Trey grabs the bag then checks it. He goes back out of the door. I'm going to just sit here and cry again. I get out of bed to go get Caden so I can snuggle with him. I never usually bother him while he is sleeping.

"Aye, don't even try that nigga. When the last time a song of yours was played twice in the same day? Centuries ago. Back before Benjamin Franklin. He wasn't even a president."

"Why are you running your mouth in here?" I snap standing in front of Trey.

He laughs really hard then grabs my waist. "Not even. No. Aye, what's your name again?"

I push him off of me. He kisses my cheek really quick then he walks away laughing. He so fake. Ain't shit that funny on that phone. Him and his friends annoy me. They will go without talking for months then plan to do something and talk for hours in the days coming up to the event. I bet any amount of money he talking to J. Cole.

"Mommy." Lane cries.

"In there. Don't wake Caden up. Yo? Caden not big enough to talk... What?"

Lane stomps into the room. "Mommy." he says like he angry.

I turn to him. "Lane, how may I help you?"

"Nanma coming?"

"Rollie is taking you to Grandma."

He sticks as much of his head as he could into the rails of the crib. I push his face back. He could really get stuck like that. He falls out on the ground. No crying. No nothing. He just lies there. That fellow is a mess. I look at him until he looks at me. I raise my eyebrows then smile. He jerks his body away to hide his smile.

"You are so cute, Lane. I love you."

"Love you." he says.

He always forgets whatever is going on when I tell him I love him. He makes sure he tells me back. I pick Caden up out of the crib. Lane's face was right there watching. He was looking like I was doing wrong. He was waiting for Caden to cry. He was sure he would. I kiss Caden then take him to the rocking chair. Lane follows.

"Mommy, Nana coming?"

"Yes, Grandma April coming to the car to pick you and Caden up."

"Caden go to grandma house?" Lane asks worried.

I smile. "Yes."

He puts the blanket over Caden. "Caden. Caden sleep?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

I stare at him. "We not starting this. Since when do you ask Why?"

"Cause." he shrugs.

"Okay, Lane. Want to share my lap?"

He starts climbing. "Yes."

I put Caden on my shoulder and help Lane into my lap. He wanted to lay down as well. He didn't want to simply sit on my lap. I start rocking with both of them. Surprisingly, Lane lies there then he starts talking random ass talk. I don't know what he talking about. He not expecting an answer so I let him talk. Trey looks into the room then he grabs a bag by the door. I'm being a bad mom. I didn't pack nothing for either of the boys. Not one thing. Trey has done everything. I'm sure he had help from April.

"Ma, call her yourself. Why?" Trey sucks his teeth then appear back in front of the door. "Where is Caden's insurance card?"

"Why?" I snap.

He disappears. "Why? Cause what? Fuck if I know, April. Oh."

I chuckle. I know why. Just being a bitch. I don't want Caden or Lane to go. This is why it was a good thing for me to keep my baby to myself. I was worst with Lane. Hell I took my fucking infant to Europe. Who does that?

"Jay, just in case Caden needs to go to the doctor. Do we have one for Caden?"

"Is he on your insurance?"

Trey comes all the way in the room staring at me. "Jayla, stop. What do you use... Don't worry about it. I'll look online."

"It's in the baby bag already."

"I changed baby bags."

I raise my eyebrows. "Do you put the clear bag with fingernail clips and stuff back?"

"Yeah."

"Then it's in there."

"Why the fu... You could have said that." he shakes his head walking out. "I swear. The shit I deal with."

I rock my babies.

  Amber

"I have absolutely nothing to do."

"Why did you come to Chicago then?" Chris snaps scratching his balls in the middle of the floor.

I shake my head. "You are not cute."

He smells his hand then turn up his nose. "I'm not fresh either."

"Shut up."

"Why you came to Chicago? Tell me."

I lay back on the headboard. "I had something to do. I did it duh. Plus I wanted to surprise you, dumbass."

"Your ass lying."

"Christopher."

"Maurice Brown... Anything else your lying ass got to say?"

I laugh. "What are you talking about? I was thinking we smoke a blunt."

"What happened to you cleansing your damn body?"

"You know how hard it is to eat right and not drink or smoke?"

He shrugs then starts walking to the bathroom. "Cammie does it all."

I chuckle and cross my legs in the air. "Cammie is a perfect ass bitchy goody two shoes. I done said fuck her for a while. Anyway."

"But she does it." he snaps.

"Oh, shut up. Bitter." I say reaching to the end table where I had weed for him.

I scream. He had jumped on the bed scaring the shit out of me. I slap his side. He puts his hand over my face. I fight with him. It was hard as fuck to get his hand off of me. I scream thinking that would get him to get off me. He just laughs. I dig my nails into his side. He only moves out of the way. How the hell he can be so far away yet still touch me. I give up. He continues laughing.

"You smell my balls?"

"Awwwh." I scream fighting him again.

He laughs then moves. "You scared of a little dick and booty on your face?"

"You fucking nasty."

"Huh?" he says coming back to the bed.

I look at him then try to hide my face. It looks like this nigga wiped his hand under his stank ass balls again. He grabs my arm. I scream and kick him then jump off of the bed. He laughs really hard. He so dramatic. He holds his stomach and throws his head back. I run and jump on the bed then jump on him.

"Fuck!" he yells as we both hit the floor. "Bitch."

"Motherfucking bad ass bitch."

He tries to put his hand in my face again. I smack it out of the way. He drops it to the ground and take a deep breath. I fucking won. He puts his hand to his face then drop it again. He had put the blunt back in his mouth. I kiss his face as he lies there with the blunt between his lips. He chuckles.

"You still a bitch." he says.

"Yeah yeah."

He sits up making me back up. He falls back like he didn't have no energy. I watch him. He flicks a lighter lighting the blunt. I grind on him. He blows the smoke at me. I mean I have been not drinking and all that but I'm just not feeling it. I feel like your mind has to be fully committed to something for it to benefit you. I'm just stressing myself out trying to live life like someone else. It's just not me. It's not us. We don't do either.

"So you stop smoking and I'll get back on my cleansing."

"What's wrong with weed?"

I snatch it out his mouth. "Tobacco."

He chuckles. "Oh. Well..."

"You are not even supposed to be smoking if you detoxing from liquor anyway. That's why you can't stick to that either."

"I drink less than I used to."

I roll my eyes. "Trey does it."

He laughs. "Bullshit. Shut up. He never smoked cigarettes like I do. Fuck Trey..."

"You want to?"

"Fuck my fucking brother?"

"Technically..."

He gets in my face. "Technically, shit. You know what I was saying any fucking way. Get your stank ass off me."

"That's how you feeling?" I laugh pushing him back.

"You know what I'm feeling?" he blows smoke in my face. I shrug. "You cool as fuck. I almost felt guilty about being selfish and making you mine. Almost. If I had a bit of that stuff that make you not selfish. I think you perfect. For someone else."

I laugh. "That almost sounded sweet."

"Let's go to Dubai. Remember what happened in Du fucking bai?"

"No." I frown snatching the blunt. "What the fuck happened in Dubai? Between us?"

He lies back. "You know."

I look at his face. "No, Chris, I do not."

"What?" he looks at me. "We fucked in Dubai. I thought you was just fucking with me cause we said we would act like it never happened."

"Chris, we did not fuck in Dubai."

He sits up. "We did. I remember."

"No."

"You weren't too drunk to fucking remember. We were on that yacht with the Olympic sized pool. In the towel room after they left us in the sauna."

I cross my arms. "You remember too many details. Were you even fucking drinking?"

He grabs my wrist and shakes my arms apart. "Come on, we barely drunk anything. We got shit faced after though."

"Christopher that was not me."

"Cammie threw up cause it was her first time on a yacht."

I hit him. "Cammie's ass threw up cause she was fucking pregnant with Lane. She been on a damn yacht with Trey's ass."

"Oh."

"I remember her throwing up. We didn't fuck. We were just..."

"We fucked."

I laugh. "That totally slipped my mind. In the towel room. Oh my gosh."

He chuckles laying back. "It was quick no lie."

"It was like 2 seconds of a fuck. Like a damn movie clip. Bam against the wall dramatically..." I throw my hands up. "Towels falling everywhere. One pump, two pump, three pump... Bang on the cart. Towels everywhere! Bam... Bam against the wall. Dramatic fall on top of towels... Screen cut. Sweating, panting, and dazing into the camera. Wow. Okay let's not tell anyone about. Yeah. Okay. Molly washed down with Hennessy?"

He laughs uncontrollably. "It was not a Molly."

"What the case." I throw my hands up.

"You a bitch yo. I remember it being fly."

"Christopher have you been holding on to that memory? What happened to forgetting the shit?"

He wipes his face. "I'm sitting here sweating from the thought. Forget it why?"

"Cause we agreed."

"I just thought we agreed as in don't fucking tell my fucking girlfriend who bout to come around the corner with Cammie. Best 10 minutes..."

"3."

He grabs my face. "You don't have to be so accurate. In my defense I been waiting for that for a while."

"You a bullshitting lie." I say hitting his arm.

"Sevyn... Amber, Honey, shut the fuck up. I try to treat you like an average ass hoe but you just won't let me."

I stand up. "Am I fucking average?"

"You fucking fine. Perfect."

"Perfectly above average, bitch. Still make you cum in 2 minutes."

"Three!" he spats.

I laugh. "Yeah."

He laughs until he starts coughing with his fucking fucked up lungs. He sits up holding his chest and trying not to cough.

"Breathe bitch." I say hitting his back.

That made his mean ass stop coughing but he comes for me. I hop across the bed out of his way. I slap a balloon across the bed into his face. He smacks it then coughs a little fake cough. I chuckle hitting another balloon. He grabs it.

"Can I stick my dick in this?" he says grabbing his dick and putting the balloon lips to it.

"Are we going to Dubai?"

He shrugs. "If you want. Let's go."

"It's whatever. Stop raping that balloon and come in the shower."

"Don't beg." he says busting the balloon with the blunt.

I suck my teeth. "Really, Chris!"

He shrugs. "That bitch was fake."

[r6shippingdelivery]

I am rolling this two asks into a single post to answer 😄 Okay, let’s go by CTU, this could get lengthy:

FBI - Ash: doesn’t smoke neither tobacco nor weed, doesn’t care about who does - Thermite: smoking doesn’t mix well with explosives, likes to hit a blunt on downtime sometimes tho (and hides from Pulse when he does) - Pulse: he smokes, but is against weed yes he knows about Thermite, it’s a bit of a sore point between them but he doesn’t do it often at least - Castle: doesn’t have a habit of smoking, but will sometimes take a drag of a blunt if he’s on his downtime and someone offers him

SAS - Thatcher: used to smoke a lot, he’s trying to quit to keep healthy and in top shape for his age, and thus prolong his active duty years - Sledge: does neither, pretty laid back about who does tho, it’s their choice - Smoke: has tried everything at least once or twice, didn’t like normal tobacco but weed is fine, and not a strong drug when compared to other things, so... - Mute: once he  was out of his parents’ reach, he tried to smoke. Absolutely disgusting, doesn’t see the appeal. Isn’t very inclined to try weed after having to babysit Smoke

GIGN - Montagne: he’s the poster boy of wholesome dad figure, does neither - Twitch: used to be a nervous smoker in college, but detested the smell and it distracted her from her projects, so she quit a long time ago. Wouldn’t be against trying weed - Doc: tried weed as a remedy to help him relax, but it didn’t have the intended effect. Lectures people against the adverse effects of tobacco - Rook: hasn’t acquired any bad habits yet, the rest of team work hard to keep him pure and innocent in this regard

Spetsnaz - Tachanka: probably smokes, tries to hide it cause he said he’d quit - Kapkan: doesn’t smoke cause the smell of it would give him away when he goes hunting. Doesn’t have a strong opinion on weed, but thinks it makes people act like idiots and doesn’t want to try it - Glaz: has tried both, neither is to his taste. The time he tried weed, he got very clingy and very giggly Kapkan had no idea why Glaz was sitting on his lap, trying to tell him something and breaking into uncontrollable giggles constantly - Fuze: he does neither, thank you very much. Smoking would damage his lungs and he’s already one of the slow runners on the base, he wants to get better at it, not worse

GSG9 - Jäger: his addiction is engineering and repairing old vehicles, not smoking or weed. He’s tried the GSG9 special cupcakes tho, didn’t do much to him - Bandit: he smokes, but he’s really tired of people assuming he’s into weed or any other kind of drug - Blitz: you’d never guess it at first, but he is into edibles and the one making those GSG9 special cupcakes with the aid of IQ because he’s terrible at baking - IQ: helps Blitz bake his special cupcakes, sometimes also tries them if she’s 100% sure she has the next day off

JTF2 - Buck: he sometimes smokes weed on his downtime, doesn’t see why some people might frown at it since it’s perfectly legal in his country - Frost: does neither, but will occasionally take a drag of Buck’s joint if she’s stressed and can’t relax properly on her day off

SEAL - Valkyrie: does neither, she’s a health nut - Blackbeard: yes :)

BOPE - Capitao: smokes only tobacco and is very particular about the kind he likes - Caveira: does neither, she wants to keep sharp and alert at all times

SAT - Hiabana: doesn’t smoke and she’s pretty much against weed - Echo: he’s too busy building robots to even considering another addiction

GEO - Jackal: weed helps him relax and fall asleep, he’s on prescription - Mira: Spain has a pretty laid back attitude towards weed, I’m sure she smokes it on occasion or enjoys the GSG9 special cupcakes

SDU - Ying: took up smoking due to stress, she regrets it and is on a program to quit it for good - Lesion: used to smoke too, but as a show of solidarity to Ying he’s also quitting. The toothpick helps him with the cravings he has not to mention his oral fixation

GROM - Zofia: she’s miss prim and proper, tobacco is bad for your health and weed is a drug, she disapproves of both. Won’t lecture you but she has perfected her “I am disappointed” mom stare - Ela: tried weed during her rebellious years, will gleefully reminsice about it when Zofia’s within earshot just to piss her off

707SMB - Vigil: no, he follows the rules and regulations strictly - Dokkaebi: neither is her style, but doesn’t give a damn about what other people do or don’t

CBRN - Lion: used to smoke and take weed during his rebellious years, he quit both after enlisting and does his best to stay clean despite the occasional temptation - Finka: she’s obsessed with keeping in peak physical form, she does neither

GIS - Maestro: he smokes, yeah. Maestro loves the thick cigars, wrapping his lips around its girth, eyes closed and sucking in deeply the smoke ;) - Alibi: smoked on occasion during her undercover mission, but never turned it into an habit. Dislikes weed since it was one of the Vinciguerra trades

GSUTR - Clash: does neither. Used to be more laid back, but since joining the police she felt pressured to prove she’s squeaky clean in that regard - Maverick: acquired a taste for naswar (powdered tobacco snuff) during his time in Afghanistan

GIGR - Kaid: likes rolling his own cigs, but since he had a taste of Maestro’s thick ones he favour them too - Nomad: neither sounds appealing to her

#rainbow 6 siege #rainbow six siege #r6s #r6siege #fucking long post behind the cut to spare your dashboards #this one took me a while to answer for obvious reasons :') #headcanons

[fireandseaweed]

Baby It’s Cold Outside || Jason and Percy

Jason and Percy leave the unity feast early, missing the Dominus’ announcement, but they make their own discoveries that evening or early morning.

The Unity Feast had been, well, all told it had been mildly successful. Nobody had killed anyone, nobody had really done anything to shatter the fragile peace and Jason had gotten back to his apartment at a decent hour. Which was when the trouble had really started. Sleep eluded him for many reasons these days; phantom pain in his eyes, his anxiety, nightmares… so he was old comrades with insomnia. But tonight he had really been hoping for a good night's rest. Tiptoeing carefully past Percy’s closed doors he shucked off the vest and loosened his tie, letting the dark fabric hang loose around his muscular neck. He sat on the couch, whisky soda on the table in front of him and booted up his thin MacBook. Might as well get some homework done if he was going to be awake anyway. The clock on the microwave blinked a troublesome “2:30” at him but he shook it off. He could sleep I’m tomorrow. If sleep came for him at all.

After everything that had happened in the last few hours Percy had to admit that he should’ve been tired. It had been a good time, but a long time. His feet were sore from brand new dress shoes that he’d yet to adequately break in. He’d gotten home before Jason and passed out right away, or at least that was the plan. Rather he’d been lying there for a little while when he’d heard Jason return home, and a little while later he had given up on sleep all together, quickly rummaging through his bag and pulling out his small wooden box where he kept all of his paraphernalia. Pulling out a compact grinder, he quickly added and ground a sizeable bud of weed down to a relatively fine grain. Pulling out a pouch of tobacco, he layered a rolling skin with it and carefully poured the grains of weed on top of it. Placing a final layer of tobacco over the weed, Percy rolled a roach and tucked the paper before licking and sealing his joint. Stepping out of his room, he stumbled pretty tipsy still into the kitchen. Smiling as he used a pencil to pack the joint down before tying down the top. Looking up he finally noticed Jason. “Oh, hey man, couldn’t sleep?”

Jason was intent on the assignment when he heard Percy’s bedroom door open and watched his best friend stumble towards the kitchen with a joint in his hand. It took Percy a minute to notice jason sitting on the couch but when he did, Jason waved with a lopsided grin, “nah. You know how it goes. I hope I didn’t wake you, dude.” He leaned forward to grab his drink and took a giant swig from it. “All in all tonight could have gone worse. I resisted the urge to kill Cat Karavadra and nobody started the war back up again. So at the very least we can pretend to be united again. And pretending is the first step to making it happen for real.” He set his nearly empty glass down and slumped back onto the couch. “Remember when we were kids and we could sleep real easy? Before everything rested on our shoulders? I can’t remember the last night I fell to sleep immediately.”

“Wake me?” Percy asked remembering the familiar feeling of dread that always settled into his stomach whenever he thought about his nightmares, “I couldn’t sleep actually, I was hoping that this would help me feel a little better, y’know, try and take the edge off a little bit or something, get me feeling a bit sleepier…” he shrugged gently and nodded. “It was hardly perfect,” he agreed. “I don’t honestly remember that ever happening to me, I don’t think sleep was ever something I got to do. I always felt so wide awake and full of energy. Eventually I’d drift off, then I became a demigod and everything was kind of compacted and somehow it got worse?” He paused and looked around. “You wanna come smoke this with me?” he asked curiously. “We can keep talking, don’t wanna stink out your kitchen that’s all.”

Jason’s weak smile barely cut through the gloom of his dim apartment “I guess it was too much to ask that one of us actually got a good night’s sleep for once.” He draped himself over the back of the couch and looked across the room at Percy, nodding. “You know….. I can barely remember life before I came here. I think I can remember my childhood room. But. It’s vague and fuzzy. We’ve been doing this for so long that that kind of stress and tension just seems normal now. And that can’t be terribly good for us, can it.” He nodded and vaulted the couch, tossing his tie and shirt onto a barstool at his kitchen counter, “don’t want to get them all weedtastic.” He muttered before opening his balcony door and looking out over New Rome. “It’s been awhile since you and I got stoned together.”

“Getting a good night sleep feels like a bit of a myth right now, which is ironic considering our situation.” Percy smiled brightly at his friend and laughed. “Please, the weedtastic is everything that I want from one of these,” he looked at the joint in his hands before stepping out of the balcony door and gazing out over the city. Settling into his chair, he loosened his tie and undid a second button before pulling his belt off. “There, that is 200 times better.” He smiled brightly and reached out, scooping up a lighter and striking the flint confidently. “Too long since we got an opportunity to smoke together,” he agreed, “I missed getting to do this stuff while the war was on, now that I’ve got more time on my hands I’ve been doing everything that I can to enjoy that, and spending this last week with you has been …. I dunno, it’s been pretty great.” This was the happiest that he could remember being in a long time, and although it might’ve been somewhat of a once a year sort of thing, he was already looking forward to the next set of holidays where he was sure that this was going to become a tradition.

“I think the whole demigod aesthetic is sharp weapons and giant bags under your eyes. I know I’ve been sporting them since the year 2000.” Jason pulled one of the chairs on the balcony closer to Percy’s, settling into it and grabbing a blanket he kept folded under the eaves and spreading it over his lap, “Time to de-dapper? It was nice to get all dressed up… but… it’s nicer to undress afterwards and relax. Always feels twice as relaxing.” He cocked his head so he could look at his friend from his fuzzy blanket cocoon. “This is what we needed. Just… to be. No war, no temples. Nothing but being two guys relaxing at home.” He watched Percy light the joint, turning his attention back to the city spread out beneath them and the brighter lights of San Francisco beyond it, “I needed this. Desperately. Just to spend time with you. It recharges me. Can’t be properly sparky without my Percy time.”

Smiling gently, Percy lifted his joint to his lips and took a deep drag. Swallowing the smoke he exhaled gently a moment later, the smoke curling upwards and spiralling into the obsidian night sky. “You’re not wrong,” Percy leaned over to Jason and passed him the joint. A moment later he was fishing his pen out of his jacket as if to prove the point. I never really think all that much about always being armed. It’s normal, but really it shouldn’t be. It wasn’t before. So why do I feel so uneasy without Riptide?” He laughed, almost as if it were a bad joke lacking a punchline. Pushing the pen back into his pocket, he turned and smiled at Jason. “We all deserve a break after everything that we have had to go through, but you’re right, it’s been a real treat to recharge with just you.” He had never met someone like Jason. At times they were so similar that it was difficult to actually believe that Jason had spent the majority of his life living as a legionnaire in this very city. Despite their similarities they were still from different worlds. Not that that had ever stopped them. “Going back to real life seems daunting now….”

Laughing at the pen Percy held loosely in his fingers, Jason tugged the cord tied around his neck to reveal the bright golden coin it was threaded through, “I feel the same way. If this bad boy isn’t touching my skin it just doesn’t feel right.” A quick flip of the coin turned it into a glittering spear, and a second one turned it back into a coin and he tucked it under his white t-shirt. Casting an affectionate glance at his friend he held his scarred fingers out for the joint, “Recharging with you has been the highlight of my year, P. Just getting to spend time where we get to be us, with no pretense or shielding up. It doesn’t happen often, and I think I need it even more than I realize.” It was hard to imagine that there had actually been a time in his life before he and Percy had been best friends. It seemed like the son of Poseidon had been an integral part of his life for as long as he could remember. “Well… remember that anytime you need a break from real life I’ve got a bed with your name on it and all the baked goods you can steal.”  

Nodding gently, Percy was pleased to know that he was not the only one who still struggled with their demons. It hadn’t been easy, but he was hopeful that things would finally start coming together. They had to. This was the future that they deserved. It was definitely one where they got to have a happy ending. “I’m glad that I’m not the only one who is a paranoid lunatic,” he laughed gently, knowing that he was neither of those things. But it was nice to know that other people practiced the same habits as him. “That is awfully high praise, but I don’t disagree, I’ve really had a good time, it’s been nice just getting to hang out. Eat too much food. Drink too much. Smoke too much. Indulge ourselves generally I guess.” He looked to Jason once more and smiled weakly at him before taking the joint back and swallowing down several lungfuls of smoke. “Thanks man, but at some point in your life you’ve got to get back to it, right?”

“I don’t think it’s paranoia if you’ve lived your entire life in such a way where having a weapon instantly accessible is a necessity. Sad. But not paranoia.” Thick smoke flowed from between his lips and he twirled his fingers, watching a tiny cyclone spin through the cloud. “As cheesy and dumb as it sounds… you’re my anchor. When it all gets dark and loud and anxiety is beating down my door you’re the North Star I can turn to. You’ve helped me through a lot since we became friends. Hopefully I’ve returned the favor.” Jason watched Percy do some serious work on the joint as he burrowed into his blanket. “Yeah. You do. But getting back to it doesn’t mean you can’t hide out for a night and recharge. Self care, right? We’re millennials. We’re supposed to be all about that. And this can be your self care safe place.”

“The irony is that I constantly tell everyone that all I really want anymore is to have a more normal life. But I can’t help but keep a sword on me at all times like some sort of safety blanket.” Percy let out a gentle cough as he handed the joint back to Jason and gazed out across the early morning sky that had settled over New Rome. “I wouldn’t know what my life would look like if we weren’t friends, it sounds cheesy I know, but I feel the same. I’m no introvert, but if I was then I don’t think you’d count as people, being with you is just like me time.” He pauses and smiled gratefully at Jason. “What did I do to ever deserve a friend as good as you?” He fell silent as he felt a pang of happiness and joy at the sheer prospect of spending more time with his friend. “I’ll make sure to take you up on your offer,” he promise, “something tells me that we are going to need some time to ourselves with everything that’s going on at the moment.”

“We could do worse as far as security blankets go. But I get where you’re coming from.”  Jason’s fingers brushed the ever-cold coin resting against his sternum and moved to the scar on his lip, before settling on the ragged edges of the spiderweb of scarring around his eye, “Really, all of this is the same thing. Life is tumultuous but this… marring, as it were, helps me anchor myself. I am a warrior. I was a priest and I was a praetor but I’ve always been a warrior. There’s calm in the labelling, but it’s a double-edged sword, because if that’s my anchor, I’m never going to be able to be anything but that.” He took the joint and took a long slow drag on it, listening to Percy talk with a smile on his face, “You were a good person. One of the best people. That’s all. That’s why I love spending time with you. Because you’re just good and lovely and even as much of an introvert as I am… spending time with you recharges me even better than alone time.”

“Well, we could literally have physical security blankets and obviously that wouldn’t be ideal, two studs with eight packs and a blankey.” Percy smirked quaintly at the other and shrugged. The way that Jason spoke was interesting. It brought several thoughts to his mind and he frowned. “I don’t think you should define yourself by the things that happened to you, you’ve always been brave in the face of fear, in the face of certain death at times, but what’s more, you’ve always been compassionate and kind. You’re a good person Jason and that is what your anchor should be, remember who you are before you try to define yourself.” Percy took a moment to breath, grabbing a spare blanket and wrapping it around him to fight off the chill in the air. “I’m not sure that I’d call myself a definitively good person,” Percy replied, “I did some terrible things in the war. There’s so much blood, both Greek and Roman blood and it’s all on my hands. I led us through a war where hundreds died. Do I still get to call myself a good person after that?”

“I dunno man. I think we look pretty goddamn hot right now, two half-dressed-in-formal wear studs wrapped in blankets. That’s a calendar right there.” Jason’s face fell as he listened to Percy question his own goodness. “Percy. You can’t sit here and tell me not to focus on the bad things about myself and question your own goodness in the same breath.” He leaned over and thumped his hand against Percy’s chest. “That heart is the heart of a good man. We all did terrible things in the war. We all have the blood of hundreds on our hands… and believe me I don’t think it ever washes off. But I don’t think that’s enough to tip the scales for you. What you did you did for the good of all. You’ve fought, your whole life, to keep the world safe and to make sure we all have a life to keep living when the war is done.” He sighed to himself and leaned back in his chair, giving Percy’s shoulder a squeeze. “One day you’ll see yourself like I see you.”

“Don’t give anyone that idea,” Percy had a hard enough time with his renown as it was already, “it’s hard enough introducing myself at the moment, I don’t need my body plastered over every middle aged spinster’s fridge.” He hated that his name made people prick their ears and turn with hushed whispers about whether that was him. Could that be the Percy? He sometimes wondered whether people were disappointed by the average height, dark haired and green eyed latino they were met with. He often didn’t feel that he lived up to his … well reputation. He smirked gently. “Well I am a bit of an oxymoron myself,” he replied with a shrug, “being a hypocrite isn’t really that surprising on top of that is it?” He considered Jason’s words. Seeing himself like Jason saw him seemed unlikely to him. But then again he never truly felt as if his friend really saw everything that he did. “It’d be really convenient if we could stop being so self sacrificing and be really honest, but then I guess that’s just the nature of being a hero. Something tragic like that? Right?”

“Gods right? Advantage to studying at Stanford and not NRU. To everyone there I’m just another wounded vet non-traditional student doing his thing. Office of Integration decided that was the best way to explain me away.” The Office that handled the melding of demigod pasts into acceptable mortal stories had been incredibly non-plussed with his injury. Apparently this was old hat to them. “Yeah… well… take off the oxy and that’s what you’re being right now. A moron. I’m calling you a moron.” Jason really did wish that Percy could see himself the way Jason saw him; handsome and kind, intelligent and ferocious, all the little pieces added up to make a man so amazing he put the gods to shame. “It would be. But that really doesn’t seem our style now does it. I guess you just have to keep me around so I can tell you how amazing you are. I’ll keep reminding you, all the time, because I know it’s the truth.” He let his head loll back against the chair, unbraiding his blonde hair and looking up at the stars, “It’s nice to be somewhere where it’s quiet. That Feast was getting to be a bit much.”

“Maybe I’ll transfer out of NRU, although it seems dumb to do it when I’m so close to graduating…” Percy pauses and smiled gently. “Of course they weren’t concerned by something as trivial as injuries. Now if you’d been half satyr or something then that would’ve probably worried them some. But I’m sure you can’t be the first demigod to want to do something outside of the city with some sort of visible injury.” He fell silent as he took the joint back from Jason, or maybe he’d had it all along. To be perfectly honest he wasn’t entirely sure. He was starting to get pretty stoned and he’d drunk a lot at the party. He was hardly a notoriously heavy drinker. “As long as we can stop one another from being too humble then that will keep me nice and happy, can’t allow anyone to think we are braggarts now can we?” He paused and scootched his chair over closer to Jason, placing a affectionate hand on his friend’s shoulder. Squeezing it gently he sat silently for a moment, watching the cloud of smoke ride through the sky away from Jason’s balcony. “Thank you Jace,” he finally said quietly, “this week has done wonders for me.”

“Yeah. I still have a year and a half at least so transferring wasn’t as big a deal for me. But if you’re close then it doesn’t really make sense.” Jason’s laugh cut through the chilly night, “they invented a neat little background for me, falsified some paperwork, bing bang boom Jason’s got a nice backstory for his classmates.” Another laugh and he took a drink of his whisky, “I don’t think either of us are in danger of turning into Octavian. But it’s nice to have someone with a little objectivity to help you keep your head on straight.” Percy moved his chair closer to him and Jason leaned his head to rest his cheek on Percy’s hand, the warmth of it bleeding through his chilly stubble. “My home is always open to you. Always. This week has been amazing. Just spending time with you. When I’m with you the normal buzz and hum of my mind is actually quiet for once. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

“Either way I’ve got to wait, either for the university to be rebuilt or for the university to be rebuilt so they can transfer me. But I’m making sure I keep nice and busy.” Percy wondered what Jason’s made up past was? “You’re not going to tell me about your backstory? Are you worried it’s going to be cooler than your real life?” Pausing for a moment he laughed. The truth was that Jason had lived a life that was so cool that it would be difficult to live anything comparable. But there was a big part of Percy’s life that was lived in hopes that it would one day become normal. He envied everyone else who’d gotten to grow up as normal. “I actually don’t think I have ever met someone that I got along with better than you and believe me it’s weird, me and Thalia never got along well. I almost dropped an entire river on her once.”

“Well yeah. Trying to fix the entirety of demigod society is certainly a way for you to keep busy, P. You’re definitely not lying.” Jason laughed brightly, moving his cheek away from Percy’s hand, “Explosive Ordnance Disposal in the Middle East. That’s the backstory. Lost my eye to some shrapnel from an IED on patrol. Nothing fancy, just gets the job done.” It felt a little wrong, co-opting his story from so many mortals who had had that fate befall them. But the Office of Integration had assigned it and he’d gone along with it. The good soldier to the end. “Well. In your defense. I also have wanted to drop an entire river on my sister and I don’t have hydrokinesis.” Thalia was a stormy personality at best. She wasn’t really a people person. “It’s true though. You’re just….. you work. With me. With all my crazy. You being around works.”

“I’m not trying to fix the whole of the society,” Percy replied with a shrug, “all I am trying to do is rebuild a city and get my people something better than they’ve had for the last nine months.” Although when he put it like that he didn’t know if that sounded any less like an impossible and insurmountable task. “Well, they aren’t entirely wrong, I know it is stretching the truth a little but IED does sound more normal than exploding ballistae bolt.” Pausing once more, he considered how different Thalia and Jason was. Jason was like a breath of fresh air on a rainy day. Thalia was like a hurricane in the middle of the ocean, tearing anything apart that came in it’s way. At least that was what she was like when she was pissed off. “It amazes me how well she and Artemis get along with one another, especially considering how wildly different they are from one another.” Pausing for a second longer he stretched out further in his seat, embracing the cold night air. “We slot together pretty well,” he agreed.

Jason sat in a very pointed silence in order to give Percy a chance to see that what he was saying was exactly like trying to fix the whole of demigod society. He laughed, self conscious fingers rising to brush his face, “Well… since the mortal world doesn’t know what an exploding ballistae bolt is, this is indeed the better option. Even if it smacks of dishonesty.” As Percy kept talking about his sister Jason laughed, “Well… from what I’ve heard, my godly sister Lady Artemis has a rage and fury that makes Thalia look like a docile little lamb. That’s probably why they get along so well. Though it seems like Thalia is angry constantly, and Artemis only some of the time. But when you’re thousands of years old you probably learn how to pick when to be angry and when not to be.” Watching Percy stretch out of the corner of his eye Jason listened carefully; wondering if perhaps there was a second layer of conversation happening. Though in the secret parts of his heart he was unsure if he was wondering about it, or hoping for it, “We do. Peanut butter and chocolate and other apt comparisons like that. We’re good together.”

Allowing the silence to settle over them, Percy pulled his own blanket around him more tightly. It was a cold night and despite leaving the feast early he was still feeling pretty sleepy. The joint was hardly helping either. “You don’t owe anyone an explanation for everything that you’ve had to go through in the last six months. Sure it’s dishonest but it’s none of their business whether you were hurt by exploding mortal weapons or whether it was of the immortal variety.” He knew that Jason was a traditional hero who thought of self sacrifice as a necessity. But the truth was that Jason had given up more than many in the war. Not to mention his reputation and everything that he’d worked towards as Pontifex Maximus, all for the Greek people. That wasn’t something that Percy would ever forget. If anything it endeared him to Percy more. There was a lot to be interested in Jason. Apart from the fact that he had the body of a literal God, Percy knew that Jason was kind. Thoughtful. Intelligent. Introspective. Selfless. It was really something. Not to mention that Jason was one of his oldest friends excluding Annabeth and Grover. “Red Wine and Steak?” Percy suggested with a smile, admiring the stubble that dotted Jason’s face.

As Percy wrapped himself tighter in his blanket, Jason flipped the end of his fuzzy blanket over the other man’s lap, scooting slightly closer as he did, “I stole the good one. Might as well share.” Heaving a sigh he shrugged. He knew Percy was right. But his life had been one of explanations, of transparency required by duty, and it was difficult to let go of those ideals. “Yeah yeah yeah. You’ve always gone too easy on me so I can’t really trust your opinion now can I. You’re my best friend. You’re hella biased.” He cocked his head to look at Percy as the other guy talked, stifling a yawn. He wasn’t ever quite sure how Percy managed to look like a male model and still be the humble amazing guy he was, but it was always the case. “French fries and too much salt.” He responded, laughing softly, “a bubble bath and beer. Whisky and a cold night. All the great things come in pairs.”

Taking the bit of the blanket that Jason had passed to him, Percy tucked it over his feet and smirked. “Well, this is your balcony, I’m not exactly going to start complaining because I think that you’re being selfish, you’ve put me up free of charge for more than my fair share of time.” He paused and considered Jason’s words. “I’m not biased, I am as objective as it is humanly possible for someone to be.” He smirked gently, knowing full well that he would always take Jason’s side irrespective of the circumstances. It was simply something that was outside of his control. He loved his friend too much to not always take his side. “Can you ever have too much salt?” he asked smirking gently before shrugging a little and stretching. “Who knew that we were such a dynamic duo?” he asked his increasingly handsome friend.

Jason laughed loudly, the sound echoing through the chilly night, as he squeezed Percy’s shoulder, “P. You could crash with me for the rest of your life and that wouldn’t be an imposition. I literally don’t think I’d ever get tired of having you around. It’s the best part of my day.” He waved Percy’s argument away. It was impossible for either of them to view the other objectively, which somehow worked because it balanced out how harsh they were on themselves, “You can never have too much salt. Nor too much hot sauce.” He squeezed Percy’s shoulder again and let go, watching him stretch languidly, “I mean… we did. It’s why we hang out together so much. We’re just great together.” He didn’t know if it was the whisky, the exhaustion, or just years of friendship all coming together, but Percy was growing ever more handsome in the dim light of his balcony, “It’s just the way it is. I’m better when I’m around you.”

“I don’t know,” Percy quietly replied with a smile drifting across his face, “I am sure that if I were able to stay with you for the rest of your life that you’d get sick of me soon enough. There comes a limit to the amount of human interaction that we can all take.” Raising an eyebrow thoughtfully, Percy slipped deeper beneath the pile of blankets that he was nestling within. Breathing deeply, Percy idly flicked at his lighter, it sparked on and off before he tucked it away too. His inability to sit still had always been famous, but he often wondered if his ADHD was getting worse with age. “That sounds like an advert for a hot sauce place, except I’ve never been anywhere in the world that sells just hot sauce on its own…” he laughed and shrugged, glancing at Jason and swallowing somewhat uncomfortably as new feelings washed over him uninvited. “My question was rhetorical,” Percy laughed, “You’re perfect the way you are, you just think you’re better when I’m around because you’re blind to your own abilities and the truth about it.”

The moment seemed like something special; which meant that Jason was ill-equipped to deal with it. “I don’t think so. I think you know me well enough to know when I need to hide in my room playing video games and when I’m ready for more people time. But. Having you here is a great thing.” Percy fidgeted and Jason sat, trying to avoid giving into his nervous energy that made him fidget just as much. Normally he was prone to the standard demigod amounts of ADHD but he tried to keep it in check as much as possible: a feat easier said than done. He kept his hands clasped in his lap, twirling the silver ring on his finger. “There are some shops that specialize in just hot sauce. I know there are a couple in the city. There’s one in Haight-Ashbury. We can go sometime if you want.” He listened as Percy talked, glad for the dim light of the balcony as he blushed violently. “You’re wrong. There’s always room for improvement and I’m far away from perfect. But…” he fell silent. Not even sure of the end to that sentence.

Maybe it was the amount that Percy had drunk. Maybe it was the fact that he had smoked half a joint. Maybe it was the time of the night. Either way Percy couldn’t help but think that Jason looked truly radiant in the dim light. It seemed to shine through his long blonde hair and almost cast a golden glow. At least that was what Percy imagined. “I get that you need time alone, you and Annabeth are similar in that way …” he shrugged gently, suddenly wondering why he had decided to make a connection between his ex and his best friend, “but I’m glad that you think so highly of me. It actually really means a lot Jace…” he sighed contentedly and shifted once more in his seat. “I’d like that. Getting hot sauce with you,” he smirked at the thought, “do they have a blue one?” He paused for a moment and shrugged. “Damn, I wouldn’t know what to say about that, it is pretty hard to argue with such a strong denial. It’s definitely changed my opinion about you. Good job bro.”

“Yes but she’s more likely to use her alone time to try to save the world with her super genius, and I’m more likely to use it to play Horizon Zero Dawn in my underwear until I’ve gotten all the trophies. Big difference there.” He laughed again, shimmying deeper into his mound of blanket and closer to Percy, “even if they don’t have a blue one I’ll dye it for you. We’ll get you a blue hot sauce that’ll make your eyes water. There’re some nice shops down there. We can make a day of it. Get out into the city, grab a nice lunch, just be touristy for once. I’ll even wear a Fanny pack so we blend right in.” He could sense Percy’s sarcasm in his response and head butted him in the shoulder “uh huh. I can tell when you’re being sarcastic, P. I’ve gotten pretty good at it over the years. We can’t all be handsome smart amazing guys like you. I’ve just gotta keep trying to be as good as the amazing Percy Jackson.”

“I don’t know about you,” Percy replied with a laugh, “but I would rather spend my day in bed playing HZD in my underwear then save the world. Besides you give Annabeth far too much credit, not that she doesn’t deserve it, but she’s as good at procrastinating as you or I.” Possibly even better. He’d seen her re-design Olympus and had experienced her procrastination first hand. “Damn, and I thought that you’d let me wear the fanny pack, I guess I’ll have to get a “I love Stanford” shirt or even a visor! But that won’t hold a candle to the level of touristry that you’ll have achieved.” Smirking gently, Percy reached out and wrapped a hand round the back of Jason’s head as he placed his forehead on Percy’s shoulder. “You don’t need to keep trying anything, there is a reason that you were Praetor for more than five minutes and I wasn’t, you don’t give yourself nearly enough credit.” He gazed into Jason’s stormy eyes and smiled contentedly.

“Absolutely. Trying to navigate one of the cauldrons is way easier than facing down Gaia, more fun too. I definitely don’t think I give Annabeth too much credit, that woman is scary smart. I think even her procrastination is productive. Which is more than I can say for me.” The image of them as a touristy couple made him laugh, and then the realization Jason was imagining them as a couple gave him brief pause, though it seemed he wasn’t too upset by the mental image. “I’ll lend you some of my Stanford wear. I’ve got way too much of it.” Percy’s hand rested in his hair and Jason took that as tacit permission to snuggle up against Percy’s side. “Yeah yeah yeah they’re gonna sing the ballad of Jason Grace for years to come and all that good shit.” He waved Percy’s comments away before resting his hand on the other man’s broad chest, “in the end it's not really the opinion of History that matters to me, I think. Just if I did right by my friends.”

“I once saw Annabeth construct a scale model of New Rome with an absurd number of playing  cards. It was both impressive and a little sad. I’ve never seen someone get so annoyed at someone opening the door and letting wind in…” Percy laughed at the memory before shrugging, “you’re doing it again, you don’t need to compare yourself to anyone else because you’re doing great just as you are.” He smirked gently at his own cliche, it was funny because if the tables were turned he knew damn well that he would be unable to take Jason’s advice. “I look forward to looking like a UCS advert / brochure. I never knew until now what my true calling was.” As Jason leaned against him, Percy felt his pulse quicken slightly as their bare skin caught contact. Swallowing a breath of air, Percy smiled as he tried to ignore the racing adrenaline that was pounding around him. Suddenly he felt somewhat light headed. He’d never felt this way before and in that moment he didn’t want to move. Despite everything that he was feeling, he didn’t want to ruin what was happening in that moment. “Of course you did right by your friends, was that something that was ever in doubt?”

“That’s so peak Annabeth I can’t even handle it. Of course she did. I’m surprised she didn’t start doing the whole of San Francisco.” Rolling his eyes Jason waved Percy’s words away, hand accidentally grazing his friend’s beard as he did. “Of course I am. And don’t give me that guff about how I should only try to be better than my previous self because you know that’s not how my brain works. I have to keep trying to be the best.” He could hear Percy’s heart thudding through his chest and was glad his friend couldn’t hear that his was doing the same thing. “Doing right is an ongoing process. I have done right. I want to keep doing right. Until I finally die. But I need to keep making a difference. Keep doing something. Just so I can always be there for you guys.” He heaved a sigh and twisted his head so he could look up into Percy’s eyes “you know how that is.”

“Annabeth is certainly one of a kind,” Percy replied, dipping his head gently in admittance to what Jason had said. Annabeth had a singular focus when it came to certain tasks, it was almost scary how hard she could work on something if she really set her mind to it. Laughing gently, Percy shrugged. “Maybe I just mean that I think you’ve done more than enough good to secure your place in Elysium a thousand times over. But if you want to insist on trying to get straight to the Isles of the blessed during your first attempt then who am I to try and stop you?” He chuckled gently and nodded.  “That sort of attitude is why you’re so good though,” Percy had never particularly had qualms with platonic physicality, especially not with Jason. Yet there was something making the breath in his throat catch. “You just insist on dramatising it, and then you claim you’re not a drama queen.”

“And I wouldn’t have her any other way.” Jason’s love for Annabeth burned almost as bright as his love for Percy. She was a genius and one of the best people he knew; he’d fought beside her through a hundred battles and he’d do it through a hundred more. “I mean why live three times if I can go to turbo-heaven on the first go? Come on, P. I’m trying to speed run this bitch.” He laughed and straightened up, leaving the warmth of Percy’s chest with a little bit of sorrow. It was comfortable, and in all honesty felt absolutely right. But he didn’t want to overstay his welcome. “I think we both know when I claim I’m not a drama queen it’s a goddamn lie. I’m super dramatic. I just like to say I’m not.” He brushed hair out of his eyes and smiled at his friend, admiring literally everything about the man sitting next to him, “I’m happy we have this time. It’s just… good. Everything about it is good.”

“Well as long as whatever it is that you decide is enough to make you happy then you’ve got my approval.” Percy smiled gently. That was what his mother had always told him. At the end of the day if what he did made him happy then that was something to be proud of. “Well acceptance of a state of denial is one of the first steps on the road to recovery.” Percy smirked gently and sat up as Jason moved away. Honestly he was somewhat disappointed by the fact that his friend had moved away from him. He yearned for his touch for a moment before snapping back to reality. “Dramatics have always been one of my favourite parts of your personality,” Percy admitted as he sat forward, leaning against his knees and rubbing his eyes gently, “I am never bored when I’m around you. Besides your dramatic flair is impressive. Having seen you use harpies as aerial stepping stones and still manage to impale a cyclops with your spear I can tell you it is somewhat impressive.”

“Oh gods. That was such a Sallyism. I’m pretty sure she told me that exact same thing earlier this year. You are absolutely your mother’s son.” Stretching languidly in his chair, Jason scratched his stubbly chin, laughing at Percy’s gentle teasing. “What’s the point of being the son of the god of lightning and the sky if you can’t use that to fuel your dramatic flair. I mean I’ve gotta treat each of my battles like a Cirque du Soleil routine, otherwise I’m going to disappoint my fans and I can’t do that. They’ll stop writing to me for autographs.” Percy leaned forward and rubbed his eyes and Jason automatically started scratching his back gently, before a jaw-cracking yawn brought his hands to his mouth. He gathered the blanket up and wrapped it around him, starting to head back down the hallway towards his bedroom as they moved from the chilly outside to the warmth of his apartment. Pausing at his door he turned back to look at Percy, sweeping hair out of his eye as he weighed a couple of options in his head, “Hey P…” his voice was almost soft enough to get lost in the ambient noise of his apartment, “I know that room gets chilly. I haven’t had a chance to replace the weather-stripping on the window yet and it leaks cold air in. But uh….” he could feel his cheeks getting a little rosy, “My room’s plenty warm… and there’s room for two in my bed. If you don’t wanna be cold all night, I mean.”

“It would be difficult not to be my mother’s son,” `replied with a laugh. “I’m not complaining Jason, I can definitely see the comparison between Cirque du Soleil and your fighting style, and believe me that wasn’t something that I thought I was ever going to say.” He smirked gently and shrugged, before rising to his feet and following Jason back into his apartment. As they slowly made their way back towards their bedrooms, Percy strode towards his room, folding the blanket and placing it in the lounge before moving through. Jason’s question however caught him off guard, and he took a moment to consider it. Pausing, he glanced down at the door of his room before turning back and nodding. “Sure, that sounds nice.”

#p: jason #para #chatzy para #f&gwriting #baby its cold outside

[angry-old-asian-man]

The Adulting Tips Masterpost

A lot of you are newly adult or soon to be. This generally isn't what this blog is for, but I've come to realise it's sorely needed--apparently also Millennials, many kids of Boomers, but some kids of my generation--didn't really learn how to be an adult and try to avoid it? I'm part of the latchkey generation. That happened with a guardian when I was in high school anyway, but when my dad and granparents were still alive and I lived with them, I got taught stuff and learned stuff. Then some, I did figure out, either as a latchkey and abused kid, or just as I went once I was on my own. I've been on my own for this entire century. So lemme pass on a little bit of helpful tips to prepare you, whatever your situation. THIS IS THE ADULTING MASTERPOST! You know stuff like "you need to learn how to manage money," or "having a fridgerator is a good thing." This is a bit deeper. It aims to be comprehensive and there are multiple sections. The need for this is pretty Western. When I mention "X also exists in Japan," I mean that and America are all I ever lived in and I'm saying there's a chance this thing is nearly universal. Let's begin: Things every home should have: A wet-vac (shop-vac) A hand drill Hemostat clamp (trust me--they're a irreplaceable household tool) (not the veterinary ones) A tape measure A fire extinguisher Surge-protecting outlet extenders ALWAYS KNOW WHERE YOUR FUSE/BREAKER BOX IS A flashlight or two (yeah, you have a phone. Get dedicated flashlights) A pail or two a bit bigger than a sand pail A cold compress and a heating pad A well-stocked toolbox A well-stocked first aid kit A few extension cords, at least one outdoor-use grounded one Some all-metal pots and pans I would recommend a landline phone, but they now depend on electricity coming through a modem, so they're not a lifesaver as they once were. Speaking of which, a radio that can run on batteries. Even better if it has shortwave (SW) bands, in Japan and America, at least, meteorological stations exist on SW (短波[たんぱ]) Bug bait on reserve--whatever bug is the worst in your area. On that note, many spiders, such as daddy long legs, will actually eat bugs like gnats and ants. Don't panic if the spider isn't a poisonous variety--they're there to help. A strong cement. Not Krazy Glue, but actual cement Always know where is your nearest: Hardware store Urgent care and hospital Library City hall Thrift store (these may have different names such as Recycle shop, outside of America) Recycling/E-waste centre (but please donate to that thrift store if your old electronics are still functional!) Public transit, even if you drive. Cars break down. On a similar note, memorise one taxi company number. Pay phone (just trust me) Repair shop for your appliances/electronics. Sometimes you just can't do it at home, hopefully you can always afford it Learn to do as much as you can, though Learn the hours of your closest corner store in case you need some medicine for a sick baby or sick self, etc. Befriend at least one or two neighbours. You'll be a great help to each other. Have plans for whatever natural disaster is known to strike your area. Tips for the ones I know: The best tip for earthquakes are: You can't outrun them Door arches are way better shelters than flimsy modern tables Arrange your house for the least things falling on people--especially in bed For hurricane, the evacuation route will change, but have a plan if you don't have your own car on how to get out of town Learn basic repair of household items. Good pantry foods (always keep some of these, according to your diet/intolerances): Powdered milk or canned milk (evaporated is not sweetened and therefore more versitaile) Pickled vegetables Dried fruits, vegetables, and grains Canned meats Beans you like, canned or dried Dollar/100 yen/whatever-your-equivalent-is stores should have most of the above. Get whatever groceries you can here. Suggestions include dried cuttlefish and canned media crema, too Pan spray is totally your friend unless you want oily food LEARN TO COOK! I know today's young adults don't, and we men have been discouraged from it unless as a job, but that's bad for both your health and wallet. Yes, even if you don't gain weight. You don't have to be four-star caliber, just be able to make basic food that tastes as you like (having friends/family like your cooking is super-rewarding, though) On that note, keep something that is simple to prepare (nattou and insta-rice/can of soup) for "low spoon" days if applicable If at all possible, please regularly see your doctor. Not seeing one doesn't make you "superior"/"manly" / "strong" /"not part of the sheeple," it makes you an idiot. An idiot with bad health Shower daily if at all possible. People have been bathing since Ancient Greece/Stone-Age Japan. It literally reduces bacterial illness. People in equatorial climates like Haiti bathe twice daily--might need this in more places with global warming Simple destressing tips: Live in a warm costal area? Invest in a beach towel and a large cold thermos Cold rainy/snowy? A nice sweater (okay for me, I'd get a yukata if I did, this varies), keep around one nice canister of tea/coffee/bouillon/pipe tobacco/bottle of wine/whatever. Pull up a seat, enjoy the view Don't do this after ten PM and before ten AM, and take night working/chronically ill neighbours into consideration, but enjoy your records out loud once in a while. Multitasking is actually rapid task switching. Actual multitasking is non-extant Find an easily accessible/low cost hobby you enjoy. It could be productive, like hunting, fishing, repairing and upselling stuff you find at thrift shops, or it could be absolutely nothing to do with gathering resources, like hiking or reading Edwardian poetry. Do it regardless. Carve out a little time once a week. If you're a single parent, there are ways to make it bonding time for most ages Make your bed. Trust me People Stuff, Yourself and Others: Above all, be kind to yourself. There's a whole lot of people that will be hard on you, no need to add yourself to that number Do unto others as you'd have done to you. But don't worry about some bullshit moral high ground with people who demean, belittle, and attack you. They don't deserve you Don't fall into that "I have a partner, so now I'm not supposed to socialise with anyone else/without them." That is SO not healthy. That can destabilise your relationship. Rapunzel didn't do well in that tower--isolation, even if self imposed, is very bad for you Having a counsellor isn't a bad thing. There might be people you don't wanna tell, but trauma is real--ask a veteran or assault survivor. If you think you need one and you can get to one, go. It's okay. There are thresholds, but consider different opinions. Not "your people are inferior savages" --that's crossing a line. But one of my best friends, I found out, likes modern folk rock. I only like the original folk rock, like America (band). You might argue whether more business and job creation in your town or building a new public middle school is better for the poor in your community, and you might disagree. There are certain beliefs that are bad (these are most always a belief in inherent inferiority /servility/ primitive, dangerous, or mystic quality in a [non-dominant] demograph, also known as bigotry--this is that inexcusable line) but not everyone who disagrees on everything is bad. I also tend to stay away from "morally superior lifestyle" (moral vegan, moral "I only watch TV on the Web," moral "I only smoke expensive weed and not stuff poor people of colour do," (this is a very real dichotomy in California, USA), moral yoga-er which can apparently also seep into pricing Indians out of yoga, I've heard, the quinoa/pork belly/greens gentrification--a lot of this morality in being rich [and white] is very western and rooted in Victorian British culture) because that's pure classism, see bigotry, but your mileage may vary. Disagreements on "I like mayo, you like Miracle Whip" or "Jobs for the poor! No, library for the poor!" are pretty trivial. You still both seem like good people. (And there are totally times for Miracle Whip, L O L!) Growing up means being able to handle your own stuff--it doesn't mean having to hate cartoons (Thank Archie for that misconception. At the same time, note that was never absolute. See stuff like Fritz the Cat, City Hunter, Lupin III, Patsy Walker. Before Archie, think about Betty Boop and early Blondie in the actual context of the 1920s) It doesn't mean you have to hate puns and the music you liked in High School. I love both, and I'm making you this list. Don't be embarrassed about what you like. Life's too short. Don't worry now or ever. Like 50 Shades? As long as you know that in real life, you should stay safe from abuse, and you know real BDSM isn't that and don't treat people in that community shitty or put yourself in danger. Be critical of what you like but only dislike it if its shittiness ruined it for you, like how I feel about David Bowie after "China Girl." And people having limits is okay. White people frequently tell me I have no right to dislike David Bowie after that song because... I have no right to complain about the fetishisation/assault/other oppression of Asians because they want to keep oppressing me, I guess? I have a right even if I weren't attacked more times than I can count because of the treatment of Asians in America. They have no right to tell me what to enjoy or not to enjoy. Similarly, people might tell you your interest makes you immature or whatever ("O M G, you STILL listen to New Kids on the Block!? What are you, 13?") this is like the point about the person who likes Miracle Whip v the person who likes mayonnaise. What you like isn't impervious to criticism, but it doesn't make you morally anything. You might not want to tell your co-workers you write fic, but just know sometimes things aren't worth dealing with and still liking The Muppet Movies even when you turn 35 someday is no judgement on you. (I have a couple of those on VHS) I've been literally beaten for reading in my mother tongue and not only ever English. I buy/check out my books. I don't have to listen to them. And that's the thing about being an adult. You're in control. Yeah, you're responsible for you, and depending, you might not have anyone to fall back on. My dad died in my high school years. My grandparents had already died when he did. Some decided they really didn't want to fulfill the duties of parents because you turned out too different. That isn't fun. I know, as you see. But it would seem young people now are afraid to grow up? It's a good thing. As long as you do no harm, you're (supposed to be) free. You can bake a cake and have it for breakfast on Sunday morning. A la mode, even. Watch that movie--no one should be able to tell you no! ((They can tell you wait if they have to sleep or the TV is shared, but they shouldn't be able to disallow you--controlling shit like that for an adult happens, but that's the realm of abusive partners or staying at mum and dad's for the weekend) If I think of anything else, I'll edit this post. For now, that's it. (Remember to brush your teeth!)

#adulting #being an adult #adult problems #life advice #life hacks #advice from adults

[bobbystompy]

The Slim Shady 20

Eminem’s “The Slim Shady LP” came out, I’m told, 20 years ago. Though the album is, in many ways, dated, homophobic, problematic, sexist, and just as differently offensive now as it equally was originally, it’s still extremely excellent. Instead of going too think piece-y, I wanted to write about my favorite bars.

While Eminem’s career definitely hit higher highs with latter releases, this is my favorite album in his catalogue. He was just as angry, but it was channeled; not distorted by fame or worn down by addiction or jaded by lawsuits or persevering through death of loved ones. This was 26-year-old Marshall, getting his head above water in time to start machine gunning expletives at the world around him.

And please remember, in his words, “If I’m talking too fast, it just means you’re listening too slow.”

20.

I wanted an album so rugged, nobody could touch it Spent a million a track and went over my budget (Oh, shit) Now, how in the fuck am I supposed to get out of debt? I can't rap anymore, I just murdered the alphabet

Immediate thesis statement.

19.

If I had a magic wand I'd make the world suck my dick without a condom on while I'm on the john

Really dislike this lyric, but it’s unflinching grossness hits every time.

18. 

I met a s*** and said, "What up? It's nice to meet ya I'd like to treat you to a Faygo and a slice of pizza”

This lyric does not exist going forward because any success carries you beyond it. Shades of “Exhibit C’s” masterful “When I was sleepin' on the train / Sleepin' on Meserole Ave out in the rain / Without even a single slice of pizza to my name” exactly 10 years later.

17.

This guy at White Castle asked for my autograph So I signed it, "Dear Dave, thanks for the support, asshole"

Doesn’t even rhyme; he hated his fans from the very beginning.

16. 

‘Cause I'm the one they can relate to and look up to better Tonight, I think I'll write my biggest fan a "fuck you" letter

Gave you every, immediate chance to get away.

15.

I'm freestylin' every verse that I spit 'Cause I don't even remember the words to my shit

Nah --  you’re way too meticulous, Shady.

14.

I'm not a player, just a ill rhyme sayer That'll spray a aerosol can up at the ozone layer

I like when his evil imagery turns half-baked adolescent; might as well brag about melting ants with your magnifying glass.

13.

Tell her you need a place to stay You'll be safe for days if you shave your legs with Renee's razor blades

Some fun internals; plus the part right before taught me what “gaffle” meant.

12.

I just remembered that I'm absent-minded Wait, I mean I've lost my mind, I can't find it

+

I used to be a loudmouth, remember me? (“Uh-uh”) I'm the one who burned your house down (“Oh”) Well, I'm out now (“Shit”)

Two of my favorite circular lines.

11.

Some people only see that I'm white, ignorin' skill 'Cause I stand out like a green hat with a orange bill But I don't get pissed, y'all don't even see through the mist How the fuck can I be white? I don't even exist

Had to address the elephant in the room.

10.

You beef with me, I'ma even the score equally Take you on Jerry Springer and beat your ass legally

Man with a plan.

9.

These are the results of a thousand electric volts, a neck with bolts Nurse, we're losin' him, check the pulse

Always a lab-created monster.

8.

I want to make songs all the fellas dub And murder every rich rapper that I'm jealous of So just remember, when I bomb your set Yo, I only cuss to make your mom upset

Cracked the code for us.

7.

Got b****** on my jock out in East Detroit 'Cause they think that I'm a motherfuckin' Beastie Boy So I told 'em I was Mike D They was like, "Gee, I don't know, he might be" I told 'em, "Meet me at Kid Rock's next concert I'll be standin' by the Loch Ness Monster"

This one checks many boxes: The D, local-yet-hilariously-dated celeb name check, misogyny, mythical creatures.

6.

But they love it when you make your business public So fuck it, I've got herpes while we on the subject And if I told you I had AIDS, y'all would play it 'Cause you stupid mothafuckas think I'm playin' when I say it Well, I do take pills, don't do speed Don't do crack, don't do coke, I do smoke weed Don't do smack, I do do shrooms, do drink beer I just wanna make a few things clear My baby mama's not dead, she's still alive and bitching And I don't have herpes, my dick's just itchin' It's not syphilis, and as for being AIDS-infested I don't know yet, I'm too scared to get tested

One of the only times he breaks the fourth wall.

5.

I hang with a bunch of hippies and wacky tobacco planters Who swallow lit roaches and light up like jack-o-lanterns Outsidaz, baby, and we suin' the courts 'Cause we dope as fuck and only get a ‘2′ in The Source

This was soon corrected.

4.

That's what I did, be smart, don't be a r***** You gonna take advice from somebody who slapped Dee Barnes? “What you say?” What's wrong? Didn't think I'd remember? “I'ma kill you, motherfucker” Uh-uh, temper, temper Mr. Dre, Mr. N.W.A, Mr. AK Comin' straight outta Compton, y'all better make way

Distilling Dre’s career -- warts and all -- into a flurry of knockout punches.

3.

I'll listen to your demo tape and act like I don't like it Six months later, you'll hear your lyrics on my shit ("That's my shit"!) People don't buy shit no more, they just dub it That's why I'm still broke and had the number-one club hit

Everything we’ve ever learned about Eminem has taught us he’s a tortured obsessive... yet this stretch feels effortlessly perfect. Plus, it gives us a clairvoyant outlook on the perils of massive-success-without-actually-making-money in the YouTube/streaming era.

2.

Me and Marcus Allen went over to see Nicole When we heard a knock at the door, must've been Ron Gold Jumped behind the door, put the orgy on hold Killed them both, then smeared blood on the white Bronco (We did it)

So offensive it almost laps itself back into normalcy. The unflinching “We did it” at the end is psychotic, horrible, and confident.

1.

 Fuck rap, I'm givin' it up, y'all, I'm sorry (”But Eminem, this is your record release party!”)

Tried to get out the game on his debut; Jay Electronica would be proud.

Honorable mentions...

I lay awake and strap myself in the bed With a bulletproof vest on and shoot myself in the head (Bang) I'm steamin' mad (Grr) And by the way, when you see my dad (Yeah?) Tell him that I slit his throat in this dream I had

There’s something casual about his fantasy murder of his father that really made the end stretch of this hit home. This is the closing of his final verse in “My Name Is”; he was never playing.

Man, ain't you ever seen that one movie “Kids”? No, but I seen the porno with Sun Doobiest

Em’s devil to Dre’s angel.

My palms were sweaty, and I started to shake at first Somethin' told me, "Try to fake a stomach ache, it works" I screamed, "Ow, my appendix feel like they could burst Teacher, teacher, quick, I need a naked nurse" "What's the matter?" "I don't know, my leg, it hurts" "Leg? I thought you said it was your tummy" "Oh, I mean it is, but I also got a bum knee" "Mr. Mathers, the fun and games are over And just for that stunt, you're gonna get some extra homework" "But don't you wanna give me after school detention?" "Nah, that bully wants to beat your ass and I'ma let him"

Even the teacher wanted him to get his.

Tired of bein' stared at Tired of wearin' the same damn Nike Air hat

Never had to worry about that after this.

* * *

Death section:

- I tried suicide once and I'll try it again That's why I write songs where I die at the end 

- The disaster with dreads, I'm bad enough to commit suicide And survive long enough to kill my soul after I'm dead

- The ill type, I stab myself with a steel spike While I blow my brain out just to see what it feels like 'Cause this is how I am in real life I don't want to just die a normal death, I wanna be killed twice

- And if you ever see a video for this shit I'll probably be dressed up like a mummy with my wrists slit

- (I'm Slim Shady) So come and kill me while my name's hot And shoot me 25 times in the same spot

* * *

I got a wardrobe with an orange robe I'm in the fourth row, signin' autographs at your show

Tries to be unique and boastful... falls apart and gets self-deprecating.

I take a breather and sigh, either I'm high or I'm nuts 'Cause if you ain't tiltin' this room, neither am I

I mean, someone was... right?

We drive around in million-dollar sports cars While little kids hide this tape from their parents like bad report cards

Eh.

If I had a million bucks, it wouldn't be enough Because I'd still be out robbin' armored trucks

Unquenched desire for chaos.

A lyricist without a clue, what year is this? Fuck a needle, here's a sword, body pierce with this

Always able to make a risky situation dicier.

Wait, what if there's an explanation for this shit? What, she tripped, fell, landed on his dick?

Solid one liner.

Drug sickness got me doin' some bugged twitches I'm withdrawin' from crack so bad, my blood itches

/eyes pop out

I don't speak, I float in the air, wrapped in a sheet I'm not a real person, I'm a ghost trapped in a beat

Super fun hip-hop imagery.

#eminem #the slim shady lp #1999 #music reviews #dr. dre #the eminem show #8 mile #detroit #beastie boys #loch ness monster #kid rock #music #rap #hip-hop #nostalgia #death #mummy #east detroit #nwa

[airbnbfestivals]

Weed: How to deal with it in your rentals by someone who deals with weed rentals and weed daily for over a decade.

Some background. I'm well aware some of this makes me look like a shit, but it is what it is. I was a cig smoker for ten, and a pot smoker for bout 20. I have lots and lots of experience with both.First, if you dont want weed because you just dont want it. Then say so. don't make any excuses as to smell or this, that, or the other thing. The reason why I say this is then you leave the door open to things like "vaping doesnt smell bad", "weed doesn't stick like cigs do" or any number of factual statements that actually demonstrate your worry is unfounded. You not wanting it is good enough.I'm a daily toker. I toke in my car, in my hotels, in my house, outside. Everyday. Not a lot but a bowl or two a day minimum nowadays.When i first started toking it was much more taboo than it is now. Instead of getting kicked out of a hotel, youd likely have the cops called on you. If your car smells like weed at all, youre likely to get searched or held until dogs arrive. Anyway.When I smoke in the car I smoke, roll down the windows, spritz an freshener, and then wait a few minutes and the smell is gone. it's not coated on my car dash, windows, fabrics or anything else. Ive smoked in the following hotel brands EVERY TIME I STAY. Hilton, Holiday Inn, Best Western, Kimpton, Soho House, The Robey, The Mondrion, Crowne Plazas, and a lot lot more. Low end to $700+ a night ritzy. And yes, basically every bloody airbnb I have stayed in. Yes, I break no smoking weed rules almost everyplace I stay. This makes me an asshole, but it also makes me an experienced asshole.Nowadays I usually carry edibles or a vape pen. I have no justifiable excuse other than I leave no trace and do no harm so I dont feel guilty about it. In addition, most of those places will charge you 200 to 500 bucks for getting caught or leaving a room smell like smoke.I can count on 3 times over more than 1.5k ish stays over the last 9 years or so where I got a request for smoking payment. 1 of which was because I was at a wedding during new years and pocketed a cigar and left it in the room. As soon as we realized they were trying to tag us for a cigar I was able to direct them to a camera out front that showed me pocketing it and how much had been smoked. Had nothing to do with weed, but we had smoked weed in there.The other time was because they found a cigarette butt inside the room in the trash, soaked in water. (I carried it in from outside). Had toked weed in there, but didn't smoke a cigarette in there. They didnt' smell anything according to them, just assumed as they found a butt. Whatever.The process I follow is simple. I throw a towel by the door. Open a window, and turn on the bathroom fan if there is one. I also carry ozium or similar when I travel. I smoke, then pack everything back up in an airtight container. Then I spray ozium and wait a couple of minutes. If I'm leaving to do something immediately I'll likely dash myself with a drop of cologne, if not then I dont do anything else.This is literally it. This is all I have ever done to avoid being charged hundreds of dollars by a hotel. this is all I have ever done to avoid a scathing negative review from a host. This is all I have ever done to avoid being fucked with by the police whenever I have been stopped or by neighbors in my apartment building complaining. If weed was like tobacco I could not do this. Tobacco smoke sticks, lingers, and stays.You can't spray a room and get rid of the smell. You actually have to wash everything. In college I was a cig smoker and our apartment REAKED TERRIBLY. Our friends who toked more than twice as much as me, but never allowed cigs never smelled like weed unless they recently got done toking. People could visit them without walking out smelling like an ashtray. That could never happen at our place when friends came by.In addition, we run shared dorm style listings. If both randoms in one bedroom are 420 friendly, we will allow them to smoke in there assuming they follow my above listed policy. This same policy is why our other guests on site never know that people are toking, they never know there is marijuana in the house unless they ask, and we never have any additional cleaning to do after them when they check out. I'm lazy as fuck. I dont allow cig smoking because I dont want to deal with the extra work involved and having other guests complain about the smell. We allow weed because we have none of those extra negatives. As long as they follow our weed rules, it's all gravy. When people don't they are cut off from the privilege and are directed to our backyard. Not a big deal in warmer months, but it does suck in the colder ones. :PThe reality is this. If you can smell someone toking it's because they did it recently, or have done nothing to try and get rid of it. It's really as simple as cycling the air in the affected areas and re-introducing any other new smell. It could be a solid fart, it could be air freshener, it could just be a standard cleaning. Short of there being another source for the smell, that's all you have to do to get rid of it. Your couch isn't going to reek like weed. Your curtains dont need to be washed. There's no sticky film on your windows. Instead of crying wolf about how it's the same as tobcacco and you have to do all of this extra work, just try what I detailed above and call it a day. I promise you it works. It's the same process ive been using successfully for over 15 years.​​ Get $20 off your first AirBnB stay.

#Weed: How to deal with it in your rentals by someone who deals with weed rentals and weed daily for