#top 10 illegal drugs

[zombholic]

MY KIND OF LOVE — abby anderson

summary — illegal boxing was never on your bucket list until your friend brought you to one.

description — poc fem!reader, illegal boxer!abby, reader has tattoos and a couple of piercings, mentions of drug usage, bidding, sexual themes, not for minors.

chapters — two, three, four, pending.

— 🥊　　 ◦ ✺ 　 🚩　 ⟢ —

“Jesse, I really don’t wanna see your ass get rocked by some she-hulk.” You were wiping down the bar as it was starting to close up, your annoying but dear friend for many years was indeed begging you to go to one of his also many illegal boxing matches.

“No Y/nn, listen if you go with me I swear I will fix your car for free, please I just want someone to go with me.” He clasped his hands together under his chin begging you.

“Fine, only because you’re fixing my car for free.” Rolling your eyes at the boy man.

“I’ll pick you up at 10.” He shoots you a wink before heading out the bar doors.

Sliding your arms into your sweater you turned the light off on the open sign and locked the doors, quickly getting into your tiny vehicle to speed back to your even tinier apartment.

You were quick to freshen up, only wearing basketball shorts and a black wife pleaser that showed off your tattoo pieces. You slipped on your worn out black converse and left your natural, it was an underground boxing match there was no need to dress up so you quickly shot Jesse a text that you’re ready.

Jesse was there in ten minutes, you guys reached a very strange looking building but he had assured you it was quote on quote safe.

He took you into a supposed locker room, and started wrapping his hands in a white wrap. He was shirtless with a pair of blue shorts, Jesse wasn’t ugly of course he was very attractive and if you weren’t a raging lesbian you probably wouldn’t had sex with him already.

“I wont lie, Abby scares me with the way she fights.” Jesse admitted as he started air boxing you.

“I would be scared her too— stop you’re fucking annoying.” You slapped his fists away.

“How much is the bidding anyways?” You both started walking over to the arena, it was small with quite a handful of people that looked like they would watch illegal boxing.

The ring was used and looked very unsanitary but you stood over the edge of the bars watching Jesse enter them, rubbing his shoulders trying your best to hype him up but deep down you knew he was going to get his shit rocked.

“I think it was around two grand.” He took a chug of his water.

The arena grew louder, Abby’s name being chanted as you watched her jog down to the ring. Her hair in tight dutch braids, you could see the bandage wrapped around her chest that poked out of her white fitted tank top, her red shorts showing off her toned thighs that could actually crush you to death.

“I am not bidding on you.” You gave him a worrisome glance before jumping down and taking your place in front of some people.

“Now who’s ready to see our boy Jesse get his ass demolished by the one and only Abby Anderson!” You swore you saw this episode on spongebob and knew it was not going to end well.

“Start bidding motherfuckers! Money goes in the bucket!” A guy and a girl running around collecting money from the crowd, the howls and roars from them only getting louder.

This was not your environment.

You watched at they placed in their mouth guards, Abby slowly walking around Jesse like she was ready to rip his jugular out. She was first to hit him with a punch straight to his cheek, the blood already spewing out his mouth.

Wincing at the sight you couldn’t look away, he begged you to come here to watch his get obliterated by this woman who literally beats men for a living.

Jesse threw an uppercut under her chin she was quick to wipe the blood off her lips, her expression was deadpanned. She threw a couple more hits to his stomach, nose and his head. You watched your friend collapse to the floor his face screamed in excruciating agony.

The round was called out since he was on the floor, you ran over to him crawling under the rubber like bars making your way to him trying not to touch the blood or else you would pass out too. Grabbing his face you pushed his hair away from him seeing the bruises forming on his stupid face.

“Need your girlfriend to revive your bitchass?” Her mocking voice spoke behind you.

“I’m not his girlfriend Ms. She-Hulk, and fuck off you won stop being a bitch.” You turned your head to shoot her a glaring look.

She shot her hands up in defense, her tongue poking her cheek with the cockiest smirk plastered across her bloodied face. “Don’t start with me girl.”

“Or what?” You stood up crossing your arms over your chest as you shot deathly rays into Abby’s face.

“I wouldn’t even have to prove anything.” She twirled your hair around her finger.

You were quick to push her shoulders back, the audacity she had to touch you was beyond comprehension. She barely budged, her build so broad and strong it was a joke to have even pushed her.

I guess your joke of a statement ticked her off, she was quick to pushback on you but harder causing you to fall back on your ass.

“I could do much worse than push you on your fucking ass little girl.” All you could do was look away the crowd was quick to chatter and mumble about the situation.

— 🥊　　 ◦ ✺ 　 🚩　 ⟢ —

authors note — i swear guys the other parts will be better I PROMISE this is the best i could do for someone who doesn’t know shit about boxing. ask to be on the tag list!!

tag list — @atomicami @whore4abby @doepretty

#lesbian #lgbtq #wlw #abby anderson #the last of us ii #the last of us #tlou #tlou2 #abby anderson imagine #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson fic #abby anderson tlou2 #tlou abby #abby x you #abby the last of us #abby x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson headcanons #abby anderson x female reader #boxer!abby

[theperfectawful]

Blind Item / Chapter 1

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x OFC

Chapter 1: Gimme More

Rating: Explicit (18+) Series Summary: 2007. Hollywood, CA. As a former child star, you face the harsh reality of growing up in the unforgiving spotlight. A car crash on Sunset Boulevard and a cocaine scandal give you one option: Rehab. Reluctantly agreeing, you embark on a 90-day stay at Promises Malibu to attempt to salvage your career. But when Dieter Bravo arrives, your journey takes an unexpected turn. Drawn to each other, you navigate sobriety and the wreckage of your reputation. As the double standard of Hollywood's treatment of troubled stars becomes evident, you question if redemption is truly possible in a world of unequal consequences. Word Count: 11k

Content/Warnings: Age gap (~10 years, Dieter is in his mid-thirties), alternating POV, heavy drug use, illegal drug use, alcohol use, driving under the influence, frenemy dynamics, oral sex (f!receiving), dubcon/noncon, it is neither reader nor Dieter's finest hour when we meet them. Period-typical language and behavior, Hollywood assholes.

Notes: This is my first fic - I've never written or posted anything like this before, so please be kind and feel free to share any feedback or suggestions. I never would have been able to write something like this, let alone work up the nerve to post it, if it hadn't been for the kind and gracious support of @pennyserenade, @whatsnewalycat and @frannyzooey all lending me their advice when I slid into their DMs. They all inspire me endlessly with their work and talent and it’s because of their work that I was inspired to write something of my own.

Our reader is, for now, and unnamed OC. While I’ve done my best to avoid using physical descriptors of her, it should be noted that this story is a period piece that takes place in early 2000s Hollywood. The main character would have been a contemporary of stars like Paris Hilton, Lindsay Lohan and Nicole Richie, and there are certain assumptions I’ve made about what she looks like based on that factor of this particular story. The early 2000s could be dark, ruthless times, y'all, especially for young women in and effected by Hollywood. My intention is to examine that. Thank you for reading!

Desperate times call for desperate measures: sources say that this former child star’s team is working overtime to keep her employed. When she made her not-so-graceful exit from her latest film, the star cited conflicting schedules as the reason for her departure. The film’s producer has a different story: the Hollywood juggernaut has been heard around town calling the star unprofessional, accusing her of being late to her call times and using drugs in her trailer. She’s got a shot at a last resort: a return to television. Word is, the bad publicity has her team bargaining and drawing out sober contracts just to get her hired.

Whenever you were in town for work, you stayed at the Chateau Marmont. You were in Los Angeles often enough and long enough to justify buying a home there, but you refused, the idea of actually owning a home in LA never quite sitting right with you. Instead, you rented the same room each time you visited. You loved that little bungalow. The thick, lush landscaping shaded the windows and kept it nice and cool inside, and your front door was only a stone's-throw from the swimming pool. 

It felt like home after a few years, anyway. These old, tucked-away places were what you liked most about Los Angeles, unlikely, quiet havens hidden between sky-high condos and overly sleek offices. The building breathed old-Hollywood luxury, vintage tiles and original hardwood floors and the ghosts of silent film stars wandering the hallways. The staff knew you well. The same breakfast was delivered to your door at noon every day. The top-tier maid service employed by the hotel kept the living room, kitchen, bathrooms and second bedroom impeccably tidy, though they were given clear instructions not to enter your bedroom.

Your bedroom did not inspire the same glamorous aesthetic as the rest of the hotel. Clothing was piled high against the walls and pouring out of dresser drawers, tags and receipts discarded in the wake. Empty bottles cluttered the hardwood floors, clear, crushed water bottles and rattly orange pill canisters. A full ashtray sat on a side table, a makeup mirror and various products scattered next to it.

In the middle of the room was a king-sized bed, an antique walnut headboard sprawling against the wall with a mountain of sheets and blankets layered atop a deep mattress. You laid swaddled in those sheets, rubbing your palms into your shut eyes and groaning as you rolled over, dragging your hands wide across your face to peek out at the clock on your nightstand.

4:41pm. You blinked, straining your eyes to focus and confirm you read that right. 4:41pm. Fuck.

Bleary-eyed, you reached for your phone, met immediately by a barrage of missed calls and unread messages when you slid it open.

MELANIE [3:21 AM]: Bathrrom

PETE [3:36 AM]: Did u leave

CORINNE [9:00 AM]: Call with NBC @ 1. Please be available. Corinne Roxford.

MISSED CALL: CORINNE

CORINNE [11:30 AM]: Confirming availability at 1pm. Corinne Roxford.

[phone] [12:06 PM]: Hey gorgeous ;)

MISSED CALL [12:30 PM]: CORINNE

MISSED CALL [12:45 PM]: CORINNE

MISSED CALL [1:00 PM]: CORINNE

CORINNE [1:03 PM]: ??? Corinne Roxford.

MISSED CALL [1:05 PM]: CORINNE

CORINNE [1:07 PM]: Call immediately. Corinne Roxford.

“Hiiiii,” a soft, tired voice called from across the room. You looked up, squinting, at your best friend Natalie leaning in the doorway to the bathroom.

“Mmmm,” you hummed in response, peeking out from where you lay buried in the sheets. “Hi.”

She crossed the room, kicking piles of clothes out of the way and perched herself on the corner of the bed, her toothbrush hanging out of her mouth. You cracked open one eye, locking eyes with her. In an unspoken acknowledgment of your situation - what you got into last night, the state you’re currently in, the splitting headache you’re certain she has, too - you raised an eyebrow at her. She smirked back at you and the two of you erupted into laughter. You lifted yourself up to sit, pushing your foot into her side from under the covers.

“You were insane last night!” she accused, still smiling as she resumed brushing her teeth.

“Me!” your voice was raspy and you coughed. “Me? You were the one making out with the bartender.”

“He wasn’t a bartender. He said he was with the DJ or something.”

“Yeah, ‘cause that’s better,” you snorted, the sound muffled by the plush pillows that cradled your head. You rubbed your palms across your face again, feeling the coarse texture of your own tired skin. The room was dimly lit, with the soft glow of morning seeping through the half-closed blinds. 

Your phone vibrated on the nightstand, disrupting the quiet ambiance. You picked it up, groaning when you saw your manager’s name blaring across the bright screen. With a sigh, you slid it open.

“Hi, Corinne,” your voice was a hoarse whisper as you did your best to sound alive. Natalie stirred from her spot and crossed back to the bathroom, old floorboards creaking underneath her feet.

“I needed you on that call this morning. This is your career I’m trying to save here. Do you think I’m doing all of this for my health?”

“I mean… you’re not not…” It’s out of your mouth before you can stop it. She is on your payroll.

“Very funny. I don’t think I need to remind you that you’re running out of friends and favors here, hun. I don’t think you want me to join that list.” Her sentence was punctuated by the sound of her horn honking and a muttered expletive. She sighs. “NBC still wants to speak with you, and soon, but they want to do a four-episode Growing special. The rest of the cast is on board, and they think if we play this right we can turn into a full-on reboot. But you have to straighten up, do you understand? I need you in the Santa Monica office first thing Monday to sign the paperwork.”

“I’ll be there. I promise.” Your eyes closed again, and you sunk into the plush embrace of the king-sized bed, the soft cotton fabric soothing against your skin.

“I don’t know how to make it any more clear to you how much trouble all of us are in. This is  your shot at a comeback.”

“I understand.”

There’s a bit of silence, the noise of New York traffic floating through the airwaves and into your ear. You insisted on total honesty from Corinne, unable to tolerate your team coddling you, so her words might have hurt more if this was the first time you’d heard them. Or maybe if the haze you’d woken up in were a bit thinner.

“Tomlin and the team will be in on Thursday night to get you ready for the VMAs. I’ll see you then, too.” Corinne changed the subject, her voice a mix of stern professionalism and genuine concern.

“Okay. I’m sorry.” Your voice was sickeningly sweet, a defensive baby voice you switched into when you were nervous, a trademark of yours that had been mocked by everyone from ex-boyfriends to the cast of Saturday Night Live. Corinne said goodbye and you felt Natalie’s weight return to your side.

You groaned, long and drawn out, tossing your phone into the labyrinth of sheets and blankets surrounding you. The show she referred to was a reboot of the sitcom you spent your childhood working on - Growing Together. It's one-half cast reunion, one-half desperate, nostalgic cash-grab. The producer you sat across from at the pitch meeting was almost delirious with excitement - explaining what a smashing success it was sure to be, a “televised homecoming for America's favorite family.” It took so much strength not to roll your eyes right in front of him that you thought you’d pop a blood vessel.

“Are you in trouble?” Natalie asked, a teasing tone in her voice.

"Yeah, almost always," you replied, casual in your admission. As you sat up, fully awakening, you stretched and planted your feet on the floor. You chugged the warm Vitamin Water on your nightstand before reaching for your bag on the floor and digging through its contents. Gum, a fluorescent orange paper wristband, a baby pink Juicy Tube, a black and white photobooth strip of you and Natalie with your tongues out. Not finding what you were looking for, you dumped it out onto your bed and continued rummaging through the items and garbage inside. Your iPod, a receipt from the drugstore, 3 loose cigarettes and half a dozen empty quarter-sized plastic bags. You sighed, shoving everything back inside carelessly. 

“Did we finish everything last night?” You call out, patting the bed behind you, your gaze darting around in search of your phone.

“We?” Natalie’s laughter rang through the room. “I don’t know about ‘we!’”

“God, no wonder,” you muttered, the realization of this morning's particularly splitting headache dawning. Locating your phone again, you typed out a text message to your dealer, padding out of your room to the kitchen.

[5:13 PM]: Andyyyyyy. U going to Lush tonight?

You tapped the side of your phone restlessly for a beat, then texted again.

[5:13 PM]: Can you bring what u brought last night

In the kitchen, you opened the cabinet, revealing an array of neatly arranged pill bottles. Without looking, you pulled out a bottle of Advil and an empty glass. Seated at the kitchen table, engrossed in her Macbook, was your assistant, Rhea.

“Corinne’s pissed.” She said before she even looked at you, focused intently on the screen in front of her.

“Good morning,” you responded, filling your glass at the sink and beaming an exaggerated, pageant-queen smile at her. She scoffed in response.

“The sun is going down in… 40 minutes.” she retorted, her gaze flitting momentarily to the clock on the wall, then back down. You made a mockingly offended expression, hands lifting with dramatic flair.

“Time is a social construct, Rhea,” you declared, tossing back the Advil and chasing them with the full glass of water.

“Yeah, for you, maybe.” She muttered, still typing like a maniac.

You were fired six weeks ago.

The movie was meant to signal a departure for you, a leap into serious territory - a drama marking an overdue graduation from the teeny-bopper films you’d spent the last decade of your life making. You’d been lucky a year ago - a really excellent writer took a chance on an elevated high school comedy with you at the helm that had people in the industry, finally, taking you more seriously. 

Seriously enough to get you in the door, at least. Being on set gave you a different impression. You felt as coddled as ever, still treated like an unqualified child star whose presence was more of a slightly annoying novelty than a creative asset.

You wanted to be treated like an adult - a real actress, a professional. This movie was supposed to accomplish that. Despite the fact that this project had a huge, award-winning director attached to it, it was subject to the same issues you’d experienced on countless, lower-tier productions. Poorly communicated call times, technical issues, handsy producers hanging around your trailer. The latter issue caused you to insist on Rhea being by your side whenever possible - power in numbers in an attempt to keep greasy Hollywood exec’s hands away from you.

You weren’t going out any more often than you usually did. Now that you were old enough to not have to sneak into clubs anymore, you were having fun. Though your evenings often bled into mornings, occasionally pushing the limits of your call times, it felt manageable. However, Corinne was relentless in reminding you of the stakes and your professional expectations: show up, behave, perform.

That morning, exhaustion hung over you more heavily than usual. The night before, you’d been out celebrating Natalie’s 23rd birthday. A friend of hers had just returned from Amsterdam and brought with him a bag of European ecstasy as a souvenir. After Le Deux closed, you threw an after party at the Chateau’s pool, you and Nat drank champagne on your floaties as the chemicals rushed through your systems. Your fingers dipped in and out of the heated pool, the two of you gossiping and giggling and floating along until the sun came up.

You were on set on time - early, in fact - but the MDMA had worn off and your energy was plummeting fast. You’d run through the scene several times with Rhea, but it didn’t seem to have helped much.

“Cut,” the director called out, sighing and stepping out from his position behind the camera. Your costar groans softly, standing up from his spot across from you and stepping away as the surrounding crew moves quickly to reset the scene.

“I’m sorry Alan,” you offered immediately as the director approached your mark. A makeup artist swoops in, tapping a brush to your under eyes.

“You’re furious with him, remember,” he coached you. “I understand it’s early, but I need you to manage to muster up some energy.”

You nodded, trying to focus despite the persistent buzzing in your head. “I’m really sorry.”

“I don’t need you to apologize to me like a punished child, I just need you to perform the way I’ve asked you to. Can you do that?”

"I'll get it right this time, I promise," you assure him softly, swallowing the lump in your throat.

He eyed you skeptically, his weaning lack of patience with you made clear by his expression.

“We’ll break for five.” He called out to the room, still staring at you as you stood up and shuffled off behind him.

Rhea arrived at your side with your cell phone and a Red Bull. You flip open the screen as you walk, quickly scrolling through your text messages and trying to distract yourself from your dull, nagging headache.

“That was okay, right?” You asked, trying to sound casual but unable to hide the uncertainty in your voice. “Is it as bad as he says?”

“You were fine,” Rhea’s voice was uncharacteristically high-pitched as she held out the straw of your energy drink in front of you. Her eyes flit back and forth, scanning the area, and her voice lowers into a whisper as she continues. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m tired,” You brushed her off, shaking your head and handing your phone back to her. “I’m fucking exhausted.”

Rhea nods, a concerned eyebrow lifting as you arrive at your trailer. Everyone in your life was looking at you like that lately - as if doing anything less than completely coddling you would cause you to fly off the handle. The cautious glances, the careful choices of words, the subtle tiptoeing around your every move - especially from Rhea, who never gave a fuck about your feelings - it all grated on your nerves like an itch beneath the surface. 

She held out her hand and you took it quickly, grabbing an orange bottle from her and slipping through the door of your trailer.

In your trailer, you sat at the vanity and closed your eyes, taking a couple of deep breaths before opening them and gazing at yourself in the mirror. You opened the bottle, pouring out two small pills on the counter in front of you. Scanning the surface quickly, you located a plastic card and pushed it against the pills with the ball of your hand. You pushed it again and again, finally finishing and scraping the excess powder from the card onto the table. Dragging the powder into two lines, you leaned down to inhale them and stood straight back up. You licked your finger and picked up the excess residue, pushing it into your gums and taking a couple more deep breaths to re-center yourself.

The acrid taste of the pills gave you a Pavlovian surge of energy, the anxious buzz in your chest subsiding and easing into a steady hum. You sat at the mirror, dragging a finger underneath your eye to wipe smudged eyeliner from your face. You sniffled, forcing the action into another deep breath and staring at yourself in the mirror. You belong here. You do. You know what you’re doing.

A sharp knock at the door pulled you back to reality with a jump.

“Jesus,” You called out “Alright, Rhea, one second!”

“It’s Alan. Open the door.”

Fuck. You frantically began cleaning the counter in front of you - slipping the credit card into your pocket and brushing your hands across the surface.

“Now!” Alan boomed from outside.

“Okay, okay!” You moved to the door and turned the lock, opening the door just enough for him to see you. You sniffled again, trying to camouflage the reaction with a cough. “Yes?”

Pushing the door firmly, Alan moved into your trailer, his body dwarfing yours in the small space.

“Listen to me,” he said, low but firm. “I’m done. I’m not doing this with you. I am not letting you fuck up my movie.”

“What?” You were dumbstruck.

“Don’t play dumb. Not now. You know exactly what I mean.” He was inches from your face now and getting angrier by the minute. You swallowed, desperately looking around for Rhea. Tears stung the corners of your eyes and you fought them, willing yourself not to blink.

“They’re prescribed,” you attempt. It doesn’t work.

“I don’t care what you do on your own time,” he continued “But this is mine. This is important to me and to everyone else out there whose livelihoods depend on this project, and I’m not going to let some spoiled, coked-out little actress spoil it.”

Your face burned with humiliation.

“Corinne fought hard to get you on this project. This was more of a fucking favor to her than you. But this movie does not live and die by your actions, do you understand me? You can kill yourself if you insist, but you will not pull my movie down with you. You’re fired.”

Your jaw dropped. You were unable to find words let alone choke them out. Rhea’s face was stark white when you spotted her just outside the door of your trailer, her cell phone firmly against her cheek, whispering into the receiver with her eyes wide.

“This is no longer viable for me or anyone else on this crew. I want you off my set now.”

You couldn’t move, your heart pounding in your chest. He stood there for another moment before exiting the trailer and slamming the door behind him. The force of the slam caused the door to open slightly, revealing Alan standing in front of Rhea.

“I don’t want to see you here again.” He said to her, loud enough for you to hear, his voice stern and uncompromising. “You’re lucky I don’t call the cops on you for bringing drugs on my set.”

You hung in the doorway as he stormed away, and as the room swirls into focus you see the eyes of the crew on you, their faces filled with curiosity and concern. Turning your head, you quickly blinked away your tears and wiped your eyes with the back of your hand.

Officially, you’d been let go due to ‘scheduling conflicts’. It was flimsy, Hollywood jargon for your star showing up fucked up, and unfortunately, the euphemism did little to quell the relentless scrutiny surrounding you.

Rhea had shown you the footage of you that began making the rounds after your firing was announced - a creepy, shaky video leaked by some PA of Alan berating you on set, cut with another clip of you walking around the soundstage. It was embarrassing - your hair was disheveled and you were pacing around in a way that looked strange out of context, but there wouldn’t have been anything interesting about it at all if the rumor hadn’t gotten out that you’d been fired for your drug use. Since then, the attention on you had been relentless.

The paparazzi had been a regular part of your life since you were a young teenager. It, generally, wasn’t as bad in New York, which is part of the reason why you preferred to stay there, but in LA it felt as if you were never more than a few feet from a camera. 

When you were 16 and working on your first film after Growing Together ended, you started going to clubs with your coworkers. No one ever gave you any trouble, and you didn’t even start drinking until you were 18, but despite that, the mere optics of a child star reveling in nightlife proved a lucrative angle for the media to exploit.

Since then, you were followed almost constantly. Leaving home, returning, getting groceries, getting your nails done, driving through McDonald’s - flashing lights in the corner of your eye were such a regular thing that you barely even noticed it anymore. There were photographers you knew at this point, friendly ones who knew your angles and creepy ones who constantly tailed your car.

It’d never been like this before, though. Literal throngs of photographers showed up anywhere you went, watching you like hawks, all waiting to swoop in on the slightest slip up. Going shopping was an event that needed to be scheduled in advance, boutiques needing to be warned that you’d be coming in so that they could prepare to lock doors behind you. Every step, every breath, felt scrutinized and captured for public consumption, leaving you suffocated beneath the weight of it all.

You were so angry about being let go - your behavior, truly, was no different from what any other actor your age was doing. You partied with your friends, you were out late sometimes, but you knew you were a good actress. It had been your passion since you were a child, and it was beyond frustrating to hear people tell you they loved you and wanted to see you win and then have them turn against you the moment you made a mistake.

So, although you’d behaved and spent the first week or two lying low at the insistence of Corrine, you were over it now. You stayed in LA, uninterested or unwilling to go home to your family and friends in New York and explain to them what's been going on. You were going out with Natalie every night, usually to Le Deux or Lush or Teddy’s. You stayed out late and slept in late and generally just did your best to avoid confrontation with any paparazzi or journalists or producers you’d pissed off.

You weren’t lying to Alan when you told him you were only taking what had been prescribed to you. It just happened that a lot of things had been prescribed to you. Lately, you’d been alternating between Adderall and MDMA for the last week or so, making you too speedy and anxious to really dwell on the current state of your career. You were, admittedly, running through your prescriptions more quickly than usual, causing you to need to make some calls in order to fill in the gaps.

Throughout dinner, you anxiously slid the screen to your Sidekick open and shut, open and shut. You thumbed through the wheel of apps, trying to will into existence a text from Andy that didn’t seem to be coming. It’s not exactly like you expected rigid punctuality from the guy who sold you drugs, but his radio silence was making you antsy.

[9:05pm]: Hellooooooooo

Natalie exclaimed as a tray of shots was delivered to the table, echoed by the group of acquaintances that you met up with at Don Antonios, the restaurant you always went to before a night out. Eagerly, you took one off the tray, blindly grabbing another as you knocked the first one back. You chased that shot with the other, the warmth of the liquid making you feel more like a human being and less like a raw nerve.

Seated to your right in the booth was a girl you kind of knew. She was always hanging out on the fringes of your group, some friend of a friend of a friend who was for sure going home and telling everyone she partied with you. She’d been gawking at you all night, beady eyes locked on you since you sat down, craning her neck and sitting uncomfortably close to you, your dress pinned under her studded jeans. You’d been resisting the urge to ask her what the fuck her problem was for the better part of an hour. As the group around you became distracted by the arrival of the shots, you seized the opportunity to confront her.

“Can you please get off of my dress?” you spat.

Her eyebrows shot up as she took her eyes off of you for what felt like the first time that evening to look down, apologizing and scooching over. She had tall red stilettos on and, when she looked back up at you, you could see the smudged mascara on her eyelid. Just as you were going to take the opportunity to move away from her, she leaned over to talk to you over the noise that surrounded you.

“Sorry. Hey, I’m Katie.”

You grimaced, not in the mood to talk to this person.

“Hi.”

You turn away for a beat, but your attention is grabbed again by Katie’s voice lowly in your ear.

“Hey, I have Xanax, if you want one,” the offer took you by surprise, the prospect lighting you up immediately.

“Oh, my god, I love you,” you said, quickly turning towards her and extending your palm. “Please?”

Downers really weren’t your thing, even booze wasn’t your favorite, but this evening was going to turn from boring to maddeningly insufferable fast if you didn’t get your hands on something.

“I know someone who needs one when I see them,” she laughed, discreetly dropping two pills into your palm.

The clubs in LA were the same thing every time. You showed up in big black SUVs, posed and made nice for the photographers outside for a moment and then clamored inside towards the booth that was waiting for your party. 

It felt like high school. Well, you assumed, since your high school experience took place entirely on set. You saw the same people everywhere, all scattered around the room, broken up into their own little cliques. All gossiping, the room alive with murmurs and whispers. Who’d just shown up? Who was fighting with who? Who’d stolen whose boyfriend? It all felt so juvenile, but not being here was worse, so you put up with it. The people changed, but not really - you usually ended up surrounded by the same cast of promoters, wannabe socialites and greasy LA club dudes, swapped out every couple weeks by stand-ins and understudies and new arrivals. They circled your table like vultures, mingled with one another and made use of your tab while you sat engrossed in your Sidekick.

The night became slightly more tolerable once you’d taken one of the bars Katie gave you, but you were still desperately trying to get a hold of a dealer. By the time you left the restaurant and were climbing into the backseat of your car to head to Lush, you’d even resorted to texting backup options, people you’d partied with once or twice who you suspected might be around. 

Sinking into the plush booth, you let your head loll to the side, eyes shutting against the assault of strobing lights. The steady, pumping rhythm of the bass sent a rattle through your bones.

After a minute, Natalie's hand landed gently on your knee, snapping you back to reality.

“You okay, girl?” She asked. Her voice felt distant, barely audible over the pounding bass reverberating through the room. The glitter on her eyelids shimmered in the blue light, the only part of her face you could clearly make out in the shadowy corner of the booth.

“I’m fine,” you answered impatiently, kicking your feet up into the seat next to you. Just then, your phone finally buzzed, your heart skipping a beat as your dealer’s name flashed across the screen

ANDY [11:03PM]: not goin tonite

You scoffed, pausing for a second before furiously tapping out a response.

[11:03PM]: FUCK U ASSHOLE

You hit send and threw your phone into your purse with a huff. You were going to have to come up with something else. Or maybe just slit your wrists right here at the table instead.

You surveyed your group as bottle service brought two large bottles of tequila to your table along with a tray brimming with shots. knew all it would take was a couple hundred bucks from a photographer outside for them to spill about how you’d begged them for coke. They'd probably do it for free just for the attention. You'd already asked Katie, but all she had was Xanax and a joint, and Natalie would've let you know if she got a hold of anything else.

You started scanning the rest of the room, looking for anyone you knew. The club was packed, some sort of launch party that’d booked a huge DJ filling even the VIP section from wall to wall.

Suddenly, your attention was grabbed by the sound of a man shouting at the booth directly across from yours. He was the typical guy you'd find in places like this: a douchey-looking producer type, each of his arms wrapped around two miserable-looking models to his left and right. Intrigued, you followed his gaze to see who he was yelling at.

Oh, bingo.

Dieter Bravo. You recognized him instantly. An actor like you, you knew you’d seen him around at award shows and parties, but you’d never met. His reputation preceded him, though; you knew he partied, knew that he, too, had been let go from movies due to 'scheduling conflicts' more than once. You knew he’d been in trouble for drugs. Last you'd heard, he'd been in the news for cheating on his wife or something. You were certain that all it’d take was a little bit of flirting and buttering him up to get him to share whatever he had with you.

Without a word to anyone, you rose from your booth, ignoring Natalie's questioning as you strode towards Dieter's booth. Immediately, though, you lost your footing, lightheaded from standing up too quickly. You brushed it off, saved from a fall by someone at your booth. Straightening your dress, you grabbed a bottle of tequila before pivoting on your heel and starting back towards Dieter.

Dragged out against his will, Dieter was a guest of honor at a launch party for Elysium Fragrances, the cologne brand he’d shot a campaign for last year. His presence was requested tonight as a make-good for being a no-show at the launch of his own campaign, instead being spotted that evening by the California Highway Patrol speeding down the Pacific Coast Highway with a model in the passenger seat. 

He’d been stopped by a cop as he attempted to pump gas, some asshole photographer seizing the opportunity to swoop in on the interaction and hurl all sorts of insulting names at his date. Dieter lost his patience, blowing past the cop to shove the paparazzo to the ground, shattering his camera in the process. He was arrested that evening on five charges - assault and battery, destruction of property, drunk and disorderly conduct, assault of an officer (come on) and, thanks to a thorough search of his car, possession with intent to distribute.

As his smug-faced mugshot circulated the tabloids, it eclipsed the glossy editorial photos that the brand had invested millions in. The extravagant campaign was reduced to a joke, its over-the-top glamour juxtaposed with candid snapshots of Dieter’s angry face shouting at the photographer.

Unbelievably, the brand hadn’t thrown him out then and there. He almost wished they had - he preferred the couple of nights he spent in jail to the following days spent in meetings, his team arguing with Elysium over their ability to sway this and use his reputation to their advantage. Ultimately, they maintained his status as a face of their brand as well as his 6 million dollar contract, with the stipulation that he shoot another campaign and make himself available for any event, launch or party the brand requested for the next year.

Being asked to party in exchange for six million dollars was a sweet deal - he understood that - but the reality of being a cosmetics brand’s puppet meant that he ended up at the same fucking parties week in and week out, always babysat by an appointed employee of the brand or, failing that, someone on his payroll.

Tonight was particularly torturous. The tabloids had latched onto the whispers of his crumbling marriage - rumors that were, fortunately or unfortunately, completely legitimate. Heidi was meant to be the one to tie him down, set him straight, clean him up. Their wedding photos looked like a fucking editorial, glossy photos ran with headlines predicting their domestic bliss. But a year and a half, a relapse, a DUI, and a string of affairs - all on his part - had shattered those illusions.

Last week, Dieter returned home from a 3-day bender to Heidi’s mother on the landing at the top of his stairs. She was screaming and hurling the contents of his closet at him, plus whatever else was within arms reach. Heidi, her once-bright eyes now dull with tears, cowered in a doorway behind her mother, slamming the door behind her when he called out in an attempt to reason with her. Her mom located his Oscar, hurling it towards his head with a warning to leave the house before she called the cops. He’d ducked just in time to avoid the statue concussing him, it instead crashing through the glass window of the door behind him.

The stories spread like wildfire, his team scrambling to reshape the narrative, casting Heidi as the cold, unfeeling spouse who couldn't handle his demons. They painted her as the villain, accusing her of rejecting him for his vices - after all, she knew who she married - all the while conveniently forgetting that she had stood by him through more than most people would be able to tolerate. It was an angle he wasn’t happy with; He may have been hedonistic but he wasn’t cruel. In the interest of giving her space and avoiding any additional negative attention sent her way, he moved out. He kept an apartment closer to town, and staying there made it that much easier to avoid any reminders of his failures.

The word on the poor, dejected husband had spread, causing every asshole he ran into tonight to look at him with the same pathetic, sympathetic expression. He resented their pity. He resented this party, this club, his obligation to be seen holding some stupid bottle of cologne in order to maintain his career. The four whiskies he'd downed had done little to numb him from it, and even the lines he'd snorted on the way over had failed to dull the edges of this evening.

You’d stumbled in about an hour ago, perching yourself in the booth across from his own. Your eyelids were heavy in a familiar way, his dirtbag instincts making him suspect you’ve popped a painkiller in addition to whatever you’ve been drinking. A group of giggly, hungry hangers-on swarmed around your table like flies, posing for pictures and parting only to let bottle service in and out.

Dieter knew you - or at least, he knew of you. The cute little starlet who always popped up next to him in the tabloids. He’d seen you in enough movies and on enough billboards to recognize your face, and he’d lurked around clubs like this often enough to have seen you before. Before you’d walked in, he’d resigned himself to an armchair as far back in the VIP section as he could find, determined to wait out the evening before bringing home whatever model ended up in his car. The whiskey he’d been drinking was only just beginning to kick in and he didn’t fight it, leaning back and willing the time to pass faster. But you… you were interesting.

Your gorgeous legs were stretched out along the booth, climbing up to the hem of your dress, a pink silky thing he imagined he could tear off of you with the smallest amount of force. Glossy lips pouted at your phone, eyebrows furrowed in a sweet little frustrated expression. When you looked up he didn’t look away - he kept his eyes trained on you as you looked around the room. You were looking for someone, obviously restless. A boyfriend? The thought twisted at his stomach uncomfortably and he willed himself to stop watching you, putting his glass to his mouth and draining it with a single swallow.

“Bravo!” a voice bellowed from his left, snapping him out of it. Clint - some hack from Elysium Fragrances and tonight’s designated narc waved enthusiastically from the booth next to him. “You gonna sit there and fuckin’ mope all night, bro?”

Fuck this guy. Like most of his brand-approved chaperones, he was content to accept the babysitting opportunity and spend the evening running up Dieter’s tab and shamelessly hitting on the girls at his table. The least he could do would be to leave him the fuck alone.

His attention returned to you when he heard a commotion from your direction. There you were, knees buckled, held at your elbow by one of the guys surrounding your booth. A couple of cell phone cameras lift and snap photos behind you as you attempt to compose yourself. He can’t take his eyes off of you as you stand back up, adjusting yourself, your little dress riding up for just a moment before you smooth it back into place.

The bottle he’d finished had begun to cloud his vision, so it took him a moment to realize you were stumbling towards him, your plush lips slightly parted as you swung a bottle of tequila at your side. Despite the haze, your smile was unmistakable as you arrived at his chair. When you held up the bottle with a subtle lift of your eyebrow, he nodded in agreement.

He wasn’t entirely sure if you climbed into his lap or if you simply floated there, an ethereal presence that captivated his senses. You were such a gorgeous little thing, soft legs draping over him effortlessly, while your electric fingertips traced delicate patterns along his arms.

“Where’ve I met you before?” You slurred, fingers playing with the buttons on his shirt as you settled in his lap.

You were fucked up. If it wasn’t obvious before, it was now. Good - he was, too. His plan had been to leave, get one of the models at his table to come home and roll over for him without much effort, but passing the evening with someone in his same state of mind would spare him from having another dull fucking conversation tonight. Plus, you were so pretty, big black pupils dilated and fixed on him beneath the lazy black fan of your eyelashes.

“You tell me,” he answered, running his finger along the rim of his glass.

Did you know who he was? He goes along with your guesses as to where you’d met before. Miami, London, the Met, whatever you said, as long as you didn’t piece together that you know him from a TV show that aired when you were still in middle school.

Music blasted through the speakers surrounding you, strobe lights flashing and highlighting flecks of glitter on your shoulders. He lifted his hand to run his finger along the thin strap of your dress as you lifted the bottle up between you and raised your eyebrows in question. He nodded, holding up his empty whiskey glass. 

“Glastonbury?” You asked as you filled his glass. 

“That must be it,” he agreed, knowing he hadn’t been to Glastonbury since 1995, and clinked his glass against your bottle. He watched as you took a long draw from the mouth and could see the grimace you were holding back as you squinted, your throat bobbing as you swallowed. He followed your lead, emptying his glass in three big gulps. Your eyes flitted over momentarily to the group he came with, crowded around the booth to his left, then back to him.

“You alone?” You asked him, glossy lips smirking.

“Just like you.”

You let out a knowing chuckle and leaned in closer to him, tequila and lime and smoke on your breath as it mingled with his own. The way you dragged your lower lip through your teeth had his cock twitching, the combination of the chemicals in his system and you purring in his lap like a kitten destroying any shred of inhibition he had left. 

There’s an acknowledgment between people like you and Dieter. It’s one of those things that doesn’t lend itself to description, but he knew it when he saw it - in the mirror, in friends and acquaintances and enemies, in blown-up photographs on the covers of tabloids, suicides and DUIs announced in newsstands. Raw nerves covered in glitter, celebrity or civilian, death drives winning over life drives every time. He saw it in your dilated pupils and the way your thighs were rubbing together, the silk of your dress doing nothing to hide it. You’re like him, too, and most importantly, you know better than to ask why.

His hand cupped your face before he realized he’d done it and he closed the space between you, your lips soft against his the next sensation he was aware of. You tasted good, and he wanted more right away, deepening the kiss and digging his fingers into your thigh forcefully. He ran his tongue along the seam of your mouth, his own lips going numb as he licked into yours. He pulled you up to straddle him and you moved easily, hips lowering onto him immediately and settling, the lace of your panties brushing up against the thin fabric of his pants. His mouth trailed to your ear, worrying your earlobe between his teeth and guiding your hips to roll against his crotch again and again.

“You don’t give a fuck, do you?” He said, his voice low and hoarse in your ear. He knew you had the attention of his group and your own, not to mention anyone else who happened to look over, but it didn’t seem to matter to you. He knew you’d been in trouble lately - the same limelight, coming-of-age growing pains he’d been through himself several years ago - and his own instincts threatened to kick in and shield you from the excess attention. 

You laughed with a shake of your head, tossing your hair over your shoulder and, without looking away from him, lifted his hand from your thigh to your lips, dragging your tongue across the length of his index finger and popping it into your mouth.

Oh, you were fun. You were already making him hard, and he knew you could feel it as you grinded into him again and again, letting his finger drop from your mouth when he pressed his lips back to yours. He needed to be careful - the linen lounge pants he’d thrown on to come here would betray nothing if you kept it up much longer.

It’s a noticeable absence when you hum and pull away from the kiss, the urge for more of you rolling over him and causing his fingers to dig into your thighs possessively.

“Do you have anything… funner?” You asked, big, blown out eyes pleading as you lifted the tequila bottle up again. Aha. It just so happened he did - a baggie of coke he’d brought along just in case sat in his pocket, along with two tabs of acid. It didn’t seem like that kind of night, though, at least not yet. He’d stick with the coke.

“I might have something,” he replied, a genuine smirk spreading across his face for the first time that evening. He sat up straight, smacking your ass and biting your jawline at the same time, the yelp it pulled from you quickly transforming into a wild giggle and sending a rush of blood to his cock as he peppered kisses and bites down your neck to your collarbone. 

Quickly, he helped you to your feet and guided you through the crowded room, following you across the floor, his index finger linked with your pinky, prying eyes and pointing fingers meaningless to the both of you. You may have been stumbling, but you were confident. Or at least not at all concerned. A camera phone at the bar flashed and Dieter instinctively ducked his head, moving a hand to your hip to rush you forward and out of sight. 

Tucking into a hallway at the back of the club, he kicked a door open and hurried you inside a small, dark room. It was clearly an employee restroom, high piles of backstocked paper towels and toilet paper toppling over when he pushed you up against the wall harshly, his hands cupping your face, the cool metal of his rings pressed against your cheek.

He pulled a pink baggie out of his shirt pocket, opened it and tapped a bump of white powder out onto the skin between his thumb and index finger. He held it up to your nose and, without any question about what it was, where he got it or if he’d already tried it, you’d inhaled, one hand holding his steady while the other held your nostril closed. 

Fucking finally. Your head lit up immediately with euphoria and relief as the amphetamines rushed through your system and you melted against Dieter as he lifted you to perch you on a stack of cardboard boxes. 

You let him move you like a rag doll, smiling as he propped you back and tapped out two more bumps onto your chest and snorted them, running your fingers through his messy curls as he dragged his tongue along your cleavage, licking up what was left.

His lips found yours again, and the pungent taste of the powder on his tongue mingling with his taste drew you in closer. Looping your arm around his neck, your free hand clutched his bicep. The acrid taste turned pleasantly tingly on your tongue, a numbness spreading as it explored his mouth.

“Here, baby,” he urged, breaking the kiss breathlessly, and you hummed in response as he tapped out another bump on the back of his hand. You inhaled it again, then he used his finger to gather the remnants of the powder. Cupping your cheek firmly, your jaw relaxed under his touch as he rubbed the excess powder into your gums. You reacted instantly, closing your eyes and drawing his finger deeper into your mouth, succumbing to the rush of sensation.

He groaned in approval, your lips already open when he kissed you again, drawing him in for more, thighs parting to wrap your legs around him. The flimsy strap of your dress fell off your shoulder, the fabric across your chest following shortly after.

Blissfully content with the relief of the chemicals rushing into your bloodstream for the first time today, you went numb, rolling your head back and watching patterns dance behind your eyelids. You allowed Dieter to touch and move you at his will, his hands skillfully brushing the other strap of your dress off your shoulder, exposing your chest completely. A throaty moan escaped him at the sight, the gentle sway of your breasts moving with the rhythm of the rough push of his hips into yours. He drew you closer, his lips finding purchase on your skin. Roughly latching onto you, he drew your breast into his mouth, his tongue drawing circles around the peak of your nipple before switching to the other side of your chest.

Sparks shot down your spine and your mind went blank for a second, lost in the feeling of him against you, the synapses in your brain firing and lighting up. You snapped back into the moment when you felt him grasp your hand with his own, his fingers intertwined with yours. He guided you down to press your hand into his crotch, grinding the firm length of himself into your hold again and again. 

A soft moan escaped your lips, surrendering to the warmth and pressure of his body against yours. You tightened your grip around his neck, allowing yourself to fully yield to his control, your body pliant and responsive to his every move.

You’d fuck him, you figured, as you moved against him. He was good looking - now that you were feeling a little less edgy, you could appreciate it. Corinne would kill you if word got out, but he seemed like someone who knew a thing or two about discretion. He stiffened even more as he firmly thrusted into the cradle of your hand and you cupped your fingers around his length, the soft fabric of his pants allowing you to feel him completely. You walked your fingers up to his waistband, nails dipping under the fabric and pulling at it slightly. You’d go home with him. Whatever. You’d bring Natalie with you and you could leave by morning. He probably wouldn’t even notice a missing gram or two.

You followed the thought as he trailed kisses up your chest and neck, finally settling at your ear. His hand rose up your thigh, thick fingers dragging along the lace fabric at your center. The bundle of nerves there erupted at his touch and your thighs instinctively squeezed around him.

“Let me taste you, baby, please,” He growled just above a whisper into your ear. You arched your back into his arms, moaning and nodding in agreement, the cool porcelain of the sink underneath you causing your skin to goosebump as your dress rode up further. You opened your eyes, peeking at the chestnut brown curls, the color blending into the dark room surrounding you. Your eyelids felt heavy, and you fought to keep them open, wanting to stay present with him. But the warmth of his breath against your skin and the gentle touch of his fingers on your cheeks were lulling you somewhere else. You felt like you were floating, your vision blurred at the edges and you fluttered your eyes shut again, feeling his fingers curl around the waistband of your panties and stall there for a moment. 

Your fading in and out like that threatened to spook him away. You couldn’t be too fucked up. He lightly tapped your cheeks a couple of times, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "Stay with me, baby," he whispered urgently. "Gotta hear you say it."

“Mmmm,” Dazed, faraway eyes looked up at him, your blown-out pupils mirroring his own. You nodded again, dragging your teeth along your bottom lip. Your pulse raced between your legs, and you felt your hips moving towards him, trying to ride something that wasn’t there yet. “Do it, Dieter, please.”

There we go. He smirked, lifting you from the stack of boxes to push you up against the wall and sinking to his knees. He bunched up the fabric of your dress at your hips, roughly pulling your panties down your legs, the black fabric hanging loosely at one ankle as he lifted your leg to hang over his shoulder.

You shrieked when he slid his tongue through your folds, your knee buckling when he repeated the motion, his strong hands moving up to your hips to support you. His tongue pushed wide against you, him tasting and exploring you as his fingers dug into your hips with bruising force.

He felt fucking amazing. You typically hated when men touched you, especially when you were high, but he felt incredible. You’d give him anything. Despite your rapidly dulling senses, the feeling of his tongue working your clit back and forth was at the front of your mind. He pushed his tongue wide against you again and again, fucking two thick fingers up into you without warning. 

You gasped, your mouth opening wide as you root your fingers into his hair to ground yourself. He wanted to wreck you completely, to smear the dark makeup around your eyes and watch that glossy mouth of yours stretch around his cock. His lips locked around your clit, and as the blood rushed to the bundle of nerves there you threw your head back, chest heaving, loud, wretched moans spilling from your throat.

With your senses dulled, he knew it’d take a little more to send you over the edge. A third finger pushed into you with a stretch, starting slow and working up to get in and out of your tight, soaked cunt. You moved your hips to match his rhythm, your pace hiccuping as he began working you faster and faster, working your clit between his teeth with a pinch.

Your moans were frantic, hitching higher and higher as he confidently worked you towards an orgasm, your surroundings blurring and swirling around you. 

THUD, THUD, THUD. Just as you neared your release, a loud pounding at the door shattered the moment.

He groaned in frustration, pausing briefly before attempting to resume. You struggled to regain your focus, your chest heaving with heavy breaths, nerves coiled tightly at your core.

The knock was followed by a muffled argument and the clanking of keys from the other side of the door. Reluctantly, Dieter's head emerged from between your thighs.

“Fucking assholes,” Dieter grumbled in frustration as he stood up, moving the straps of your dress back up your shoulders and quickly adjusting himself. You steadied yourself with a hand on his shoulder as you pulled your panties back up, frustration pounding angrily between your legs.

“Find me, alright?” He breathed, smoothing out your dress, his hand lingering on your ass and eyes slowly moving up your body. “I’ll take you home.”

You nodded as the door was thrown open, the bright, white light of a flashlight shining into the small room. You stood up straight, quickly fixing your hair in the mirror and sneakily grabbing the small, plastic baggie Dieter left on the counter, hiding it in your fist behind your back.

“Let’s go. Knock this shit off,” a voice bellowed from behind the light, which darted back and forth between you and Dieter. “We’re not doing this in my fucking club, get the fuck out, let’s go!”

“What the fuck is this?” Dieter asks, moving to stand in front of you and block you from the bright light.

“I’m sorry, man, I tried to stop him,” Another voice followed from outside the room. You squinted and peeked over Dieter’s shoulder, annoyance showing on your face. A large bald man in a suit held the flashlight and to his right was the small, douchey-looking guy you recognized from Dieter’s booth. Natalie’s head popped up behind the both of them, looking relieved to have found you.

“You’re not doing drugs on my floor and fucking little girls in my bathroom. That’s it, Bravo. Get the fuck out of here, let’s go,” the angry man repeated. Dieter raised his hands and murmured an apology to you as he shuffled out, one hand poised defensively in front of his face. He pushed out of the room past Natalie, her brows furrowed at him in confusion as he passed. His counterpart flocked to his side, immediately rushing into what sounded like a flurry of explanations and reassurances. Natalie slid into the room smoothly, wrapping an arm around you to usher you out. You stumbled at her side, annoyed and disoriented.

“I’m TWENTY-TWO, ASSHOLE!” You screamed at the man with the flashlight, attempting to shove him with your balled-up fists. He raised his eyebrows, bald head wrinkling and frown deepening. Natalie pulled you away from him quickly and you could hear her apologize behind you. “Don’t tell’um sorry, Nat, ’m not fucking sorry, I was in the fucking bathroom!” you slurred, your voice disjointedly raising and lowering in pitch.

“C’mon, babe, let’s go,” Natalie urged you.

“Yeah, ’s get the fuck outta here,” you agreed, stumbling as she shepherded you out. She handed you your purse and you quickly shoved your hand inside, dropping the half-empty baggie into the side pocket. One or two flashing lights from the crowd gathered at the bar stole your attention for a moment, but it quickly returned to the big, bald, interrupting gorilla with the flashlight. “This place SUCKS!” you screamed as you began to turn back towards him, leashed by Natalie’s grip around your arm.

“Let’s go,” she repeated firmly. You followed her through the crowded bar, stomping across the floor and ignoring the unending stream of heads turning towards you. The two of you shoved out the heavy metal doors of the club, clicking and flashbulbs immediately erupting around you as the cool evening air breezed across your skin. Your name was shouted from your left and right as Natalie dug in her bag for the valet ticket.

“Having fun tonight?” A photographer asked. You rolled your eyes. “Alright, over here, honey,” the same voice continued. With a resigned sigh, you turned to offer a practiced pose, your mind ticking through your media training despite how fucking annoyed you were. Stumbling a couple of times as you attempted to maintain your balance, you moved through a lazy pose or two. You knew the routine - let them get their shot and maybe they'll back off. 

“Partying tonight?” Another voice interjected. Moron.

Natalie finally located the ticket and the valet handed the keys over immediately, your car already parked and waiting curbside. Impulsively, you decided you’d drive, intercepting the keys before Natalie could take them and nearly smacking them out of the attendant’s hand before stumbling towards the vehicle.

“She’s not getting in the driver’s seat. No way,” reasons the voice of a man with a video camera to your left. “There’s no way!”

Another blinding eruption of flashing lights emerged around you. You stared down at your feet as you stumbled forward, trying to see where you were walking through the relentless assault of flashbulbs. Natalie called out your name from behind you. You struggled a couple of times with the handle before throwing the car door open heavily.

“Hey, you can’t drive, honey,” Another voice called out. You rolled your eyes.

You climbed into the driver's seat and slammed the door shut, exhaling loudly as the noise of the chaos surrounding you finally muffled. Flashing lights continued, your windshield now completely blocked by cameras. The volume raised again for a moment, a cacophony of voices and camera clicks, as Natalie scrambled into the passenger seat beside you.

“Are these people serious,” you asked, angling your head in towards Natalie and shielding your eyes from the barrage of flashbulbs pointed at you, frustration mounting with each flash. “How’m I supposta drive when they’re fucking blocking me?”

“Yeah, maybe you shouldn’t.” Natalie said, concern in her voice. “Let me, okay?”

You shook your head adamantly. “’M not going back out there.”

“So climb over,” She suggested.

“Not in this!”

Natalie let out an exasperated sigh, her fingers tapping anxiously on her thighs.

“Hey, since when do you know Dieter Bravo?” She asks, momentarily changing the subject.

“Who? Oh,” you replied, the question registering with you once you answered. The reminder of him sent your attention between your legs and you shifted slightly in your seat. “I dunno. I know’hm from an awards thing.” You offered. It was an unconvincing lie, but Natalie didn’t fight you on it.

“He’s so random,” she laughed. “I can’t believe you hooked up with him. I think my older sister had a poster of him in high school. Right next to River Phoenix.”

“Whatever,” you huffed, everything about this evening now pissing you off.  The incessant clicking of the paparazzi's cameras only added fuel to the fire, and you narrowed your eyes in irritation, slamming your hand down on the horn for a solid ten seconds in a futile attempt to disperse them.

“MOVE!” you yelled, only inciting more flashing lights.

“Let me drive, babe,” Natalie tried again.

“Oh, my god, fuck this,” you snapped, frustration finally boiling over. With your hand still shielding your eyes, you shifted the car into drive. “You're my eyes now.”

“What?! No!” She replied, her voice rising in panic.

“Be my eyes. I’m going.” You repeated. Very slowly, you eased your foot off the brake, the car beginning to inch forward. Voices clamored outside the vehicle.

“Oh my god, um, okay. Go slow. Turn left. Slow!” Natalie began to guide you. The crowd cautiously parted around the car, photographers scrambling to avoid being flattened while still unwilling to sacrifice this shot. “Oh my god, this is so stupid. Slow, slow, slow.”

“They’re fuckin’ stupid! What am I supposed to do?”

“No, yeah, okay, just slow, keep going left.” Natalie's voice trembled slightly as she continued to navigate. The relentless barrage of flashing lights illuminated the interior of the car, casting everything in stark, blinding brightness. “Okay, cut it! Cut it and keep going straight.”

You cut the wheel to the right and straighten it out, cautiously peeking through the gaps in your fingers to confirm you'd cleared the throng of photographers.

“Haha!” you exclaimed, your laughter echoing through the tense air as you slammed the gas pedal to the floor once the street ahead is clear. With a screech of tires, you peel off into the night, Natalie's nervous chuckles mingling with your own laughter. “Bye, assholes!”

You rocketed down Highland with reckless abandon. A couple of familiar vehicles creeped up behind you - regular photographers who paid their bills by stalking you. The driver to the left’s hand hung out the window, a digital camera pointed squarely at you. The light was yellow at the intersection in front of you and you smirked, not letting up on the gas and rolling your window down to flip off the camera as you raced through the intersection just as the light turned red.

“Slow down!” Natalie yelled, panicked, her hand clutching the door handle in a white-knuckled grip. “What is your problem?”

“My problem?! These guys are the ones with the problem,” you fired back, your tone frustrated. “I can’t do anything without getting fucking cornered!” Your car veered dangerously across the yellow lines and Natalie yelped. You overcorrected, the vehicle lurching back into its lane just in time to avoid a collision with an oncoming car, its horn blaring in warning. Natalie’s body stiffened further in her seat as you took a wide right turn onto Sunset. You turn on the radio, a Rihanna song picking up midway through.

“Did he give you something?” she shouted, her tone urgent. You furrowed your brow, shooting her a confused look. “Dieter,” she clarified.

“Oh, right!” you exclaimed, mood shifting as you suddenly remembered the baggie tucked in your purse. “Look what I got us!” You reached for your bag on the passenger floorboard, swerving again. Natalie lunged across the seat, her hands fumbling for the wheel to correct your course, while a chorus of horns blared from the vehicles behind you. Finally retrieving your purse, you fished out the baggie from the side pocket and held it up between your fingers for Natalie to inspect. She grabbed it from you quickly, examining it in her lap.

“What is it?” She asked. You shrugged.

“Coke, I think. Shit, hold on,” you floored the gas to race through another newly red light.

“Stop!” Natalie shrieked. “This is so fucking stupid, dude, let me drive!”

“Jesus, Nat, fine,” you groan, slamming on the brakes. You both jolted forward as the car came to a stop in the middle of the road. “You wanna drive so bad, fine.”

You unlocked the car doors, opening yours slightly and reaching down to unbuckle your seatbelt.

“Are you serious?” She scoffed, disbelief etched across her features as she surveyed the chaotic scene unfolding around you. You nodded in affirmation, a defiant smirk playing on your lips. “You’re such a bitch.”

With a surge of stubborn adrenaline, you stormed out onto Sunset Boulevard, Natalie following suit. The gray Honda belonging to one of the persistent photographers tailed you, coming to a halt beside you as the driver scrambled out, camera at the ready.

“LEAVE ME ALONE” you shouted. “I gave you your shot at the club, I’ve been nice to you guys, what more do you want?!”

You considered what it would take to get him to go away. Words weren’t working. Should you kick his car? Throw something? You began to stumble towards him, interrupted by Natalie yelling your name again. You turned around to see Natalie standing in the street, gaze fixed on the intersection ahead. Your car - which you apparently failed to put into park - was rolling into the intersection on its own. 

With a frantic surge of panic, you and Natalie sprinted after the runaway vehicle, the strobe of camera flashes behind you incessant. Arms flailing, you both desperately signaled to other drivers to stop, your heels clattering against the pavement as you raced towards the car.

As the car veered left, you were powerless to stop it from crashing into a parked BMW at the corner. Rushing to catch up, you flung yourself into the open driver's door, slamming on the brakes and throwing the gear into reverse. You leaned across the cab to fling the passenger door wide open.

“Come on!” You shouted at Natalie as she climbed back into the car. With a tense exhale, you navigated the car backward, turning wide in the intersection before screeching forward.

Your mind was completely clear with pure adrenaline. You were only a few blocks away from the hotel now, the castle-shaped outline shrouded in trees just ahead on your right. You floored it, a tense silence hanging in the car, both you and Natalie’s eyes locked forward on the road in front of you.

Only slowing down to make a right turn into the hotel driveway, you didn’t bother waiting for the valet. Tossing your keys onto the driver’s seat, you left the door ajar as you stormed through the garage toward your room, ready to put this evening behind you.

#blind item #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x ofc #dieter bravo x reader #putting this out into the world and definitely also shitting bricks

[drinkcrywrite]

DERRY GIRLS APPRECIATION WEEK

↳Day 5/7: Favourite Scenes/Moments

ID under cut

[image description: 10 large gifs made up of five smaller gifs from various episodes of Derry Girls. Gif 1: From 201, 5 gifs from the failed rappelling event. In the top left corner is "#10" in a black outline.   1: Clare clutches the side of the cliff, and hysterically screams at the crowd below. Caption reads, "Don't let the Jaffa bastard hurt me!"   2: Erin and Michelle stare up at Clare off-screen and look shocked, Michelle laughing. Caption reads, "Jesus, Clare! Fuck-a-doodle-doo."   3: Clare looks up at Philip at the top of the cliff. Caption reads, "Last night you said you hated Catholics. Admit it!"   4: Philip at the top of the cliff yells down to Clare. Caption reads, "I said I hated athletes. I'm not much of a sports fan."   5: Erin and Michelle stare up at Clare. Michelle cups her hand around her mouth and yells. Caption reads, "Catholics does sound a bit like athletes, to be fair to him, like." Gif 2: From 201, from the failed differences/similarities brainstorm. In the top right corner is "#09" in a black outline.   1: Philip raises his hand and calls out a suggestion as Clare smiles next to him. Caption reads, "Protestants are British and Catholics are Irish."   2: Jon calls out a suggestion as Orla sits next to him clutching her teddy bear. Caption reads, "Catholics really buzz off statues and we don't so much."   3: Sister Michael nods and smiles. Caption reads, "I do enjoy a good statue, it has to be said."   4: A shot from the back of the room as all the kids raise their hands and call out suggestions. Caption reads, "Catholics watch RTE! Protestants love cleaning! Protestants are taller!"   5: Jenny adds another item to the board titles differences, which is covered in writing. Gif 3: From 305, the discussion of Rob's sexuality. In the top right corner is "#08" in a black outline.   1: Joe excitedly gestures to the other parents off-screen. Caption reads, "He's a gay!"   2: Rob stands next to Joe and nods. Caption reads, "Oh, right. Yes, I'm a raging homosexual."   3: Sean & Geraldine look at Rob off-screen, Sean speaking. Caption reads, "Seriously? Our daughter's a gay."   4: Rob smiles at them. Caption reads, "How is she finding it?"   5: Sean nods while Geraldine answers. Caption reads, "Aye, she's not fully qualified, so to speak." Gif 4: From 204, when Michelle brings out the drug scones. In the top right corner is "#07" in a black outline.   1: Orla smiles and nods. Caption reads, "Aye, they do look like good craic, in fairness."   2: Clare gasps and points hysterically at the scones. Caption reads, "They're drug scones! She put the drugs in the scones!"   3: Michelle rolls her eyes and speaks condescendinly. Caption reads, "Anyways, drugs aren't illegal when you put them in food."   4: An older woman enters the room and takes the container of scones out of James' hands.   5: Michelle puts her hands to head and looks panicked. "Caption reads, "What the fuck just happened?" Gif 5: From 105, when Deidre asks Mary to take Michelle and James with her. In the top left corner is "#06" in a black outline.   1: Deidre looks angrily at Mary off-screen. Caption reads, "I hope to God it's not the gay thing you're offended by."   2: Deidre continues speaking. Caption reads, "Because I'd be disappointed in you, Mary, I'll not lie."   3: Mary looks contrite as she responds to Deidre. "Of course not. I mean if anything, the gay thing sort of cancels out the English thing."   4: James looks fed up. Caption reads, "Again, no gay thing."   5: Michelle grins as she looks at James beside her. Caption reads, "You wouldn't move over there, James? I can't see past your massive closet." Gif 6: From 306, when Clare receives her first kiss. In the top right corner is "#05" in a black outline.   1: Clare looks around the party at all the people dressed as clowns and screams. Caption reads, "Nooooo!"   2: Clare looks annoyed at James off-screen. Caption reads, "Not hundreds of lesbians, James, hundreds of clowns."   3: Laurie, with her clown mask on top of her head, speaks to Clare off-screen. Caption reads, "Well, that's a pity cause I was sorta plannin' on kissing you tonight."   4: Laurie kisses Clare with a hand on each cheek and slowly pulls back, Clare keeping her eyes shut.   5: Clare giddily smiles at the others outside the party and nods that Laurie did in fact kiss her. Gif 7: From 206, when James comes back aftre almost leaving with his mother. In the top left corner is "#04" in a black outline.   1: James sits in the car looking pensively out the window.   2: Clare, Michelle, and Erin stand in the crowd looking upset as everyone cheers behind them.   3: James yells down to the girls from the bridge overlooking the crowd. Caption reads, "I. Am. A Derry Girl!"   4: James and the girls run to each other, Orla jumping into his arms and Michelle wrapping her arms around him.   5: The kids all walk away from the crowd smiling, their arms around each other's shoulders, James with the fake USA flag around his shoulders. Gif 8: From 307, when Erin and Granda Joe talk about the Good Friday Agreement. In the top right corner is "#03" in a black outline.   1: Granda hold Anna on his knee and smiles as he speaks to Erin. Caption reads, "It's what you think that's important."   2: Erin looks sadly at Granda off-screen. Caption reads, "People died. Innocent people died, Granda.   3: Erin continues talking. Caption reads, "Nothing can ever make that okay."   4: Erin looks worried. Caption reads, "What if we vote yes, and it doesn't even work?"   5: Granda smiles at Erin. Caption reads, "And what if it does? What if no one else has to die?" Gif 9: From 106, when everyone joins Orla onstage at the talent show. In the top left corner is "#02" in a black outline."   1: Clare stands and looks slightly nervous as she shouts. Caption reads, "Actually, she's our dick."   2 Michelle looks exasperated as she stands to join them going onstage. Caption reads, "Oh, for fuck's sake."   3: All the kids join Orla onstage and start dancing along with her.   4: Sister Michael watches the kids dancing onstage and her mouth twitches, as if she wants to maybe smile, in a rare show of emotions.   5: The kids jump onstage and put their arms around each other in slow-motion. Gif 10: From 101, when the kids are in detention. In the top right corner is "#01" in a black outline.   1: James clutches the wall in desperation. Caption reads, "Michelle, I can't hold it any longer."   2: Michlle mocks Clare as Clare sadly chews a sandwich. Captione reads, "But will you ever get yer self-respect back, Clare?"   3: Erin opens the window and starts to climb through it.   4 Orla holds the nun's head up and grins. Caption reads, "It's funny how she sleeps with her eyes wide open, isn't it?"   5: Michelle and Erin turn accusingly to James as he continues to pee in the trashcan.]

#derry girls #derrygirlsweek #derrygirlsedit #derrygirlsgifs #userbbelcher #chewieblog #dailytvfilmgifs #filmtv #cinematv #shinylightblue #rupzydaisy #*gifs #dgalledit

[pinkrelish]

𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞.

bestfriend!eddie x fem!reader

✶He made it clear he never wanted to see you again, and yet, here you were running into him face-first after he hunted you down.✶

NSFW — parent death, alluding to abuse, light angst, 18+ overall for eventual smut, drug/alcohol mention/use

chapter: 4/15 [wc: 3.5k]

↳ part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 / 11

AO3

Chapter 4: Waffles Heal All Wounds

A diner. That’s where you woke up. The frowning woman knocking on your car’s roof told you so.

Squinting from the sun behind her, you rolled down your window and tried to appear more awake than you were. “Hi?”

She put a hand on her hip where her brown half-apron was tied. “You’re illegally parked.”

You leaned your head out and, sure enough, when you had pulled into a parking lot last night out of desperation to avoid an embarrassing death of ‘cried too hard and hit a tree,’ you parked sideways, taking up three spaces. “Oh shit, sorry.” You fumbled for your keys in the cupholder under a mountain of tissues.

Maybe it was how haggard your appearance was, or specifically the streaks of dried mascara on your cheeks, but she took an ounce of pity on you. “Cops like to stop to get coffee here, didn’t want you getting a ticket,” she said, going inside to flip around the sign on the door.

“‘Preciate it!”

Having nothing better to do until later, and still reeling from the after effects of your massive post-sob hangover, you decided a morning beginning with a stack of syrupy waffles sounded amazing right about now. You adjusted the rearview mirror and scrubbed yesterday’s fuck up from under your eyes, staining your crisp white tracksuit’s sleeve. Doing your best to tidy up your appearance regardless of the nauseating remorse churning your stomach.

“What else did I expect?” you chided your reflection.

The same middle-aged woman from earlier sat you at the booth in the corner. It was your decision to face the wall. After the memories of last night had flooded in, you just wanted to be left alone to sulk; head in your hands, waiting for food you were losing the appetite for the longer you stewed over what you’d done.

When the waitress returned to take your order, you were still hunched over, rubbing your palms into your eyes. “Waffles.”

“Long night?”

“Yeah.”

“Waffles cure everything!” she expelled her wisdom, chipper than when you were causing her problems in the parking lot.

“Doubt it.”

Nursing your headache with soothing sips of fresh coffee, you sat in disillusioned silence. Tinny music cut in from a radio near the kitchen. Someone turned the pages of a newspaper. The door chimed. Chimed again. Tiny birds chirped, hopped, pecked around the concrete outside. A chair creaked as someone sat down a few tables behind you. None of it an adequate distraction from your cynical sentiments about being in the small town you had ambivalent feelings towards. Hating your rather optimistic bout of nerves yesterday at the prospect of seeing him again. Building and building. Excitement, adrenaline over seeing your childhood best friend. Hoping.. Hoping against all odds he’d be just as happy to see you too.

Stupid.

So stupid.

Two waffles appeared before you. A small cup of syrup and a packet of butter, too. Delicious. Unfortunately, you weren’t hungry for more than half of the one on top, surrendering by dropping your fork and knife on the plate, not caring about the loud clang they made, struggling to chew and swallow what was in your dry mouth.

After what seemed like the longest thirty seconds of your life, you drank the rest of your coffee and scooted to the end of the booth and stood up, too busy ruminating on your failures to pay attention to what was in front of you.

RATT.

The band’s logo came into focus a fraction before your nose collided with it. Along with patches on a jean vest. Hints of weed and alcohol despite the gentle, sober breath grazing your face. The invading scent of stale cigarette smoke and worn leather. Old Spice, too. You’d think he’d find something new to wear since you left, but he didn’t, and somehow, the pang of nostalgia was both comforting and vicious. A trap you understood like an old friend.

Standing toe to toe with Eddie, you were shivering in the artificial cool air. He was warm. A welcoming presence once upon a time, now stiff and awkward with your sudden proximity. Bodies touching on accident due to your timing of getting up to leave the moment he approached. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped; the only tell he was equally as flustered as you. When you forced your gaze to meet his, you caught the flick of his eyes lifting from elsewhere lower on your face.

“I’m ready to talk,” he stated.

Relief and fear was evident in your simple, “Okay.” You motioned for him to join you, and of course, he was already moving to do so without your permission.

This booth was not made for two people on tentative speaking terms. Sitting across from Eddie, the top of the table was cramped with your plate and drinkware; underneath, you fidgeted until your legs were between his, so he could stop stepping on your shoes. He knocked your right knee in the shuffle and you clenched your teeth to hide the wince.

“You look rough,” he said, clearly indicating the smeared lines of mascara on your cheeks.

“You look handsome,” you retorted in the same deadpan tone.

Against his will, his eyebrow quirked. Sincere amusement flashed in his dark brown eyes. A charitable glimpse of the boy you used to know. “Haven’t been called handsome in years. If I call you beautiful, can I have the rest of that?” He pointed at the waffles, and of course, you were already pushing them towards him.

And that was it. That’s all it took for you to fall victim to your old ways. Volunteering, practically, to fawn over the most minute of details in how he ate with your fork. Chewing with his mouth slightly open, always. Sipping from your water glass.

Either he’d meant to put his lips over the exact print your chapstick left behind in a sort of pseudo kiss, or he had impeccable aim.

The waitress lingered at the end of your table gripping her notepad and tapping her pencil on it nervously, shifting her gaze from you to the cops at the counter staring you down with a fierce sneer.. Well, not you. They were glaring at Eddie’s existence, who was distracted by the birds outside.

“Can I get you anything?” she asked.

Eddie swept his attention to her, a grand smile on his face and hands clasped cutely on the table. “Could I get a coffee, please and thank you?”

She didn’t look at him. Rather, eyeing his myriad of heavy metal patches. Making assumptions about him and turning on her heel. Treating him differently from how she treated you, regardless of the fact you may as well have been cut from the same cloth. If it bothered him, he didn’t let it show. In mutual agreement, you remained quiet in the lulled purgatory of lapsed conversation, waiting until she returned with his coffee, refilled your own, and walked away to pick up where you left off.

“So..” Eddie stabbed another piece of waffle. “Why’d you leave without telling me?”

“Starting with the million dollar question, I see.” You sank back into the dense cushion of the booth, and when that felt too far away for your private conversation, you rested your forearms on your thighs and picked at your cuticles. “Do you know what my last memory of you is?” Glancing up from the plate, he shook his head, and you’d never recover from the way his curls bounced.

Accepting your burgeoning grin, you wore gladly, aware it wouldn’t last. “We were standing in your kitchen. Riders on the Storm was playing in your room. I had just blown out the candles on the birthday cake you made me and I remember thinking how that was the nicest thing anyone had done for me, birthday or not. It meant even more coming from you. The year before that you picked me flowers, which I still have pressed in a book, by the way, but there was something special about you going through the trouble of baking me a cake and decorating it. We’ve known each other for most of our lives and not once have you looked at me like you did when I took a piece. You were just so.. I don’t know, proud of me.” You exhaled a long sigh until anxiety closed in on your lungs. ”I wanted our last memory together to be a happy one. That’s why I didn’t tell you.”

“Did you eat it? The cake?”

“Hell yeah.”

He allowed his smirk to come through. “Good. Didn’t want it to go to waste because of your mom.”

“Right..” you agreed, wiping your sweaty palms on your pants. Your change in demeanor was palpable. An omen like vultures circling the obvious. Eddie’s rings clinked on the table as he set down the fork, tilting his head to get a better read on your expression painted in melancholic hues from the rogue cloud covering the sun.

“You made me strong,” you said, crossing your arms and digging your knuckle into your lip, savoring the mild pain on your gums. “You know I couldn’t cry around her, or else she’d.. whatever. I would just hold it in. All day. And when things got really bad, at night I’d play the BBC Radio’s adaptation of The Hobbit. It’s not the same as you reading to me, but it helped.” Outside, the birds flew away. “I thought about you every single day, Eddie.”

“I thought about you too,” he admitted, tearing open sugar packets. Your heart leapt at each scrape of the spoon against the ceramic mug. “Tried not to.”

Prepared to hear as much, but at a loss for words, you prompted him for more, “Yeah?”

He ran his tongue across the back of his teeth. “Yeah.”

One uttered word wielded like a weapon. You had never seen him angry before last night. Pissed off over inconveniences, sure, but last night.. He hated you, and though you could hazard a guess why, he hadn’t explained his side of the story yet.

For someone who wanted to talk, he hadn’t said much.

“I thought you would be okay.. I mean, I was the one moving to a new state and starting over from scratch, at least you had other friends here.”

“Not like you,” his vulnerability was whispered, “Our friendship was different. You knew that.”

“Eddie..”

Finished eating, he set the plate at the end of the table and ran his hand over his face. Doing the thing he did when he wanted to hide how upset he was; dragging his fingers over his closed eyes and down to his jaw. Working through the sting of knowing a memory he hated was beloved by you. Confused as to what he should be feeling when the night that changed his life for the worse was meant to comfort you through trauma. Was it right to be mad at you?

A difficult thing to parse when so much of sitting across from one another was intrinsic to your time together, having done it casually day after day, cramped together at the small green table in his kitchen, or huddled at the end of the cafeteria table away from the other students, or skipping class to sit at the picnic table in the woods. Longing for the familiar territory of one another’s company and not knowing if it could ever be the same, or if it would last.

“Listen, I don’t remember much about the day you left,” he explained. “Or the days after, really. I kinda went off the deep end, but I do remember telling Wayne I knew you were leaving and I was just taking it hard, so he doesn’t know the full scope of everything, if you were wondering.”

Even when faced with your betrayal, his first priority was protecting your image.

The desire to hold his hand consumed you. It manifested in tears spilling over your lower lashes. It clutched onto your breath. An urge so severe it panicked you, and yet, its inappropriateness kept you frozen. “I never meant to hurt you. I.. F-Fuck.” You stared at the ceiling, gathering your emotions. Imagining a time when you two were inseparable. Laying in the grass, listening to music together.

When you could speak again, you accepted your consequences. “I’m so sorry, Eddie. I don’t know where to go from here, but I’m so sorry for hurting you. I’m so sorry.”

Pennsylvania State University Women’s Gymnastics Team. A chance at a better life. Reading the embroidery on your jacket with the same somber expression as last night, he spoke aloud softly, honestly, “You were right to leave.”

Patting down his pockets for some substance to escape the past, and finding nothing, he changed the subject instead. “I imagine you didn’t drive all this way to give me closure, so why are you really here?”

“Well, I guess that’s as good as a segue I’ll get..” Thankful for the switch in mood, you made a few more uncommitted hems and haws, bouncing your leg against his inner thigh. “She, uh..” You waved your hands, searching for the words, and settling on a lilting, “She.. died?”

Rightfully so, he angled his ear at you and clarified, “Your mom died?”

“Like two months ago.” You shrugged, wide-eyed, waiting for his reaction. He made a drinking motion. “Yep, liver failure.”

“Do you want my condolences?” he asked straightfaced.

You pulled a short, but comical, grimace and offered the truth, “Nah. It’s complicated, I guess. I should feel sad she’s dead, but in some ways, I have my life back.. I never told you, but my bank account has always been under her name. She’s had full control over everything, starting way back when I worked at Benny’s on the weekends. Even up til she died, she used my student loan money to go on benders. I specifically got another waitressing job so I could skim some of the tips without her noticing. She’d still berate me if I didn’t earn enough, so it was a tough balance, but it was the quickest job I could think of where she couldn’t access everything.” Eddie reached into his jacket’s inner pocket to take out the envelope you left for him. “No! Keep it, really. It’s for you and Wayne. Or, at the very least, to pay you back for all the weed over the years.”

Hesitating, he accepted you weren’t going to take it, and put it back. “I never would’ve made you pay for weed.”

You snorted. “What a gentleman.”

“You could’ve made more tips by stripping, just so you know.”

“I take back what I said.”

Deflecting to your mugs of coffee after the short fervency of your eye contact became too heated, you continued, “Her death has been a real bitch to deal with. Not in a sad way. Just, God, it doesn’t quit. One thing after another. I didn’t expect to have literally nothing in my bank account, and do you know how expensive dying is, even after the medical bills? Not only did I have to put together some stupid funeral arrangement for this bitch, I had to do shit like terminate the lease on her apartment. And you wouldn’t believe how bad this woman trashed it. Had to hire help to clean it out, and now I’ve come to find out she’s still paying for shit like the lot in Forest Hills.” You rolled your eyes to the high heavens. “Who fucking knows why. Probably just to waste my money. Anyway, that’s why I’m still here. I’m going through the process of having everything transferred in my name and having them demolish that fucking trailer–which reminds me I need to schedule a dumpster for that because the contractor won’t supply one. Oh! And as a bonus ‘fuck you’ because Hawkins is ass-backwards and hates me, they won’t accept anything by fax. I have to go to court and sign shit in person, so I’ll be back here again in 30 to 45 business days to finish the permits for the aforementioned construction, praying my car makes the drive, and then I’ll be free.”

Eddie nodded patiently, eyebrows raised, giving you the grace to vent to him as he finished his coffee. “It’s not even my life and you make me want a cigarette.”

You laughed, hard, and fuck, did it feel good to laugh again. To reap the reward of his shy smile. His leg resting against yours. His fingers cupped around his mug in the center of the table, where yours were too, doing the same thing. Tapping your mug for the sole purpose of discovering the delicate nature of his knuckles being softer than yours with each beat.

He sat forward, sliding your knee along his inner thigh. “You sure you don’t want your tips back to help pay for all this?”

Quick to respond, you inquired, “Would you like to stuff them in my G-string, or would you rather I lay down and you can rain them on me?”

It was his turn to laugh. Bright like his naturally higher voice, which you adored, and a bit cackling too, as if he were a villain. A full laugh coming from the heart. A dangerous thing, you realized when you looked at each other a bit too long.

Once eye contact had been established, there was no coming back. The affection in your gaze roaming his face. The tenderness in his smile, just like old times. But a reserved version. On guard. Already fading at the rhythm of your pounding hearts.

“I feel like I’ve been going on, and on, and on,” you said. “Tell me what’s been up with you–?” Your watch beeped. 11:00 blinked at you. Swiveling around, you examined the lively restaurant brought to life by the lunch rush. “Have we really been here that long?”

Eddie shrugged. “Got somewhere to be?”

“My first appointment of the day. I’ve gotta be downtown in, like, ten minutes.”

Too soon.

Hope ignited the instant neither of you made to leave. The backs of your fingers touching his, metal to flesh as you learned the sensation of his ring’s edges against your skin.

He said, “I’ll walk you to your car.”

You said, “Okay.”

Neither of you moved.

“Wouldn’t want you to be late.”

“No, that would be terrible.”

He puckered his lips to rid himself of his uneven grin, fixing his gaze on your touching hands. You did the same. Existing in the strange dynamic you found yourselves in. A state of unforgiveness, but willing to blot each other’s wounds for the sake of healing and moving on.

Your watch beeped again. “Okay, I really have to go now.”

After paying, you took one step out the door and did a double-take, bewildered beyond belief. “You still drive that thing?”

Eddie joined your side, following what you were pointing at. “Yeah, it’s the same van.”

“I would’ve thought you had crashed it by now.”

He clicked his tongue, offended, “I’ll have you know I’m a perfectly safe driver.”

“You literally drove it into a ditch the day you got it,” you reminded him. He flapped his hand like a mouth to mock you. You shoved his arm. “I meant to ask, how did you know where to find me?”

Coming round to your vehicles, he lingered at your trunk while you unlocked your door. “Gut instinct.” You raised your brows, asking him to elaborate, and he spun his keys around his finger, dragging his feet on the walk to his van parked next to you. “I just knew.”

“All right then, keep your secrets,” you conceded. “Oh yeah!” He paused, hand on the headrest, about to climb in. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

Turning to regard you as if you’d said the bizarrest thing, Eddie’s hair flowed over his shoulders in the wind, a precious pinch of confusion between his brows, and a handsome twist to his mouth.

“You mentioned a boyfriend I could go home to last night, but, alas, I must regretfully inform you I do not have one.” When he remained speechless, you broke. Doubled over with laughter, holding your sides. Giddier than you had any right to be.

Eddie shook his head at you. Then, he thought about it. “You said you’ll be back in 30 to 45 business days?”

“Unfortunately!”

“Okay,” he said, “Okay.”

He was quick to get in his van and shut the door behind him, as were you to start your car and get to your appointment on time, but.. It wasn’t until your third alarm beeped that you realized you had been sitting there, tracing your thumb over your grin, forgetting to drive away.

And it wasn’t until you glanced in your rearview mirror, you saw Eddie was doing the same thing, remembering he wasn’t dreaming.

Taglist: @xxhospital-for-soulsxx @myfavoritesareproblematic @henhouse-horrors @tlclick73 @sidthedollface2 @i-will-duckyou-up @qnsfwthoughts @captainonaboat @eddiemuns0nl0ver @godcreatoreli @harrys-tittie @eg-dr3amer3 @trixyvix88 

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson angst #eddie x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #stranger things fanfic #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you

[thescrumptiousstuffs]

Only Friends Episode 9 - The Return

In which this is the episode where we see second chance kick in and growth in (almost) all our characters (FINALLY 🥹)

Mew and Top

We start with Mew waking up after the disastrous Halloween party, hungover and feeling generally unwell following his hard booze and drugs spell the night before. He also just seems exhausted and tired from well, everything.

Thankfully Top is working hard to gain Mew’s trust and repair his broken relationship with the former. And you can tell it’s working - Mew may continue to resist him, but as the episode progresses, he starts to soften up especially after he sees how Top treats his moms (like the queens 👸 they are!!! - love them by the way, and I reckon the moms are already planning a wedding in their head for their baby boy and Top 🤣🤣🤣)

I’m also glad that Top took the high road with the whole Ray/Sand /Mew situation. Ray continues to be a disaster muffin, just maybe slight less than previous episodes (I really wished he had spoken to Mew upfront before kissing Sand in the music room, but I get it though…🤦🏻‍♀️). Anyway, I’m pleased to see Top eventually deciding against using the recording (but also, what’s with all the boys doing illegal recording in these show???? 😫), instead quietly just trying to prove to Mew with actions instead - he was a smooth operator with how he endeared himself to Mew’s moms 🤌🤌🤌🤌. And so, I was happy to see Mew finally admitting he still loves (and misses Top), wanting to give their relationship a second chance.

Also, some of my fav scenes were the RayMew conversations we had - the initial one in Mew's living room with their aborted makeout session when Mew could not go through with it. And while the conversation got heated, it highlights to them how unsuited they are as a couple with Mew still loving Top and can never see Ray beyond a friend. Similarly, their conversation outside the social service office was equally pleasing (and it penned out so differently the way I thought) - Both acknowledging their relationship was a farce - 1) Ray having loved Mew for so long didn’t want to miss a given opportunity, although as we know from the start [and now Ray finally clueing - his love for Mew is different with the love he has for Sand] 2) Mew knowingly use Ray to get revenge on Top.

I had to revisit the whole episode to get why Mew didn’t feel betrayed with the whole Sand/Ray situation - because on the surface, it does seem similar to what Top did to him. But I guess the biggest difference is that Mew loves Top as a partner (so the betrayal definitely hit harder) while he has never seen Ray as a lover (and as Mew pointed out, Ray never really hid his attraction and love for Sand).

Now that we have Boeing entering the radar again (hello Mond, looking as handsome as ever!!!), it will be interesting to see how the whole Top/Mew/Boeing (and Sand?) pens out.

Ray and Sand

I think this whole episode was Ray figuring out his feelings and where he stands with both Mew and Sand. We see a hint of it from episode 8, where the thought of Sand leaving made him panic (and on hindsight, I think that's why Ray suggested threesome THREE times now - the girl at the bar, Mr Freddie Mercury and Nick. I mean it seems funny at first, but I genuinely thinks its Ray way of saying - "if this is who Sand's like/seeing now, I don't care, as long as he continues to pay attention to me.") Although, with how possessive Ray is of Sand (and the way he clings to Sand during sleep), I don't think threesome is on the card for these two.

I must admit, each SandRay scene this episode was riveting - from the deliciously tense confrontation they had in the music room, where the emotions and frustration from both side tip over, resulting in the ill-advised kiss (I mean it was a great kiss, nobody can deny their chemistry here, 10/10 from me) - this was also the first instance Ray acknowledging he understands his feelings for Sand more. Unfortunately, Sand is fed up (and he is also very much aware Ray has yet to properly break up with Mew). BUT, I still wish Ray has spoken to Mew about his feelings for Sand before the whole kiss.

And when that was followed by Ray pursuing Sand in the middle of the country, driving for hours late at night, just so he can cuddle and seek comfort from Sand after arguing with Mew - yeah, I think that's when Sand possibly started to soften his already battered boundary and completely giving in.

Plus, them finally having an honest conversation about their feelings - with Sand admitting he really likes Ray (and vice versa) or Ray reciprocating by stating Sand was the last person in his mind when he thought he was going to die in the car crash....and well, we all know what followed suit (the whole camper van scene was beautifully shot, it's amazing to see the contrast of their first hook up where it was all lust and fire versus softness and absolute intimacy once they admit their feelings - anyway, good job boys!!!)

I am looking forward to see how they navigate their relationship now Mew is no longer in the picture and Ray likely heading towards rehab (also, we have yet to see the massive fight between SandRay that was shown in the MV/trailer...where Sand smashes his plum wine in frustration....nor the soft scene with both of them in the bathtub together - smoking and drinking)

Nick and Boston

Ah Nick - He wins MVP for this episode. His friendship with Sand is great to watch (Team Second Option for the WIN!!!) - from them just vibing out in the wood, to him suggesting a makeout session and then giggling that they feel nothing for each other and him being the fairy godfather to the whole SandRay situation…👌👌👌

Also, the whole conversation with Boston was raw and vulnerable (I can't believe I got emotional watching it!!! Over asshole Ton!). I mean, Nick is a weirdo (and slightly creepy) - this is a guy who masturbated on a client photo and wire-taping his FWB’s car. But, he genuinely loves Ton and when he had his farewell conversation with Ton, you can feel his sincerity for Ton (although, do they really have to do it in the toilet????).

I'm also happy to see Nick trying to move on with Dan (and who would have thought it was Nick who suggested Daddy to Dan?), although I think we can safely say if Ton ever wants to get back with Nick, Dan will likely be drop like a hot potato sack.

As for Ton, this episode is probably the first time we see a crack in his armour. He seems genuinely affected with Nick's farewell conversation (I mean the guy dropped his one-night stand and tried to chase after Nick, before realising Nick was with Dan - and wow, seeing Ton's eyes - is that some wistfulness? Maybe a hint of sadness??).

I'm also looking forward to see how the whole Nick/Ton situation pens out (from the episode 10 preview - we see Nick/Ton having some much needed one-to-one conversation with Ton finally acknowledging he is an asshole - as I say, we finally seeing some growth in the characters!!!!)

As usual, a jumble of emotions after watching this episode - my personal fav scenes include the Ray/Mew conversations (both in the living room and outside the social service office), Ray barging into SandNick cuddling session time (I cackled) and of course, the soft, intimate scene in the camper van (let's be honest, most of us FK stans out there is still probably living in that moment)

So, is it Saturday yet?

08/10/2023

#only friends the series #episode 9 #khaotung thanawat #first kanaphan #firstkhao #sandray #book kasidet #force jiratchapong #Neo trai #mark pakin #lookjun bhasidi #papang phromphiriya #title kirati #summary #OF summary

[kishiren]

• Yakui the maid - drug addicted.

Her name comes from (ヤクいさん) "Medicine" and "Calamity" is the drug addicted and most popular Nijiura Maid. • 2005/10/11.

• [appeareance]

Yakui-san is short because of her drug abuse. She has a purple bob-cut and maid outfit (sometimes the outfit is blue) with purple and white striped stockings. She is often pictured drooling or vomiting with a crazed look in her eyes. Once a month, she is tied up and de-medicated to make her more mature. The handcuffs on her arms are a remnant of that time and she is not a criminal (it is rare that she prescribes and takes illegal drugs and is not a criminal, but this thread is treated as such)

• [source material]

She was kicked out of her parents' house because she was messing with the products of her family's drugstore. Her knowledge of medicines is top-notch, ranging from happy powder to drugs undergoing clinical trials. She has access to both legitimate and illegitimate drugs, and is also able to prepare her own original preparations.

When off her drugs, she's rather sensible, and when she's on her game, she's funky and capable, but if she overdoses even a little, she's peaky and useless. When she's on her game, Yakui-san can see things she can't see and hear things she can't hear.

Because of her drug abuse she is a part of the Inappropriate Maids along with Shitai-san and Dorei-san.

#yakui san #yakui the maid #nijiura maids #ちょうざいさん #2chan #4chan #futaba channel #futaba #maidcore #2000

[harrysmaison]

I recently crossed 1k followers on this hellsite and I know it's not that big a deal but I needed an excuse to rec fics so bear with me.

These are my top 10 fics that I think you guys NEED to read. They're in no particular order, only 10 of the fics that I read recently and really liked! Some are old, some are new but all are equally deserving of attention and appreciation. Please check them out, and don't forget to leave kudos and supportive comments!

Happy Reading! 💞

🍂 Desires for Woolgatherings by isolated/ @theisolatedlily (E, 86.5k)

In the midst of his second world tour, Louis Tomlinson receives the devastating news that his former bandmate, Harry Styles, is in critical condition after an unfortunate accident. Fresh with the loss of his mother and his sister, Louis’ world darkens once more as he flies out to California, preparing for the worst. There, Louis is faced with the ghost of his past, realizing the hand he played in the band’s division. As time goes on, Harry’s condition becomes dire, and his only chances of survival forces Louis to participate in a makeshift, illegal drug trial orchestrated by a dubious neuroscientist.

🍂 Keep Driving by dead_tobeginwith (M, 2k)

Louis works as a driver contracted through the local cancer institute. All of his clients are associated with the hospital—mostly patients and their families heading home. One rainy afternoon, he picks up Harry.

🍂 Went down in Flames by hazzahtomlinson/ @itsnotreal (E, 26k)

Louis was in an absolutely shit storm. He had let it go on for too long. Let it go too far. But he had a plan. And tonight, said plan was going down. He was going to tell the boys he was proposing this weekend. ‘Harry’ would turn him down, albeit gently, and Louis would play the heartbroken boyfriend. He’d gotten this far. All he had to do was lock himself in his bedroom and cry a little. He’d been in a few plays growing up. Piece of cake.

Except. It didn’t go that way. Of course, it didn’t. Because the universe, the beautiful chaotic bitch that she was, just had to have an actual Harry Styles and he just had to be Niall’s best friend.

🍂 ti dedico le autostrade che portano al mare by me_her_themoon/ @greeneyesfriedrice (E, 87.6k)

Louis goes on hiatus for six months to a small coastal town in Italy where he doesn’t expect to fall in love with the charming baker

🍂 into that goodnight by devilinmybrain/ @thedevilinmybrain (E, 62k)

Once upon a time, there was a boy. But not just any sort of boy. This was a clever boy, the cleverest of them all.

🍂 The Lesser King by HelenaAzure (NR, 8.5k)

Louis goes off to war leaving Harry on the throne. But Harry has a dangerous secret of his own. With time running out and his health on the line, will Harry break and tell Louis, or will he consume the dangerous poison of insecurity destroying everything they have.

🍂 Through Darkest Clouds by LadyLondonderry/ @londonfoginacup (T, 3.7k)

Orpheus and Eurydice AU (MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, sad with happy ending.)

🍂 Don't Go In The Woods by guccikings/ @harryeatsburger (M, 39k)

the one where Louis has the brilliant idea to go camping alone and unprepared. Luckily, he meets Harry, who is very much prepared and happy to help out. Unluckily, they aren’t as alone as they think they are.

aka the spontaneous camping trip from hell.

🍂 Don't Worry, Darling by amomentoflove/ @daggerandrose (E, 27k)

Frank and Shelley Harper are the founders of the Victory Project-- a place for his employees and their spouses to live, to work, and to enjoy themselves while keeping safe from the outside world.

Louis and Harry Styles are the newest inhabitants of Victory, but when Louis begins to question his reality, he has to rely on himself and his husband to find out the truth.

🍂 From this moment on by therogueskimo/ @bravetemptation (NR, 52k)

Louis Tomlinson needs a tour photographer, and he thinks he's found the one in the mysterious H on Instagram.

Harry Styles swore he'd never do tour photography again - that is, until he did.

#my fic rec #fics #hlcreators #tracksintheam #yourlarrysource #hlficlibrary #thelarriefics #ficsfor4am #hershelsue #hlsource #1dsource #28th appreciation #vi's 1k follower celebration

[batboyblog]

Things Biden and the Democrats did, this week #10

March 15-22 2024

The EPA announced new emission standards with the goal of having more than half of new cars and light trucks sold in the US be low/zero emission by 2032. One of the most significant climate regulations in the nation’s history, it'll eliminate 7 billion tons of CO2 emissions over the next 30 years. It's part of President Biden's goal to cut greenhouse gas emissions in half by 2030 on the road to eliminating them totally by 2050.

President Biden canceled nearly 6 Billion dollars in student loan debt. 78,000 borrowers who work in public sector jobs, teachers, nurses, social workers, firefighters etc will have their debt totally forgiven. An additional 380,000 public service workers will be informed that they qualify to have their loans forgiven over the next 2 years. The Biden Administration has now forgiven $143.6 Billion in student loan debt for 4 million Americans since the Supreme Court struck down the original student loan forgiveness plan last year.

Under Pressure from the administration and Democrats in Congress Drugmaker AstraZeneca caps the price of its inhalers at $35. AstraZeneca joins rival Boehringer Ingelheim in capping the price of inhalers at $35, the price the Biden Admin capped the price of insulin for seniors. The move comes as the Federal Trade Commission challenges AstraZeneca’s patents, and Senator Bernie Sanders in his role as Democratic chair of the Senate Health Committee investigates drug pricing.

The Department of Justice sued Apple for being an illegal monopoly in smartphones. The DoJ is joined by 16 state attorneys general. The DoJ accuses Apple of illegally stifling competition with how its apps work and seeking to undermining technologies that compete with its own apps.

The EPA passed a rule banning the final type of asbestos still used in the United States. The banning of chrysotile asbestos (known as white asbestos) marks the first time since 1989 the EPA taken action on asbestos, when it passed a partial ban. 40,000 deaths a year in the US are linked to asbestos

President Biden announced $8.5 billion to help build advanced computer chips in America. Currently America only manufactures 10% of the world's chips and none of the most advanced next generation of chips. The deal with Intel will open 4 factories across 4 states (Arizona, Ohio, New Mexico, and Oregon) and create 30,000 new jobs. The Administration hopes that by 2030 America will make 20% of the world's leading-edge chips.

President Biden signed an Executive Order prioritizing research into women's health. The order will direct $200 million into women's health across the government including comprehensive studies of menopause health by the Department of Defense and new outreach by the Indian Health Service to better meet the needs of American Indian and Alaska Native Women. This comes on top of $100 million secured by First Lady Jill Biden from ARPA-H.

Democratic Senators Bob Casey, Tammy Baldwin, Sherrod Brown, and Jacky Rosen (all up for re-election) along with Elizabeth Warren, Cory Booker, and Sheldon Whitehouse, introduced the "Shrinkflation Prevention Act" The Bill seeks to stop the practice of companies charging the same amount for products that have been subtly shrunk so consumers pay more for less.

The Department of Transportation will invest $45 million in projects that improve Bicyclist and Pedestrian Connectivity and Safety

The EPA will spend $77 Million to put 180 electric school buses onto the streets of New York City This is part of New York's goal to transition its whole school bus fleet to electric by 2035.

The Senate confirmed President Biden's nomination of Nicole Berner to the Court of Appeals for the Fourth Circuit. Berner has served as the general counsel for America's largest union, SEIU, since 2017 and worked in their legal department since 2006. On behalf of SEIU she's worked on cases supporting the Affordable Care Act, DACA, and against the Defense of Marriage act and was part of the Fight for 15. Before working at SEIU she was a staff attorney at Planned Parenthood. Berner's name was listed by the liberal group Demand Justice as someone they'd like to see on the Supreme Court. Berner becomes one of just 5 LGBT federal appeals court judges, 3 appointed by Biden. The Senate also confirmed Edward Kiel and Eumi Lee to be district judges in New Jersey and Northern California respectively, bring the number of federal judges appointed by Biden to 188.

#Thanks Biden #Joe Biden #Democrats #politics #US politics #climate change #climate crisis #student loans #debt forgiveness #shrinkflation #women's health #drug prices

[quillpokebiology]

Trubbish facts and care tips please.

Trubbish Facts

-Trubbish can eat almost anything, so feeding it your extra trash or un-recycable materials is a good way to reduce excessive amounts of garbage and plastic

-A lot of trainers think you can wash their stink away. But if your trubbish doesn't have an odor, it could be a sign of a health problem and you should take then to a vet

-Trubbish eggs are most commonly found in garbage cans, where there can be six in up to one litter

-The inside of their stomach holds a pouch where poisonous gasses are made. It's connected to the stomach, and just looks like a smaller stomach. It gets bigger in garboder

-Even though they're deadly and smell gross, drugs made from the breath of trubbish are highly addictive and illegal in most regions

-Some researchers theorize that the trubbish line might be fungi that evolved from decomposers

-Compared to garboder, trubbish almost always flee when they sense danger. Garboder usually just attacks when they sense danger

-Trubbish brains are pretty small. Put your thumb to your index finger and make the circular symbol. That's how big trubbish brains usually are

-Almost nothing hunts them due to how bad they smell. The exception to this rule is Alolan muk

-Trubbish waste is said to be one of the top 10 worst smells to mankind

-Trubbis are unable to smell

Care Tips

Once you get past the smell, trubbish are actually pretty easy to care for. They can eat almost anything, do well by themselves for a little while, and will happily eat any leftover trash you have lying around.

Unless you're prepared or have a large area it can roam, it's best not to evolve a trubbish if you live in a small house. Garboder is very big, and a lot more aggressive than trubbish, as well as a lot more smelly and poisonous. It could br a harm to you or the people you care about.

Trubbish enjoy having spaces to hide in. Getting a Monhouse for one would be a great idea, but I've seen some trainers use unused gabrage cans as a space for them, which I think is really cute.

#trubbish #quill awnsers #pokemon #pokemon irl #irl pokemon #pokeblogging #pokeblog #pokeblr #rotomblr #rotumblr #pkmn irl #irl pkmn #pokemon biologist #pokemon biology #pokemon roleplay #quill pokefacts

[mercyking]

top 10 Gary King headcanons I've had for so long I keep forgetting they only exist in my head:

Gary kept a journal/diary in secondary. He wrote song lyrics, quotes from school, things he wanted to remember. Its cover is bent because he’s stuffed it full of papers he and his friends scribbled on during class.

Gary stashed items like a squirrel. As in, cutting into his mattress to hide cigarettes (as well as other, more illegal substances). Gary learned how to sew for this purpose: he'd cut into and sew-shut pillows, stuffed toys, etc.

Gary used Compact Cassettes to record himself singing/playing musical ideas he didn't want to forget.

Gary never applied to university (I believe he meant it when he said “there was nothing we were going to miss about school”)

Back to the cassette tapes. I like to imagine that some of these music sessions were cathartic/vent. Sometimes in the form of lyrics/music he'd created, a lot of the times as covers of songs he really identified with. Given the emotional content, he hid these tapes very carefully.

Autism. ADHD. Autism and ADHD. He stims with the rings, he stims with the trench coat (WHOOSH), he stimmed by holding cigarettes in his fingers/mouth. Also, Sisters of Mercy is a special interest (maybe The Golden Mile, too!!)

Immediately after the accident, Gary disappeared off the face of the Earth for a while. Really, he was staying at his mothers and not leaving the house.

Back to the topic of sewing: Gary gave his trench coat hidden pockets. These were for back-ups of things he did not want to run out of, mainly money and pills. For secrecy's sake, these pockets were teeny-tiny. He also sewed them shut, knowing he could easily tear them open them with his teeth if need be.

The above habit developed after secondary, when Gary began to get smart about avoiding A) getting busted for having drugs on him B) having his stuff stolen

The hidden-pockets thing might serve as an in-universe explanation for how Gary got hold of the shoelaces he ties during the opening credits (since the opening scene clearly indicates that shoelaces are not allowed at the ward Gary's in, but the commentary says that the changing sequence happens in his room at the hospital)

#the last two are cheating technically cuz they're additions to headcanon 8. what can i say i am a Liar and a Fraud #the world's end #the worlds end #gary king #the cornetto trilogy #twe #twe meta #tw drugs #tw mental illness #tw mental hospital #tw cigarettes #there are so many more headcanons but i'm limiting myself because. Too Many #pyra speaks

[lesbianchemicalplant]

Mike Brewer gives this account of the origin of the song, "One day we were pretty much stoned and all and Tom says, “Man, I’m one toke over the line tonight.” I liked the way that sounded and so I wrote a song around it."[1] [...] In 1971, the Federal Communications Commission issued guidance to radio station operators: "Whether a particular record depicts the dangers of drug abuse, or, to the contrary, promotes such illegal drug usage is a question for the judgment of the licensee.... Such a pattern of operation is clearly a violation of the basic principle of the licensee's responsibility for, and duty to exercise adequate control over, the broadcast material presented over his station. It raises serious questions as to whether continued operation of the station is in the public interest."[4] This had a chilling effect and some radio stations stopped playing popular songs like "One Toke Over the Line." Other stations played the songs even more frequently in protest. Chart history The song peaked at No.10 on the U.S. Billboard Hot 100 and No.8 Cash Box[5] during the spring of 1971, and was the duo's only Top 40 hit. It also reached No.5 in Canada[6] and No.7 in New Zealand.[7]

[wiki]

#this is approaching my limits for Folksiness but it's cute anyway #and relatable uwu #music #weed #drugs #minors dni / #brewer & shipley #one toke over the line #my posts #my uploads #my uploads (jank) #fcc #Youtube

[brianedner]

Luz’s Crime List Masterpost

I am just going to pin this to the top of my page and put links to the chapters under here

0: Forging

1: Counterfiting

2: Stalking and Steeling Evidence

3: Cultivating and Manufacturing drugs

4: Breaking and Entering

5: Gambling

6: Identity theft and bribery

7: Organized Crime

8: Money Laundring

9: Illegal Fights part 1

10: Illegal Fights part 2

11: Illegal Fights part 3

12: GTA and defacing public property

13: Back Alley vet/nurse

14: Street Racing

15: Illegal house plants

16: Fake ID and illegal spices

17: Laundering Money 2

18: chop shop and selling forged documents

19: Shovel Talk

20: Alcohol making and Camila’s reaction

21: Laundering 3 and Gambling 2

22: Hiding Bodies

23: Hiding Bodies 2

Fanfiction: Here

Tumbler: Here

AO3: Here

#THE OWL HOUSE #owl house #the owl house luz #the owl house willow #the owl house amity #the owl house hunter #the owl house vee #the owl house gus #the owl house Camilla #morningmark

[lixenn]

List 5 things that make you happy and send this to the last 10 people who liked/reblogged something from you. Get to know your followers and mutuals! ☺️

Ohhhh thanks for the ask!! (I saw your tag in yours and I need you to know I cracked up so hard, I could not stop laughing, bother me anytime you want!!)

Food! I love cooking and baking and I've grown up in a very food orientated family, so it's likely you'll find me munching on something more often than not.

Reading! I literally read everyday, either original works or fanfic, it doesn't make a difference to me. Currently I stick more to fanfic (fandoms include: KHR, star wars, Batman, Naruto, JJK, Final Fantasy and many many more) but I also have a very long tbr for original fiction (I read mostly fantasy, some romance and a tiny bit of scifi). Being in a reading slump for me is kind of a nightmare to me, because reading is such a intrinsic part of my routine it physically pains me not to do it.

Writing! At least when my muse gifts me with ideas 😅 Managing to write brings me so much joy, especially because I don't always get to do it. Like with reading I do original fiction and fanfic, but KHR has possessed my brain at the moment, so my own book idea thingy is very much on hold. (Btw this just includes creative writing. I already dread working on my thesis, academic writing is the bane of my existence 🫠😭)

Crocheting! Continuing with the trend of creative hobbies. Nowadays when I'm not working, sleeping or doing anything mentioned above, I crochet. It's my way to relax and calm down and I also get quite jittery when I don't have a project (it's similiar to reading). I started out with decoration, but recently updated to clothing. Some of my projects: patchwork blanket ☺️😉, several pillows, two cardigans, mesh crop top, triangle scarf, ...

Comments! This is a fairly new development and probably makes me sound like an attention whore, but damn the high I get when I see something in my inbox should be illegal, it's like a drug! I get super giddy and send my friend three minute long voice memos squealing about how people like the stuff I make, it's honestly kinda embarassing (my friend calls me a sucker for comments and she's totally right!)

#five things that make you happy #that was quite fun! #I also don't have enough mutuals #I just started coming out of my cave to interact with people

[ukyou-kuonji]

5 Movies For Fans of Ranma 1/2

If any of y’all like me grew up watching Ranma 1/2 and want to watch a movie that scratches the same itch, here are my top recommendations.

1. Some Like It Hot (1959)

Two musicians, Joe and Jerry, accidentally witness The Saint Valentine’s Day Massacre. In order to hide from from the mafia they crossdress their way into a girls band performing in Florida. In Florida, while one of them flirts with a millioinaire, the other impersonates a millionaire in order to impress the band’s lead singer, Sugar, all while continuing to hide from the mafia, leading to cases of mistaken identity and general chaos. CW: mild violence, mild period typical homophobia, transphobia (specifically surrounding the concept of men dressing up as women to sneak into women’s spaces) alcohol

2. What’s Up Doc? (1972)

Four guests with identical bags stay overnight in a hotel. Mr. Smith carries a bag of illegal stolen top secret government files, and he is being followed by Mr. Jones, a government agent attempting to steal the contents back. The quiet Dr. Bannister who is attending a musical conference has a bag of igneous rocks and is staying with his overbearing fiancee Eunice. He is simultaneously being romantically pursued by Judy Maxwell, a girl who is incredibly smart but keeps getting kicked out of colleges for her general disregard of rules, whose bag contains her underwear. Mrs. Van Hoskins’ bag contain her jewel collection, which the incompetent hotel employees are trying to steal. General antics ensue, and the chase scene follows Looney Tunes-esque logic. CW: mild violence, a few misogynistic jokes

3. The Wedding Banquet (1993)

Wai-Tung’s parents are ignorant of his partner Simon. They are desperate for their son to get married, and to pacify them and monetarily help Wei-Wei, a woman he has a tenous friendship with, he gets a marriage in name only to her. However his parents insist on throwing an extravagant party. This film is notably more serious in tone and subject matter than the previous ones, and focuses primarily on the relationships between the three main characters and Wai-Tung’s parents, and themes of found family and biological family. CW: rape, alcohol, homophobia, discussions of abortion.

4. Little Miss Sunshine (2006)

Another more seriously movie, this film follows one family’s journey across the country to support their youngest daughter Olive, an average 9 year old girl who wishes to one day be a child beauty queen. The family includes an overworked mother, her gay academic brother who is recovering from a suicide attempt, a father who works as a motivational speaker, a son who has taken a vow of silence until he becomes a fighter pilot, and a grandfather who was evicted from a retirement home for snorting heroin. As the roadtrip continues everyone faces challenges, but are brought together for their love for Olive. There are no romantic plot lines in this film, but the humor still reminds me of Takahashi gags. CW: suicide attempt, mentions of suicide, drug usage, homophobic remarks

5. 10 Things I Hate About You (1999)

This well known remake of Shakespeare’s The Taming of the Shrew takes place in an American high school in the 90s. New kid Cameron instantly falls in love with the popular Bianca, but learns her father will not allow her to date anyone until her famously grumpy older sister, Kat, also goes on a date. While competing with wealthy, attractive and vapid rival Joey, Cameron and his best friend convince him to pay school rebel Patrick to date Kat. As always, love quadrangles, lies, and chaos ensue. CW: misogyny, alcohol

#shut up urbs #ranma 1/2 #rumiko takahashi #Some Like It Hot #what's up doc? #the wedding banquet #little miss sunshine #10 things i hate about you #just realized i knew a few movies that made me laugh the same way as ranma did #thought id make a post

[myreadingrealm]

List

100 Years Old Top Chef - 24

A Common Story of a Lady's New Life - 106 [END]

A Condition Called Love - 45

A Disaster-Class Hero Has Returned - 19

A Transmigrator’s Privilege - 44

A Villain Is a Good Match for a Tyrant - 95 (Side Story 9) [END]

A Way To Protect The Lovable You - 51

Academy’s Undercover Professor - 56

Actually, I Was The Real One - 81

After Märchen - 2

Agatha - 4

Am I the Daughter? - 16

Angelic Lady - 25

Another Typical Fantasy Romance - 10

Arashi's Hug Pillow - 7

Baby Tyrant - 7

Becoming the Villain’s Family - 12

Beware of the Villainess - 77

BJ Alex - 89 (Side Story 5) [END]

Blue Lock - 23

Boundless Necromancer - 9

Brutal : Confessions of a Homicide Investigator - 19

Bunny and Her Boys - 45

Call Me The Devil - 29

Chronicles of the Demon Faction - 8

Chronicles of the Martial God’s Return - 44

Cinderella Wasn't Me - 29

Cross-Dressing Villainess Cecilia Sylvie - 4

Debut or Die - 60

Depths of Malice - 73

Devil Returns To School Days - 53

Douse, Koishite Shimaunda - 5

Dream to Freedom - 6

Drug-Eating Genius Mage - 1

Eleceed - 289

Even Though I’m the Villainess, I’ll Become the Heroine! - 20

Everybody Loves the Villainess - 13

Existence - 13

Extras Don’t Want to be Overly Obsessed - 6

Father, I Don't Want to Get Married! - 113

Fold All The Ruin Flags In The Remaining Day - 3.1

For My Abandoned Love - 62

Fukushuu O Koinegau Saikyou Yuusha Wa, Yami No Chikara De Senmetsu Musou Suru - 37

Glotoneria - 4

God Of Blackfield - 9

Guard Pass - 10

Happy Ending for the Time-Limited Villainess - 36

Hatsukoi Maze - 16

Heart Throbbing Conqueror - 24

Heavenly Sword’s Grand Saga - 29

Helmut: The Forsaken Child - 1

Hero has Returned - 5

Honey, I’m Going On a Strike - 100

How to Be a Dark Hero’s Daughter - 20

How to Get My Husband on My Side - 14

How to Live as an Illegal Healer - 14

How to Reject My Obsessive Ex-Husband - 14

How to Survive as a Maid in a Horror Game - 10

I Abandoned My Engagement Because of my Tragic Sister, But For Some Reason I Became Entangled With A Prince Who Has A Strong Sense Of Justice - 3

I am the Precious Daughter of the Greatest Villain in the Fantasy World - 87

I Became the Despised Granddaughter of the Murim Clan - 44

I Became the Hero’s Mom - 89

I Became the Mother of Bloody's Male Lead - 20

I Became the Villain’s Mother - 60

I Became the Wife of the Male Lead - 56

I Became the Wife of the Monstrous Crown Prince - 60

I Became the Younger Sister of a Regretful Obsessive Male Lead - 30

I Became the Youngest Member of Top Idol - 7

I Didn't Mean To Seduce The Male Lead - 23

I Don't Love You Anymore - 33

I Don’t Want To Be Duke’s Adopted Daughter-in-law - 33

I Failed to Divorce My Husband - 52 (bagian ngobrol ama crown prince & istrinya)

I Fell Into the Arm of Crazy Villain - 8

I Found a Husband When I Picked Up the Male Lead - 1

I Have No Health - 8

I Need Someone To Stop My Older Brothers - 3

I Obtained a Mythic Item - 8

I Raised a Black Dragon - 12

I Raised an Obsessive Servant - 14

I Raised My Childhood Friend as a Tyrant - 14

I Reincarnated as the Crazed Heir - 23

I Reincarnated as the Little Sister of a Death Game Manga's Murder Mastermind and Failed - 7

I Tamed The Crazy Marquis - 4

I Tamed The Tyrant and Ran Away - 43

I Was Reincarnated as a Baby Fox God - 12

I'll Be the Matriarch In This Life - 112

I’ll Be the Warrior’s Mother - 39

I'll Become a Villainess That Will Go Down in History - The More of a Villainess I Become, the More the Prince Will Dote on Me - 9

I’ll Divorce My Tyrant Husband - 27

I'll Do That Marriage - 56

I'll Just Live on as a Villainess - 16

I'll Protect the 2nd ML’s Love - 1

I'll Raise You Well in This Life, Your Majesty! - 41

I'm Being Raised By Villains - 42

I'm Dead, But The Hero Went Crazy - 7

I'm Engaged to an Obsessive Male Lead - 29

I'm In Trouble Because the Emperor Thinks I'm Seriously Sick - 22

I'm Not That Kind of Talent - 26

I’m Only a Stepmother, But My Daughter is Just So Cute! - 61

I've Become A True Villainess - 42

If You Lay A Hand On My Brother, You're All Dead - 2

If You Save An Immoral Beast - 18

In This Life, I Will Live as a Supporting Role - 1

Into The Light Once Again - 24

Isn’t Being A Wicked Woman Much Better? - 39

Isn’t the Villainess’s Punishment to Enter Into a Political Marriage With an Autocrat Too Lenient? - 5

It Looks Like I’ve Fallen into the World of a Reverse Harem Game - 119

It's a Deadline, So I'm Getting Married - 2

It's Useless to Hang On - 16

Jinsei 2-Shuume wa Yandere Kareshi wo Amayakashite Happy End ni Narimasu!! - 3

JK and The Foundling - 17 [End]

Juvenile Offender - 30

Kangoku Jikken - 43

Kawaii Hito - 9

Kill The Villainess - 76

Killer Peter - 23

King of Dramas - 37

Lady Isabella's Path To Happiness - 9

Leveling My Husband To The Max - 16

Leveling With the Gods - 96

Like A Wind On A Dry Branch - 3

Lillian of Turin - 38

Limit Breaker - 18

Limited Extra Time - 40

Living as the Villain’s Stepmother - 14

Lookism - 451

Mairimashita, Senpai - 40 [END]

Male Lead, I'll Respect Your Taste - 34

Martial God Regressed to Level 2 - 1

Maxed Out Leveling - 4

Medical Return - 20

Megane, Tokidoki, Yankee-kun - 8 [END]

Mercenary Enrollment - 174

Movies Are Real - 34

My Angelic Husband is Actually a Devil in Disguise - 19

My Cute Beast! - 101 [END]

My Daughter is the Final Boss - 14

My In Laws are Obsessed with Me - 45

My Path to Killing God in Otherworld - 1

My Secretly Hot Husband - 85

My Sister Picked Up The Male Lead - 41

My Three Tyrant Brothers - 32 (Baca ½)

Noblesse - 156

Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint - 171

Ooh La La - 41 [End]

Otome Game no Hametsu Flag shika Nai Akuyaku Reijou ni Tensei shiteshimatta - 35

Please Don’t Come To The Villainess’ Stationery Store! - 58

Please Kill My Husband - 24

Please Marry Me Again, Husband! - 64

Predatory Marriage - 9

Psycho Revenge - 24

Raou-kun Notices Me - 8

Reborn as the Enemy Prince - 31

Reborn Rich - 84

Record of Ragnarok - 27.2

Regressor Instruction Manual - 10

Reincarnated As Duke's Blind Daughter - 1

Reincarnation of the Suicidal Battle God - 44

Resetting Lady - 7

Return of the Bloodthirsty Police - 25

Return of the Flowery Mountain Sect - 113

Revenge of the Iron-Blooded Sword Hound - 26

Sacrificial Princess and the King of Beasts - 17

Sakura wa Watashi wo Sukisugiru - 14

Sasuke Retsuden - 4

Second Life of the Trash Princess - 31

Second Life on the Red Carpet - 5

Second Life Ranker - 96

Secret Alliance - 45 [END]

Senpai, You're Cute - 1.4

Seoul Station Druid - 7

Solo Max-Level Newbie - 16

Soloist of the Prison - 7

Spy x Family - 59

SSS-Class Suicide Hunter - 80

Stairway of Time - 27

Steel-Eating Player - 10

Superhuman Battlefield - 6

Surely a Happy Ending - 29

Sweet & Tart Boyfriend - 28

Swordmaster’s Youngest Son - 45

Tamon-kun Ima Docchi?! - 5

Textbook of Revenge - 8

The 100th Regression Of The Max-Level Player - 32

The Academy’s Genius Swordman - 7

The Baby Concubine Wants to Live Quietly - 54

The Baby Land Lord Is Retiring - 13

The Beast Tamed by the Villainess - 20

The Best Is Saved for Last - 11

The Broken Ring : This Marriage Will Fail Anyway - 10

The Bully In Charge - 9

The Challenger - 5 (Baru baca ½)

The Condemned Villainess Goes Back in Time and Aims to Become the Ultimate Villain - 4

The Constellation that Returned from Hell - 12

The Constellations Are My Disciples - 48

The Crown Prince That Sells Medicine - 21

The Dark Mage’s Return to Enlistment - 21

The Dark Magician Transmigrates After 66666 Years - 77

The Duchess with an Empty Soul - 102

The Duchess’ 50 Tea Recipes - 143 [End]

The Emperor Reverses Time - 14

The Emperor’s Sword - 9

The Empress Lipstick - 9

The Evil Lady's Hero - 76

The Flower Dance And The Wind Sing - 42

The Heavenly Demon Can’t Live a Normal Life - 110

The Ichinose Family's Deadly Sins - 7

The Invicible Princess Is Bored Again Today - 14

The Lady And The Beast - 113

The Lady I Served Became a Master - 56

The Lady Wants To Rest - 34

The Live - 19

The More You Chew, The Sweeter It Gets - 24 [END]

The Most Notorious "Talker" Runs the World's Greatest Clan - 11

The Novel’s Extra - 37

The Office Blind Date - 106

The Peach of June - 25

The Poor Lady’s Impulsive Proposal Somehow Leads to Getting Locked Up by the Infatuated Duke - 5

The Precious Sister Of The Villainous Grand Duke - 32

The Princess Imprints A Traitor - 58

The Princess is Evil - 6

The Princess Pretends to Be Crazy - 7

The Princess's Double Life - 45

The Reincarnated Assassin is a Genius Swordsman - 21

The Reincarnated Villainess Doesn’t Want Revenge - 12

The S-Classes That I Raised - 82

The Silent Daughter of a Duke and the Cold Emperor : The Child I Found in My Past Life Became the Emperor - 7

The Springtime of My Life Began with You - 2

The Story of a Guy Who Fell in Love with His Friend's Sister - 13

The Story Of My Sister’s Annoying Friend - 4

The Strongest Characters in the World are Obsessed With Me - 68

The Terminally Ill Young Master of the Baek Clan - 9

The Third Ending - 63

The Top Dungeon Farmer / Solo Farming in the Tower - 29

The Tyrant's Comfort Doll - 60

The Tyrant’s Only Perfumer - 15

The Tyrant Wants to Be Good -

The Villain’s Aesthetics - 4

The Villainess is a Marionette - 54

The Villainess Is Adored by the Crown Prince of the Neighboring Kingdom - 24

The Villainess is Changing Her Role to a BroCon - 2.4

The Villainess Needs A Tyrant - 19

The Villainess Reverses the Hourglass - 104 (Side Story 1)

The Villainess Wants To Die Gracefully - 18

The Villainess Wants To Enjoy A Carefree Married Life In A Former Enemy Country In Her Seventh Loop! - 8

The Villainess Wears an Idiot’s Mask - 6

The Villainess Who Traveled Back in Time Inexplicably Lost Her Magic, So She Went into Seclusion - 5

The Way That Knight Lives As a Lady - 26

The Way to Protect the Female Lead's Older Brother - 49

The World After The Fall - 14

The World’s Best Engineer - 104

The Younger Male Lead Fell for Me before the Destruction - 5

There Were Times When I Wished You Were Dead - 10

There's No Such Thing As A Villainess Route? Not In My Book! - 3

This Girl is a Little Wild - 57

This Life Starts as a Child Actor - 30

This Witch of Mine - Epilogue 4 [END]

To Not Die - 12

To Say The Least, This is Love - 11

Today the Villainess Has Fun Again - 10

Tomodachi Game - 52 (Baca ½)

Tonari no Otona-kun - 11

Trapped in a Webnovel as a Good-for-Nothing - 52

Trash of the Count’s Family - 95

True Education - 111

Under The Oak Tree - 64

Underworld Restaurant - 20

Unmei no Hito ni Deau Hanashi - 6.1

Untouchable Lady - 49

Villain To Kill - 54

Villain To The Rescue : Reborn To Change Her Fiance's Fate! - 13

Warrior High School - 7

We're Getting a Divorce - Oneshot

Weak Hero - 257

What It Means to Be You - 24

When Beauty Meets Beasts - 50

When I Faked Amnesia to Break off My Engagement, My Fiancé Casually Told Me a Ridiculous Lie - "You Were in Love With Me Before You Lost Your Memory" - 1

When The Count's illegitimate Daughter Gets Married - 8

When The Villainess Loves - 58

When You’re Targeted by the Bully - 76

Who Stole The Empress - 12

Why She Lives as a Villainess - 9

With My Body Got Taken Over By Someone, I've Become A Villainess For Ten Years, And The Knight Who Broke Off Our Engagement And Told Me He Doesn't Want To See My Face Is Clinging On Me Today! - 1.6

Yamaguchi-kun wa Warukunai - 19

Youngest Princess - 131

Your Eternal Lies - 34

Your Majesty, the Voice of Your Heart Is Leaking! - 6

Your Talent Is Mine - 2

[mariacallous]

The divergence between the Republican Party’s internationalist and more isolationist wings was on full display at the first debate of the U.S. presidential primary season in August. But though contenders were divided on how to counter China’s quest for global supremacy as well as on the U.S. response to Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, they seemed to approach consensus on a third foreign-policy issue: the need to take unilateral, kinetic action against Mexico’s cartels. Mexico occupied such a sizable portion of the debate’s foreign-policy discussion that willingness to “take out the cartels” appears to have become something akin to an early litmus test.

The Republican hopefuls are right to sense something deeply flawed about the current state of U.S.-Mexico relations, but the dynamic of both countries holding near-simultaneous presidential elections in 2024—something that occurs only once every 12 years—coupled with the penchant on both sides of the border to use the other as a cudgel in domestic politics, presents important and underappreciated risks. A cycle of retaliatory rhetoric and escalating policy proposals risks damaging a relationship in need of repair. This tit-for-tat could strengthen Mexican President Andrés Manuel López Obrador’s hand. Now that his term is almost up, if his chosen successor becomes president and continues his policies, it will hamstring U.S. efforts to rebuild security and economic ties.

Much of the Republican Party’s focus on Mexico is attributable to López Obrador himself. Not only has the United States’ top trading partner pursued an economic policy that is at odds with the openness of the preceding 20 years, but several of López Obrador’s policies have violated the United States-Mexico-Canada Agreement (USMCA), agreed to in 2018 to replace NAFTA. Meanwhile, the cartels have grown in lethality and criminal sophistication during his nearly five years in office, despite his insistence to the contrary.

A consummate nationalist, the Mexican president has systematically deconstructed what was once robust bilateral security cooperation. Describing his security policy as “hugs, not bullets”—a nonexistent policy—López Obrador successfully pushed for a “foreign agent law” to limit the operations of the U.S. Drug Enforcement Administration (DEA) in the country, destroying much of Mexico’s actionable intelligence; received the family members of notorious drug traffickers such as Joaquín “El Chapo” Guzmán; and upheld the preposterous notion that Mexico does not produce fentanyl, even as his own armed forces tout monthly seizures of the deadly substance.

The results have been all too predictable. It is estimated that cartels control nearly half of Mexico’s territory—a figure that could be an undercount. Seven of the 10 most homicidal cities globally on a per capita basis are now in Mexico. With roughly a year remaining in his term, homicides on López Obrador’s watch have nearly equaled those during his predecessor’s six years in office and have far surpassed those under former President Felipe Calderón, who launched a frontal challenge to cartels that López Obrador derides as a feckless “war on drugs.” At the border, disorder reigns, with illegal crossings rising again after a brief period of decline. And farther north of the border, for several years in a row now, American overdose deaths have topped 100,000, much of them attributable to illicit drugs produced in or trafficked through Mexico.

All this has had deleterious effects downstream for Mexico’s economy, as well as key U.S. foreign-policy objectives. Despite record interest and financial incentives to nearshore supply chains from East Asia, Mexico—which represents about one-quarter of Latin America and the Caribbean’s regional GDP—received just 17 percent of all foreign direct investment to the region in 2022. In the midst of a full-blown security crisis and policy uncertainty, Mexico has yet to convince foreign companies that it is sufficiently stable to support large-scale investments in strategic sectors such as semiconductors.

Given the grim reality, then, Republican impatience with Mexico is understandable. Yet the prevailing consensus in the Republican primary on the use of force seems equally misguided. Deploying troops to Mexico, launching precision-guided munitions to blow up fentanyl labs, or initiating a trade war through escalating tariffs: This is a counterproductive set of solutions to all the right questions. Further, the more these policies consolidate within the candidates’ foreign-policy debates, the more Mexico’s presidential candidates will feel domestic pressure to respond in kind. That will be a temptation not just for candidates such as former Mexico City Mayor Claudia Sheinbaum, López Obrador’s preferred successor and ideological kin, but also Xóchitl Gálvez, a little-known senator who has come out of nowhere to capture the nomination for the Frente Amplio por México coalition—and who offers the opposition the best chance to challenge López Obrador’s grip on Mexican politics.

There is also the question of what the relationship between the two countries will look like after simultaneous elections. Even a candidate like Gálvez, whose National Action Party arguably took U.S.-Mexico cooperation to its apex the last time it held the presidency during the Calderón years, could be forced to fall back on the defense of sovereignty if faced with the specter of U.S. action on Mexican soil. For López Obrador’s leftist Morena party, the defense of sovereignty forms a critical part of its appeal, and exhortations to send in U.S. forces may well provide further motivation for Morena’s project of selective strategic uncoupling from the United States. In either case, presidential candidates should avoid sowing the seeds of a complete breakdown in bilateral cooperation once the campaign dust settles.

It is inevitable that the role of each country in the other’s domestic politics will contribute to heightened tensions. After all, Mexico has featured prominently in modern U.S. elections since before the passage of NAFTA. Throughout Mexico’s democratic history, candidates positioning themselves as anti-American, anti-imperial sovereignty hawks have always reaped electoral benefits. Although the two countries share much in common through decades of integration, there is also a long history of pillorying each other for electoral gain. The U.S.-Mexico relationship has survived an extreme form of campaign politics in the past. The goal should thus be to maintain a bilateral relationship that can endure the mutual recriminations and set out to aggressively pursue strategic interests once Mexico City has held its inauguration in late 2024 and Washington has followed suit in early 2025.

Although the erstwhile Mérida Initiative, a bilateral, bipartisan approach to security cooperation that embraced “shared responsibility,” may be dead, it is imperative for the next administration to get U.S.-Mexico security cooperation back on track with a comprehensive plan of action. In order to meet López Obrador’s demands, the Biden administration negotiated the so-called Bicentennial Framework, which replaced Mérida, slimmed cooperation, and shuffled the pillars to deprioritize security and interdiction to focus instead on development initiatives. Yet López Obrador’s abject neglect of public security has featured the proliferation of hundreds of criminal organizations as well as the consolidation of Mexico’s two largest groups, the Sinaloa Cartel and the Jalisco New Generation Cartel. Further, the DEA says it seized enough lethal doses of fentanyl in 2022 to kill every American, while an “iron river” of weapons flows south to the cartels.

The Republican presidential candidates would do well to study the early stages of the successful (and bipartisan) Plan Colombia, which focused on territorial contestation and training Colombia’s armed forces. Like every modern, functioning state, Mexico must regain the monopoly on the use of force and control its territory. This should be a relatively easy sell to Republican voters looking for U.S. partners to shoulder more of their own burdens. The United States should establish programs to train and professionalize Mexico’s armed forces, weed out corruption within its ranks, and cultivate and vet elite special forces units capable of tracking and hunting down the highest-level targets, leveraging joint intelligence operations.

With Mexico’s armed forces taking the lead on the interdiction and dismantling of criminal cartels, the United States should proceed concurrently by beefing up border security and dismantling the cartels’ financial operations. As Kimberly Breier, a former U.S. assistant secretary of state for Western Hemisphere affairs, put it: “Mexico is a target-rich environment, not for U.S. missiles, but for [financial] sanctions.” Perhaps one of the most sensitive areas the two countries will have to untangle is the increasing use of unprecedented levels of remittances from the United States to Mexico to launder cartel proceeds. A recent report estimated that of the nearly $60 billion sent to Mexico last year, at least $4.4 billion—and possibly much more—could have derived from illegal activity.

Insecurity lies at the root of irregular migration and Mexico’s sluggish economic growth. It stands to reason, then, that achieving greater security in Mexico will have salutary effects on other U.S. strategic interests. Without resolving trade tensions, Mexico cannot hope to attract the levels of foreign direct investment required to advance its economy and prevent further emigration. Currently, the USMCA lacks full compliance, mostly owing to López Obrador’s statist policies in sectors such as energy. This is robbing Mexico of the regulatory stability and investor guarantees necessary to reap the rewards of supply chain reorientation following renewed interest in Mexico’s manufacturing sector.

Strengthening trade enforcement will also permit the United States to more easily pursue nearshoring from East Asia in vulnerable economic sectors. Yet, despite bipartisan calls to action, the Biden administration, inexplicably, has refrained from pursuing arbitration alongside Canada under the USMCA—an option it could have availed itself of nearly a year ago. Republicans should remember the binational institutions and trade dispute resolution mechanisms contained in the USMCA and campaign for the dogged pursuit of arbitration. Reducing U.S. supply chain vulnerabilities through nearshoring cannot happen as long as Mexico is out of compliance with the USMCA. While modest amounts of nearshoring to Mexico have occurred organically, this is in spite of López Obrador’s policies, not because of them. The fact remains: The drive to nearshore supply chains is the opportunity of a generation for Mexico’s economy to leapfrog into upper-income status and serve as a bulwark on the southern U.S. border.

In 2024, the bilateral relationship will need to weather the storm of concurrent elections while ensuring a relationship robust enough to last long after the campaign rallies have faded from the headlines.