#straight white men on their bullshit again tw

[iamnotawomanimagod]

some of ya’ll might remember a drama I had a few months ago involving an old friend/parental figure and her new, much younger boyfriend.

here’s how that’s going (mostly for my record, you should prolly skip this tbh.)

tw for abuse, super large age gaps in romantic relationships, ableism towards mental illness, making fun of triggers, etc.

it’s also long af lmao, sorry mobile users

basically I burned a bridge previously thought Unburnable. A friend I’d had for 15 years chose the opinions and viewpoint of her months-long relationship over mine, in an issue that I considered a huge red flag. there’s honestly been so many red flags.

first - she’s 46, I’ve known her since I was 12. she helped raise me through my teen years (she’s my mom’s ex-girlfriend, but they broke up in like, 2010, so that’s old news). her new bf is 24. I’m 26. you can see one big red flag right there. I can’t even go into that one. it grosses me out.

the next came when the Boy and I got into an argument on Facebook (ofc lol). I posted something out of context about men not telling other men to smile on the street, how if it was well-intentioned towards women they wouldn’t do it towards men. it was out of context but I figured most people would fucking get it. 

he countered with some MRA “men aren’t allowed to have feelings” bullshit, basically making the conversation about how dudes are actually the victims, immediately. I smelled that from a mile away, gave an evasive questioning response, he sniped back with the same shit. It devolved from there.

it was clearly something he had done a lot of before. so, like, he’s an internet troll. okay, whatever. sometimes young men make dumb choices and the internet is ripe for that kind of embarrassing faux pas. at that moment I still believed it was something he could’ve been educated out of.

it was a dumb internet argument that I even I can admit got super out of hand. after a lot of pointless back-and-forth, I asked him to stop engaging because I realized it was something that I clearly felt more passionately about than him.

I had also had a very reasonable conversation with my friend about him on the phone, which encouraged me to try to just end the debate. she had assured me it was a fluke, that he was just trying to have a debate, told me some of his Tragic Backstory to make up for it, yadadada. whatever. I was ready to move on.

the Boy could not let me have the last word though. and his last words were, in my opinion, a gigantic fucking red flag, and would have been a dealbreaker for me personally, if I was dating him.

his exact words were: “and so the triggered internet warrior loses the plot”

so a triggered joke. y’know, something shitty people do. making fun of and making light of ptsd. something internet trolls are known to do. and the alt-right.

it was a big, giant red flag for me.

I foolishly believed my friend had a similar heart to mine, and that she would (a) take my word that he was being an asshole, even if she didn’t fully understand the context due to the age gap, since I’ve known her for 15 years and he’d known her for about two months at the time, and (b) also see it as a dealbreaker. 

I mentioned her by name on Facebook ( “does your gf know the kind of person you are,” essentially). She’s an old person so she took me mentioning her (not even tagging her! just mentioning her!) as a grave insult, and she and I had several screaming, crying phone conversations that weekend where she basically refused to listen to me, and I got exponentially angrier and angrier about her indifference and how unaffected she was by what the Boy said. it didn’t help that she proceeded to spend the weekend with him while ignoring all of my texts and phone calls. I felt he had undue influence over her and that I was losing the chance to have her understand why this was a red flag.

I got a lil scary. understand this person was like a mother to me, or at the very least like an older sister/auntie. I suppose I felt she owed me something, due to our history. that was a bit crazy-person of me, but also not totally unfounded. I lived in her house for two years after she and my mom broke up. my mom abused her and I was the one to help break that cycle. we had been incredibly close and I often told her things I would tell no one else. she would do the same with me. I expected her to take my side, or to at the very least understand my viewpoint. I was devastated, heartbroken, and pissed off when she took his.

still am, or I wouldn’t be here writing a 1000 word blog entry on a semi-public platform just to explain the backstory of what happened two months ago - not even the most recent, most troubling development in this stupid saga.

regardless, she basically thought I misunderstood him, and I came to the realization that it was probably the first time she had ever even heard the word “triggered” in that context - as someone making fun of someone else for a mental illness. she basically accused me of living in a liberal echo chamber/thought bubble, that she “knew his heart” and he “couldn’t possibly have meant something bad by it” (not verbatim, but the gist). she used the fact that a couple of my like-minded friends jumped in to rag on him after he dropped the triggered joke. not before, during the actual (slightly more reasonable) discourse.

I ended up getting like, obscenely mad at this, and really bratty. I told my friend she was out of touch and it was embarrassing. That I was ashamed of her. That she was a detriment to the nonprofit field (where she works) because she was so behind-the-times. That she was relying on her job to get out of having to do any work towards social issues in her personal life. I got mean.

b/c that’s what I do when I know I’m burning a bridge.

and I knew I was. b/c if she can’t trust me and listen to me about this, one of the most important things to me, a value I thought she shared - then she’s not who I thought she was. and, to be melodramatic as fuck because that’s who I am - she’s literally sleeping with the motherfucking enemy.

so. that’s what happened like...two or three months ago. we haven’t spoken since. I did my salt-the-earth-of-this-relationship-with-insults routine, blocked her on all available methods of contact, and tried to move on.

unfortunately, another drama in my family chose this time to intersect, because that’s how life works for me and mine.

my sister is on house arrest. for lots of complicated and ugly reasons, my friend’s house was the best place for her to serve this sentence. my sister just got out of a very abusive relationship. she’s a recovering alcoholic - but only when she’s being monitored via ankle bracelet by the state. like she recently went on a bender that coincided with my other sister’s wedding, which she was absent for, causing a huge rift there. she’s trying really, really hard to get her life back on track, despite making some mistakes. my friend really made it seem like she was in my sister’s corner, and like she was willing to build a safe and stable place for my sister to get sober and do her time.

I just found out from my mom that the Boy put his hands on my sister. 

There was a bad argument, things got out of hand (serious rage issues in my family - it’s in our blood, regardless of sobriety, tbh. drinking just brings it out faster). My sister was being forced to quit smoking cigarettes because my friend decided to. I can understand how it escalated.

What I can’t understand is how my friend thought it was acceptable, given what she went through. Given she knows exactly what my sister has been going through.

My sister screamed, “don’t put your fucking hands on me”

he replied, “I’ll put my hands on you whenever I want.”

but I’m just a crazy liberal living in an echo chamber, right? I totally didn’t see right through this guy from the moment I met him, or from the first serious conversation I had with him? naaah. crazy liberal in an echo chamber.

I’m smug because if I stay smug I won’t get pissed. I won’t drive over there as soon as my husband is home and read that disgusting, borderline-pedophilic couple the riot act.

and I won’t feel guilty for how I’m in no position to help my sister out. that she’s in another house with another entitled, violent fucking straight man.

I can’t even like, approach my friend for another wakeup call. I’m too good at burning bridges. she won’t listen to me anymore. even if she barely did at the start.

ugh.

where’s my weed.

#rambling about my life #hey pal be a bud and don't reblog this or i'll tear your tongue out kthx #abuse tw #drug abuse tw #alcoholism tw #misogyny tw #straight white men on their bullshit again tw #long post

[theepisceswriter]

Jjk dudes promising just the tip but breaking it like 2 seconds later please!

Bestie I know you wanted multiple JJK characters, and I’ll probably still give it you, but I had something similar to this in my notes with Toji, so I decided to make a little ficlet with him instead surrounding this idea....kinda.

Synopsis: Your toxic baby daddy Toji hits you up after not being heard from for months with that smirk on his face that you just can’t resist.

TW: Dub con might apply here but I did my best to make reader aware that Toji was 99.99% lying abt just the tip and knew abt his intentions from the start, but I guess you can interpret it how you want, fembodied!reader, Toji is a trigger warning on his own, manipulation, implied that you have a child together, pregnancy mention briefly, breeding kink, toxic relationship, 18+, MINORS DNI

Word Count: 1.7k

Your heart dropped to your stomach when you flipped your phone over to see ‘TOJI WOJI 🥺🧸🥰....is FaceTiming you.’ Whatever he was calling for couldn’t have been important or even worth your time listening to at all. It was edging on 12 am in the morning, the ungodly hours of the night where sin ran rampant and thoughts became loud as the world around you silenced, a concoction of emotions that meant nothing good. Especially when the last time you received a phone call from him this late it resulted in a booty call that led to you pregnant with a child that Toji barely came to see. Still, you found your thumb lingering over the green answer button and faintly tapping on it, hoping that it wouldn’t go through, but instead, you were met with the sight of Toji. The raven locks on his hair poking out like always, the same old scar over his lip, and the same basic black tee decorating his body. He looked exactly the same as you had last seen him except the outside lights of the world illuminated his face as he appeared to be in what you assumed was the driver’s seat of his car. You felt your heart clench in your chest, memories of your relationship before he up and dipped on you clouding your mind to the point where you were damn near in tears wondering why it had to end so abruptly; why he left you the way he did. But those tears were soon pushed back by with an anger that had you ready to hang up in his face. You were so conflicted when it came to him, always had been.

“What do you want Toji?”

“You. I miss you, y/n. I’ve been thinking a lot about you and our family.” God, here he went with this bullshit again. Just when you thought the cycle was over he always popped up again, little white lies about missing you and his child so he could find solace in your bed for a week or two before dipping like he always did. Apparently, he wanted to come in and talk things out, just talk and try to redeem your relationship. You knew he was just telling you everything you wanted to hear with an ulterior motive behind his words, but you couldn’t resist that grin on his lips and the compliments of how nice you looked even in your nightclothes.

He was too good at this because the next thing you knew he was sitting on the couch in your living room with his legs manspreading out and trying to inch his way closer to where you sat on the opposite end. Your arms crossed and staring daggers into him while all he did was look at you as fondly as he could, as if he were genuinely envisioning a future with you and the child he left you within this moment.

“What the fuck do you really want Toji?” Your voice had a bite to it that left him smirking at your attitude and digging deeper into his mind to pull out lines he knew you wanted to hear, lines he knew would get him that satisfactory ending of you giving into his sweet talk and bold advances as he scooted a couple of inches closer to you. So close that his hand was able to rest on the part of your left thigh that the shorts you were wearing left exposed, gently kneading the area with his palm.

“You know you look good right?” You scoffed and rolled your eyes ready to push his hand off of you but his other hand blocked you from doing so, bringing both of your arms over your head and adjusting the two of you so that you were now smushed between him and the cushioning of the couch. As mad as you wanted to be at him you just couldn’t. He had indestructible shackles placed over your heart that tugged with each time he forced himself back into your life just like how they were now.

Flashbacks of the night you got pregnant suddenly came flashing before your eyes. The vivid imagery of the way he had your legs folded to the point where your ankles were by your ears as he pounded into you ruthlessly from above, hand around your neck tightening your airways and making tears form in your eyes. Blissed dazed out in a space that was too similar to subspace, too out of it to even respond to the “I’m going to fuck a baby into you and how ever many I want after that. Use you like the slut you are and breed you so good.” That had left his lips at that moment. 

Which is exactly what he did and here he was again, the two of you in the very same spot shimmied out of your clothes, and him ready to fuck a baby into you again once more.

“I just want you.” When he says it like that, voice soft and laced with what you hope to be some form of honesty, it’s easy to pretend like this is okay in a relationship—if that’s what you could even call this. That if you squinted your eyes hard enough and looked past Toji’s flaws that all this pain and suffering he put you through in the end would be worth it. Your feelings changing for him with each entrance and exit he made in your life. Always wondering what the two of you could’ve been if he was a better man. You had to be soulmates, there was no other explanation for why you kept coming back to each other. At least not any logical one that you could think of.

All the logical thinking left your mind the moment he pressed his lips to yours, those oh so soft lips that you missed and craved badly on nights when other men’s lips couldn’t contort to yours the way that he did.

This is exactly what he wanted—his gentle caresses and touch to distract you from the real reason why he was here. Which was only to use your body how he wanted before he went on with his life, not thinking about you again until he got horny once more. And it was the touch of his cold hands against your skin, working its way up to grope at your enlarged breast, that brought you back to this realization. Lips moving off of his immediately and backing up against the arm of the couch. Your lips opened in protest, only to be cut off by him speaking up first.

“You don’t understand how much I’ve missed your touch—your body. Do you know how much gorgeous you’ve become with a post-pregnancy body? Just looking at you is driving me crazy.” He continues on with his compliments. Each one hitting you straight into your heart and going up to your head to shush those thoughts that scream at you to not fall for his trap, but instead, you fell right into it. Allowing his to resume his position on top of you.

“We don’t even have to do much. Just the tip, I promise. I just miss the feeling of you around me so much.” It’s the first time this whole night that you were able to recognize one of his lies as just that, a bold-faced lie. You knew how he got when he was in the mood, how dark and clouded his mind got with lust to the point where he was a whole different Toji. But you let him believe that you believed that, a small okay leaving your lips along with a nod as you accepted his lips on yours once more; his tongue slipping past your lips to find yours, gently sucking on it and letting out a light moan at the familiarity of it. He didn’t even have to use his hands to guide his cock to your entrance because he was just that big, breaking away from the kiss to look at where the two of you connected and using his hips to guide his erect tip inside of the warmth of your cunt. For a minute, maybe even less, he kept his “promise” of inserting only his tip, but the feeling of your walls gripping on only the tip of his cock was enough for him to go crazy. Something on the verge of a whimper and a moan leaving his lips. He needed more of you and he was going to have more of you. Disregarding his promise like you predicted, he ruthlessly bucked his hips up against yours, his whole length entering you with ease from the build-up of your arousal that had taken the physical form of wetness.

“Pussy so wet just for me that you swallowed me whole.” He tried to pin it on you and if you weren’t stuffed to the brim with him right now maybe you would’ve rolled your eyes and told him how dumb he sounded, but you went along with it. He didn’t even give you time to adjust to him because even after months without touching each other he knew the pussy that he trained with constant fucking every week would remember his shape and form, adjusting your legs so they were folded up against your stomach and immediately getting to work.

“I might have to put another baby in you if this is what post-pregnancy pussy feels like. You feel so good and right around my cock, baby.”

Each thrust was like heaven on earth, his cock curved in just the right spots to his every sensitive area inside of you that left your toes curling and a faint white creamy line begin to form at the base of his cock. It had been so long since you’ve had a nice good fucking. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt so full, so good to the point where tears formed around the edges of your eyes. No one, not even the toys you had spent $100’s on tucked away in your closet, came close to the affect that he had on your body.

He always knew just what to do and just what to say to have you crumbling underneath him. One of your favorite but also most disliked quality that he possessed.

#I know you’re probably wondering where the child is at and I’m going to assume that it’s at someone else’s house rn #I didn’t feel that was too important to mention in the story lmao #Asks. #Spicy. #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujustu kaisen smut #jujustu kaisen x reader #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro

[clvmtines]

welcome aboard, clementine martinez, student #2. we are excited to set sail with you !  has anyone told you that you look like alexa demie? according to our records, you hail from florida, usa, prefer she / her pronouns, are a cis woman, and are here to study creative writing. we also see you received a spot on the ss university because of your online lottery win — we won’t tell anyone. during your first few weeks here, other students said you were + charming, + free-spirited, but also - restive. it sounds like you spend most of your time at the billiards room. upon checking your luggage, we noticed you packed a casino chip carried around for luck from home. hopefully your roommates don’t steal it!

hi friends! i’m very excited to be here. i’m jay (est, she/her) n i used to play astrid nyland a few months ago if anyone remembers bt i had to leave for personal reasons. i’m so glad to be back now that i hve life sorted and some free time for summer break <3 read on for some details abt this new muse of mine, clementine. 

01. biography !

so ! clementine was born in florida. & yes, her real name is clementine. her mom thot it was the cutest name idea ever. clementine mostly goes by clem. she comes from the town [redacted] in florida bcoz i am too lazy to look up a specific town <3 but alas ! it was swampy and humid and she lived in a trailer park. 

her parents got knocked up at nineteen. clem was born nine months after a particularly wild 1999 fourth of july. her birthday is march 26th and she’s an aries. 

(TW: addiction, child injury) clem’s dad was a gambling addict and petty criminal—he wld steal credit cards n whatnot. he wld gamble away diaper money n it would cause constant fighting until her dad finally left. her mom took this very hard n began drinking a bit too often, leaving clem to to make cereal for dinner n fend for herself. once clem tried to make hot dogs on the stove and spilled boiling water on herself. got a p bad burn on her arm/shoulder and still has a big scar.

the soundtrack of her childhood was cicadas buzzing and stray dogs barking. the sizzle and pop of natty light cans. turning up her ipod to max volume to drown out the sounds of her mother fighting with her new boyfriend.

throughout her upbringing, clem’s dad was always in and out of the picture. he’d blow into town when he hit it big. he’d take her on these little “adventures” like staying in a motel 6 n renting movies at block buster n ordering good pizza nt the dominos shit she ate with her mom lol. ofc he was charging it all to someone’s stolen credit card. he’d always promise to, like, take clem away. n clem was a daddy’s girl so she believed him. the last time it happened was her h.s. graduation. her mom didn’t show ( "overslept” after a bender ) but her dad did and surprised her n said everything wld be different. bt then he bailed on their plans for the next day n when she called his cell, the number was disconnected. tht was the defining “i’m done” moment. clem promised to never be disappointed by her father again.

(TW: racism) her mother has mexican ancestry and clem’s always been called her twin. but clem was raised in a predominately white area and honestly ?? it was really hard without her even realizing it. she’s still unpacking a lot of things today abt her youth that jst weren’t okay bt she thought were normal. like microaggressions, stereotypes, being fetishized by boys in high school. gross shit.

as a kid, clem was rumored to be really poor bc she wore tattered clothes n got free lunch at school. once she invited a friend to her house & the next day they told everyone it’s in a trailer park. that reputation—the “trailer park girl”—was really hard to shake. and clem got almost desperate to shake it. she was endlessly trying to set her old self on fire and emerge from the ashes like a phoenix.

eventually clem became more “popular”. in school she was, like, a straight b student. very average although super creative and quick-thinking. she always had street smarts. problem solving skills. independence. more of, like, practical intelligence as opposed to book smarts because academia bores her tbh. she was like why am i reading these overrated boring books by dead white men or learning abt polynomials when i know nothing abt how to pay a mortage or do taxes. like...she saw the american education system as bullshit and put in modest effort because she didn’t believe it deserved her sweat and tears. 

however, she entered the online lottery for the seas program on a whim and got in. so she’s studying creative writing now.

02. personality !

first thing you shld know abt clem is that she’s a compulsive liar essentially—she tells various stories to make her life seem better than what it was. to one person, she’s an heiress to a real estate company and grew up wealthy. to the next she was raised by nomadic hippies. some of her lies are small fibs while others are grandiose tales. she rarely talks about her actual upbringing. she hates talking abt her family or the v real trauma of growing up in a household where both parents struggled w/ addiction; the uncertainty, the broken promises, the fact that she had to grow up so soon and deal w/ so much. it wasn’t fair, and if she thinks about it too much, she feels this anger. anger at the universe. anger at her circumstances. she doesn’t know where to put this anger. she doesn’t know how to shrink it. so she avoids it.

despite her rough upbringing, though, clem is actually really sweet and kind. she’s adventurous, fun-loving, free-spirited, and bold. 

bt ! she can also be closed-off, competitive and restive. 

she’s seemingly tight with everyone? like she’s jst that girl who can get along with anyone tbh. 

in her spare time you can catch her tanning by the pool, hanging at the bar, playing pool ( which she learned from her dad ), and socializing. she’ll never say no to hanging out with people. 

she learned a lot from her little “adventures” with her dad, who was very good at conning others and often involved her in his dumb little scams. clem is suuuper good at pulling the ‘im baby 🥺’ card to get what she wants.

she can be a little selfish, because she grew up looking out for herself. 

stubborn and dogmatic as hell !!!

she doesn’t do too many relationships but when she does fall, i imagine she falls hard and fast. she refuses to be made a fool of, tho. when she gets vulnerable she flashes back to being a kid, waiting all day for her dad to show up only to have him bail on her. again. she hates that feeling. so if she, like, senses a shift in someone’s energy she’ll b like, “i’ll break up with u before u can do it to me” and the person wasn’t even tryna dump her lmao.

has a lot of sex. too much ?? sex?? mayb. but she’s v sex positive.

her personal style is v late 90s. hair clips, big scrunchies, neon, fur trim, crop and tube tops, hoop earrings, chokers, patterns, platform shoes, biodegradable glitter cuz it’s good fr the earth *winks*. clothes from o-mighty.......actually jst google o mighty, pull up the images and That is clem. she dresses like a bratz doll. she’s dedicated to the aesthetic.

03. headcanons !

her item brought from home is a hot pink poker chip from a casino. her dad gave it to her. he said it reminded him of her because of the color; he got it during one of his winning streaks and said it was lucky. she has a complicated relationship w/ her dad n doesn’t even speak to him anymore, bt she will never go anywhere without it.

she’s a smol bean—only 5′4

an astrology girl and she reads palms ! she absolutely makes astrology tik toks that people only watch because she’s hot. her flirting technique is to ask you to read your palm.

she doesn’t typically drink to get drunk. but she does love a good sugary cocktail. to her, a drink is like an accessory. a blue fishbowl by the pool, a jack and coke as she stands around a bar. usually she'll nurse the same beverage for a while. if you see her wasted it usually means she’s going thru it emotionally lol. the one thing she does do is drugs tho 

pretty much listens to exclusively female artists.

a bit of an activist. environmentalism, feminism and the like, she’s v outspoken. vegan for ethical reasons (TW: drugs) bt still does cocaine. she wears shirts with ‘my pussy my choice’ bedazzled on the front.

loves to rollerblade ! back home she didn’t have a car so she’d bike or rollerblade. now she still has her blades and she’ll use them when the ship docks. 

03. wanted connections !

Friends, bffs, ride or dies, friends who are like siblings to her, maybe a friend with an unrequited crush on either side ??

an ex she dumped/cheated on/otherwise self sabotaged their relationship because she was afraid of vulnerability.

an ex friend who realized she lies a lot abt herself n felt betrayed. OH ! ESP if they opened up to her on many occasions abt intimate, personal stuff. imagine the betrayal they felt when they found that everything they thought they knew abt clem is a lie.

someone who she actually opens up to. a confidant. or, maybe, like, a stranger she drunkenly spilled her soul to and now she avoids them like the plague.

a rival. clem can be competitive.

her drug dealer 

someone she knows she shouldn’t hook up with and… does it anyways. like a friend’s ex or smthing. spicy <3

i welcome anything !

#seasintro #addiction tw #alcohol tw #drugs tw

[thewhumperinwhite]

Lost Dog, No Reward (1)

I made a thing! Dw, i’m still working on everything else too, but i needed to work on something new for a while because i have problems disorder

this owes a lot to @ashintheairlikesnow who is among my fave whump writers. i know she didn’t originate the universe, and i’m not double checking a lot to make sure this is actually bbu compliant, but her stuff definitely inspired me to mess with the bbu at all :3

TW for: violence/gore; amnesiac whumpee; choking; references to institutionalized slavery and accompanying dehumanization; gun violence; cops.

---

Ari’s never had a job go this badly before. Not in the years he still remembers, anyway.

Ari’s vision is always lopsided, and he’s always poor at judging distance, and now the blood squeezing between his fingers and ruining his leather gloves is making him dizzy, too, and all three of those things combine to make him trip over the concrete base of a street lamp and jam his torn-open shoulder against the lamp itself, and the pain takes his knees out from under him and crumples him down to the sidewalk, half-sprawled over forwards and losing time he doesn’t have.

He doesn’t know this street. It’s night and he doesn’t know the street which means it’s nothing but a string of locked doors between him and home; on his own street he knows who forgets to lock their doors, who will let him bleed on their couch for a night in exchange for money or a favor, which alleys lead somewhere and which don’t, but here he doesn’t know anything except that the police men shouted after him at first and now they’re not shouting, they’re only running.

While he sucks air in and tries to get his legs back under him, Ari runs through the options he still has in his head. It isn’t hard, because there aren’t very many.

He can turn and fight. That’s what he wants to do; he’s known how to fight longer than he’s known how to talk and he knows it would feel good. But the police men have guns so he also knows it wouldn’t feel good for very long.

He can stop. He can sit here gasping on the sidewalk, holding a lamp post in one hand and his guts in the other, until the police men come and find him. It’s possible they won’t shoot him again, if he’s already laying on the ground, though of course there’s no way to know; but they would certainly drag him away somewhere, somewhere he thinks vaguely would have white walls and no windows, and he doesn’t want to go there with them.

So really there’s only one thing he can do. That’s good. That makes it easy.

His shoulder isn’t too bad, really, or at least he doesn’t think so. It’s turned his coat hot and sticky with blood—the fur collar is all matted with it, which makes him sad, he’s only ever had the one—and it hurts, more now that he’s hit it against the post, but really they barely clipped him; he doesn’t even think it would make him dizzy on it’s own. It’s the hole in his stomach that’s the problem; that’s deeper and wetter and shifts when he pushes his hand against it, in a way that makes him sick. But Rotty said put pressure on the wound—Rotty wailed when he saw the knife go in, and made time for Ari to get away, and told him to put pressure on the wound—so Ari digs his hand against the wound, and he breathes out, and he pushes himself to his feet.

Up ahead there’s a store with its lights on. And Ari can’t stop, and he can’t turn and fight, but he can still run, so that’s what he does.

----

Pryce has always kind of liked closing up alone, because it means he gets to unplug his headphones and fill the shop with very loud vaporwave, which is genuinely pretty chill music to mop floors to but also, more importantly, an inherently funny thing to play very loudly in an empty grocery store.

He’s in the process of emptying the small trashcan next to his seat behind the checkout counter—which is almost entirely filled with the half-pack of cigarettes he smoked during his shift—into the enormous trash bag from outside the bathroom, when the front door opens. He hears it with a full body wince because it is after midnight which means he’s almost certainly blasting some poor unsuspecting drunk with objectively-not-even-very-good vaporwave, and Mr. Nguyen, the very nice old man who owns the store and puts up with Pryce’s bullshit and is thus the only authority figure Pryce respects, will be disappointed if he loses a customer because of Pryce’s unpleasant taste in music; so Pryce is already halfway through an apology before he actually looks up and sees the very large man standing in a puddle of blood in the doorway.

Pryce drops the trash can.

The man is visually bizarre enough that Pryce almost can’t register the full picture, just disparate, equally-baffling parts—the man’s hair is an enormous red-brown mane, it reaches his elbows in a tangled mass weighed down with blood; he’s wearing a knee-length brown-leather coat with a big (bloody) fur collar; his face is a mess of puckered scars pulling up on his mouth and down through one of his eyelids and in the brief moment he stands there staring at Pryce with his (bloody) mouth hanging open the fluorescents turn his eyes—which must be brown, logically they must be—bright orange.

Then the man barrels towards Pryce and all of Pryce’s muscles lock in place as he prepares to be shot or stabbed or at the very least body-tackled—

The man flings himself over the counter and folds his big (bloody) body into an improbably small space half-under the till, next to Pryce’s feet, approximately ten seconds before the front door opens again, hard, the glass banging against the display next to it hard enough to make Pryce wince.

There are two cops, both panting hard. Their guns aren’t pointing at Pryce but they are very much drawn, and they’re both looking at Pryce, who is still frozen completely solid with his eyes bulging out of his head.

“Where’d he go?” one of the officers barks at Pryce.

Pryce blinks.

Then he points over his shoulder, toward the back door. He half-turns, too, which is more movement than he needs to point but does give him time to nudge the big trash bag a little bit out and to the left.

“The back door’s unlocked,” he says, “I was taking out the trash, he must’ve—”

And they rocket past him, toward the back door and the alley, not sparing him or the big trash bag blocking their line of sight, apparently too excited to shoot somebody to notice that it wasn’t even a very good lie.

----

Ari listens to the police men’s shoe-sounds fade into the distance, waiting for them to come back and haul him out of his poor hiding spot and shoot him or drag him away.

They don’t.

The stranger’s worn red sneakers turn away from Ari, take two steps away from the counter; as more of the boy wearing them comes into view Ari watches him plant his hands on his skinny hips and stare after the police men. The boy lets out a breath, whistling on it a little.

Then the boy starts to turn back to Ari; he has time to say “Well—” before Ari leaps to his feet and gets a hand around the boy’s throat and slams him back against the tiled wall behind the counter.

The boy gasps, a thin hand taking Ari’s wrist in a very weak grip. His eyes are very wide.

“Why,” Ari says, his voice as harsh and scratchy as it always is, and thicker because it’s full of blood, “did you lie for me?”

The boy’s mouth opens and closes without words. He is smaller than Ari, and his sneakers are no longer touching the ground, because Ari is holding him up by his throat. His hair is longish—not as long as Ari’s—and colored bright blue-green. Ari doesn’t know how old—he isn’t good at knowing ages—but he’s grown, and Ari hasn’t ever seen him before, he doesn’t have many memories but those he does have he knows very well, he would remember this boy, whose eyes are a color he hasn’t seen before, almost silver, bright in his light-brown face.

The boy makes a sort of gurgling sounds and Ari realizes he is not answering because Ari is squeezing his throat closed. Ari makes himself loosen his grip and the boy drags in a breath.

“Just—trying—to help,” the boy wheezes.

Ari jerks back, dropping the boy back onto his feet; the boy slides down the wall a little, gasping and covering his throat with his hand.

“Why?” Ari says.

The boy blinks at Ari, wide-eyed. Then he looks away, not like he’s embarrassed but like he’s thinking. Then he meets Ari’s eyes, and he shrugs his shoulders with a wobbly, nervous smile.

“I don’t have very good impulse control,” the boy says.

Ari—doesn’t know what that means. And now he doesn’t know what to do, either. Which means he just stands there, staring at the boy for what he knows is too long because the boy drops his gaze with the same nervous mouth-twitch Rotty got at first, when Ari didn’t know how soon to look away. The boy’s eyes drop to Ari’s stomach, and he raises his dark eyebrows.

“You know you’re bleeding all over the floor?”

Ari looks down. If he thinks about it now, he stood from his crouch below the counter without thinking about the wound, and he hasn’t been putting pressure on it for a few minutes now. His ears are beginning to ring. There is a slow-spreading pool of blood on the tile under him. Ari looks back up at the boy, who is looking at him expectantly, and who did help, Ari thinks, though he isn’t sure why.

“I can—mop it up later,” Ari says. He tries to stand up straight and has to lean back against the counter to keep his balance. His vision is getting blotchy, now, a little. The job went bad before they paid him fully, and he’s already spent the advance on food, or else he would offer to pay to have the floor cleaned. Maybe he hasn’t stained the tile too badly yet. He takes a step sideways, trying to get out of the puddle, and immediately starts making another one. Blood has soaked from his shirt into his jeans—he has two pairs of those, so that will be alright—and is dripping out the bottom now, which means there must be a lot of it.

“Um,” the boy says. “That’s actually not—uh. Can I, like… help you with that? There’s a first aid kit in the office.” He moves, though he’s in range of Ari’s left eye, which doesn’t work well; Ari jerks his head up to see what the boy is doing, to make sure he isn’t moving closer when Ari can’t see him, and then the floor suddenly swings up into the side of Ari’s head.

----

The man crumples sideways and hits the floor hard, and Pryce stands there over him with a hand pressed over his mouth, like a useless idiot who’s never seen blood before.

Which. While it is true he has never seen this much blood in one place before. Thinking about that is not going to help this stranger not die on Mr. Nguyen’s floor.

The first aid kit, which he’s never seen used and which definitely doesn’t have, like, a blood transfusion in it, also might not help with that, but it is what Pryce has on hand at the moment. And as long as he’s already actively lied to the cops tonight. He may as well go all the way and also not call an ambulance, he guesses. He turns and scurries to Mr. Nguyen’s office to grab the kit.

Pryce’s throat is tacky with somebody else’s blood, because the hand the man used to halfway choke Pryce out was covered in blood. That’s not a very helpful thought either but it’s hard to make this one go away.

Whoever this guy is, he’s—quite strong. Pryce’s throat feels—well, like it’s going to bruise, for one thing. And the long moment of kicking his feet against the wall without being able to touch the ground was—well. A headrush, certainly. Presumably in an hour when he’s no longer entirely made out of adrenaline he will realize that it was a bad headrush and will have a panic attack or something.

At the moment it feels—he isn’t sure. Good. Exciting. And panicking would not be productive right now so he’s gonna ride this high as long as he can in the hopes that it will make him in any way useful to anyone.

The first aid kit is smaller than he remembers it being.

Pryce almost slips in the spreading puddle of blood when he gets back to the counter. The bleeding man is trying to sit up, which does not seem like a great idea.

“Uh—don’t try to move around,” Pryce says, trying to sound like he has any fucking idea what he’s talking about. “Is it—okay, yeah, let me—” The man’s big scarred hand is pressed against his stomach, just below and to the right of his navel. Pryce takes his wrist, trying to be both gentle and authoritative. “Let me see what we’re—”

As he’s pushing the man’s hand aside, something catches Pryce’s eye—something on the man’s wrist, underneath the blood, and he stops.

There’s a barcode on the man’s wrist.

Pryce stares at it.

Pryce’s brain is never not moving, faster than other peoples’ seem to; he has the impression it makes him an exhausting conversationalist but it does, in this case, allow him to scroll through many thoughts without losing too much time. They are:

Barcode. Barcode on wrist. Barcode on wrist equals… pet??? This huge dude is a pet??? Why would cops be after a pet? A runaway? No, not with their guns out, they wouldn’t shoot a pet somebody wanted back, that’d be like throwing away—Jesus pets are so expensive, why would anybody bring one here, why would anybody let one get so fucked, why would anybody let something so expensive get so hurt—

And then the man shifts uncomfortably and looks up at Pryce—his eyes are brown, though warm and light enough he isn’t surprised he thought they were orange, and one of them droops halfway closed, the eyelid clearly too damaged to lift properly—with clear uncertainty. Like he knows he needs help but doesn’t know if he can trust Pryce to give it.

It’s a human expression. That a human would make.

That’s a human person, Pryce thinks, and he shakes his head clear of everything else and pushes the bloody fabric of the man’s shirt aside so he can see the damage.

#whump #bbu #box boy universe #amnesiac whumpee #original whump #lost dog no reward #meet cute :) #bleeding out #choking #slammed against a wall #guns tw #cops tw #slavery tw

[avieelliot]

BASIC INFORMATION

Full Name: aveline rosemary fox-harker (changed her surname to elliot once she got to america)

Nickname: avie

Race: white

Ethnicity: french, german

Nationality: english (UK)

Age: 34

APPEARANCE & MANNERISMS

Hair: straight, chestnut brown, reaches her shoulders

Eyes: blue-grey on the outside, hazel around the irises (central heterochromia)

Skin: fair and smooth

Height: 5'2" (157cm)

Build: slender, soft

Scent: jasmine

Gait: leisurely pace, often stops to literally smell roses, or just stare at a pretty view

Clothing/Style: flowy lines, muted colours, soft fabrics (silk, cashmere)

Style of Speech: soft, light voice, but commanding. like you know you’re supposed to stop and listen.

Key Possessions: she has very little attachment to material things. her dogs are her life.

CITIZENSHIP

Social Status: well liked, but little known

Occupation: veterinarian / sanctuary owner

Education: Doctor of Veterinary Medicine degree

Residence: a quaint little apartment in a century home

PERSONALITY

Likes: animals, nature, good food, good wine, good conversation, walks in the woods, quiet meditation, stargazing

Dislikes: instability, dishonesty, greed, money, power, being told what to do

Hobbies: working at the animal sanctuary, volunteering at shelters, reading

Personality Summary: kind, altruistic, nurturing, guarded, stubborn, afraid

RELATIONSHIPS

Friends/Allies: TBD

Enemies/Rivals: Alessandro Di Natale, her ex-husband, most men.

Family: estranged from her disinterested parents and her long-lost brother

Romantic Interest: TBD

Pets: three rescue dogs, named Flora (a golden), Fauna (a husky mix), and Merryweather (english bulldog)

BIOGRAPHY

tw: child neglect

Nothing in Aveline’s life has ever been particularly stable, but the one comforting constant in her childhood was everyone always insisting that everything was completely fine. Her parents, devastated to be born a decade or two late to the hippie movement, dove headfirst into 80’s political activism - violence in the name of peace, or something along those lines. He went by Barkley Fox, she went by Buttercup Harker. They met during a riot, and they never slowed down.

Aveline herself was… a surprise, to say the least. Her parents were young and wild and free, but not quite smart enough to realize a child would change that. Or rather, that a child should change that. It didn’t change much for Buttercup and Barkley, who brought tiny Aveline to riots with them, smiling for the photojournalists, and reassuring nosy child welfare workers that everything was, as always, completely fine.

Sure, sometimes they forgot to pick her up from school until the sun had set, and they went on “vacations” to war zones, and she saw much more than any ten year old child should see the time they couldn’t find a babysitter and brought her to the Filthy Lucre tour. And yeah, maybe sometimes they went out and didn’t feed her, or they tried to cure infections with leaves and tree bark, or she missed a couple months of school here and there… but everything was fine, they had it all under control. She was a free spirited child, like them.

Needless to say, everything was not completely fine. Aveline wasn’t fine. She was lonely, and scared, and small. She was forgotten about by the people who were supposed to love her most. The only reason she ever learned what real love was, is because her grandmother (with whom her parents would often drop her for undisclosed amounts of time) had an animal sanctuary.

The animals were hurt. Wounded birds, orphaned squirrels, that kind of thing. They were small, and scared, and lonely. Forgotten about by most of the world. Aveline’s previously unused heart filled up with the love of these tiny helpless creatures, and she found her calling.

When she was eleven, another tiny helpless creature was dropped in Aveline’s lap. His name was Elliot Fox-Harker - her new baby brother. Their parents didn’t know what to do with him any more than they’d known what to do with her. But she was old enough to babysit now, they decided. So they left their oldest child alone to parent their infant. Avie was overwhelmed, and even more scared than before. Somehow, she kept Elliot alive - with the help of their brilliant grandmother. But she was a baby herself, and their grandmother was blind, and it took three years before anyone noticed that Elliot couldn’t hear them. He was deaf.

Aveline was fifteen then. She knew what she had to do. She called the NSPCC Helpline and reported her own parents for child endangerment. The people who came to rescue her brother ripped him, screaming, from her arms, and though she knew she’d done the right thing, to this day, she can’t escape the guilt of that. Elliot was the only person in the world who loved her and needed her, and she let him down. She loved him as much as she resented their parents, so when she moved to America, she changed her last name for him.

She was sent to live with family in Brooklyn, and really struggled to finish high school there. The distraction of her guilt and sadness mixed with the combined years of school she’d missed in her tumultuous childhood meant she was constantly behind... but she put all of her time and energy into studying. The other students in New York were interested in her - they saw her as a mystery of a person with a pretty face and a cute accent, and were fascinated - but she couldn’t relate to any of them. They wanted her to go to parties and pep rallies, but the only person she found herself relating to at all was the weird quiet kid with his walkman on.

After graduation, she went back to England and studied veterinary medicine in London, almost reaching the top of her class. Almost. Top 5%, anyway. But it was an incredible achievement for someone who statistically shouldn’t have survived childhood. She was on top of the world when she graduated... until she realized that she had no idea where to go from there. She was entirely alone in, and besides wanting to be a vet and not wanting to think about her family, she’d never had any real plans. Her mind reeled with images of herself turning into her parents - lost and forever wandering - and she panicked… until she met The One.

He was American - the CEO of his own company, a self-made man. He was gorgeous and charming and driven and best of all: he was stable. She figured the best decision she could make in her life would be to find someone who craved the same stability and authenticity she needed, and to be a team. The exact opposite of her parents. So when he proposed, she said yes.

And when every red flag in the world popped up and waved itself in her face, she smiled, went to work, and constantly insisted that everything was… completely fine.

She had a job she loved, her own veterinary practice in Portland, Maine, a big goofy dog named Flora, and what she thought was real love. She was happy. All the warning signs and nagging thoughts were just echoes of her parents’ voices telling her she needed to be free, and she shouldn’t tie herself down. She wouldn’t listen. She didn’t listen. For seven years, she went through the motions, comatose, hibernating, putting up with more bullshit from him than even her parents could carry. Then one day he came home from a business trip. He’d barely set his bags down when she said it.

“I know you don’t love me. And I know you never really did.”

She was talking to him, but she also saw her parents as she said it.

Everything broke, then. He broke, she broke, the walls that they’d both been carefully building, the personas they’d been curating, all of it, just crashed to the ground with a violent, angry, thunderous bang.

She tried to move on. After the divorce finalized, she tried to have hope, and to try again to find the stable, true, safe Forever Love she still believed was out there. She met a beautiful boy named Alessandro, reeling from heartbreak himself, and thought that maybe this time it could last. He made her feel beautiful, and wanted, for the first time, really, ever... and then he broke her heart.

She gave up entirely after that. She moved to Boston with Flora, adopted two more dogs (Fauna and Merryweather) and poured herself once again into work and nothing else. The animals were the only important thing - they could bite her, but they couldn’t break her heart. She was kind to people, but kept them at a distance, not willing to risk falling into the trap of love again.

Earlier this year, she was offered a job at Familiar Friend Veterinary Clinic, and moved to Salem. She’s has opened her own animal sanctuary for hurt/abandoned pets and wildlife in the area, and has even ventured to make a friend or two. She’s wounded, but in rehabilitation, and she’s sure she’ll fly again soon.

#srphqintro

[forkanna]

[AO3 LINK] [WATTPAD] [QUOTEV]

TW: Abuse mention.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Things settled into a regular routine for a while. Without taping on her soap to worry about for a couple of weeks, Elsa would spend her days meeting up with her contacts, Edna chasing rainbows and trying to boost her career from small to big screen… and her nights paying to talk to Roxanne in ten-minute chunks. As isolated and alone as she felt, having the world's most adorable ginger dote on her meant the world.

The more time and money she spent on her, the more she learned, as well. Roxanne could play the harmonica, the piano - with her toes no less, though she could only manage chopsticks - and the guitar. The douchebag boyfriend's name was Hans, and she wasn't the only client he felt comfortable berating or commanding her in front of. She had a fluffy white kitten named Olaf who tried to interrupt her cam sessions, so they had to lock him in the bathroom but had forgotten once and he wandered into a very awkward shot.

Because finally, a little at a time, she had convinced Elsa to let her show more. Though she patently refused to watch Roxanne get herself off or go fully nude, she had seen her topless a few times. Bought her an ice blue thong off a special gift registry on an adult site - it didn't display the recipient's address to the customer, so safer for a camgirl to use - that she would tug just right to turn it into floss. Plenty of things that got her so heated that she had to shower, and eventually started to debate really getting herself off. Because why not? Nobody else was lining up to do the job.

Except for the men her parents set her up with. Elsa finally flatly refused to go on any dates - and they still set her up with some well-meaning guy. So she video chatted her parents, during the date, to inform them that she refused any further matchmaking. Having to watch Ryder squirm awkwardly behind a furious daughter seemed to finally do the trick.

Everything was almost good, except that Roxanne wasn't really real. She was a cam girl; even if she was less fake around her than the other clients, she still was far from a real relationship. Even friendship. But Elsa convinced herself that this was as close to one as she felt comfortable having since everyone in Hollywood was so fake.

There was one other thing she learned. And she decided to find out for sure if she was right the most blunt way possible.

                      ~ o ~

"Aren't you getting sick of me?"

'Never.' The answers came so easy with Elsa. She almost forgot she wasn't talking to an old friend; she just had to get that pesky VIP payment out of the way first, and then she was talking to her red-haired angel. No worse than placing a toll call.

"Okay," Roxanne breathed as she cuddled the big pink moose she had bought her more recently. Yes, a pink moose; it was the weirdest thing on her gift registry so she decided she had to do that one. "I'm so boring, though. Like, especially because you won't let me get nastier for you, but besides that… I'm sleepy today. So I can't even give you the usual perkiness that brings the boys to the yard."

'It's okay. I like just hanging out.' She saw her smile, and gave it a few seconds before typing again. Moment of truth now. 'Anna?'

"Yeah?"

'Thanks for being here. And yes I know you're paid to but it doesn't matter. I still really look forward to our time together.'

"Sure, Mountie," she said with a smile as she started to yawn. And the yawn died halfway through as her eyes went wide. "Beh?"

'You okay?'

The girl paused for a moment, leaning her hands against her ankles. Staring off to the side. Then she said softly, "You said you weren't a creep. I thought you weren't, but… have you… been digging up dirt…?"

Looking away from the feed for a moment to lessen her pain, she finally mustered the courage to type, 'You forgot to mute it last time he came at you. I heard everything. I just didn't know what to say so I didn't.'

"You heard my name? And… heard…" Pain crept into her features. "Oh GOD. Last time you were on, I… that was the one- shit. Shit, shit, I'm… so sorry."

'Did you go to the hospital?'

"No. It wasn't that bad, he… I know it probably sounded really bad through the mic, but I swear up and down, like, it was barely anything." But she was shaking. Whether at the memory of the abuse or at her identity being less protected than before was anybody's guess.

'He deserves to be the one in the hospital.'

"Hey. Listen, that's none of your business. But like…" She sighed wearily, frowning straight down. "I know you're trying to help. So thanks, but just like, forget about it. Okay? My life, I'll handle it."

'I'm not trying to white knight you Anna. I just don't want him to hurt you again.' 'If he comes at you again I want you to get to a shelter.'

Lip trembling, Roxanne - or Anna, as she now knew - blew upward to push her bangs out of her eyes. Trying to distract both of them. "He just… gets mad sometimes. I frustrate him." A harsh chuckle. "I know how I sound. But I don't have a way out, and when he's not like that, he's… sweet. Takes care of me. Like, without his job, I wouldn't make it. Even with you being so cool and… basically feeding me in exchange for listening to me talk about nothing but bullshit."

Elsa's throat constricted as she typed. It took her so long that Anna actually said, "Mountie? You there?" before she was finished.

'Don't put yourself down like that. You have more to say than ninety per cent of the people in my life and I'm not kidding. I will hit the tip jar a hundred times if it will get you out of there and somewhere safer.' 'You're worth two of me, and ten of Hans. You are so worth it.'

                       To Be Continued…

#Very Important Person #elsanna fanfiction #forkanna writes #elsanna #camgirl!au #jess the writer

[serpentlopez]

All These Broken Pieces

Who: Eliana & Sam ( @serpentevans )

What: Secrets. Pain. Truth. 

When: Nov 29, Night

Where: At the Wyrm, primarily the restroom

Notes: TW: Mentions of drugs, overdose, abandonment -- warning: she’s a pretty hefty/long scene.

Eliana

Eliana stood outside of the Whyte Wyrm and suddenly had a gut full of reservations. She looked up at the building, surrounding by the motorcycles of the people she considered family, but it felt like she didn't belong here. After everything that she'd been through, she had thought she was ready to come back but knowing that she hadn't even been able to convince herself to put on her Serpent jacket was a sign that she probably wasn't. She hadn't even ridden her motorcycle over, not having been on it since the night of her overdose.

Deciding that maybe she wasn't ready to see everyone, Eli turned and took a step away so quickly that she ran straight into a hard body with enough force to knock her backwards. "Ow, fuck," she groaned as her ankle gave and she fell to the graveled ground. Looking up to see who she'd run into as her hand curled around her slightly throbbing ankle, her initial reaction to snap disappeared as she realized who it was. "Sam, hey. Sorry about that. I didn't see you there. You okay?" She asked, not trying to get up just yet.

Sam

Sam had been free for the night, with Stacey going to a sleepover with a few of her friends and Stevie away in Greendale for the night on a school field trip. He only had to worry about his mother, who was likely sleeping at home at the moment. So Sam found himself back at the Wyrm, which had become a bit of a safe haven for him. He was free to do what he wanted with anyone taking note or judging him, which was exactly what he needed.

He'd just gotten back from the bathroom, freshly high off of his new purchase from Eric. He felt euphoric at the moment, happy and light, wanting to go back in and do some more. Some how in the midst of it all, Sam had gotten sloppy and forgot to wipe his face once he was down, a bit of the white residue left over under his nose. Before he realized it, Sam had bumped into someone, making them fall to the ground. He bent down to help them up, noticing it was Eliana. He instictively rubbed his nose, hoping that she hadn't noticed what was there, "E-Eliana! What are you doing here? Let me just help you up."

Eliana

Bumping into one of the Serpents out here instead of facing all of them inside was a lot easier to handle, albeit she hadn't planned on literally running into him. Eli recognized the way he wiped at his nose but immediately shook her head. Just because she was out in public didn't mean she could let herself see that everywhere. Especially with the number of times she'd snorted white powder up her nose in the Wyrm. This was Sam, she reminded herself. He didn't do that stuff anyway. 

"I uh, I was just.." She looked towards the building, tried not to frown, and then looked back at him, "..being a pussy, I guess. Trying to convince myself to go in." Flexing her foot to make sure she hadn't hurt it when she'd twisted and hit the ground, Eli nodded with approval and held her hand out to him, letting him help her back to her feet. "Thanks," she said, wiping her palms on her black jeans, knocking off bits of dirt and pebbles. "I haven't been in since I--" overdosed.. died.. detoxed at the rehab center "--got back."

Sam

The bag of coke was feeling even more heavy than it usually did in his pocket. It was one thing for Sam to do it, but he wasn't too keen on letting anyone else know about his secret. Eli was his friend, but she was also friends with everyone else he knew, including Peyton. All he could hope was that she'd somehow missed the sign. His brows furrowed at her response, "Oh, I mean, I can go in with you if you'd like, I was about to go back inside myself." He omitted the part about going back in to pop a pill and do another line. Sam helped her up, making sure she was okay, "Where'd you go? Sorry, I've been kind of out of the loop with everything going on with my family."

Eliana

Eliana looked over her shoulder at the Wyrm and wondered why it made her feel so incredibly nervous. She knew some people were aware of what she'd gone through and there was a certain level of shame that was eating her up from the inside. Maybe she should have waited for Ale to come with her, but he'd been so incredible with helping her and she'd wanted to see if she could do something for herself. Maybe it was too much too soon, but if she had Sam there.. 

"You wouldn't mind?" She asked, turning back to him and trying not to fidget with her fingers. She never had nervous ticks before. His question made her heart race slightly. If he didn't know, maybe she didn't tell him. It might be nice having someone around who wasn't aware of her monumental fuck up. Breezing past his question about where she'd been, Eli asked, "What's going on with your family?" Her brows knit together and she held up a hand, "Actually, I have a feeling this might be better with a drink." She gathered her courage. "Let's talk inside."

Sam

Sam hadn't been really paying attention to what was going on in town, besides the really obvious things of course. Beyond the effects of the drugs, Sam could tell Eliana was nervous, which is why he wanted to help her out, "Of course not." Sam wiped his nose again, feeling the itchiness that often came with the high. He knew if he had to rehash the mess of his family, he'd just need more in his system, so like Eliana, he breezed through the question, "I agree, a drink would be good." Sam nodded, leading her into the bar, and walking towards the counter, taking a seat and ordering a round of shots. He figured he'd give her the short version of his life's latest mess, downplaying it as much as he could, "To make it short, my dad left us, and the rest of my family hasn't been taking it well."

Eliana

Alcohol wasn't cocaine. In fact, it was very far from cocaine, and she'd been perfectly capable of drinking for years without succumbing to the drug that gave her such an incredible high. But she tried not to think about the high. Walking inside the Wyrm was a little awkward. No one gave her strange glances, or started to whisper to themselves, and for that she was grateful. Climbing up on the bar stool, Eli angled herself so she could see Sam but still be mostly hidden from the rest of the people there. Thankful for the shots he ordered, she watched them being poured and then reached for one as he spoke. His words made her eyes narrowed and then she wrinkled her nose, "Fucking Dwight, are you serious?" She shook her head, "What a fucking dick." Raising her shot a little, she offered it in a toast, "Then I guess this is to self-centered, asshole fathers."

Sam

Sam knew there were dangers with drinking and the amount of pills and powder in his system, but he ignored it, figuring a few drinks wouldn't hurt. He'd done it the first night, which really only caused a nosebleed and a hangover. Sam's eyebrows raised at her response. No one had really reacted like that, except for maybe his brother. He didn't know if he hated his dad, but he definitely hated how his father had destroyed his family with the snap of his fingers and a shitty note. "Yeah," Sam nodded, letting out a dry laugh and picking up one of the shots, bringing it up to hers. "Oh, I'll cheers to that." Sam clinked his glass with hers, throwing the drink down the back of his throat.

Eliana

With the number of asshole fathers around, Eliana was honestly not surprised. Daniel, Bruce, Dwight, James July, and even her own. Men in this town mostly turned into horrible people when they had kids. The fact Sam's dad ducked out made her angry, more than sad, but she hated that knowing the person Sam was, he was picking up the slack from his father's recklessness. Clinking her glass with his, Eli stared at the shot for a moment as she lifted it to her lips. She could smell the bitter aroma from the potent alcohol and for a split second, a rush of ice cold fear swirled in her belly before she washed it away as she swallowed the liquor in one gulp. "Do you have any idea where he went?" She asked as she put her glass down and motioned to the bartender so he'd keep them refilled. "Or did he just disappear into the wind like Bruce?"

Sam

Sam had always grown up thinking his father was different. He was more of a family man than the others, always showing up for his kids and his wife. But Sam thought he had been completely wrong about everything now, since it was clear that Dwight Evans only cared when it was easy for him. Sam shrugged, taking another shot and swallowing it, "Beats me. He left my mom a note, some bullshit about him leaving being best for the family." Sam couldn't help but feel anger whenever his father came up, which he was trying so hard most days to suppress, "Probably pulled a play out of Bruce's book. They were always close anyways." Sam's hand fiddled in his pocket with the plastic bag of cocaine, secretly wishing he was alone so he could let the edge off, knowing that alcohol had long stopped working for him.

Eliana

At Sam's reply, Eli just shook her head. Even the guys that could be nice weren't. They always picked themselves and what they wanted above anything else. Just like her father had done. He never cared when she cried, or screamed. He never comforted her, or stopped when she begged him to. He didn't see her as a person. He saw her as a thing, just like the men he gave her to saw her as a thing - and used her as one too. Grabbing the next shot, she downed it quickly, hoping the sting of alcohol down her throat would drown away the memory of older men and her aching body. But it didn't. So she took another and tried to focus on Sam instead of herself. "Well, I'm sorry he did that to your family, to you. If he were here, I'd be happy to punch--" Looking at him, she noticed a little color draining from his face and Eli put her hand on Sam's wrist. "Are you okay? You look a little--pale."

Sam

Sam could tell that her anger about his father wasn't purely based off of his situation, making him think she had something else going on, maybe with her own family. But he didn't want to pry. Sam could feel himself getting a little lightheaded, sweating a bit. The drinks weren't really agreeing with his system, and he couldn't help how his body reacted. He swallowed hard, taking another shot and swigging it, trying to ignore the feeling. He listened to Eli, nodding his head and trying to stay connected. His palms were getting sweaty, so he wiped them down on his shirt. "What? No, I-I'm fine, really. It's just kind of hot in here today."

Eliana

Eli had just wrapped her fingers around a fourth shot glass when he spoke, and she looked around because it actually felt a little chilly in here to her. Maybe it was her. But she looked around and no one seemed to be as overheated as Sam was. He seemed a little jittery suddenly, and she pressed her lips together. "Are you sure?" She asked, reaching up to touch his clammy forehead. "You don't look so good." Maybe he'd had too much to drink too fast? She had no idea how many drinks he'd had before she showed up, and even her three shots had warmed her veins enough to make her think she should slow down. Putting the fourth shot down unswallowed, she motioned towards the bathrooms. "Come on. Let's get you a wet paper towel or something to cool you off."

Sam

Sam took a deep breath, trying to relax himself, ordering a glass of water. Sam jumped the tiniest bit when he felt her cold hand on his forehead. "Yeah, I'm sure." Sam took in another breath, gulping down the water in front of him. His whole body was feeling itchy and jittery, and he rubbed his nose again, sniffling and averting his eyes from her gaze. He was starting to feel dizzy, gripping onto the counter top. He looked over at Eliana finally, nodding as she motioned towards the bathrooms. The same place he'd been only a few hours ago snorting up lines of coke that were likely the reason he felt so terrible at the moment.

Eliana

Her head was telling her that she recognized the way he was acting but Eli refused to believe it. She couldn't. Because this was Sam and he didn't do the same awful things that she did. She was the fuck up and Sam took care of people, took care of his family. Mentally scolding herself for even considering it, Eli jumped off of the chair. She put her hand on his back just in case he wavered as she led him to the back of the Wyrm, moving past someone who just walked out. Pushing open the bathroom door closest to them, Eli walked him over to sink and quickly grabbed a couple paper towels. She ran them under the sink to soak them, wrung them out, and then turned to him, putting it down on the back of his neck. "There. How does that feel?"

Sam

Sam followed Eli to the bathroom. He was scared shitless she would find out about why he was like this, knowing that she'd probably be so disappointed in him. He'd always been so good, up until now that is. As she put the towels on his neck, Sam let out a sigh, feeling a bit relieved. He'd felt a lot better already, and it would've stayed that way if he would've just stayed in his place. But as the towel came onto his neck, he'd ended up bumping into the wall near him, leaning onto it to help with the dizziness. He hadn't even noticed the bag come out of his pocket at first, until he heard the soft tap on the ground of the bag falling. Sam mumbled "Shit," under his breath and quickly bending down to pick it up and stuff it back in his pocket. As he returned up, he met Eliana's eyes, quickly averting them.

Eliana

"Hey, be care--" But her words easily cut off the moment a quick movement caught her attention. Dark eyes followed the movement until she found herself looking at it... at a baggie.. with a product she knew very well. Her chest constricted and it felt like she couldn't breathe, or didn't want to. Just as Eli was moving to reach, Sam quickly scooped it up and shoved it into his pocket, but she had already seen it. "Sam," her voice was small, almost broken, and very shaky. "What.." No, there was no point asking what it was. She knew. "Why do you have that?" Pointing towards his pocket, it felt like the room was suddenly constricting, like all the air had been torn out.

Sam

Sam was officially panicking, especially with how badly she was reacting. He paced around the bathroom, his hands running through his hair and covering his face. No one was supposed to know. It was supposed to be a secret, no one was supposed to find out. He was freaking out, praying that she would just forget all of this happened. But he had a feeling that wouldn't be the case. Sam bit down on his lip, stepping closer to Eliana and holding onto her shoulders, shaking his head and giving her a pleading look, "No one else can know about this, Eliana. You can't tell anyone about what you saw, okay?"

Eliana

Eliana couldn't take her eyes off of him, confusion clear in her eyes; for him, for her. "Sam.." But then his hands were on her shoulders and she could feel the warmth of him, enough to bring her back to her senses. At least for a moment. Long enough for her to grab a hold of his wrists, giving them a small squeeze. Her eyes closed, head tilting to the side. It really was what she thought and she'd been ignoring it. She'd wanted to ignore it. But the fact was that it was here. It was in his pocket. It was inches away from her and she hadn't felt the addiction pull her so strong as it did right now. "How long?" she asked, opening her eyes, wanting to see him to tell if he was saying the truth.

Sam

Sam felt terrible. It was horrible, that here was his friend who cared about him and all he wanted to do was run off and get high all over again. He'd so badly lost touch with how to control his emotions, that he did anything and everything he could to push them to the back of his mind and ignore them. He knew it wasn't healthy, but he didn't have a choice. His family needed him, and he couldn't help them if he was consumed with his sadness and anger. "I- Just a week, okay? I've got it under control, and I'll stop when everything blows over, I- I promise."

Eliana

Her heart was racing in her chest, pounding so roughly against her rib cage that she swore it would break right through. She wanted to be focused on the fact that Sam was getting high. He had cocaine in his pocket right now and he was going to inhale it, and it would give him the most delicious and intoxicating high. A week.. a week wasn't bad, right? It was only a week. She'd done it much longer than a week. And the stuff she'd taken wasn't just cocaine. It had other things mixed into it, some designer shit. It had been more than just the fine powder. 

"I--" Eli stopped and took a step back, letting her hands fall from his wrists, his grasp from her shoulders, and she turned to walk to the bathroom door. Hands on it, she could leave. She probably should leave. But her fingers shook and the ache was pulling deep inside of her, not letting her leave him alone. Reaching up, she turned the lock on the door so that no one could walk in. Someone's voice was in her head screaming for her to run but all she did was turn to face him, back against the locked door. "You.. shouldn't be alone. If something happens.." she swallowed the knot hard. "You need someone with you." Then she wrapped her arms around him in a close hug, holding on as tightly as she could.(edited)

Sam

Sam's mind was racing as he saw Eliana walk towards the door. What would he do? Did he just ruin a good friendship? He was glad that his Xanax hadn't fallen out too, because he thought it would've been even worse for him. But then she locked the door, and his heart was beating out of his chest. Before he could realize, Eliana was in his arms. Any normal person would've left, but she didn't Sam had to wonder where she'd really been, even as he remembered her dodging the question earlier. "I'm fine, it's okay. You don't have to stay Eli." He brought his hands to her back, rubbing it gently as he held her.

Eliana

Eliana was arguing with herself but she knew what would have happened if she'd been alone the night of her overdose. She wouldn't be alive right now, as evidenced by the fact that her heart had literally stopped beating when she was with Ale and the first responders. If he was going to do this, he wouldn't do it alone. Just in case. "You're not going to be alone," she said from over his shoulder, more stern that time because she didn't want him fighting it. 

"Something could happen. You never know, okay?" She pulled back and looked up at him. "Just trust me. If you're doing it, I'm here." Then her gaze lowered from his face and she took a breath, reaching slowly into his pocket until she felt the familiar weight of the baggie in her hand. Her thumb trailed along the side, feeling the movement of the soft powder from beneath her touch. It was friendly, like someone calling her back, that pleasant reminder that things stopped hurting and she stopped being so afraid when she was high. Eliana raised her gaze from the powder back to his face, "Am I the only person who knows?"

Sam

Sam shook his head. He'd never done anything in front of anyone. Even if it had been a week, doing all of this was so new to him. "I- I can't do it in front of you, Eli, I've only done it by myself." He watched as she felt the bag, one of his eyebrows raising as he noticed how comfortable she looked with a bag of cocaine in her hand. When she had told him to trust her, he was ever more confused. Had she done this before? His mind felt dazed looking at white powder in front of him, a part of him wanting to go against his judgement and do a line right there. He let out a sigh, digging into his jacket pocket and pulling out his bottle of pills, Xanax. If she was going to be here, she might as well know everything, "Uh, it's just these, and yeah, you're the only one." Sam looked down, whispering and pleading to Eliana again, "Please don't tell anyone."

Eliana

"Do you even know how much to take? Because you can't just make big fat lines and do it over and over without something happening to you. I-- I know those things, okay? And what happens if you take too much and you pass out? You could choke, or cease, or your heart could--" She shook her head, "It's too dangerous to be alone." As much as she wished she had the strength to walk away, she wasn't going to leave him by himself. The bag felt so comfortable in her hands, and with the reminder of his father leaving, and all the terrible things she'd been through, it was getting harder by the second to put it down. Her attention was thankfully drawn when he pulled out a bottle and she looked at them, recognizing them for what they were. 

"So you're mixing uppers and downers. Don't take them together. This hypes you up, and those calm you down. If you're taking both, they have to be taken separate or they're not getting a chance to work on you." Eli let out a breath, then already remembered they'd just been drinking. "It's more dangerous to mix this," she held up the baggie,  "with alcohol. Alcohol changes how your body breaks it down or something and it causes this chemical that's really bad, so if you're doing this, you can't drink, okay?" It was surprising how much she'd been picking up from her therapy and NA meeting. "I.. won't," Eliana said softly, "as long as you don't do it alone. I can't have you.. get hurt or.." die "..something."

Sam

Sam shook his head again, completely bewildered. "How the hell do you know all of this?" He knew there were dangers, of course, but he didn't know the logistics. He knew they were working, at least that. After his first night, he'd mainly saved the Xanax for during the day, coke for the night. So, he'd at least got that down, "Yeah, um, I usually do the pills during the day and the rest at night, so I- I know they work." He bit down on his lip. He knew the alcohol and coke weren't a good mix, but he'd kind of ignored that. Sam ran his hands through his hair, still not believing what was happening. Was he really getting a lecture in the bathroom of a bar on taking illegal drugs properly? "I- I can't do it in front of you, I just can't."

Eliana

Eliana averted her gaze back to the bag as she spoke. "This isn't the first time I've been in a bathroom holding this." She'd even started carrying it around in a vial so she could have a little bump every now and then throughout the day. Those little bumps hadn't been bad, she thought. They just gave her a little tiny kick to help her. That was much better than a full line, right? Of course it was. Eliana had felt like shit pretty much all the time from the desire to get high. Her body ached with all the problems she still needed to work through, and in the end, talking about what happened to her with her therapist only opened those wounds and poked at them. 

Being with Ale made her happy, having Charlie around made her happy.. she'd gone too far before but just a tiny little taste wouldn't be that bad. She wouldn't go down that path again. She wouldn't get that bad again. But one little taste.. No. No, she couldn't. Like a brick hitting her in the heart, one single thought came back to her. Ale was there when your heart stopped beating. He did chest compressions to keep you alive. He's the reason you're not dead. Pushing the bag back into his hand, Eli took an unsteady step back. "I.. can wait outside, if you want."

Sam

Sam's eyes widened, surprised by her statement, "Wait, really?" He wondered what the hell he was missing then. If she was doing the same thing, why was Eliana so worried about him? Sam's body was aching for another line, wanting the feeling of his high back already. He wasn't addicted, no, it was just a feeling he'd come to like over the past few days. He kept telling himself there wasn't anything wrong what he was doing, that he could quit after everything was calmer, whenever that time would come. He'd gotten twitchy at times, wanting the feeling back every time it wore off, wanting to feel happiness, even if it wasn't real. This entire situation was so fucked, but a part of Sam couldn't care. He didn't care about the consequences, he just wanted to be happy again. "No, um... can you just turn around?"

Eliana

"Yeah," Eliana said with a small nod. "Yeah, really. I um.." And a very loud part of her wanted to tell him what had happened, wanted to tell him about how she'd thrown herself into it. How she'd died. But the shame was so alive that she couldn't force the words out. Tucking her hair back behind her ear, Eliana tried not to look at the bag but even if she knew she shouldn't, she wanted it. She wanted it so badly. But when he asked her to turn around instead, Eliana flashed him a small smile. "Sure. I'll be right here." It was better than him doing it alone, she decided, and so she turned to face her back to him and crossed her arms, knowing exactly what was happening behind her. Knowing the sound of the baggie, and tapping the line, and what came next.

Sam

He'd felt so ashamed, so embarrassed over this entire ordeal. But his need for a high overcame his shitty feelings, and Sam let out a breath as Eliana complied and turned around. He took the bag in his hand, opening it up and poured some of the white powder out. His hands were shaking as he took out his wallet, taking out a card he'd been using for the past few days to form two lines. Sam's hands sunk into the sides of the sink, glancing back at Eli, before bringing his face down. Plugging one of his nostrils, Sam bent down a snorted one of the lines, coming back up for a moment before leaning down and doing his second line. He let out a sigh of pleasure, the waves of the high rushing over his body, making his relax and turn around, leaning against the sink comfortably, his head tilted back.

Eliana

Eliana closed her eyes as her heart thudded, living everything that was happening behind her all the way down to the neat tapping sound followed by the inevitable sharp inhale. One simple breath that deposited all of that drug into his nose, burning and bringing him alive. And then a second. Out of habit alone, Eliana reached up and rubbed her nose as if she'd just taken the line herself. The swell of relief he must feel made her insides twist, hungry for it in every inch of her body. 

When it was over, Eliana looked over her shoulder to make sure and then walked over to him. Her eyes passed over him and it made her ache; for him, for his pain, for her and how much she wanted to know what he was feeling right in that moment, how the high felt surging through his veins as he went on an adventure she was left behind from. Picking up the paper towels she'd had against his neck earlier, Eliana held it out to him. "Wipe your nose," she told him as there were remnants of the cocaine on his skin. "You'll want a straw or a rolled up bill to keep it from being all over your face." Why was she even saying anything?

Sam

Sam had felt so much better after doing the lines. He'd rubbed away the residue as Eliana turned back around, taking the paper towels from her and wiping it over again. He'd kind of gotten the vibe that she wanted some, especially with how she'd been looking at the powder before. Sam didn't really know what had been going on with Eliana, but he nodded at her advice, "Thanks." Sam was silent for a second, his body feeling alive again. It was amazing how instant the effects were, as Sam was able to relax himself and not worry constantly about everything happening in his life. He motioned behind him, where the little baggie and his card sat, bringing his eyes to look at her, "Do you... want some?"

Eliana

Eli’s nose burned with the memory of how that powder felt. Her chest aches to feel it again, and her fingers flexed as if she could just grab it. It would be easy too. The door was locked, the bag was there, small remnants of the powder on the counter. No one would have to know. No one at all. Her jaw clenched at the offer and though he wasn’t, and wouldn’t, force her to do it, her brain did all the bullying. You’ll feel better, it said. Remember how good you felt when that high hit? Look at Sam. Look at that euphoria in his eyes. You want that, don’t you? You want to feel it again. Come feel it again. Eli clenched her jaw and forced herself to look away. She had to because being here, being so close, it made her want to fall into that bag and the comfort it brought. 

“I—“ She stole a peek at the bag again. He had enough and it would be a little less he’d have if she did. “I do,” she admitted. “I can barely think past how much I do.” Her voice was low, low enough that maybe he didn’t hear it. But once I start, I won’t be able to stop was what she didn’t say. “I just.. got off of it,” she said finally, not giving too many details. “I uh, I went somewhere and I got off of it and.. and I really do want some but I—I shouldn’t.”

Somehow, illogically, it felt like she was letting herself down by saying that. Eli tried to remind herself everything that happened that night: her blackout, her overdose, her hospital stay, Ale telling her what happened, Charlie yelling and crying, Ryan giving her details about how he found her bloody nosed and ceasing, her detox, cleaning out her trailer with Ale of all the cocaine she’d hidden.. it was too much. Eliana knew what had led her to hard drugs and she wondered what else was going on in Sam’s head. Though she was typically not an affectionate person, Eli reached for his hand. They’d know each other awhile and slept together in the past, so it wasn’t an awkward sensation. “I’m here, you know. Everything that’s going on, everything you’re going through, you can talk to me.”

Sam

Sam had trouble focusing on anything else around him besides the pleasure coursing through his veins. That was the thing about the drugs, it made him feel selfish. He felt like, especially with the coke, all he wanted to do was think about himself. It was bad, but he already wanted more. Being high brought back the ease and happiness of how Sam used to be, and he was still clinging to how he used to be. Some days, he wanted to see how far he could go back, how much could make him feel like he wasn't hopelessly broken. Sam nodded. He wasn't going to pressure her, especially in his selfish state of mind thinking that there would just leave more for him. 

"'S all good, Eli, no worries." Sam sniffled, shaking his head. He was on cloud 9, but the back of his mind still wandering back to his life outside the bathroom. He wished he could just forget it all sometimes, but that wasn't an option. Sam held Eli's hand, nodding at her words. "I guess my life's just kind of a mess at the moment. Deadbeat dad, depressed mom, fucked up siblings, and then there's Peyton. I just want to be happy again." Sam mumbled out the last sentence absentmindedly, averting his gaze from her.

Eliana

You never really knew how the cocaine was going to treat you. Sometimes it was just enough to take it and let it steal away your bad feelings, and other times it just opened a black hole that made you want to fill it with more, trying to make it stop hurting. Either way, the call was still there and she looked over his shoulder to see the baggie still there, still waiting, still calling. She swallowed hard and turned her attention to Sam's face, giving his hand a squeeze to remind herself what she was doing. Nodding once when he talked about his life being a mess, Eli frowned. "He's a shit for leaving you. So is your mom." Even if she was there, Eli knew how depression could steal you away even if your body was still there. "I know you feel like you have to take care of everyone but you have to take care of yourself too, Sam." Her eyes narrowed when he mentioned Peyton. "What about Peyton?"

Sam

The minute he started talking about his family, that euphoric feeling he once had was gone, the sadness creeping up on him again. He wanted more, he wanted to fill the void. But he'd already done some before being with Eli, and he wasn't sure if he could handle more. Still, every fiber in his body was telling him to turn around snort some more cocaine up his nose. Sam shook his head again, "I don't think she's gonna make it, Eli, I really don't." He couldn't help but laugh, throwing his head back, "I have no fucking clue how to take care of myself." Then Pyton's name came up, and Sam felt even more shitty. She was his anchor. She'd saved him in so many ways, but he knew she had the power to drown him too. They still hadn't spoke after she told him. "She slept with someone else, actually two people. I just, I keep falling for people that don't want me, that are way out of my league."

Eliana

There was craving in his eyes. Eliana recognized it because she'd seen it in her own so many times. At least back when she used to let herself look at her reflection in the mirror. "She should be focusing on you and your brother and sister," Eli said, frowning as she pulled herself up to sit on the counter, his hand still between hers. "I don't think people really know how to parent. Mine didn't." Her stomach twisted even mentioning hers. "I can't even imagine how difficult that has to be for you." 

She looked up then when he laughed but it only brought a frown to her lips. She squeezed his fingers, the best way she could comfort him. Then it felt like her heart kind of broke when he mentioned her sleeping with someone else. She and Peyton had been pretty out of touch through the overdose and she hadn't realized how close he'd grown to her, but seeing how hurt he was told her everything she needed to know. "Sam, no. Don't say that." Eli shook her head, moving one hand from his grasp to his shoulder. "No one is out of your league. Sometimes people just.. make mistakes. Maybe it was a mistake?"

Sam

As Eliana moved in between him and the counter, Sam fought the urge to tell her to move so he could do more. Sam gave her a sad smile, thinking about his mother. She'd always been so good, up until now, and his dad leaving just broke her. His mom wouldn't talk to anyone, let alone help around the house. She was immobile, as good as being dead at this point. "Yeah, I just feel bad for my siblings. I didn't grow up with this, but they're forced to. Stacey has these nightmares and Stevie keeps trying to run away and join the Ghoulies. There's only so much I can do." 

Sam never liked talking about himself, so for a while, he'd convinced himself he was fine. He'd pushed away any feelings he had about his father leaving to care for his family, which only worked for so long. Sam scoffed, his head dropping slightly, "No one sleeps with the same person twice as a mistake. No one sleeps with one guy, then has a threesome with him, and calls it a mistake."

Eliana

"But they are growing up with you. You're a good big brother and you always do what's best for them," she said, even though it wasn't fair that he was forced into the parent role. "It isn't right but they have you, at least, and they need someone or they would have to go through all of this alone." Eliana shook her head, the fact she was so close to the baggie not escaping her notice. When his head dropped and he spoke, her heart nearly shattered. God, Peyton... what did you get yourself into? Sam was such a good person, and he cared so much, and he was so broken. 

"I'm sorry. I-- She and I haven't spoken much lately. I wish I could tell you what was going on in her head, but what I do know is that you're a good person. No matter what you're feeling right now, you do deserve to be happy and you do deserve someone who makes you happy. These bad feelings you feel... you don't deserve them."

Sam

"I'm don't want their futures to be over, like mine is." Sam would do everything he could for them, even if he didn't pick the role himself. They deserved to leave this messed up town some day, and he'd do everything in his power to make that happen. God, he really needed another line. He felt so empty inside, so alone. Every one of his emotions felt so heightened, all of the hurt and anger coming to the threshold. Sam could quite look at Eliana, his head still looking to the ground, as he mumbled out a weak, "Yeah." Sam rubbed his nose, his hand moving to grip the counter beside them as he finally looked up. His entire body was craving more, he couldn't take it anymore. Sam didn't care about the risks or what would happen, he just wanted to feel better, or at least feel nothing. "I- I need to you to move, Eli."

Eliana

Eliana was shaking her head when he spoke, and it really wasn't until that moment that she actually looked at him. The same Sam that always had a smile on his face, that would do anything to make his friends laugh.. the Sam who was there for the people he cared about, and who loved the Serpents.. He was just as fucked up as any of them. "Your... future isn't over," she said, feeling a sickness inside of her. "Sam--" But almost as soon as she said his name, he mentioned her moving. Confusion coiled in her expression and she slid off of the counter, wondering if maybe he'd had too much or maybe he was going to get sick and needed the sink. "Are you okay?" she asked in a voice thick with concern.

Sam

Sam had always made sure that people didn't worry about him. Of course, he grew up with his own problems and insecurities like everyone else. But he was good at hiding it, mostly because he though it made him look weak. So most of the time, he overcompensated for how he felt inside. He didn't pretend all the time, no, but there were times when Sam smiled too big and laughed a little too long to mask how he felt. Sam shook his head, "It is." Sam's eyes were glazed over, his mind turning to the one thing that had made him feel better in the longest time. As Eli stepped aside, Sam stepped forward slowly and picked up the bag with his fingers. He stared at it for a moment, as he spoke, focused on the powder in front of him. Sam recited a phrase he'd been saying so often, his voice monotone as he prepared to pour out more powder onto the counter, "I'm fine."

Eliana

It was always easy for Eliana to care about other people but when it came to herself, she let her well-being fall to the wayside. And she could see it now painted all over Sam's face. He was broken and if she hadn't been so self-involved, maybe she would have noticed it. "It's not. You just need--" but her words were cut off as she watched him moving. His hands grabbed for the bag. She assumed he was putting it away. Maybe he'd had enough talking and he wanted to pocket the rest and leave the bathroom. They'd been in here for a little while after all. But he wasn't putting it away. Her eyes went up to his face, hoping she wouldn't see what she saw -- determination. Need. Craving. He wasn't going to put it away at all. He was going to have more. Eliana's brain whirled. He'd already had some before she showed up, and then more with her, plus the alcohol.. It would be too much. "Sam, no. Don't." She rushed up to him, putting her hand on the bag that was now in his hands as well. "You're.. not fine. You can't do more. It's too soon.."

Sam

Sam couldn't bring himself to stop, it was too hard. How much could one more little line hurt? He just needed to get through another night, that's all. Sam convinced himself he wasn't going overboard, that he'd be fine, even if the girl next to him was telling him the opposite. Sam just... didn't care. He didn't care if he'd had enough, he didn't care if there were consequences, he was being selfish all over again. His eyebrows furrowed as he felt another hand on the bag, making Sam shake his head, "No, just one more. I'll be fine." He tugged the bag towards his direction, trying to get her hand off, so he could pour some out.

Eliana

Eliana couldn't believe that she'd been at this point and had that same desperate look in her eyes, but she knew it without a shadow of a doubt. She'd gotten addicted - hard and fast, and there was no way around it. Sam was on that same ledge, about to fall off, and fuck, but she didn't want him to fall. Not like she did. It hurt too much, and that pain was only if you survived. "It's never just one more. Please.. trust me.." but he tugged at the bag and the fact he'd grabbed it so roughly, Eliana realized she had made a mistake letting him do this. She should have said something. She should have been a better friend, and she hadn't been, but she could be now. 

"Sam..." Eliana just wanted to take the bag away, stop him from doing more before his body could be ready for it but then something happened. The air between them exploded in a puff of powder. She didn't know if she'd pulled, or he had, but the bag was suddenly torn between them and it was everywhere. Eliana dropped her grip on the bag as her eyes closed, finely ground powder suddenly all over her face, her clothes, and her hands. She stumbled backwards in surprise until her back collided with the wall, gasping in shock as tiny explosions of the powder erupted on her lips and tongue.

Sam

Sam was past asking, past just wanting another hit. He needed it. His posture became more aggressive and needy, as the two had thier hands on the bag. In the blink of a second, his whole world came crashing, and suddenly the powder was covering the both of them, no longer contained in the little bag. "No, no, no..." Sam started shaking his head, and he kept mumbling the word as if this hadn't happened. The powder still covered his face and shirt when he leaned towards the sink, trying to wipe off the powder from his face and shirt onto the sink, attempting to form a line he could get into his body. Sam was frantic, bending his nose down to snort all the cocaine up he could, but it wasn't enough. The powder was everywhere, and the smallest line Sam formed didn't help. He brought his hands up to his face, leaning down on the counter of the sink, "Fuck!" The sound was mumbled and strained as Sam started to pace around the bathroom.

Eliana

No.. she thought, brushing her hands against her face over and over, trying to get the cocaine off of her skin, out of her hair, off her clothes but it was everywhere. It was one thing if she was near it but it was on her. She tasted it. Her back slid against the wall until she hit the corner and then sunk down into a crouch, eyes wide and staring at her fingers as they shook. Too much, she thought. Too close. Too real. She wanted to run and she wanted to sink into the wall. She wanted to disappear and even though it was a small amount, she could feel her body reacting to the sensation of the drug in her deprived system. The blur of movement drew her attention up but her fingers were still trembling as she watched him pacing. "It's too late, isn't it?" she asked. "It already has you, like it had me."

Sam

Sam wasn't an addict. He couldn't be an addict. It had only been a week, no one can get addicted that fast, right? He had it under control, that's what he kept telling himself, that he could quit whenever he wanted. Doing it was just a choice he made, he could back out whenever he wanted. He looked at Eliana, she was covered just like him, and shaking by the looks of it. Sam grabbed a paper towel, running some water over it and getting close to her. She looked so unstable, he was afraid she'd run out and everyone would know. Everyone would know what he'd become. So Sam bent down, cleaning the cocaine off of her face and hair, wiping it over her clothes, and then doing the same to himself. His body was shaking, and he shook his head repeatedly, "No, no, I'm fine, Eliana. I can, I can stop whenever I want."

Eliana

It was too late. Eliana could see it, and though she remained quiet when he came over and carefully cleaned the powder off her face and clothes, her eyes were focused on Sam and his movements, and the clear disappointment with his stash being wasted. The powder was all over his nose from when he tried to snort the spilled drug. He wasn't fine. There was a familiar burn inside of her as her veins were already sparking with the drug. As scared as she had been, Eliana could feel her body slowly relaxing and easing into that spot that she had been so used to. Shaking her head as he cleaned, she frowned, "You're not." Pushing herself against the wall, Eliana rose to her feet and gripped his shirt in her fists. "Look at this, Sam. Look at us. Look at you." There were tears in her eyes that wouldn't fall. "We just ripped apart the bag trying to get it. Is that 'okay' to you?"

Sam

Sam kept shaking his head. He just kept telling himself she was wrong, that he was really fine, that he could keep a handle on things. But the reality, that was still unclear to him, was that Sam wasn't strong enough for this, and he was letting himself panic at the first second of not getting what he wanted. Sam's eyes widened as she gripped his shirt, forced to look her in the eyes as she spoke. But he kept denying it, he kept trying to pretend this wasn't messed up, "I- I can't stop, not right now, not with everyone relying on me. It's temporary, I promise." Sam just couldn't find it in himself to see the truth, pulling himself away from Eliana and turning his back to her. He was angry and forceful with his next words, his brain going to dark places of thinking. Like the fact that Eliana didn't have the right to judge him when it'd been obvious she was doing the same. It was a bad thing to think, but it was in his mind regardless, "I'm not an addict, okay? I don't need anyone to save me. Like I said, I'm fine."

Eliana

Eliana's head was starting to whirl, a dizziness slowly easing the tension from her arms. When he pulled away, she didn't try to stop him. Her hands went down to the counter and she could feel the granules against her palms, quickly wiping them off on her hips even if it was too late. It wasn't temporary, she thought, and that made her whirl on him. She hadn't wanted to go there, and she hadn't wanted to say anything. A rush of heat flooded over her from the embarrassment that pooled inside her. "I said the same exact thing," she hissed. "I kept saying I was fucking fine until I passed the fuck out and my heart stopped. Don't turn away from me." She grabbed his arm to spin him. "You think Stacey and Stevie are bad off now? What happens when it's you? What happens when it's your heart? Sam. Please, you're not fine. And this stuff isn't going to make you fine."

Sam

Sam ran his hand through his hair again, angry and frustrated again. He knew the risks, but he also knew that he wouldn't be of much help to anyone if he repressed into his mother. He couldn't start dealing with his emotions now, the drugs helped stall that. He'd let himself process everything once the little ones were doing better. But Sam was high, and angry, and he didn't want to stop. He didn't want to listen to Eliana, even after she told him what had happened to her. "I'm not you, Eli. Do you think I want to fucking live like this? Do you think I have a fucking choice?" As Sam was turned to face Eliana, his voice grew louder, "Yeah? And what fucking good am I to them if I end up like my damn mother? Because that's what'll happen. I don't have time to go and find some way to 'fix' myself. To fucking fix how I feel whenever I'm sober. How it makes me depressed and immobile just like her. I'm all they have, I won't give up on them now."

Eliana

His response stung and she had to try and remind herself that it was just because he was high and agitated. Because the Sam she knew would have cared. But there was still a part of her that took root inside her brain, whispering words about how he was right. He wasn't her because she had been weak. Her overdose only happened because she deserved it. He didn't. He wasn't her. "You do have a choice," Eliana said but her voice was much lower and softer than it had been. "You can take the Xanax. Take something for depression. Fight to keep yourself put together because this," her hand swiped at his arm, scooping up some of the powder he'd missed when he was cleaning himself off. She held it up. 

"This is you giving up on them. On yourself. They don't need you high. You don't need you high. If this kills you," like it killed me "how are you any better than your father? I guess at least he left a note." But Eliana knew by the look on his face that he wasn't ready to give it up. Her chest tightened. Someone needed to know. Someone who could help him because she wasn't getting through. "You need help, Sam," she said as she walked around him and made her way to the bathroom door. Maybe Dare since he was in charge now.. he could help.

Sam

Sam could see Eliana drifting away. she was going to tell. He never should have gone into the bar with her. He never should have done the coke in front of her. All of his mistakes were about to backfire on him. Sam didn't know who she would tell, but the outcome would be the same. He didn't need to be saved, he was the last person everyone should be worried about. This town was a nightmare already without everyone finding out about this. 

Deep down, very deep down though, Sam knew she was right. He knew it wasn't good for anyone, he knew he was just being selfish, and greedy. But he didn't want to stop. Xanax could make him calm, and feel nothing, but it would never make him happy again. And all Sam could think about was how much he wanted to be happy again. He knew it was temporary, that his high was just fake happiness, but he was afraid if he had to let that go he'd never feel anything again. 

The comparison to his father hurt. Sam had done more for his family than his father had done in his own life. So often, Sam felt misunderstood, like no one really got how he was feeling, how he never even got to process his own dad leaving him. He never got to mourn, never got to cry, he was just forced into a role he knew he couldn't escape, so he found his own way to cope with it. Sam stepped in front of the door, blocking the exit for Eliana, "You said you wouldn't tell anyone."

Eliana

Eliana had made a plan in the few steps she took. She'd talk to Dare and tell him what she knew, how she thought they may be able to help him. The Serpents were a family so they'd help take care of his brother and sister, and Eliana would help him go through what she was going through. She hadn't done a great job so far but he was part of her family, one of her friends, and someone who she hoped was still important to Peyton. Everything would be okay. Everything would be-- 

Then Sam was in front of her, blocking the door, and though she could have tried to force her way out, her hands were already shaky with the small amount of drug that wound up back in her system. "I know but.." She bit down on her bottom lip, swallowing a knot that made it hard for her to breathe. "..I can help. The Serpents can help." Her hands took his. "Don't do what I did. I pulled away from everyone who mattered to me and I went through it alone. You're not alone, Sam. You have us, and me. Let me help."

Sam

Sam knew she'd probably tell someone close to them. Maybe Dare or Peyton, but he wasn't ready for either of them to know. Darius was dealing with being the new leader of the Serpents and Peyton had her dad to worry about, Sam didn't want to cause anymore problems for them. He had love for his fellow Serpents, they were family to him, but he didn't think there was much they could do. 

No one would be able to calm Stacey down after her nightmares besides him, no one would be able to save his brother from joining the enemy besides him, and no one could make sure his mother was breathing every night, besides him. Sam looked down at Eliana, noticing that she was shaking, not sure if it was from everything that had happened or something else entirely. He shook his head, "They can't help, Eli. I know you think they can, but this is on me." Sam sighed, looking down as she took his hand, "I'm... I'm not pulling away. I'm still around, I just don't want anyone else to deal with my bullshit. This town is fucked, okay? People shouldn't be making time for me when they've got plenty of their own problems."

Eliana

It hurt to hear him talk the way he was because she'd been there too. She knew what it felt like to think that no one else should be dealing with her issues. That she wanted to save them from having to deal with her, too. And that was what it sounded like Sam was saying. Everyone would always have their own problems but that didn't mean they weren't there for each other. "You're important," she said. "We're a family and no matter what anyone else is going through, we're there for each other, and we're there for you." A small frown crossed her face. "I'm sorry I was too lost in my own shit to see what you were going through. But I want to be better, and that means being here for you. Whatever you need. Can you let me be here for you?"

Sam

People never worried about Sam, it was how he liked it. They always assumed that because Sam always put on a happy front, that there was nothing wrong with him, even if there sometimes was. There was a lot more wrong with Sam than he would ever admit, but he always diminished his problems to just being one of the faults of living on the Southside. But truthfully, he was a ticking time bomb. Sam knew, deep down, that if he ever really started to talk about what was wrong, everything that he was feeling, he wouldn't be able to contain it, which is why he didn't want to ask for help. Because he knew his friends, they were good people, who wouldn't just want to help his family without helping him too, and Sam wasn't ready to deal with it all just yet. "I know, I know. Don't ever be sorry for that, Eli. But people can't know, about any of it. I'm just not ready, to deal with it, and if people find out my dad fled, I could have a target painted on my back by the time Derek finds out."

Eliana

"Let's be real," Eliana said, making a face when Derek's name was mentioned. "We all already have targets painted on us the second that psychopath decided to take over the Ghoulies. He has a problem with the Serpents and if he wins, I have a feeling it'll be a war that if we don't win, we'll never survive." But for as broken and weak as Eliana felt more of the time, she was sure of one undeniable fact: They were the Serpents and as long as they stuck together, no one could take them down. "It's still early," she said, dropping the idea of telling Dare. At least right now. It sounded really important to Sam that people didn't know and the last thing she wanted to do was run him off, or even lose him altogether. "Why don't you come back to my place? It'll make me feel better knowing you aren't alone, and you can always go back home for dinner later." It would, at the very least, keep her from feeling like she had to tell anyone right now.

Sam

"All this shit started because of Dare's dad and mine. He's already got it out for all of the Anderson's, which makes my family next. God, sometimes I wish I could just take him down myself." The serpents were his family, and just like his blood family, he'd always do whatever it took to protect them. Sam had always been a serpent, but mostly because of his father, not really ever getting super involved. But with everything that was happening, everyone that was affected, Sam secretly wished he was at the forefront of it. Sam nodded. Hopefully his pleading had been enough for her to hold off on telling anyone, which was all he could really want at the moment, "Yeah, we can do that." Sam slowly moved away from the door he was blocking.

Eliana

Eliana all but let out an audible sigh of relief. She wasn't sure she could leave Sam right now. No one who saw him would want to leave him by himself. At least she knew that the cocaine was gone. Not that he couldn't get more but that was a small comfort. "I know the feeling," Eliana said, already feeling guilty that she hadn't been able to do more for Charlie and Dare when it came to Aidan who could have killed them both. She watched him move, seeing there was concern there and she knew that she needed to be someone who he could rely on. She hooked her arm around his waist as they walked out, holding herself against him. Any number of Serpents would have seen them go into the bathroom together. They'd been in there long enough that they'd probably have questions, and it was safer for Sam and his secret if people thought they'd ducked in there to hook up rather than anything else. She led him outside, keeping her face mostly down. Even though she'd barely had any of the drug, she still felt like it could be seen written all across her. "I walked," she said when they made it outside. "Do you want to walk, or..?"

Sam

Sam ran his hand through his hair again, tugging at the ends and giving her a nod. He hated feeling helpless, with the Serpents, with his family, with all of it, it made him feel guilty, knowing he couldn't save everyone. It wasn't that he had a God-complex, more so that he was just loyal to the people around him. Sam knew that them walking out of a bathroom together after being in there for god knows long was already suspicious, so like Eliana, he kept his head down as the two left the bar, back to where the night had first begun. He really hoped that this would all stay under wraps for the meantime, and he trusted her to not tell, at least for the time being. "Yeah, sure. Lead the way," Sam shot her a nod, his hand extending out as the two walked further away from the bar behind them.

#para #para: sam #para: all these broken pieces #elianaxsam #tw drugs #tw overdose mention

[ashes-and-ashes]

1) More wolfstar angst-ish: Sirius, Remus, and James all sneak out one night to the Three Broomsticks. They drink and have fun, but Sirius appears to be downing Hog’s Tea and Butterbeer, etc(idk I’m a dumb). Eventually Sirius is considerably way more hammered than the other two boys. And like the good friends they are, Moony & Prongs help Sirius get back to their dorms. Once there, Sirius is starts ranting and soon gets into emotions. He rambles on about how the one he likes will never like him-

Combined them!! Had a lot of fun writing this...the first time. My WiFi was crappy tonight, and I posted it, but it didn’t go through! Had to rewrite everything lol. Hopefully it is okay - I was kinda done halfway through.

tw for drunk!sirius and alcohol and drug mentions

Me Too

~

Even from outside, they can hear the commotion.

It was some seedy little bar, tucked into one of the back alleys in Hogsmede. There was no display, nothing but a flimsy metal door barring the way, as James and Remus approach.

They’re hooded, dark shadows hiding their faces, as Remus glances nervously around the alley. It was almost 2 in the morning, the air reeking of alcohol and smoke, light filtering in from the crack under the door.

”10 galleons says Pads is in there,” James murmurs, his voice low as he fiddled with the lock on the door.

“It’s a sleazy, sketchy bar,” Remus hisses. “What do you expect? Of course he’s in here, seeing as he got kicked out of the other eight.”

He didn’t know what was happening with Sirius. Every night he was gone, slipping out to dark bars and clubs, coming back smelling of weed and firewhisky and God knows what else, red eyes and pale skin.

He tried not to care. He really tried. It was over between them, had been over for a long time, destroyed when Sirius had brought Severus into those tunnels under a full moon. You are selfish, he had screamed, heartbroken and bitter and so, so angry, the type of screaming when you lost something so precious. You are a selfish, arrogant prick, who doesn’t give a shit about what we were together!

Sirius had looked up at him, with those forlorn, hopeless eyes, and whispered, I’m so, so sorry, Re.

The nickname had burned, slicing him up inside, and Remus didn’t even bother to raise his voice as he said, We’re done. It’s over.

But he still noticed the cuts on Sirius’ face, the stiffness at which he moved. He didn’t know what was happening, but Remus couldn’t let him suffer.

So they casted a tracking spell on him, following the trail every night, Peter covering for them back in the castle. They followed him, because no matter how heartbroken Remus was, he still loved him, deep down.

The lock gives away under James’ wand, the door opening with a grating sound as James pushes it open. He gives a mock bow, sounds of fighting and laughing echoing from down below. “After you, darling.”

Remus flips him off, an overwhelming stench of pot filling his nose as he walks down the stairs. The carpet is sticky, pulling at his shoes, and James winces. “God, this place is a dump. We should take Marlene.”

”Perfect for Sirius, then,” Remus says, pushing past several beaded curtains, entering the bar.It’s dirty, concrete floors and open drains, wooden tables scratched and stained. The air is thick, sweat and smoke and alcohol, strobe lights flashing as a a flickering sign advertised 1 glass for every 3 bought - FREE.

Remus winces, James a comforting presence at his side. For a moment, he reaches out, seeking another set of fingers, before he snatches his hand back. He makes no attempt to disguise the movement, just pushes his way deeper into the throng.

There’s some fight going down in the center, men laughing on the outside, as Remus shoulders his way through, two men punching and kicking each other as the crowd cheers. He pushes past two drunk men, almost shoving them into the pit, as there is a collective roar. He looks down, one of the men having bashed the other unconscious, and Remus swears.

He’s about to turn away when the winner looks up, his face full of triumph.

It’s Sirius, dark hair knotted into a messy bun. His lip is split, blood trickling down his chin as gives a mocking salute. He spits, the sawdust red as he stalks out of the pit, snatching up a bag of gold and heading over to the bar.

It’s as if the breath has been knocked out of Remus. He curses, turning around, heading over to the bar where Sirius is sipping from a bottle. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Sirius glances up, his eyes hooded. “Why, hello Remus. Come to bother me?”

He was very clearly drunk, his eyes bright and cheeks flushed. There was something beautiful about him, though, when all the ice and marble was gone, when the walls were taken down. He could see the emotion simmering through Sirius’ eyes, the anger and the loathing and the pain, the desperation that could only be numbed by spirits. “Stop, Sirius. You’re going to kill yourself.”

Sirius just laughs, the sound deep and rich as he retorts, “I’m already dead.”

With a lazy movement, he stands, chucking the empty bottle against the wall. It shatters, a shard slicing into Sirius’ hand, but he just shrugs as he stretches. “You should go back, Re. You hate places like this.”

He makes his choice in a second. When Sirius turns his back, Remus points his wand at him. “Stupefy!” The jey hits Sirius straight in the back, Sirius pitching forwards as the spell knocks him out. He grabs Sirius’ hand, meeting James’ eyes from across the room, before apperating away with a bang.

~

They land in the Shrieking Shack, the first place that came to Remus’ mind. Sirius groans, pushing himself off the ground, his lip bleeding over his chin. “What the hell, mate. Mother hen much?”

”Shut up.” Remus stalks to the window, yanking the dusty blinds closed before pointing his wand at the hearth. “Incendio.” Flames shoot up, illuminating the room, the growing puddle of blood under Sirius. He scowls, rummaging inside an old cupboard, tossing a towel at him. Pomfrey used to give him some potions, to help with the pain of transforming, and he grabs a small green bottle before dropping in front of Sirius. “Drink this.”

Sirius raises an eyebrow. “Is it poison?”Remus glares at him. “Pain killer. Either drink it or don’t. I don’t really fucking care.”

Sober Sirius would have nodded, drunk the medicine, quiet and remorseful, that icy wall between them. Drunk Sirius just smirks. “Bullshit. You care. That’s why you came to save me.” He swigs, swallowing the potion, before smiling. “Not that I needed it.”

Remus ignores him, vanishing the puddle of blood underneath him. He’s about to go when Sirius calls out. “Wait.”

”Wait for what, Pads?” Remus whirls around, gripping his wand. Anger flares in his chest, making everything go red for a moment. “Wait for you to apologize again? To say sorry? For betraying my secret?”

Sirius just shrugs. “You called me Pads.”

“Fuck. Off.”

He turns away, about to leave when Sirius speaks. “You’re right, you know.” He’s leaning against the wall, legs stretched out in front of him, shirt half opened and sleeves rolled up. His hair was a tangle, dark against his scars, eyes closed as he laughs.

“What did I expect? That we were going to last?” He laughs again, twirling his fingers. “It’s funny. I’m a Black. I’m a prince of evil, a master of the dark arts. I’m beaten and tortured and hurt, but I suppose I’m lucky, because I’m royalty.”

”We should get you drunk more often,” Remus mutters, rubbing his hands through his hair. “Maybe you’ll spew enough bullshit to get you through Divination.”

Sirius shrugs, stretching out in front of him. “It’s like...that quote. From Paradise Lost? ‘Abashed the devil stood / And felt how awful goodness is.’” He laughs. “Guess I’m the devil. Fallen and evil.”

“You’re not evil, Pads.” Remus’ voice is thin, fraying as he sighs. “It’s...complicated.”

“Evil?” Sirius scoffs. “I never told you, why I waited so long to run. My mother used to get drunk, you know, drunk on god knows what. She’d come home, reeking of alcohol and she would want to hurt something.” He shrugs. “It always was be. Better me then Reg, anyways. Who’s covering him now?”

Remus shakes his head. “Sirius, stop. There’s nothing you can do about it. You were getting hurt.”

“I should have stayed,” Sirius breathes. “I should have stayed.” He looks up. “For what it’s worth, Re. I’m so sorry.”

It’s as if a fire was lit under Remus’ skin. Everything burned, his shoulder where Sirius leans against it, his eyes where they stares into nothingness, his legs where they are pressed right against Sirius’. The words are quiet, barely whispers. “Do you still love me?”

Sirius glances up, his expression shocked. “You wouldn’t believe me. I’m drunk.”

Remus stares into his eyes, the dark grey that he’s looked into so many times before. “Do you?”

There’s a silence, thin and fraying, the only sound their mingled breathing. “Do I love you, Re?” He laughs. “God. You’re the first thing I think of, when I wake up, the last thing when I sleep. When I think of my happiest moments, you’re always there, and you’re there in my saddest moments, because you were always with me. My heart still stops whenever I see you, even after all this time, and every time we touch, it’s like someone’s lit fireworks under my skin. And I know. I know I’m not good enough, that I will never be good enough. You deserve so much more, Re. You deserve the world.” He smiles, the sort of desperate smile that one makes when saying goodbye. “But do I still love you? Always. I’ve never really had a choice.”

Remus stands, the words burning. He walks over to the door, the hallway opening in front, ready to walk always from Sirius like he’s always done.

He glances back, Sirius a spill of dark ink against the white wall. There’s something inside of him, where it had all been dark, as Remus says, “Pads?”

He meets Sirius’ eyes, the dark grey, the same eyes that had carried him through transformations and exams and kissing and life, because he still loved Sirius, still loved him so damn much, despite how he tried to hide it.

He smiles. “Me too.”

-

#wolfstar #wolfstar fanfic #wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar angst #em’s ideas #sirius black #remus lupin #sirius x remus #sirius black angst #remus lupin angst #angst #harry potter #hp #marauders era #the marauders #james potter #wizarding worlds #the first wizarding war #the prank

[cookinguptales]

update: lmao I am so fucking doped up right now. sorry to the world that I got behind on shimamatsu translations, but have you ever tried to translate while on muscle relaxants? it’s a bad scene. god, I’m in a lot of pain rn.

gonna talk about some of the movies from the film festival below the cut. doped up af but I’ve seen like 14 movies so far, hella. tomorrow I probably have to skip bc I just took two cyclos and that is gonna fuck me the hell up.

movies I’d recommend:

thelma a norwegian film which is basically a coming-of-age story for a fundie christian girl who goes to college and realizes she’s a lesbian. oh, and that she has insane supernatural powers. (it’s kind of carrie-ish but with canon f/f, but imo a lot better than carrie.) the love story is really interesting, if incredibly dark. like if you’re in the mood for dark, kind of mindfuck-y f/f, this is your film. despite the very long upcoming list of potential triggers, it’s not as scary or brutal as it sounds. lmao. highly recommended, probably the film I’ve enjoyed most so far. (tw: violence, nudity, drug use, death, [spoilers] child abuse, possible mind control, child death)

custody a french film based on a short film that I saw a few years ago, and it’s fantastic and gut-wrenching. the short film was about a woman running away from her abusive husband with her children; this feature-length film is about what happens when a stupid judge ignores what both the wife and children have to say and gives him joint custody. (spoilers: it doesn’t end well.) interestingly, it has all the same cast as the original short film, though the kids are markedly older. idk if it’s meant to be a straight sequel or if one just inspired the other. really well done, tho, I was fuckin white-knuckling it in the theater. people were like. yelling. the climax of that film is INTENSE. probably the best quality film we’ve seen so far, though I think the plot could’ve been tightened up a little. (tw: very explicit depictions of physical and emotional abuse, very terrifying moments. [spoilers] but no child death.)

I, Tonya tonya harding biopic. I’m not really a big one for biopics, but this was a good one. it tried to explain how harding’s life led her to where she got, but didn’t necessarily paint her as some innocent victim. it was sympathetic where it needed to be, empathetic where it needed to be, but rarely let her get away with bullshit. lot of good performances here, but Margot Robbie (even though she looked way too old for the part) did a great job. (tw: explicit child/spousal abuse)

the villainess Korean lady-gets-revenge-on-shitty-men bloody action flick. not really my genre, admittedly, but I feel like anyone who likes this kind of movie would really enjoy this one. very Kill Bill-esque. it’s the story of this girl who basically gets passed around between illicit assassination organizations, in-fighting, revenge on all those who wronged her, etc. it is Very Bloody and many people die. the action scenes are HQ if you are into that kind of thing. I was mostly invested in the huge amounts of f/f potential. like at one point she joins an assassin organization where all the operatives are female and that whole part of the movie!! was very gay!! the actual canon relationships are het, but there is a strong potential for dark f/f murderwives here. (tw: haha oh boy if it’s a problem it’s probably here. implied CSA, child abuse, creepy relationships, violence, gore, nudity, child death, everyone else death, non-con facial surgery...like it’s bloody af okay...)

love means zero this is a documentary about nick bollettieri, who’s this super famous tennis coach. (apparently.) I knew next to nothing about the world of professional tennis going into this documentary, but I still enjoyed it bc wtf this guy is a piece of work. it’s basically all about how he fucked over a ton of people (especially kids) when he was trying to make tennis champions. and how he succeeded! by fucking over a ton of people! the interviews with him are honestly kind of wild bc he’s just such a crazy narcissist. this was especially weird for me to watch bc I grew up in the sarasota/bradenton area and never even knew all this shit was going on there. it was weird seeing my hometown on the screen like that, but also interesting. (tw: child abuse, just generally being a fuckboi)

MOVIES THAT WERE OKAY but like I had Issues

brimstone and glory I feel like I really recommend going out to see this one if you can see it on the big screen. it’s a documentary about a fireworks festival in Mexico and honestly the cinematography is stunning. it’s just so, so, so cool. but the actual documentary part is kind of boring sometimes, and you gotta have a strong stomach bc it also shows some of the injuries people get at this insane festival. like I don’t think showing that is a bad thing; I think it’s the only responsible way to make a documentary about this festival. like it’s amazing, it’s so cool, but also these people are like. going blind, losing hands, dying. and taking their kids!! like if you cannot handle watching kids in dangerous situations, don’t go!! dad was freaking out, lmao. (tw: graphic depiction of real-life injuries)

radiance a Japanese film about a woman who writes audio description for blind movie-goers. the same director made An (Sweet Bean Paste) a couple years ago, which was notable for its depiction of what Japan does to its citizens who have Hansen’s Disease. (leprosy.) it was weird to me when that movie came out that none of the reviewers really talked about that aspect of the movie; they were all like “UGH IT WAS SO POINTLESS AND CLOYING” and I’m like “did you miss the point of the movie?? which was critiquing the social ostracization of these people in Japanese society??? did that completely go over your heads????” anyway, I appreciated the depiction of PWD in Japan bc having lived there while disabled, I know that shit isn’t easy. that’s why I went to go see radiance. it was...okay? I think the most interesting part was when they let the blind characters talk. the movie was otherwise pretty pretentious and self-indulgent. lmao. like... it’s a rent, don’t buy situation.

marlina the murderer in four acts this movie was not bad! it’s an indonesian film about a woman whose home is invaded and she kills all the invaders. it’s definitely a film that critiques misogyny in indonesian culture, but I feel like it undercut its own message by showing such incredibly graphic rapes. like honestly, I don’t really ever recommend movies that have very graphic rape scenes, but I guess she does end up killing her rapists during the rape scenes. I just. I feel like it could have been done in a way that won’t get people all sexually excited while watching a violent rape. : / y’know? other than that, though, I really liked the female characters in the movie and sympathized with marlina’s journey trying to get society to help her and realizing she had to just go it alone with her female friends. bc like. she’s attacked by men, but she’s also revictimized by shitty ordinary men all the time she’s trying to get to town, report the attack, etc. and so are the other female cahracters. so they just. have to be vigilantes. (tw: GRAPHIC rape, violence, mild gore, spousal abuse)

newton Indian film about a guy going out to the jungle to get votes in the main election. but like. none of the people out there even know who the candidates are, there’s a lot of anti-government violene, the villagers are caught between anarchists and the police, it’s just a mess. and I do think the movie was good at showing the futility of it all and showing how the people who really end up getting fucked over are the poor people in rural areas, but at the same time like. pacing was uneven, tone was ???, and I found the protagonist irritating. and there was what appeared to be some pasted on het which made no sense. (like honestly I cannot figure out why she ever wanted to talk to his dumb ass again.)

blade of the immortal it’s takashi miike making blade of the immortal. I mean. I feel like if you are familiar with those names, you already know if you want to see it or not. if you aren’t, idk how much you’d like it anyway. after already having watched miike’s ace attorney adaptation, I sense a pattern. the guy just looks at a HUGE corpus (like a VG with 5 cases, or a manga with 40 volumes) and is like “welll....then I guess we better make things fast.” so you have Big Bads being introduced in the same breath that they get killed, 30-second backstories, just a frenetic pace and a huge amount of information, and it’s confusing and overwhelming if you don’t already know it. and honestly, I haven’t read BotI so I can’t say how faithful this was. but if you already love the characters and just want miike’s trademark bloody action flick style, then I mean. fair enough. this here’s a bloodbath. I had a hard time getting emotionally invested as a fresh viewer, tho. highlight of the evening: an old man walking out grumbling about how he only likes classy martial arts movies, and apparently this did not qualify. having seen a lot of classics of the martial arts genre, still unsure what a “classy” martial arts film looks like. (tw: offscreen rape, death, blood, gore, just an unreasonable amount of killing honestly like it was funny by the end, attempted CSA)

gemini this is a “neo-noir” thriller. so essentially a murder mystery. unfortunately, the title of the movie basically gives away the entire story lmao. so while the build-up wasn’t bad, the entire last 15-20 minutes of the movie are a total letdown. it was nice to see canon f/f, I guess, but I feel like the movie never went in hard enough on that. like were they trying to make a point about how hard it is for celebrities to have same-sex relationships? I’m not sure!! I can think of a lot of things that would make this plot more interesting, but they just didn’t do them. acting was fine, I guess. John Cho was in it, even if his character was pointless. Zoe Kravitz is always fun. (tw: I mean it’s a murder mystery. so...murder.)

DID NOT ENJOY

scaffolding (israeli film, boring af)

the workshop (french film, kind of boring, makes questionable points about neo-nazis)

#haha I'm dying squirtle #if anyone wants a full review on any of these I'd be happy to #these are just some hot takes #i tonya #thelma #custody #the villainess #love means zero #brimstone and glory #radiance #marlina the murderer in four acts #newton #blade of the immortal #gemini #scaffolding #the workshop

[catalogueofaliens]

WHY IT’S NOT SO SIMPLE FOR ME TO CALL MYSELF A FEMINIST

TW: trans antagonism, mainstream/white/cis feminism, assault mention, mention of police, white supremacist mention, trans exclusion, erasure, cissexism, misogyny, internalised bullshit, patriarchy

[DISCLAIMER: This is my very personal take on this and something I’m still working through. I am a 28yo, white, middle-class, able-bodied, queer, trans non-binary pretty boy with mental illness and everything I say here is coming from that perspective, drag me if I overstep. TERFS not welcome tx]

When I allowed feminism into my life I was already past 21 years old. I had resisted in that way that a lot of people do – because it was uncool, because it was misconstrued as bra-burning/man-hating (things I’ve come to enjoy a lot more about it later on – certainly things I vastly prefer to the trans exclusionary, white supremacist nature of mainstream feminism). Then I started reading Tavi Gevinson’s blog and followed her over to Rookie mag and it changed me in a way that has been fundamentally important to the shape that my life has taken, largely in that it helped me to see power in things that had been robbed of their power by a patriarchal society, and in that it helped me find queer theorists and queer people online who helped me to make sense of the shit I’d been struggling to name since I was a kid. So yeah, a lot of this has been good, but I want to talk about what was bad about it, I want to highlight the ways feminism hurt me and continues to hurt me, because feminism is not every assigned female person’s saviour, and sometimes it does very real harm that cis white women don’t see, because it is only ever empowering to them, because it is designed by them and for them.

Feminism made me believe in my femme self, which is great and continues to be empowering and important for me as a non-binary person. But, it also made me suppress my masc self. Not only that, but it made me believe my masculinity, which I now see as an important and nuanced part of who I am, was merely a product of the patriarchy, and that my enactment of particular forms of masculinity (I am not here for toxic masculinity, thanks) was in fact a reflection of my oppression and a perpetuation of that very oppression. I came to believe that the boy who lives in my head was an oppressive, patriarchal implant. I came to believe that the fact that I relate so easily to male characters in books and shows (especially gentle and/or queer male characters) was a result of them being given much more airtime and being treated as the default, not because there was something about them that felt like looking in the mirror. Now, it definitely is the case that cis (white) men are given much more airtime and are treated as the default, and maybe there’s something in that that makes them easier to relate to, and yes, they tend to be given more complex characters and stuff so there is more of a range for relating, but feminism hurt me by making me believe that was all that was going on. When I literally felt like I could see my own face in a boy on TV or when my whole body ached for the cute queer kid who was figuring himself out one painful step at a time, I wasn’t just relating to a well-drawn character, I was the character. They were me. I probably will never know myself better than when I read a character I relate to.

Mainstream feminism continues to fail me. When it takes things I deal with daily and calls them women’s issues, when it erases my identity, erases my body, when it implies that my masculinity somehow exempts me from misogyny. I do not pass as a man, I get looked up and down, scrutinised daily, I have had security laugh at me before groping my chest and crotch, I’ve had a cop brandish me by the arm and ask a fellow police officer “What is this”, I exist at an intersection of gendered oppression – I am at once a woman and a trans person in how I am received, I am rejected and objectified in one glance, and yet I have literally been told that I am trying to exempt myself from the sexism that women suffer – like being a whole non-binary trans person is me checking out of being a woman, because it was just too hard. I fucking wish I was a woman, I really do. I mean, I love myself, I love who I have been able to be, and I know that my considerable privilege has helped me to be able to be myself and to love that person, but yeah, I’d take the added privilege of being a cis woman, on top of my whiteness, middle-classness, able-bodiedness, that’d be great. Mainstream feminism hurts me by continuing to make me feel like maybe my identity, my sense of self, is just an extension of an imposed patriarchal mindset, that maybe I’m not strong enough to just be a powerful woman who relishes in her femininity. I know this is wrong, and I know that patriarchy plays a major role in making me believe this, but mainstream feminism has certainly helped it along. In a lot of ways mainstream/white/cis feminism and patriarchy have been good companions over the years. The essentialism that still persists in today’s mainstream/white/cis feminism aids partriarchy and binarism beautifully. And it really fucking hurts me and it has literally killed other trans people. The question I’m struggling with is do we continue to strive for a better feminism, or do we need to look at the possibility that the ideology is too old, too harmful to do good, and find something better? The word itself is exclusionary in its erasure of non-binary and trans masc people who also deserve to be fought for. I guess I’m just tired of having to remind even feminists who openly claim to be intersectional to remember that trans people exist, that a movement that only fights for cis women is failing really marginalised people. There are so many really important critiques of feminism and how it has historically and continually erased womxn of colour and their struggles, how it overlooks the realities of people with disabilities, of fat womxn, and so many other marginalised groups. Many many trans folx have raised the issue that cis feminism is killing us. A feminism that doesn’t recognise trans womxn as womxn can rot in hell, and a feminism that ignores that non-binary people exist can follow right behind it. But I guess I’m just at a place where I’m wondering why we cling so fast to feminism at all? Is it just because it’s there? What about intersectionalism? Or something?!

Because mainstream/white/cis feminism fails other people way worse than it fails me. It is partly to blame for attacks on trans people (particularly trans people of colour, and especially trans women/femmes of colour) and it is partly to blame for so many different forms of systemic dehumanisation that persist on a daily basis. Trans and GNC people have been showing up for cis women from day one, have put our bodies on the line to advance feminist causes, and yet we’re erased and sidelined again and again, given new ways to hate ourselves by an ideology that was designed to empower, but only if you fit the right mould – cis, white, thin, able-bodied, neurotypical, straight – viva the fucking revolution, let power pass from the hands of the white man into the hands of the white woman, because there’s no blood on there, right?

#feminism #white feminism #trans exclusion #trans antagonism #assault tw #erasure tw #mainstream feminism #transphobic violence tw #racism #white supremacy #misogyny #identity #non-binary #trans #gender non-conforming #cis feminism

[theladyofthewest]

Of Crushes and Crash Carts

Okay!!!! @kongosoha here’s your second gift for @inusecretsanta !!!!! It’s not as long as the first one but it’s the second fic I wrote today and I kind of ran out of steam towards the end!! I apologize for the decrease in quality, but i hope you enjoy it nonetheless!!!!!! <3<3<3

Title: Of Crushes and Crash Carts

Pairing: InuKag

Word Count: 1646

A note: This is a Law and Order type AU so there is a TW for mentions of death and murder. 

“How can you tempt he who already yearns for you, o cruel one?”

________________________________________________________

“Since when does a fucking D.A. show up at the M.E’s office?”

“Ever since the mutt of a detective assigned to the case can’t be trusted to think with his head and not his goddamn di-”

“Ah, now I think we all know where that was heading, counselor. Thank you.”

Inuyasha scoffed, stowing his hands in his pockets as he walked away from his partner and the wolf. If Miroku hadn’t stepped in when he had, today was the day he would have shot Koga in the head.

What idiot had made him a lawyer anyways? He could barely tell his head from his ass and he was the district attorney? Besides, who was he to point fingers. Everyone knew Koga was sniffing around his secretary’s skirts, so it was a whole load of bullshit that he wanted to talk about thinking with his di-

“Wait up, Inuyasha.” Miroku called from behind him, and his ears flattened slightly as the sound of Miroku’s feet stomping against the polished linoleum floors reverberated through the hallway.

“I don’t know why you let him get to you like this. He’s just being an asshole.”

“Keh. He doesn’t get to me, I just hate the son of a bitch.” He snapped back, ears flattening in distaste.

“Buck up, Inuyasha,” Miroku said snidely, bumping his shoulder against Inuyasha’s. “You’re going to see Dr. Higurashi, after all.”

Inuyasha growled in response, although he could feel his face heating up. Dr. Kagome Higurashi was the new M.E. who just happened to be ridiculously fucking pretty alongside amazing at her job.

So far, he had only been able to see her when there was some kind of mutilated corpse involved but Miroku had said that some women liked that morbid shit. ...Something told him she wasn’t one of them. 

He knew he had pissed Sesshomaru off earlier with the whole ‘slamming his office door so hard that the glass shattered,’ but he had never expected his brother to get even with him by giving Koga clearance to follow him to the morgue. Not that Sesshomaru, Captain of their squad, had any authority over Koga, with him being part of the D.A.’s office. No, Koga was just scared shitless of him.

“Give me the rundown on this case, mutt.”

God, could this fucker not take a hint?

“Shoulda read your goddamn case file, huh bastard?” He said flatly, crossing his arms across his chest as the trio came to a halt outside of the morgue doors.

“Why, cause I don’t have other things to do?” Koga snarled, baring his teeth at Inuyasha in a move that had him immediately baring his back, squaring his shoulders and stepping into the wolf’s face.

“You got an issue with time management, then that aint my fucking problem. Back off.” He said quietly, keeping his eyes locked on Koga’s.

“Boys, is this playground scuffle over whose dick is bigger going to end anytime soon?” Miroku interrupted, moving to try and break the two men apart.

Just when it seemed like the pair would come to blows, the doors swung open.

“Detective!” Kagome said brightly, resisting the urge to smooth her hair down or straighten her scrubs. This was professional. They were working.

Immediately, stepping away from Koga, Inuyasha turned to face her, his eyes widening for a moment before he coughed loudly, shoving his hands into his pockets and nodding slowly in response to her greeting.

‘Oh god, he must be thinking of what a freak I am,’ Kagome thought woefully, stepping aside to allow the detectives and the D.A., who was staring at Inuyasha’s back with disgust, into the morgue.

“Is that all that idiot is going to do? Isn’t he going to speak? Never shuts the fuck up otherwise.” She heard him hiss to Miroku.

“A dog’s mind works in mysterious ways.” He responded sagely.

Kagome focused her attention back on the detective in front of her, taking in his broad shoulders clad in a white dress shirt, his sleeves rolled up. His hair, which he had pulled into a high ponytail, was catching the light, gleaming an ethereal silver. It wasn’t fair - was he even allowed to look that good while she stood here, exhausted, and in ill-fitting scrubs?

Inuyasha stared at the wall ahead of him, his hands clenched into tight fists in his pockets. How the fuck did she manage to look that good in scrubs? Was that even allowed? And here he looked like a fucking mess with his sleeves rolled up and the top few buttons of his shirt undone.

“So what’s the ruling doc?” He finally spoke, realizing he’d have to do his job, whether he looked ridiculous or not. He turned slowly to face her again, readying himself to be blasted by the force of how fucking stupidly pretty she was.

He didn’t succeed.

She was speaking to him, saying something that was probably very important, but he couldn’t make himself focus on anything other than how good her lips looked while she was talking.

“Detective? ...Detective? ....Inuyasha?”

He jolted back to attention at the sound of his name coming from her mouth. Fuck. Fuck fuckety fuck fuck fuck.

“Are you okay?” She asked, her face lined with concern.

“I - no - yes. Yes. I am - yes.” He spluttered, finally falling silent and crossing his arms across his chest.

“Smooth.” Koga whispered.

It didn’t take demon hearing to pick up on that. Fucking asshole.

“Um… like I was saying,” Kagome began again, still watching him worriedly, and Inuyasha debated picking up a scalpel from the surgery table beside him and shoving it straight through his heart.

“There are ligature marks around the neck consistent with rope burn.”

“Yeah, she committed suicide, no?” Koga interrupted, sifting through his case file at last.

“Not exactly,” she sighed, walking over to the corpse and drawing the sheet down over her head to point out the abrasions on the victim’s neck.

“Underneath those, you’ll find bruising and distortion of the trachea consistent with -”

“Strangulation.” Inuyasha finished and Kagome nodded.

“She was murdered and they staged a suicide to cover it up.” Miroku sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with a groan, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like ‘paaaaperwoooorrrrk.’

“Get me a suspect, mutt,” Koga announced, snapping his fingers in Inuyasha’s direction as he walked out of the morgue in a flourish of tan blazers and icy blue suspenders, with a nod in Kagome’s direction. Miroku followed soon afterwards, mumbling about getting a head start on contacting CSU.

“So your report -” Inuyasha began and noted how pale she was. She looked exhausted.

“I’ll get on it -” She started to respond, stifling a yawn.

“-can wait. Don’t worry about it. Just let me know what I need to know in order to build a profile and start looking. Everything else can wait until you’ve gotten some rest.” He finished, pulling the clipboard out of her hands and setting it aside.

“Really?” Kagome asked, raising a doubtful eyebrow at him.

“No, probably not, but I’ll take the flack from Sesshomaru over it. He’s my brother, what’s the worst he can do.”

God, he looked so handsome standing there, towering over her. How dare he just stand there and act all concerned while looking the way he did. Didn’t he know that, that was a surefire way to make her like him even more than she already did? He didn’t seem to be completely uninterested in her. She was sure she couldn’t have imagined the way he had been looking at her while she was talking to him. Well.. she might have but Koga and Miroku’s snickering spoke louder than Inuyasha’s silence did.

“Inuyasha? What if I could get you those details sooner? Maybe… over dinner tonight?”

She was holding her breath now, wringing her hands in front of her. She had gone out on a limb and just asked him out and he obviously thought she was a fucking desperate idiot -

“Sure.”

Inuyasha shoved his hands into his pockets again, resisting the urge to scream his agreement in her face repeatedly while jumping around the room. She had asked him out? He didn’t know what the hell was wrong with her, but he was definitely not complaining.

“I have a better idea though,” he said, fixing her with what he hoped was a smoulder and not a look of immense fear. “Instead of discussing the case, why don’t we talk about...anything.”

“I’d like that.” Kagome whispered shyly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear in what she hoped was a dainty gesture. She could feel her cheeks burning as she offered him her personal phone number and he struggled with his pockets to fish his own out and enter it in.

“I’ll uh send you a message.” he promised, holding up his phone as if to prove he did, in fact, own one.

“I’ll be waiting.” she laughed, immediately wanting to hit herself. God, he probably thought she was so desperate and weird.

“Great!” Inuyasha exclaimed loudly and immediately wanted to hit himself. God, she probably thought he was so desperate and weird.

“I’ll see you tonight.” he finished, more calmly and she beamed, nodding.

He began to walk backwards towards the doors, a smile still on his face. It didn’t last long however, with him soon colliding with a crash cart and half stumbling the remainder of the way to the door.

Kagome bit her lip hard to avoid bursting into laughter when he straightened and snarled curse words at the cart, kicking it out of his way before glancing back up at her and nodding quickly in farewell.

God, he was adorable, and if she played her cards right, after tonight, all hers.

#inuyasha #inukag #kagome #inukag ff #inuyasha ff #inuyasha secret santa