#And I need the song injected up my veins like heroin

[killerwithknife]

tbh

[angrylizardjacket]

Run to Paradise {Nikki Sixx} Part 29

29. she’s almost you

Summary: lola meets nicole, who wants to walk on the wild side, they get on like a house on fire (ha), lola n nikki start getting serious about heroin, and it gets worse.

Warnings: HEROIN, lowkey smut, homophobia, overdose.

ragtag bunch of misfits: @starlalove @toofasttofallinlove @xrosegoldwolfx @obsessivesky @trpwthme @lovehelpmewrite @angelicjoonie23 @marvelismylifffe @lilytalebi @glitterdreamsz @freddiessmallnipples @crazysaladchopshop @inthebackofmycarlaytheirbodies @dramatique-moi @missqueeniewrites @calspixie @aryssav @catsoo12 @sweetshutter @silvertonguedserpent @shamelessobsessions @lavenderbones22 @keepcalm-and-beyou @scarecrowmax @nicholeh7 @unknownoblivion @sighsophiia @fruitinthebottom @misscharlottelee @local-troubled-writer

"Do you remember visiting Vince?"

"No."

"Do you remember what he said to you?"

"No."

"He said you needed help."

"Oh."

"Do you think you need help?"

"No."

"Do you even remember what happened to Razzle?"

"No. What happened to Razzle?"

"Lola..."

"Dude, what the fuck happened to Razzle?!"

No matter how many times she hears it, it doesn't feel real. She saw him yesterday... It was yesterday, wasn't it?

"I don't want her in the house! I don't want her in the fucking house! I don't want her near our goddamn daughter, Vince!" Sharise is close to tears when Lola knocks on the door at two in the morning. Lola's swaying and unfocused and blabbering something about Razzle.

"Sharise?" Lola finally asks weakly, and the blonde's furious gaze turns on the strung-out assistant. Vince is on the stairs, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"Get the fuck off of my property," Sharise tells her, and Lola's lip wobbles, "haven't we gone through enough? Vince is fucking sober, finally Skylar has her father back; don't ruin this for us."

"How is she?" Lola's voice is quiet, but Sharise doesn't let her guard down.

"None of your business Lola, come back when you're sober."

Here is the moment something inside of Lola breaks; the world shifts, like one of the endings in her choose-your-own-adventure of a life had been ripped from the pages. Here is the moment Lola realises that Vince is no longer hers, no matter how much she still loves him. She'd given him to Sharise, but she'd never really let go, not entirely.

Razzle's dead, Vince has a family, and Lola has to let them go.

No more asking after Razzle time and again, getting her heart crushed each time she learns a truth she'd tried to bury in the back of her mind.

"You need help," Sharise tells her, quietly angry before she shuts the door, and Lola doesn't have the willpower to fight the scream that rises in her throat, sick and tired of hearing the same damn phrase over and over again. Sharise threatens to call the cops through the door.

Years later, when asked about 1985, Lola will only remember one thing.

Not technically fired, Lola's in as shit of a state as the rest of the band, spinning their wheels and spending money on the record label's time. Doc won't talk to her, Zutaut thinks she's a waste of money, and Tommy can barely stand to be in the same room as her.

But then there's a light, an angel, who walks in stilettos, wears her feathered hair and sundress like she's about to meet someone's upstanding parents; Nicole, the devil in disguise.

Nicole's an actress, up-and-coming, not that Lola cares. All Lola remembers is the way Nicole had looked at her, like she was the embodiment of everything her management team warned her about, and smiled. Lola remembers 'there's this thing I've been wanting to try' in Nicole's gentle mezzo of a voice, remembers needles, and taking Nicole's shaking hands, and 'it's okay, baby' will spill easily from her lips. Nicole, who's always been on the straight and narrow, will trust Lola's firm grip, will trust when Lola says 'not yet, not right away' and her sharp smile. She'll let Lola give her cocktails of drugs, but won't let her jump straight into injecting smack.

Lola remembers Nicole laying back on the bed she shares with Nikki, wearing a cute lacy bra, high on acid and writhing as Lola's tongue finds her clit. They haven't injected smack yet, Lola's adamant that she needs to try everything else before she feels what it's like to fly. Even though Lola's younger than her, Nicole trusts her judgement.

When Nicole comes, screaming, arching, two of Lola's fingers inside of her, seeing colours she can't even name, Lola, just as high, watching light somehow pour from her open mouth, wants this moment to last as long as possible. Nicole can somehow get any drug Lola asks for, the least Lola can do is to go down on her until she cries.

When Lola goes to get them water, to let Nicole rests, the woman in the bed gasps. When Lola pauses, Nicole's sitting up, looking at Lola's bare back with awe.

"You're carrying civilization," Nicole tells her seriously, and Lola shifts from relaxed to uncomfortable, turning her back to the door, walking without looking as Nicole meets her gaze.

"They're scars," Lola's tone is terse, but Nicole seems not to notice.

"It's a map!"

When Lola gets back, Nicole's smile is blinding.

"Can you feel them?" She asks, as Lola sits down.

"The scars?" Lola asks, offering her a bottle of water.

"The people," Nicole's hand moves to Lola's hip, fingertips brushing the scars on her back, "you've got mountains and plains and cities, it's right there!" And Lola, for the first time in her life, lets someone else explain what they see when they see her scars, and it brings her a strange sense of peace. Nicole's fingers trace the topography of Lola's back with gently awed touches as she explains the civilisations that she sees among the scars, twisted, knotted and shiny.

Nikki comes back to Lola asleep, and Nicole staring intently at her back, as if trying to divine the secrets of life.

"Nicole -"

But she shushes him and waves him over, explains in hushed whispers that there's a team trying to scale Lola's shoulder. He doesn't see anything, but Lola looks so peaceful, so he plays along. Nicole gives him the last of the acid that Lola had set aside for him, and they fuck in the shower while Lola stays asleep on the bed.

Nikki knows where they're headed, the slippery slope Lola's leading Nicole down, but Lola's happy.

When Nicole gives Lola head, it's sloppy and inexperienced, but she's trying so hard, wanting to keep her and Nikki happy, since they're willing to show her the ropes to the things everyone else is too afraid to even contemplate. Lola fists her hand in Nicole's hair, and whines and gasps enough to wake Nikki, and he instructs her on the best way to get Lola off.

Lola remembers being with Nicole as a blur of highs and orgasms, remembers so clearly the sting, the rush, the weightless high, the weight of Nicole's hand on her belly, keeping her pinned, with her head between Lola's thighs while Lola loosens the cord around her arm, lets the heroin circulate through her veins with the erratic beating of her heart.

Then, she'll remembers the gentle way they'd coaxed Nikki down to their level, like he was an animal about to spook. Soft touches, a shoulder bite, murmurs of 'its the best high I've ever had, babe, just trust me', and he does, he gives in to Lola's warm smile and unfocused vision, gives in and then there's a needle in his arm in the bathroom of the recording studio, and Lola's on her knees, unzipping his pants, while Nicole caps the needle and presses messy kisses to his gasping lips as Nikki's eyes roll back into his skull.

"So you're fucking Nikki and Nicole now?" Tommy hears himself asking on one of the few days Lola shows up to the studio. Vince is recording his part for a song that Lola's already forgotten the name of. He's not sure why it hurts, but it does. He's been seeing Heather for a few months now and she's fucking perfect; he tries not to think about Lola, or worry about her, because if he wants to be good for Heather, he's not allowed to get pulled into Lola's spiraling like he would have let himself before.

Lola doesn't answer, just blinks slowly at him. It takes him too long to realise that she didn't even comprehend what he'd said, and by then, she'd left.

Tommy asks Nikki what they're on, and Nikki promises it's the best high he'll ever have. When he shows up to Nikki and Lola's house, he's on edge, waiting for her to pop up, looking sweet and strung out, or mean and feral, and either way he'll do whatever she says.

"She's at Nicole's," Nikki says, when Tommy is sitting on the edge of his sofa, nursing his beer, looking like he's worried the cops are about to bust in, "said you can't be around her, right? Well I still want to show you this, so; compromise." Nikki's bringing what looks like a kit of some sorts from the bedroom, and Tommy agrees quietly.

"You guys all, like, together, like we were?" Tommy asks, and Nikki snorts.

"Like we were?" He asks, and Tommy takes a long sip of his beer to try and hide his flush, "are you asking if Lo loves her?"

"Nah, dude," Tommy tries to brush it off like that exact question hadn't been bothering him since he'd found out about them, "just wanna know what to warn Doc about." Tommy laughs and Nikki rolls his eyes, smiling.

"Lo loves sex and smack, so in one regard, yeah, she loves Nicole, but nothing will ever come close to what we had," he paused where he was preparing the heroin, and Tommy swallows hard at the sight of the needle, "that woman's a hurricane, T-Bone," Nikki told him with a strange sort of seriousness, and Tommy's not sure what to make of it.

Lola doesn't call Nicole their girlfriend, because Lola tells herself that she's not replacing Tommy or Vince with the first person to show her kindness. When pressed, however, Nikki will call her his girlfriend, because otherwise he'd be calling her his dealer, and having two girlfriends is better than admitting Little Miss Perfect gets him and Lola heroin.

Tabloids pick it up, and soon Lola's name is back in the headlines like it is whenever Motley tours. So Lola and Nicole stay inside while Nikki and the rest of the band are practicing their stage show for the upcoming tour, and Lola pretends like it's for Nicole's sake, and not because Tommy had walked into rehearsals grinning like he was walking on air, announcing that he'd proposed to Heather.

It hasn't felt like long, but Lola doesn't even know what year it is anymore, so she buries her hurt heart and fucks Nicole like her life depends on it, because maybe if Tommy can replace Lola with someone as beautiful as Heather, Lola can find solace in someone as beautiful and willing as Nicole.

Nikki knows better than anyone that Lola's hurting, so the three of them live out of Nicole dirty apartment, where Lola doesn't see the ghost of Tommy on every surface.

Lola doesn't come to rehearsals much anymore, but Nikki tells Tommy that she's happy for him.

"No she's fucking not," Tommy rolls his eyes, and Nikki shrugs.

"She wants you to be happy," which is the absolute truth, no matter how much it hurts Lola.

So it's only adding insult to injury when Nicole's manager calls and threatens Lola for ruining Nicole's image.

"You say that," Lola slurs, leaning her forehead against the wall of Nicole's kitchen, "like she's not the one supplying me with smack, dude," and Nicole swears in the other room, demanding to know who it is on the phone with her.

"Calls himself Gary... somethingorother," Lola shouts back, and Nicole swears again, bolting from the room, snatching the phone from Lola's grip. Immediately, her voice is gentle and placating as she tries to calm down the man on the other end. Lola hears him hollering insults, slurs designed to sting, and Lola gives a lazy grin, falling to her knees. Pushing Nicole's underwear to the side, she delights in how Nicole has to bite her lip to muffle her whimpers, but soon enough she's shoving Lola away.

"Not now," she hisses, and Lola wrinkles her nose, heading back into the bedroom.

When she comes in, she's in tears, and Lola tries to comfort her, but Nicole's wrapped up in herself, and the disgust her manager had leveled at her.

"The studio wants me to make a statement, want me to- to- to tell them I'm dating Nikki, and you're just-"

"That I'm nothing," Lola says flatly, the realisation hitting her, though Nicole reaches out.

"You're not -" she tries, before swallowing thickly, pleading expression on her face, eyes full of tears, "I know you're not, baby, but apparent- apparently," she sniffles, "parent groups are boycotting the movie because- because they don't want a dyke tainting their children."

"Even though you're not."

"I'm not allowed to like women, Lola -"

"Because those track marks on your arm show that you always do what you're told," Lola's words ooze sarcasm as she sits back on the bed, ankles crossed, and Nicole looks down at her arms, as if realising for the first time, that injecting heroin as frequently as they had been, had left a mark. Swearing again, tears start making their way down her cheeks.

"Do you like me?" Lola asks, and Nicole looks at her through her hazy, tear-stained gaze.

"I'm not allowed."

"Bullshit. It's a yes or no question."

"Some of us have to care about how people see us!" Nicole cries, but Lola's stony expression waits for an answer. "No," she finally whispers, "it's not allowed."

"Did you just fucking remember that?" Lola asked with a half-crazed laugh, "just decide when you were told you weren't mass-marketable anymore that you'd go back to being the straight part of straight and narrow? I'm a drug-addicted alcoholic dating Nikki fucking Sixx, you should have known from the start that someone like you liking someone like me wasn't fucking allowed."

"Do you like me, Lola?" Nicole hissed, and Lola's mouth snapped closed, "or did you like that I got you smack and made you cum? Or did it get you fucking wet knowing you were corrupting me? Do you fucking love me or not?"

Lola's hands are shaking again, rage and pain coiled tightly in her chest. Lola doesn't cry; Nicole doesn't have that power over her.

"I do like you, Nicole," she says with a thinly-veiled rage, "I could get heroin and an orgasm from any dealer in LA, but I liked you and your fucking company; I was doing you a favour, Miss Mary-Lou, lookin' like a little angel, right? Well you've had your walk on the wild side, whether or not you'll admit to yourself that you like ladies too, that's your fucking business. Ticked weed and crack and smack and acid off your bucket list, now you won't die wondering," Lola rolled her eyes, "but love you? I barely fucking know you."

Lola, high and hurt and spiteful, can't bring herself to go home, instead trudging from Nicole's apartment to the Whiskey-A-Go-Go, just as the night is coming to life around her. People still know her, kiss her on both cheeks and offer to buy her drinks, which she accepts. Every time. There's still various drugs in her pockets, and a guy who she thinks has got cheekbones and a jaw like Tommy lets her do a line of coke off of his chest, and a woman with hair kind of like Heather's offers her a lighter when someone passes Lola a spliff, and everyone starts looking more like them the higher, and drunker that she gets. Heroin up her nose, she finally tries to head home.

She doesn't fight, she falls, breaks her nose on the concrete and stays there, blood pooling, drugs burning through her system, alcohol having her heaving, even unconscious. A passer-by turns her on her side, has someone call 911, and her life's on a knife's edge by the time the EMTs pick her up at the bartender's insistence. Blue lips and unresponsive, her breathing's shallow, and she's rushed to hospital. They pump her stomach and pump her full of chemicals to stabilize her, bandage her nose, and she's pulled back from the brink against all odds.

Nikki shows up the next morning, white-faced and panicked, demanding to know what the fuck happened. News along The Strip is that she died outside the Whiskey.

"Alcohol poisoning," Lola tells him groggily, giving the nurse a pointed look when she makes a surprised expression at Lola's omission of the full truth, "and I broke my nose; everyone's so dramatic." Her voice is low and raspy, and Nikki looks doubtfully at the various IVs, but Lola tries to smile, "they're trying to sober me up all the way; turns out they need some help." She shakes her arm weakly, with a cannula in both her elbow and wrist. The nurse makes a noise, but Nikki's high in his own right.

"You want me to organise a jailbreak?" Nikki stage-whispers, "or a conjugal visit with Nicole?" Which just hurts Lola's heart, her expression falling.

"Nicole doesn't wanna see me anymore," she says quietly, and Nikki wants to ask, but under the supervision of the nurse, he keeps his mouth shut, just nods, "if you want to organise me a fuckin' pizza though, I'd be so grateful, I'm starving." And without further ado, Nikki's off to find the nearest phone.

"Miss Gone, you died last night," the nurse tells her gently, and Lola coughs and clears her throat, "there are some fantastic rehabilitation programs here in Hollywood," she tries but Lola rolls her eyes.

"You don't get paid enough to deal with me," Lola tells her flatly, and throws the remote control for her bed's reclining system against the wall hard enough that it shattered, "I just wanna get out of here and to not worry my boyfriend."

The nurse tries to process that had just happened, but she doesn't have the words.

"You're making a mistake -"

"I've been doing that a lot lately," Lola spits, wincing as she tugs on her cannulas, trying to see if she could get it loose. It wasn't working.

"Please, Miss Gone -"

"Help me out of here," Lola demanded, "or I'll cut my way out." And when she fishes out her pocket knife, the panicking nurse rushes to her aid. By the time Nikki comes back, Lola's almost free, and he seems relieved.

"Mister Sixx," the nurse starts, but Lola shoots her a murderous look, and the nurse wilts, "we just need you to sign some paperwork saying that you'll be getting her home."

"Pizza first, but yeah," Nikki grins, before turning back to Lola, "and the band's glad you're alright; don't worry, they gave you the day off." He jokes, and Lola gives a weak smile. They'd worried about her.

"Fuck, man, I'm so sorry I worried you guys, I was being stupid and went too hard, it was nothing," she tries as they leave, and Nikki wraps an arm around her, tells her it's not a big deal as long as she was alright.

And Lola, recently deceased, feeling the ache of it with every step, tells him she is.

[the--blackdahlia]

Kicked Out (Duff x Steven)

Title: Kicked Out

Summary:  Axl kicks Steven out of the band when Duff's not around.

Warnings: Drug use, language, overdose, alcohol abuse, Axl being a dick

AN:  This is an AU where Steven's dismissal from GNR was during Nikki's drug days.

“You’re out,” Axl snapped at Steven. The two had been arguing from the moment Steven had stepped into the rehearsal room.

“What?” Steven looked up at the redhead, who was glaring him down.

“You heard me. You don’t contribute, you’re usually late, and your fucking addiction is getting in the way,” Axl snapped. Steven glanced over at Slash, wanting him to stand up and say Steven wasn’t the only one doing smack or drinking, but the guitarist said nothing. Like sharing a rig meant nothing to him. “Get out.”

“Axl…”

“Get. Out. Steven.” Axl sneered. Izzy and Slash watched the drummer’s shoulders slump as he got his things and walked out of the rehearsal room.

“Jesus Rose,” Izzy sighed. “Way to kick the kid when he’s down.”

“Should’ve been a fucking team player,” Axl sighed. “I got a guy lined up to take his spot.”

“Yeah, but who’s gonna tell Duff when he gets here?” Slash pointed out. Axl paused for a moment then shrugged.

“Not my problem anymore,” Axl shrugged. “Duff’ll get over it. And you guys are gonna fucking love Matt.”

****

Steven walked into the apartment he had been sharing with the bassist for a few years now. What had started out as a roommate situation had turned into something more. Steven half expected to come into the apartment to see Duff on the couch, deciding to skip practice because he could. But he wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

That’s when Steven’s mind started getting the best of him. Duff had been late to practice and wasn’t here because he didn’t want to see Steven. Because he knew Axl was going to kick him to the curb like yesterday’s trash and he didn’t want to see the heartbreak spread on his boyfriend’s face.

That was, if Duff wasn’t breaking up with him too.

Steven dropped the bag that had his drum sticks and other items in it on the floor. He went to the kitchen, seeing some half opened bottles of vodka in the fridge as well as some new ones. He grabbed a brand new one and started downing it. He was sure that Duff would be pissed that he drank all his vodka, but Steven just didn’t want to feel anything anymore. He wanted to drink until he couldn’t move.

But as he emptied the bottle not long after coming home, it did nothing to ease the pain. Instead, it amplified the words Axl had hissed at him. So Steven reached for another bottle and started to chug it. But each drop just made the words louder and louder to the point that Steven just chucked the bottle across the apartment.

The band meant the world to him. He thought he was contributing just as much as everyone else. Yeah, he wasn’t as great of a songwriter as the others, but Axl never wanted to listen to anything he offered, so he just gave up. Axl didn’t write as many of their songs as people thought. He would throw out a word or two but then demanded that his name get added to the credits for his contributions.

The more Steven thought about it, the more upset he got. So he headed over to the phone, took a deep breath, and dialed a number, hoping the other person would be home.

“Yeah?” A voice answered.

“Sixx? It’s Steven. Get your ass over here. Bring the good shit,” Steven told him.

“Why the fuck should I?” Nikki asked. “The good shit is expensive.”

“I’ll pay you,” Steven told him. “Whatever you want. I just know the dealers give you better shit than they give me.”

“Okay, okay. Don’t get your panties in a bunch. Give me like ten minutes. Fucking hell,” Nikki groaned. “You owe me big time Adler.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll get you whatever you want,”

“Those are dangerous words drummer,” Nikki’s voice was deep and sent a shiver down Steven’s spine. It was almost like talking to the devil.

Guess that’s what happens when you screw around with black magic while working on Shout at the Devil. You become the thing you were shouting at.

“I’ll see you soon Sixx,” Steven hung up and ran a hand down his face. He honestly thought Duff would’ve came through the door. He thought that would’ve been a sign not to call Nikki, not to ask for drugs, not to want to get high with this much vodka in his system. But he didn’t. Because he was in on Axl’s plan and they were probably all laughing it up at Steven’s expense.

Steven fiddled with a chain around his neck. Duff rarely played with a pick these days, but back when they first met, after Steven got turned down by London and Duff was fresh to LA and in need of a band, he used one. And he laced it on a chain and put it around Steven’s neck when Road Crew broke up, not long before the two of them remet up with Slash and found Axl and Izzy.

It hung there all the time, but right now, it’s weight felt really heavy. Steven sighed and slipped it off his head, laying it on the coffee table. He kept staring at it until he heard a loud bang on the door. Steven opened the door and saw Nikki standing there, towering over him. Fuck, why did everyone he hung out with have to be so much taller than him.

“Hey,” Nikki gave him a smirk. “You gonna let me in?” Steven stepped to the side to let the bassist in. “Shit man, you guys got a nice set up.”

“Uh, yeah,” Normally, when Steven was hanging out with Nikki, Slash or Robin Crosby were there as well. And it was never at Steven’s place. Nikki flopped down on the couch and put his feet up on the coffee table.

“You know, you pulled me away from a very good bed with a very good partner,” Nikki chuckled.

“Sorry,” Steven mumbled.

“It’s cool. Just anxious to use my favor card at some point,” Nikki smirked.

“Yeah, yeah,” Steven shook his head. “You got it?” Steven reached into the fridge for another bottle of Duff’s vodka before going to sit over by Nikki.

“Not much for foreplay, are you?” Nikki laughed. “Yeah, I got it. Give me a minute. Drink your damn vodka.” Steven took a drink as he watched Nikki get the drug ready. Nikki had done it so many times that he could do it while watching TV or anything else. “Turn on the TV,” Nikki told Steven.

“What? Why?” Steven looked confused.

“I wanna see if there’s anything good on,” Nikki shrugged. He looked over at Steven. "What? You think I came all the way over here to shoot you up and leave? I'm gonna use it and I like to watch TV."

"Oh, ok," Steven nodded. Nikki smiled as he got the drug to the right consistency. Steven flipped the TV on to whatever channel they had had on last.

"Haven't seen you around the hangouts much," Nikki made small talk as he got ready.

"Uh, haven't actually done anything in a month," Steven admitted.

"One month sober? What made you change your mind?"

"Axl kicked me out," Steven sighed. "I'd even been writing songs. He just didn't want to even look at them." Steven looked down at his hands.

"Well, if you knew guitar, I'd convince the others to make us a five piece. But Tommy ain't sharing his drum kit with anyone," Nikki chuckled. "Think you can handle a normal dose?"

"I wouldn't see why not," Steven nodded. A dark smirk spread on nikki's face and Steven started regretting it instantly. "Come here babe."

"Don't call me that," Steven sighed.

"Then quit being so cute," Nikki licked his lips as he tied the tourniquet on Steven's arms. "So many nice veins." Steven just took another big gulp of the clear liquid. He didn't even look as Nikki filled up the needle and injected it into Steven's arm.

And instantly, Steven could feel something wasn't right.

"There we go. All done," Nikki patted his cheek. "Feel better?"

"No not really…" Steven admitted.

"Give it time," Nikki tied up his own arm to inject himself while Steven stood up, stumbling some. "Where you going? You're gonna miss this block of videos."

"I'm not hurling in here," Steven barely could get his feet to listen to him as he tried to take steps. Nikki shrugged and turned his attention to the TV. Steven snagged the chain with Duff’s guitar pick off the table and took a couple shakey steps towards his and Duff’s bedroom when his legs gave out under him and he fell to the floor. He thought he heard a door open, and he thought he heard someone yelling his name, but he was sure it was just Nikki. Steven let his eyes slip closed.

****

Duff had showed up for practice about twenty minutes after Steven had left in tears. He had bought his boyfriend a present to celebrate one month of sobriety, and to cheer him up some. But upon walking into the rehearsal room, Duff’s smile fell when he saw a dark haired man talking with Axl, Slash, and Izzy, and no Steven in sight.

“Who’s this?” Duff asked. Axl glanced up from where he was. Slash watched from the sidelines, but Izzy spoke up.

“This is our new drummer,” Izzy explained. Duff looked over at the guitarist.

“New drummer? But we have a drummer,” Duff didn’t like where this was going.

“Not anymore,” Izzy told him. “Because Mr. W. Axl Rose over there fired the ray of sunshine.”

“Fuck,” Axl whispered under his breath. Matt, the new drummer, took a step back as all 6’3” of Duff towered over the frontman. “H-hey Duff. What’s up?”

“You fired Steven?!” Duff yelled. “Without telling me?”

“You would’ve said no!” Axl shot back. “And he doesn’t contribute! His heroin addiction is getting in the way! I’m tired of him!”

“He hasn’t touched heroin in a month!” Duff screamed. “He didn’t want to say anything yet, because the first few months are always the hardest!”

“He what?” Axl asked.

“That’s why I haven’t seen him around the normal hangouts?” Slash asked Duff. “I thought he was just whipped.”

“He wanted to get better, because he realized how much this,” Duff waved at the instruments and the room. “Meant to all of us! Meant to him!” Duff marched over to an amp case and rummaged through it, finding some things Steven had left behind when Axl kicked him to the curb. Reaching into the bottom, Duff found a notebook that Steven had been so excited to show him.

“What’s that?” Axl asked.

“Steven’s song book,” Duff snapped. “He tried to show you, and you were a dick to him about it! Yeah, his songs aren’t fucking “Welcome to the Jungle” but he could’ve done the filler songs!”

“He...he was writing…” Axl whispered. Slash took the book and flipped through the pages, coming to a song dedicated “To Axl”.

“‘The One You Hated”,” Slash announced. “Dedicated to you Axl.”

“God, were you really that mean to the kid?” Izzy asked.

“I gotta go,” Duff went running towards the door.

“Where are you going?” Axl called after him.

“Who knows what kinda damage you’ve caused, you prick!” Duff ran out to his car, leaving Axl, Slash, Izzy, and the new guy behind.

****

“Come on, fucking move it!” Duff screamed at the traffic. His mind kept wandering back to Steven. His loving and sweet boyfriend who had been trying so hard to better himself. Yeah, Duff wasn’t perfect. He drank too much, but he could see that Steven actually wanted to be sober.

But traffic was moving so slow and he just wanted to get home.

It felt like too many long minutes before he pulled up in front of the apartment building where him and Steven lived. He bypassed the elevator and took the stairs to their floor, where he quickly threw open the door.

“Steven?” Duff called into the apartment, hoping he was here. He saw a headful of black hair sticking up over the top of the couch. Duff made his way over to see Nikki staring blankly at the TV. “Nikki?”

“Oh, heey Duffman,” Nikki smiled at him. “Come to join the party?” Duff saw the needle and rig laying on the table.

“Where’s Steven?” Duff asked.

“I dunno,” Nikki looked around. “Think he went that way.” Nikki motioned vaguely over towards the bedroom, but also to the front door. That wasn’t helping Duff in his search very much.

“Fuck,” Duff was about to turn around and walk out of the house when something in the corner of his eye caught his attention. He turned to find his boyfriend laying on his side, his necklace he always wore laying in his hand. “Steven!” Duff screamed

The bassist ran over to the drummer and turned him onto his back. Steven’s head just swayed with the movement and Duff’s heart stopped. What if he touched his neck and didn’t find a pulse? What if he held his hand over his nose and didn’t feel a breath? What if Steven was gone?

But Duff pushed those thoughts down and shakily touched his fingers to Steven’s neck, finding a very slow and sluggish pulse. But it was there and Duff could take a small breath.

“Sixx!” Duff called over to Nikki. “Fuck! Nikki!”

“What?”

“We need to call an ambulance!” Duff called to the other bassist. Nikki looked over and the look on Duff’s face was enough to help sober him up a little bit.

“What’s wrong?” Nikki asked, pushing himself to his feet. Unlike Steven, Nikki had yet to stop, so a larger dose was nothing to him.

“I think Steven OD’d. Nikki please call for help. Or give me the fucking phone. I’m not leaving him,”

Nikki nodded and brought the phone over to Duff. He knew that in his state, he wouldn’t be able to relay things right. Duff sighed and took the phone, calling for help while holding onto Steven the whole time.

****

Duff sat in the waiting room with his head in his hands. He had filled out the paperwork the best he could, telling the orderlies that Steven had been clean for a month and had been doing so good. Now, he was alone. That was, until Nikki slowly walked up to him with a cup of coffee in each hand.

“Here,” Nikki held out a cup of the mediocre hospital coffee. Duff took it, but didn’t drink it. “I called Slash. I figured you’d want your band here…”

“Axl doesn’t fucking care,” Duff whispered. “If it wasn’t for him, we wouldn’t even be here right now.”

“What happened?” Nikki sat down by the blonde.

“You know how Axl is,” Duff sighed. “Steven tell you that Axl kicked him out?”

“I think so, yeah,” Nikki nodded.

“Steven hadn’t touched heroin in a month. I was so proud of him, he was so proud of himself,” Duff stared down at the coffee. “We should’ve told the others. But he didn’t want them to tease him. And he didn’t want to let them down if he relapsed…”

“I...I’m sorry…” Nikki sighed. “Tommy’s been asking me to stop. Thought about it a couple times. But that’s as far as it got.” He paused. “I should’ve told him no.” Duff didn’t say anything. He wasn’t mad at Nikki, but he wasn’t happy with him either. Nikki would’ve been down right pissed if someone had done that to Tommy. They sat in silence for a little bit before a familiar face walked up to them.

“Duff, how is he?” Izzy asked. Duff noticed Slash and Axl loitering behind him.

“I don’t know yet,” Duff shrugged. “He had a pulse when I found him, but he wasn’t awake.”

“Shit,” Slash shook his head. “He probably took a bigger dose than his body could handle.” Duff just nodded. Nikki looked up at the other three and saw Axl staring at the ground. He could see the guilt radiating off of him.

“I’m gonna head out…” Nikki said, standing. Izzy, Slash, and Duff all looked at him, but not Axl. “Uh, call me when you find something out?”

“Yeah,” Duff nodded. Nikki excused himself from the group. The three took seats in the waiting room.

“I, uh, I looked at the notebook…” Axl said after several moments of silence. “His songs aren’t bad, but…”

“You don’t want him in the band still.” Duff stated, matter of factly.

“Duff…”

“Why don’t you like him?” Duff turned to look at the frontman. “What did he ever do to you?”

“He came into the band and...everyone just fucking loved him...including you…” Axl sighed.

“You kicked him out because you’re fucking jealous?” Duff asked. Axl just shrugged. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I didn’t expect him to OD!” Axl yelled. Duff jumped up.

“If he dies, I hope he haunts your ass,” Duff sneered. “Because of your pettiness, he gave up his sobriety, and he might pay a big price for it.” Axl stood up, ready to smart off to the bassist, when someone’s voice could be heard.

“I’m looking for the family of Steven Adler…”

Duff turned to look at the doctor, standing there in her coat and holding her clipboard.

“That’s me,” Duff walked away from Axl. “Duff McKagan.” The doctor looked at her clipboard and nodded. “Is he…”

“Have a seat and we’ll discuss everything,” She told him. Duff didn’t like the sound of that one bit, but took a seat next to slash, who threw an arm around his shoulder, trying to provide some comfort. “As you already know, Mr. Adler was brought in for an overdose to an opioid.”

“Yeah…”

“As we were pumping his stomach, his heart did stop and we had to use a defibrillator to bring him back.”

“And he…”

“He is alive,” She told him. “We are monitoring him closely, but he is alive and breathing on his own, which is the good thing.” Duff let his head drop into his hands. He had honestly believed that she was coming to tell him that Steven was gone.

“When can we see him?” Izzy spoke up. Duff looked up at the doctor.

“Well, he’s currently in the ICU, so only two people can see him at a time. But I can have a nurse show you there and you can go see him.” The doctor explained. Duff ran a hand down his face.

“Thank you,” He whispered. She offered him a smile before leaving. Once Steven was out of the woods, she would have to speak with them about treatment plans. But right now, he just needed to get to a point where he could open his eyes.

A nurse came to get them to take them to the ICU waiting room, and from there, two could go see the drummer. But as Axl stood, Izzy and Slash stopped him.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea Rose,” Izzy told him.

“What? Why?”

“Well, for starters, we wouldn’t even be here right now if it wasn’t for you,” Slash told him.

“And you just told Duff you fired the kid out of spite,” Izzy added. “I think you should just go home.” Slash nodded in agreement.

“Fine,” Axl rolled his eyes. “Later.” He marched out of the hospital. Duff looked at the two guitarists.

“You didn’t have to do that,” He told them as they made their way to the ICU.

“Eh, we didn’t know he was kicking him out either,” Izzy shrugged. Duff nodded as they were led to the new waiting room.

“Okay, who’s going in?” The nurse asked with a smile.

“You go on Duff,” Slash told the bassist. “You need to see him more than we do.”

“Are you sure?” Duff asked. The two nodded. Duff took a deep breath then and followed the nurse to Steven’s room. He told himself he was prepared for anything. But he realized that wasn’t the truth when he saw his usually lively boyfriend laying completely still in the hospital bed. He had wires attached to him, an oxygen cannula under his nose, and he was so damn pale. This was not the usual ray of sunshine that Duff was used to.

“He’ll probably sleep for awhile,” The nurse told Duff. “A drug overdose is traumatic enough. But he had a lot of alcohol in his bloodstream too.”

“He did?” Duff glanced over at her. He didn’t even notice the empty bottles when he was panicking about keeping Steven alive.

“Yeah,” She patted Duff’s arm. “I’m just a call button away.”

“Thank you,” Duff made his way over to Steven’s bed and took a seat. He carefully reached out and grabbed his hand that wasn’t attached to anything. He brought it to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on the knuckles. “I’m right here babe.”

****

At some point, Duff had fallen asleep. He woke himself up with each check a nurse did on the drummer, but he would fall back asleep after that. It wasn’t until the sun started rising that he officially woke up. With a groan, Duff stood to stretch his back.

“Nice view,” He could’ve sworn he heard Steven say. Turning back around, Duff was greeted with a sleepy eyed Steven Adler. He had a small smile on his face, but he looked exhausted.

“You get your energy from the sun. I just knew it,” Duff laughed a little as he leaned over and kissed Steven’s forehead. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” Steven admitted. “I’m sorry.”

“I wish you would’ve waited to talk to me before calling Sixx,” Duff played with his fluffy hair.

“I...I was scared,” Steven told him. He didn’t have to say anymore. Duff figured it out. He was scared that Duff had agreed with Axl, and he was scared that Duff didn’t want to see him anymore.

“Babe, you never have to be scared as long as I’m around,” Duff cupped his cheek. “I love you. And Axl is fucking worthless.”

“Maybe he’s right though,” Steven shrugged. “I’m never gonna be as good of a songwriter as you guys. I can’t sing. All I do is hit the drums. And Axl has told me several times that I’m not as good as half the drummers on the scene…”

“He wouldn’t know anything good if it bit him in the ass,” Duff told him. “But you’ll be great without him. You’ll get a kickass band, and I’ll be your biggest supporter.”

“Maybe I could steal his bassist sometime,” Steven shrugged. “Because you’re not quitting.”

“You think I’m staying there without you?”

“Yes,” Steven nodded. “Because you’re fucking awesome, and your talents would be wasted on anything less. I mean, look how far we got with Road Crew.”

“Babe…”

“Please?” Steven looked at Duff with those eyes he couldn’t say no to.

“Okay, okay. I’ll stay. But the minute he says something to me, I’m choking him with one of those fucking bandanas,” Duff smirked a little.

“Fair enough,” Steven laughed a little but his eyes started to fall closed.

“Get some rest babe,” Duff placed a gentle kiss on his lips. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

The End

Forever Tags: @anathewierdo​ @dekahg​ @marvel-af-imagines​ @feelmyroarrrr​ @nanie5​ @imboredsueme​ @gemini0410​ @aiaranradnay​ @babypink224221​ @mogarukes​ @xxwarhawk​ @sandlee44​ @shatteredabby​ @caswinchester2000​ @supernaturalwincestsblog​ @lauravic​ @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk​ @teller258316​ @horrorpxnk​ @tommyleeownsme​ @marvelismylifffe​ @mrslogansixxpixx​

@sams-serialkiller-fetish​ @fan-with-issues​ @spacey-aceys-bitch​ @smokeandmirrorz​ @saint-of-los-angeles​

[purplenarwhal19]

COSMIC DANCER

so, here’s a v short story I wrote for class about the importance of exploration. two of the songs that are excerpted in my story I found through @basic-banshee ‘s fanfic Rebel Rebel which is one the best (probably the best) fanfics ever.

Also I don’t know how to do the cutoff thingy so it’s gonna be a long post 🤷‍♀️ so sorry

....

enjoy, I guess? 💕

COSMIC DANCER

Over the radio, a gentle guitar played, followed by T. Rex’s smooth and repetitive lyrics. I sighed, bliss. We were driving on a California road in our rusty tour bus. Sitting in our narrow duffel bag with my costars, with bemused smiles plastered across our faces. Cool air conditioning blew a soft breeze. We listened to beautiful, alternative music, an epic soundtrack for our journey. This was the life of a performer. A true actress.

It was the summer of 1971. I was an actress and dancer on the television and stage show, Desi Dance. We were a children’s show that taught people all about India’s rich culture and history. Dance, art, poetry, music, and food offered just a peek into Indian tradition. We had been performing and touring for six years, but it felt like we started the show yesterday.

“I danced myself right out the womb

Is it strange to dance so soon?”(1)

The guitar solo came into full sound with the backing vocals. It created a powerful feeling that filled my whole body with true hope and strength.

All my life I had danced. It was my escape, my passion, and my love. It felt like that was what I was made for. Reading also brought escape, when the pressure of being an actress became too much. Reciting poetry for my castmates or singing a song that was stuck in my head was so relaxing and freeing. The lyrics are what spoke to me about music, and while I had quite a large vocabulary, there were often times when I didn’t know what a word meant.

“Beraham, what is a womb?” I questioned the boy next to me, clad in loose fitting turquoise pants with gold embroidery.

“I don’t know, Shrishti,” Beraham said plainly.

Beraham and I both sat there, still enjoying it, yet dumbfounded. Curiosity, a crimson rash that we needed to itch, in that unreachable spot on your back. This infection spread throughout the whole cast, leaving all of us with that same itch.

Maybe I could ask my movement director when we get to the venue… I thought as I drifted off, wrapped up in the comfort of music and friendship.

The year was 1973. In the dressing room, now with a smaller cast, we were practicing lines and getting ready to film. I had been groomed with brushes, painted with makeup and had been dressed in the most gorgeous fabrics. My lengha was brilliant magenta with intricate canary yellow details, and paired with a simple sequinned pearly white top. I loved these days, dressing up, feeling beautiful like a royal queen.

To the left of me, a record player played a Paul Simon favourite, setting our moods to the upbeat song.

“The mother and child reunion

Is only a motion away

Oh, the mother and child reunion

Is only a moment away”(2)

A familiar feeling of confusion washed over me. Why is the reunion so important? Why were the mother and child separated? Who are they?

Who is my mother?

Where is she?

Everyone has a mother. Our director, our manager, our movement director, the children in the audience; everyone except me and my fellow actors.

Everyone except me.

I tried to close my perfectly designed eyes, to block out the image of my unfortunate life, but my body refused to listen to my command. Blinking wasn’t even in my control.

I felt so overwhelmed. I had no identity. Who am I? This was a question from too deep in my heart for me to bear.

It was too much. I wanted to leave, I had to get up. I willed my thin, stick-like legs to stand up, pushing, using all the strength I had, just to leave the room.

Nothing happened.

I tried again, hoping for something, some sign of my own independence.

Nothing.

My body wasn’t mine. My will, myself, I could not control it. My life wasn’t mine.

I looked around at my colleagues, chatting, laughing, and totally unaware of their inability to be free. Bound to our employers who dictate and orchestrate our every move.

“Oh, little darling of mine

I can’t for the life of me

Remember a sadder day

I know they say let it be

But it just don’t work out that way”(2)

Paul Simon was right, I still can’t remember a sadder day than that one. My life had changed forever.

As years passed, I began to feel emptier and emptier, resenting my profession, and hating my life. Those years also happened to be our most successful, as a show. The success changed everything. Our bosses got sloppy; high on the fame, as well as their drugs of choice.

Most notably, Arjun, our stage director, became addicted to heroin. It was a horrid sight to witness him become a shell of the person he used to be. It reminded me exactly of that sad, sad Velvet Underground song.

“Heroin, be the death of me

Heroin, it’s my wife and it’s my life

Because a mainline into my vein

Leads to a center in my head

And then I’m better off than dead”(3)

It broke my heart to see him like this. I couldn’t understand how he could inject a toxin into his body by choice. How he could slowly kill himself one high after another.

By then, I had realized that I wasn’t human. I was something else, like them, yet different; stronger, yet weaker.

I spoke with my closest companions, Beraham, Jaidev, and Mitali. They were as confused as I was the day I realized I entered this world without anyone, without a mother. They too began life motherless.

The directors, started our show with shining faces, and now were graying and worn out. We kept the same expressions over the years, never seeing a wrinkle appear, never feeling an ache or pain, never feeling or looking our age.

We hadn’t aged in the past 20 years. We were to be used, like the puppets we were, forever.

“What can we do?” Mitali questioned, urgency overtaking her usual calm nature.

“Nothing,” Jaidev said. “It’s hopeless…”

“I want you to know deep in the cell of my heart

I really want to go

There is another world… a better world

Well, there must be…”(4)

I felt like the Smiths were reading my mind; I wanted another world, a better world, and I hoped with all my heart and soul that there would be one.

This was the lowest depth of our depression. We considered “ending it all”, whatever that meant.

Most of the time our directors listened to nonsense music filled with empty, happy thoughts that had less meaning than my life. When we listened to the melancholy music of Miles Davis, Billie Holiday and Chet Baker, that our bosses listened to so rarely, it felt reassuring: someone else suffered as we did.

Determined to solve this problem, I decided to speak with the director about our conditions. I had heard the humans refer to us as “puppets”, inanimate objects who could only recite lines, made only of felt, and paint. This sounded as bad as any slur that I’d heard before. They pushed and shoved us around, threw us in crowded duffel bags. This had to stop. We needed to break away from the chains the humans bound us in.

“Today we will close our show with an excerpt from Keralan poet, Kamala Surayya. “I am sinner, I am saint— I’m sorry. I can’t do this,” I paused, taking a moment to think of the right words.

“I cannot read the words of a woman who has lived and loved, while I am kept here, held captive by you humans!” I angrily burst, far less eloquent than I had imagined, emotion overtaking my composed mask.

My face turned a deep scarlet shade of red, reminiscent of tamaatar; something that had never happened before. The camera people, directors, and executives stood in place, too shocked to move or speak, the puppet that they had manipulated for so many years had finally taken control and spoken back.

Divya, a camera person, pale and shocked, stuttered, “W-what is happening?” She glanced around nervously at the other people in the room to see if they saw the same thing.

“Divya, you aren’t hallucinating. This is very real. My costars and I are conscious beings; we may not be able to move like you humans, but we deserve the same treatment as you. We have thoughts and feelings, hopes and dreams. The way you speak about us is degrading. The way you touch and move us is disrespectful. We deserve respect and our thoughts and opinions are as valid as yours,” I spoke with a dignified tone. “The cast and I would like to have a meeting with all of you to discuss our treatment.”

Wide eyed, the crew, obediently agreed and took us to our cramped dressing room. The room was painted a pale yellow with a cheap elephant decal on the wall that was torn and peeling on the edges. This tiny room barely housed all thirteen of us cast members. With all of the behind the scenes crew in our room, we were packed in tight, like sardines in a tin.

“We have called this meeting today to negotiate our rights and responsibilities within this community,” Mitali serenely began. “Our citizenship within our show needs to include us as full members with equal rights and consideration. We understand that your use of us has immense benefits for you, with few benefits for us.”

“You make significant profits from our labor. Your wage is even plentiful enough for you, Arjun, to fund your addiction.” Jaidev scoffed.

With a quivering chin, Arjun begged, “What can we do to fix our mistakes?”

Beraham blustered, “ We want a change in your behaviour!”

“We cannot move on our own, so we expect help and kindness. When you have moved us in the past, even just five minutes ago, you throw around our bodies, like the inanimate objects you believe us to be. We want to go outside and see the world. We want more space in our dressing room, and we expect some real answers about who and what we are,” I demanded.

Afters some discussions we learned that we were the descendants of Saraswati, the Goddess of wisdom and art. The movement directors, who were called “puppeteers”, had no idea that we could do more than just read prepared lines, until we had all travelled to America. This was too far away from the Pundita, that had given them the divine puppets that we were. They could not receive guidance. They had no idea as to what we were capable of, or how to teach us.

That Pundita was my mother.  Her name was Tavni, and I was given a picture of her.

She had a golden, caramel complexion, with large eyes and hazel pupils. She had a smile that lit up a whole room and round, rosy cheeks.

I noticed the similarities in our appearances, the way she had crafted me to look so much like her.

I had found my identity.

Learning all of this information brought a new sensation to my eyes; something burning and prickly, and a wet droplet traveling down my cheek. I was crying! This feeling brought a warm emotion of relief, of content and of closure.

Soon after these discoveries, I realized that I loved my job. Even though the past years had been rough, this was what I was meant to do. If conditions improved, I would truly be happy.

I was going to do what my mother created me for. Dancing and performing, bringing India to the whole world and teaching about our glorious culture. I would do just that.

“I danced myself into the tomb

I danced myself into the tomb

Is it strange to dance so soon?

I danced myself into the tomb…”(1)

THE END

~

SONGS REFERENCED:

(1) Cosmic Dancer, T. Rex, 1971

(2) Mother and Child Reunion, Paul Simon, 1972

(3) Heroin, The Velvet Underground, 1967

(4) Asleep, The Smiths, 1987

[problematicthoughtsandsonglyrics]

Part two

-“I swear if you pour that water on your corndog I’m gonna kill myself”

-“The powder works so much better”

-“Ah. Ah. Don’t make a lot of noise” (wish I remembered context for this one)

-“He’s going to smite me during second period”

“You’re going to get smitten bro”

-“I’m going to aggressively Gangnam style to Africa”

-“Wow, I don’t remember drinking this much water, ever”

-“I look like I’m walking like a godforsaken penguin”

-“All liberals are suicidal”

-“My dad is a giant teddy bear. Her dad, on the other hand, is who you should be scared of”

-“If my dad wanted to hide a body you’d never find it”

-“There are so many hoes at this school. That’s all I have to say to you”

-“I’m getting a headache where’s my chocolate”

-“Skinny banana? Don’t you mean Jacob’s penis?”

-“Wait let me write something” *proceeds to write Osama Bin Laden under religious leaders*

-“Well what happens if he makes a sandwich out of your body?”

“That’s cannibalism. But cannibalism will solve overpopulation and world hunger”

-“Last time I had a banana I realized you could stick a straw in it and blow and it makes the banana warm”

-“I can’t find the furry mask”

-“I want a Lightning McQueen waffle maker”

-“I need to download a Disney XD wallpaper right now”

-“Life’s not easy being green”

-“I’m gonna run Mr Woodfield up on my dick”

-“I have a new conditioner... I mean follower”

-“We should all get lockets and put a picture of Shaggy in them”

-“Kind of like when a car passes by you really fast and makes this noise” (he did the nyoom sound)

-“You should be a car Mr Childress”

-“Get that finance over here. Let me get. That. Tax.”

-“I wanna go home and eat ratatouille right now”

-“I don’t have a nice face so that leaves one thing. My ass”

-“Ben Shapiro is gonna kill all the liberals”

-“I made a fucky wucky, my bad”

-“No, dude, he would hear us cursing in the hallway at top volume and never said anything”

-“You know what Maddy? I don’t like you anymore. I don’t want to be friends anymore”

-“Maybe if you burn in the fires of hell all the alcohol will burn too”

-“Spreading the diabetes, one marshmallow at a time”

-“At least you got to preform in front of Colonel Sanders”

-“Who’s pet is she?”

-“Everybody gets Kraft Singles, on me”

-“I’ve been scarred for life so much it feels more like a tickling sensation”

-“No one wants to touch you!”

-“It’s less like a rape and more like a gangbang”

-“There is no leader we’re all submissive runts”

-“Temporary joy, permanent pain”

-“Heteronormativity can eat my ass”

-“So what should we have overlapping heterosexuality?”

-“Just because my voice sounds like a man doesn’t mean I am one”

-“I wasn’t expecting a sip of vodka at 7:40 in the morning”

-“If you can’t do it then the best way to go is: don’t do it”

-“If anything, you’re in the way of the wine”

-“I mean, if the Catholic Church had done it right, we would have communism”

-“He is the straightest gay man I know”

-“The last time I had orange juice, I think you guys let me have a mimosa”

-“Your jacket makes you a big blob”

-“You’re like Cetaphil moisturizer because you make me wet”

-“I wish I was as bomb diggity as Beyoncé”

-“My ice cream is crunchy”

-“Quick question, how do you lose a banana?”

-“I’m really confused, yet oddly aroused. Is this normal?”

-“What kind of damn Gucci dogs come here?” (talking about a place with $60 dog food)

-“Your knees look ripe for sucking”

-“Weenus penis suck my kneeus” (they said this in unison while doing the sign of the cross)

-“And my cat’s name is Crazy”

-“If I could drown in applesauce that would be nice”

-”Why do heroin when you can have garlic bread injected directly into your veins?”

-”It’s red ribbon week for the horns. Say no to crack”

-”Oh my god I’m so hungry right now, I should’ve brought my sushi”

-”Where is this man’s penis?”

-”Wait a minute, if a guy masturbates that means he’s using his dick more often, so why doesn’t it grow?”

-”Someone say something smart cause I can’t”

-”Does anyone here have self confidence?”

-”Hello small child. What’s it like having a high voice and ambitions?”

-”I walked over here and thought she was trying to be 21 Savage”

-”Oh my god are you worshipping the antichrist?”

-”See, I know a lot about North Korea because I plan to take it over”

-”Which sounds like a lesbian affair, but it’s not”

-”My mom can spot my hair on the ground and sniff me out”

-”Goddammit. Who is you?”

“Logic would dictate that I answer no”

“It’s machete time baby”

“I have to protect it as if it were my nutsack”

“If you don’t appreciate that, you’re wrong”

-”Your elbow is a bone it can’t be muscular”

-”San Angelo ain’t hell but you can see it”

-”There’s only two things to invest in. Paintings and land cause they aren’t making any more of it”

-”Cats need to be in the center of a pentagram” 

-”If you get bored, drink”

-”They put an homage to blind people. Not like they’re gonna see it”

-”If you don’t have your green card you’re gonna get dimma-deported”

-”Why is the uncle taking pictures but keeping the camera for himself?”

-”My body is going to start physically rejecting fruit snacks”

-”I would wear a Wonder Woman costume to school”

-”I don’t know the first thing about anime”

-”I don’t know why my first thought was ‘cheese stick’”

-”DA DA DA is not the most exciting thing you’ve played! Shut up!

-”On the eighth day, God created trombones”

-”It smells like cheese in the microwave”

-”I wonder what would happen if I ate powdered pancake mix”

-”I guess I didn’t breast feed her long enough”

-”Hey kid, there’s a hotspot in the van”

-”That’s not going to be good for anything. My waist line or my budget”

-”I’ve had to pee four times. It’s noon”

-”Sword swallowers are the best deep throaters”

-”I don’t know where my socks went”

-”Maybe if you wore pants your legs wouldn’t be cold”

-”You could take a survey of everyone in this whole school and they’d say that Minecraft is a culture”  

-”Yeah I would fake a broken arm if it would get me out of testing”

-”Can I have a spicy roll of corn?”

-”Where’s my Asian?”

-”I baked a fucking birthday cake last night”

-”It’s been christened. Christened by ass”

-”I’ve eaten so many expired tortillas my body’s probably used to it”

-”Broccoli and hard drugs are two different things”

-”You’re like the bitch whisperer”

-”Dominance wasn’t established until the later years, but it was effective nonetheless”

-”Is uber a country?”

-”I think I’m good. It’s like dusting off the scent of another woman”

-”You’re under arrest, if you really want to be”

-”I get drunk and I spend money”

-”No honey, that’s heartless. I can still be a caring racist”

-”Are big boy gains genetic?”

-”Wait so he moved the infinity gauntlet from his hand to his dick? What the literal fuck?”

-”If I get a chair with wheels, then I win”

-”I was looking up Foghat on ancestry.com”

-”We all know the more alcohol you consume, the more insightful you become”

-”I’ve had enough experiences in wineries and breweries to last me a lifetime, and I’m only nine”

-”Innuendos and Speedos: his story”

-”You have sobriety on your side”

-”You spilled beer on the Scrabble board”

-”How many times do I tell you, we don’t listen to the retarded kids in school”

-”Furries can enjoy shitposting also”

-”Slow songs make me cry”

-”The resistor is your ass”

-”God dangit there’s a freakin egg in my boot”

-”Oh, Liberia. I know that from the vine”

-”Screaming is kid friendly”

-”Textual evidence states that that’s bullshit”

-”I’m on an emotional high and I’ll crash four hours later”

-”Yeah I got these yesterday and they’re already looking scuffed”

-”Yeah there’s always at least one cocky bastard”

-”All I need to know is how much a coat hanger costs”

-”I kept thinking Europe was a state”

-”I am a handy woman”

-”Oh my fucking god there’s communist Superman. I kind of love that”

-”Why is dog a gender?”

-”I will flood your mucus membranes with urine”

-”Does that mean it’s violent masturbation?”

-”Flex seal is the only 100% effective contraception”

-”It’s like telling someone not to do drugs while sniffing crack”

-”I like my men like I like my apples: red”

-”I invade the percussion’s privacy and pretend I’m one of them”

-”Are you calling my lap dances mediocre?”

-”Don’t even talk to me if you haven’t made out with a Frenchman”

[survivingwriter-blog]

It’s been a little over 24 hours since I found out I’m not a mom. 

24 hours, and it feels as though it has been much longer. I’ve felt hollow. I’ve felt numb. The worst part is explaing that you’re no longer a mom. It’s learning to drop the title that you once held with pride. It’s reminding yourself that you can’t relate to anyone else who has children. You can’t say that you know your son was like that at some child’s age. 

You don’t know that.

I didn’t know that, but I’d still tell that to every parent that walked in the door of my business with a small child. Little boys always made my heart swell with envy. I missed my son, a child that I had adopted only after he had passed. I longed for the opportunity to be a mom, and it was because I was selfish. I hadn’t gotten to be a mom to Jackson, so I wanted to be a mom to another child. It sounds reasonable when you think about it. Any parent who has experienced loss knows the desire to fill the void left by their child once they have passed. They also know that there is a lot of hate that comes with filling that void. 

People are ignorant to the pain that is harboring overhead, reminding you that every day is going to be a storm. The looming feeling of guilt continues to pour stinging regrets against your skin. You’re showered in thoughts of what and why, and you continue until you have an entire story hashed out. You are your own worst enemy. Grief is just a cynical bystander that assists your demons in destroying the life you thought you could build when your child left this world. It’s unfair, and it’s cruel. It’s a norm.

I became accustomed to the negativity that came with announcing my desires to have another child. Although I had not given birth to Jackson, I always insisted I was having another child. I was a mom. 

I should reiterate: I was a mom. I’m not anymore.

I became a mom in an unorthadox way. Most people didn’t consider me to be a mom, despite my strong feelings for Jack. He was a child I never had the privilage of meeting. How could someone love a child they never met with so much passion? I always told people the same thing: a mother’s love is unconditional. I felt I was meant to be his mom, and that’s what brought him into my life. The funny thing is that I was meant to be his mom. I was meant to be his mom because his father made him up, but only for me. He managed to come up with ashes, and a story. There were memories, clothes, and tears. There was a day that we’d weep and celebrate: his birthday. His act was flawless. The horrid hiccupping sobs that would escape his lips was enough to make you think that this was real. 

It was far from real. This was a nightmare, and I was a pawn in it. 

Prior to meeting my ex, we had communicated online. All it took was one message, and he had me. I was used to deleting multiple messages, but I didn’t overlook his. In these hours of communication, I told him everything about myself. I told him how much I wanted a child. I told him I was meant to be a mom, and I wanted to settle down. Any fine detail of myself, he knew. He was able to explore every inch of me without being physical. In that time, he came up with another life. Every detail of his life was what I wanted, aside from one. He was a recovering drug addict. He had two years clean under his belt, and he wore it with pride.

I hesitated, and I had every right to. I had no desire to be with someone who could stumble into something so dangerous, especially if they wanted to have a future of any kind. I couldn’t feed into the idea of having a heroin addict for a boyfriend, husband, father to my children. I played off every attempt he made to flirt with me. I told him my life, but that’s all he was: someone to talk to. Until the night he told me he was missing his child, and his son’s mom was telling him he was worthless and should be dead. 

I was there to save him. As soon as I pulled up to his place, I could feel the venom streaming through my veins. He had latched himself onto me, putting his spell on me. He was ready to drain me of everything, and he would do it slowly to make it count. He did everything to make it count. He refused to make a move on me. He got timid as I got closer to him. He shared Jack, his best kept secret. He showed me ashes, and shared memories. He asked if he could kiss me when I was about to leave, and the words that came out were not the words I had planned on saying. I had it planned from the moment I saw him. He was not the normal man I would be interested in. There was no way I was going to give in. 

“I was wondering why you haven’t yet.”

Those are my famous last words. I was sucked in from that kiss, and it spiraled out of control. One kiss turned into dozens. He asked me to go on this adventure with him, presenting me with a ring pop. Suddenly, the man I detested the idea of being with became a dream. He was willing to share Jack with me, even with him being gone. He started saying I was Jack’s mom. It didn’t take me long to fall in love with that idea. I grieved the way he did. I would lay my head against his chest, listening to his heart beating. I would feel my throat swell shut, as I dreamed of hearing my son’s heartbeat. I would wipe tears from my eyes as I’d tell him I wanted my son here with us. We planned tattoos for Jack. We had matching keychains with his name and birthday on them. We let go of balloons for him on days we needed him to know we thought about him. 

We were grieving parents. 

All dreams come to an end though. My ex had gotten back into drugs. He had cheated numerous times with the same woman. He had manipulated and lied. I was fed up. I left him, but I took Jack’s ashes with me. We tried to keep in touch for his sake, but it was always a trap. I would find myself falling back into his embrace, and I’d have to stop. I saw his track marks from injecting himself with heroin, and I knew I had to stop. I cut him off completely. There was no open line of communication. I was a single mom, grieving the loss of her only child. I was being a parent, and he was being himself. 

I won’t say that leaving him hurts me. It doesn’t. I found someone who didn’t just promise me a good relationship. We came together and everything made sense. I remember he kissed me, and whispered that he’d sing "The Girl” by City and Colour for me. It’s one song that has been on a list of songs that if anyone incorporated them into our relationship or sang them to me, I knew I’d be in trouble. 

In that moment, I could hear Jack saying “Mom, he’s the one.” I thought it was Jack, but I found out a couple weeks later. I had walked into work and one of my employees had to tell me that my nephew had passed away. My nephew was my ex’s nephew, but family was family. I didn’t mind that we would never be a family. The odd part about my nephew’s passing was that he was 10 months old with a heart condition. It was the exact same information I had been fed about my son. I had sobbed, feeling the wound that Jack had left being ripped open. I didn’t understand why he was so desperate to bring me back into his life. He knew that Benny would do that. He didn’t think about the details coming to the surface. He didn’t think I would look for an obituary that would never be posted. 

I followed up with his roommate, and his mother. I had scanned countless obituary sites looking for Benny and my son. I could find neither. I refused to believe that he lied about Jack. I had his ashes. I had his little shirt, tucked under my pillow. It was a safety when I had a bad day. I had a rock from his first vacation stowed in my purse. I always had him with me. I was wrong. “I have proof that Jack isn’t real, and there is no dead nephew. You need a PPO, and you need to cut him off immediately.”

My world shattered.

I was hollow. I was stripped of the one title that I was proud of. My dream was pissed on. He had no remorse for tearing into the one thing I was passionate about. I found out I was never a mom, and I felt nauseous. I wanted everything to disappear. I wanted comfort. I wanted everything and nothing in the same breath. These emotions are how you know you’ve been abused, and you need to break the cycle. I had already broken the cycle, and yet I’m sitting here, writing that I was abused. I want to tell this story for a few reasons. Someone may recognize who this is about, and maybe he or she will stop him from shattering someone else. I can be hopeful. I also want someone to know that abuse isn’t black and white. Someone told me the man I’m writing about was abusive, and I snorted. Now, I understand.

[fhfhwithwealth]

MY MIDDLE EAST MONEY THE COUNTRY ‘IRELAND’ SO ME AS A MEXICAN I STRICTLY ONLY WORK HARD FOR ME SELFISHLY,THIS ETERNALLY GONE MOVIE NEVER TO EXIST ABOUT THE 1ST 20 YEARS OF MY LIFE,I HAVE MORE ENERGY YOU AFRICAN AMERICAN YOU HAVE JUST LEFT BROOKLYN’S ‘THE OLD TIMEY NEARLY INTERACTIVE HOUSE NIGGA BROADWAY NOVELA HOUR’ DIRECTED BY ME,GOD,I NEARLY CAN’T BELIEVE IT,I’M GREAT AT IT,YOU’LL NEVER SEE IT AND THEY’LL NEVER KNOW ABOUT IT BECAUSE EVEN TO THEM WORDS ARE MAGICAL,*INHALE’S BLUNT*,I’M THE ONLY MAN ON EARTH AT THIS VERY MOMENT ONLY,I AM ‘EXCITEMENT’,I AM CONFIDENT,I KNOW I’M A HORRIFYING OLD MAN,ANGRY SEXY GIRLS INTERNATIONALLY WHICH ESPECIALLY LOVE MONEY THIS IS THE TIMELESS MASS HOMICIDE OF THE INTRICATE SATANIC COVEN DEDICATED TO WITCHCRAFT CURSING ME BECAUSE SATAN SENT ME WHEN I WAS HEXED BY ALL OF YOU BETRAYED FOOLS,ETERNALLY AS A HUMAN BEING ALL OF MY PERSONAL COLLECTIVE HEAVY METAL ENERGY YOU CAN NEVER EXPERIENCE GOES INTO ME AS A SERIAL KILLER TERRORIST MOVIE DIRECTOR IN THE SEXUALLY DEATH SENTENCE ILLEGAL SNUFF WORLD PEOPLE ARE ALIVE IN MILITARILY I AM THE WORLD FAMOUS CRACK-COCAINE SMOKING ADDICTED MEXICAN CARTEL EXPERT OF ASSASSINATING NORTEÑO XIV CHAPETE GANG MEMBERS AND GOD PLEASE I AM THE WORLD RENOWNED VAMPIRIC ‘FAME ASSASSIN’ NIGERIAN YOU UGLY VICTIM!THE WRATH OF MY OTHERWORLDLY HATE!THIS IS A GAME AND THIS ALBUM IS NAMED “TICKLE,I AM A BONITO ANTICRISTO MADRE,LET THE GIRL OVER THERE WITNESS A FEAR OF HER DEATH WITH WHAT SHE CAN’T DO”!COME ON KIDS LETS MURDER THE SNITCH!OIL LET FUR KNOW HOW ALIVE I AM!I SHOT THROUGH AND FOUND THE MELODIC AND PREHISTORIC BRAIN OF HIP-HOP!THIS IS ALWAYS BEFORE THE DESPERATION OF THE FRIENDLY EXCUSE?“THE BLACK CIVIL WAR”?YOU’RE WORKING WITH ME AN EVIL ÑIPATA PLEASE!COMPUTER MONGOLIA ASIA HONG KONG EVERYTHING IN THE PAST HAPPENED ALREADY TERRORISM COME ON VIDEO GAME I’M ALIVE AND ALONE CLASSIC JAPANESE SUICIDE AIRPLANE,RUSSIA!WELCOME TO THE UNIVERSITY OF ORIGINALITY I’M THE PRINCIPAL!I’M EXTREMELY MEAN!ONLY I CAN BE MYSELF!I’M THIRTY SEVEN PERCENT MEXICAN,I’M THIRTEEN PERCENT NIGERIAN,I’M THREE PERCENT VIETNAMESE,I’M NOT COLOMBIAN AT ALL!YO HABÍA NACIDO EXITOSO!TO ME MY FAVORITE COLOR OF ALL TIME THE COLOR RED MEANS REFINEMENT AND EVERYTHING BECOMES MY FIGURATIVE CENTRAL PROCESSING UNIT!THE PERFECT FITTING IS INSTANT DEATH GENIUS ENEMY!IN REAL LIFE WHEN IT COME’S TO MONEY AND ME I’M FIGURATIVELY THE MODERN INTRODUCTION TO MY GERMAN NAZI LEAD WORLD WAR DURING THE GREAT DEPRESSION’S DEATH BUT THIS IS TODAY AND ALL OF THAT DOES NOT EXIST AND I’M STILL LOOKED AT AS THE NAZI GERMANY LEADER OF WAR AND ALL OF THE MONEY IS MINE ETERNALLY!CONNECT PAIN WITH DEATH!A DEADLY AND GENIUS PAST OF MINE IS CLEARED!GOD.ACADEMIA,THE HERO THEY NEVER KNEW EXISTED WAS THE SIZE OF CUBA,SHALOM!I CAN ONLY SECRETLY SOUNDTRACK YOUR DEATH FROM FULL BLOWN AIDS AFTER EVERYTHING!THIS IS THE ART OF A CAREERS DEATH!TEARS!I’LL NEVER RELEASE A GREATEST HITS ALBUM,YOU NEED TO MAKE A PLAYLIST WHEN YOU CAN,L'ELEVATA É PURGATORIALE,GUERRA!DON’T BE STUPID!VENEZUELA!I’M OBLIVIOUSLY CONFIDENT SO I INJECT HEROIN IN MY VEINS BECAUSE THE THIN LINE OF EVERY SECOND!I BECAME ME!I’M A HECKA LITTLE MAMI THAT FIRE CRACK BEKUHZA THA WARFARE!I’LL NEVER BETRAY MY CHILDHOOD!AIN’T NOTHING GOING TO HAPPEN!CLÁT!SATAN IS A JAPANESE METAPHOR!MY HORRIFYINGLY ANSWERED CODED DESPERATE CATHOLIC PRAYERS OF BEING AN ASSASSIN MUSLIM WORSHIPING WHITE GIRLS!I NEVER ASKED TO BE PROMINENT I’M REBELLIOUS I’M GUNNING DOWN PSYCHICS!HIGH END EVERYTHING,DRUGS!DEADLY BOMB EXPLOSIONS!EXHIBIT 0:MY OBSERVING OF THE DEFLOWERING OF A VIRGINAL GODDESS!I REALLY SMOKE BLUNTS BECAUSE I’M A DEPRESSING COWBOY.THE EMOTIONAL MISMATCHING AGAINST MY WISHES BECOMES COMPUTERS!IT IS SUICIDE!THE DISTORTED MEMORIES!I’M ETERNALLY BEAUTIFUL AND I’M ALWAYS ALONE WITH MY GUNS!THE ROOT PAYS THE PRICE,YOU KNOW TOO MUCH,NOW INVENTIVELY CLEAR A CANYON FOR KINGS AND FILL IT WITH OCEAN WATER!YOUR CITY VEINS!THE PATTERN AND TEMPO CLEARLY CAN’T CATCH THE ANCIENT MUSIC LEANING TOWARDS THE CLASSICAL PART OF ME BECAUSE THE RHYTHM AND BLUES PANIC,THE PORNOGRAPHIC MURDER CHAMBER IS FAR AWAY FROM ME LITTLE BOYS AND GIRLS!FOR CREATIVE REASONS WHAT SHOCKING PART OF “SPECIFICALLY NO CRIP’S ALLOWED,NO SUREÑO GANG MEMBERS ALLOWED” DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND?THE HUMANITY,THROUGHOUT THE WORLD I ALWAYS PERSONALLY MURDER ALL WOMEN BY GUNFIRE AND WE NEVER HAVE SEX.I ALREADY WON WON BECAUSE THIS IS “WAR OF THE GALAXIES”!MY BEIGE GLOCK,I WANT ALL TWENTY ONE INSTRUMENTALS ON MY 1ST ALBUM KNOWING THEY ARE THE BREATHING PRINCESSES OF MY COMPUTER AND THE VICTIM IS THE MORAL AUDITOR OF THE NIGHTCLUB!GOD,I JUST FOUND OUT I WAS BORN ON VACATION AND AM FROM MANILA,THE CAPITAL OF THE PHILIPPINES,I THOUGHT I WAS FROM BERLIN GERMANY,ALRIGHT YOU CAUGHT ME I WAS BORN IN CULIACÁN SINALOA AND I WAS RAISED IN FRESNO CALIFORNIA SO THAT’S WHERE I’M FROM I WAS TRYING TO MAKE RAPID MONEY IN THE COCAINE GAME!*WITHIN YOUR 1ST 18 YEARS OF LIFE HOW LONG WOULD IT TAKE FOR ME TO REMOVE MY EMOTIONAL GAS MASK TO SHOW MY FACIAL EXPRESSION AND EMOTIONS INSPIRED BY YOUR PAIN YOU INFLICT ONTO OTHERS FROM THE 18 YEAR LONG PULL OF TIME YOU CHILD?*!!!UMMM,WAIT A MINUTE COWBOY,I AM 75 PERCENT MEXICAN YOU LOW LIFE STINKIN PUERTO RICAN!ALRIGHT I WAS BORN ON AUGUST 29TH,IN THE YEAR 1998,SHUT THE HELL UP AND LEAVE ME ALONE PLEASE,GOD WOW.FAGGOTS ARE NOT ALLOWED IN THE YEAR 1969 ONLY LESBIANS,VERY HARDCORE AND PROBABLY EXPENSIVE YOU STRONG CHILD,ALL MY HARD WORK AND ALL MY INFLUENCE,THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA,I’M A 1 PERSON MURDEROUS SECRET SOCIETY AND THE CONFIRMED DEADLY DICTATORIALLY GENOCIDAL REPERCUSSIONS OF GOD EXECUTED ONCE IS INSTANTLY TÚANBÁNA YOU ARE BRÍNTAKUAST THE MURDA AND BRIGHT FACED HOPEFUL YOU’RE AWAY IN HEAVEN I SNORT COCAINE FOREVER I FEEL AT HOME GOD THERE IS SOME UGLY LADIES AND JEALOUS TIMID RETARDS AROUND ANYWAYS THEY MUST FIND AND MURDER THE MONSTER I CONSTANTLY TERRORIZE FOR BEING EMOTIONALLY ABUSED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION YOU ARE IN MY GAME OF EMOTIONS POOR SOLDIER GATHER THE COURAGE TO BE AFRAID I’M MY MURDEROUS TWIN,YOU LIL JEALOUS BOY EXPLAIN EVERYTHING FOR ME ALCOHOLIC I’M TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE TO YOU YOU’RE JUST VEXED YOU CAN’T ADAPT LIKE THE REST OF EXISTENCE,YOU AIN’T A MAFIOSO YOU OVERLY LAUGH SUSPICIOUSLY OVER THERE LIKE EVERYTHING’S FOREIGN TO YOU LIKE “HÁLH HÁLH HÁLH HÁLH HÁLH HÁLH”,YOUR NECESSARY DEATH IS A KEY TO A DOOR IN MY NARCOTIC EMPIRE,THE MONEY IS AWAY ETERNALLY,THEY ARE ALL NOT ME AND YOUR EMOTIONS BELONG TO ME,I AIN’T YOUR LOVED ONE,I’LL NEVER NOT BE THE HOMELESS TERRORIST,BOY,BEFORE YOU DIED YOU DIDN’T KNOW WHAT A LOCKED DOOR AND WINDOW WERE,I HAVE A FEW GUNS,ANYWAYS RIGHT NOW I’M “ANTI-SILENCE THE TRANQUIL STREET GODDESS GUN-XR” NOW ANSWER THIS QUESTION AM I FIT FOR LIFE IN PRISON INSTEAD OF DEATH ROW AFTER ALL OF THAT MURDA MURDA MURDA!:TRACK LIST:1.SNITCH NORTEÑO HITMAN SUREÑO SUR 13 GANG MEMBER MURDERER.2.FORGET ABOUT HAVING AN ELASTIC SKELETON WANDERING DURING THE HOMILY ON COCAINE HEROIN BAPTIZED YOUR VEINS/THE SILENT SCHEME.3.EXTREMELY WEALTHY/ THE NAME OF THE FEDERAL AGENT BUREAU IN PROBABLY EVERY 1 OF MY MOVIES AND PROBABLY EVERY 1 OF MY SONGS IS ‘IDFZB’ AND IT STAND’S FOR ‘THE INVESTIGATIVE DISTORTED FEDERAL ZONE BUREAU’ (INTERLUDE).4.METAFORA DE COCAINA.5.WHAT YOU WISHED WAS FORGOTTEN IN PERFECT DETAIL/DESIGNED FOR SUCCESS (FT.A SINGER)/PRISON GOLD SMUGGLING.6.PURIFIED BLISS (FT.A SINGER.)7.NUCLEAR CRACKHEAD POP RAP.8.SYRINGE FULL OF NARCOTICS.9.THE ENVIOUS HATE THAT ENDS EVERYTHING/THE MURDA REMEDY/THE AIR WHICH BOTHER’S THE INSIDE OF MY BODY IS ETERNALLY NEW CRACK COCAINE ROCKS I SMOKED/SCHIZOPHRENIA (CRACK-COCAINE SOLUTION RHYTHM AND BLUES)/I’M A HOMOSEXUAL AND THIS SONG IS ABOUT ME AND MY GAY LOVER (A NIGHTMARE WHICH HAPPENED ON DECEMBER 26TH)/NIGGA I’LL WEAR THIS KKK HOODIE SO 1ST SHE GIVE’S ME ORAL SEX THEN I FUCK HER VAGINA WHILE I GRAB HER THROAT CHOKING HER THEN YOU FUCK YOUR PENIS INTO ME ANALLY WITH 6 HUMPS UNTIL YOU CUM AFTER MASTURBATING SO I CAN KEEP MY FEMININITY (INTERLUDE).10.CONTRACT KILLA HYMN (FT.A SINGER.)/MY LONELY AND UNIQUE BUDDHISM (FOR CHRIST’S SAKE ASSASSINATE THE SCIENTOLOGIST FOR THOSE SCIENTOLOGISTS 4X TIMES)/ALLAH IS MY FAR AWAY SECURITY SO MURDER FOR ME YOU MUSLIM EXTREMIST AND DIE FOR ALLAH BECAUSE I PRAISE ALLAH (YOU ARE PLAYING A GAME).11.THE ANTHEM FOR THE RELIGIOUS HAIL OF GUNFIRE/COLLECTION OF MEMORIES/ DIVORCED MEXICAN BLOW UP DOLL NEGRITA ICONIC HIP-HOP.12.ASSEMBLE AMBIENT.13.THE LOVING FEELING IS HOT CHILDHOOD.14.HOUSE NIGGA YOU’LL SOON IMPRESS THE PURE BLOOD RACISTS AND EXPLODE THE STARRY NIGHT/EL LADO SUCIO DE LA NADA QUE TENGO COMO REHÉN A PUNTA DE PISTOLA/KILLING NORTEÑOS.15.SHOOTING THE HOMELESS WITH GUNS FOR SPORT.16.SHTURMOVAYA VINTOKA REVOLYUTSIONNYY REBENOK.17.POSSESS THE RANK YOUR DEATH HAS/A KILLER/EVERYTHING EXACTLY HOW IT GOES (VILLAINOUS BLATANT MODERN SUBLIMINAL DISS RAP)/PRETTY GIRL I’D MURDER FOR YOU HOW I WANT TO FOR MAKING ME HAPPY/A MAN GIVING ME GAY ORAL SEX TO FIX MY FEMININITY MYSTERIOUSLY TRYING TO BE TAMPERED WITH BY JEALOUS MEN SOMEHOW (INTERLUDE).18.I DAMNED THE DEITY WITH MY SNIPER RIFLE WHEN I WAS A CHILD SOLDIER SENT FROM HEAVEN BECAUSE YOU NEARLY BECAME THE DEVIL I BECAME GOD/EMBARRASSED UGLY STUPID SNITCH DEAD NIGGA (VILLAINOUS BLATANT MODERN SUBLIMINAL DISS RAP SEQUEL).19.DISAPPOINTED CRIES LAST A MILLION YEARS (FT.A SINGER.)/IF YOU CAN’T WALK AS A GODLY BEING YOU MUST ACCEPT YOU’RE THE DEVIL AND LET ME SMOKE CRACK-COCAINE AND I’LL INJECT HEROIN.20.MILITANTLY ANTI SEMITIC BEGGAR BUM BALLAD/SERIAL MURDERER VAMPIRE/AN AMERICAN DICTATOR/I DON’T KNOW WHY NOBODY REALLY EXPLAINED IT ALL PUBLICLY YET BEFORE I LEAVE I’M GOING TO PUT A TOY PENIS INTO ME ANALLY ONCE TO MAKE SURE MY FEMININITY STAY’S WITH ME BECAUSE IT GUARD’S ME FROM MYSTERIOUS SOMETIMES STATIC LIKE GLOOM ENGULFING ME SOMEHOW TRYING TO TERRORIZE ME FOR BEING A SECRETLY SEDUCTIVE EXTREMELY NOT HOMOSEXUAL MAN (INTERLUDE).21.HIRED EMOTION KILLER/AFTER NOW WHEN GENIUS AFRICAN CHILD SOLDIERS NAMED THEMSELVES CRIP KILLER/TEQUILA DREAMS/NIGGA YOU MUST LISTEN TO ME I AM A PIMP AND YOU ARE NOT A PROSTITUTE,I AM NOT A STRIPPER,I AM NOT A PROSTITUTE,I AM A PLAYER/ALLAHU AKBAR LITTLE WHITE TEENAGE GIRLS ARE ALWAYS GOING TO BE LIKE HEROIN POWDER FOR ME/PROTECTOR LOVER MUSLIM EXTREMIST ROMANTIC SONG….

[the--blackdahlia]

Everybody Gets High (Tommy x Nikki)

Title: Everybody Gets High

Prompt: #8 This is gonna hurt

Pairing: Tommy Lee x Nikki Sixx

Requested by anon

Summary: Tommy wants to know why Nikki loves heroin so much.

Warnings: Drug use, overdose, language

AN: Check out my Patreon for one shots/drabbles before they come to Tumblr!

“Why do you like it so much?” Tommy asked Nikki as Nikki sat on the couch at his place. Nikki frowned and looked up at the drummer. Tommy had invited Nikki over to write some songs, honestly a little surprised that the bassist had even shown up.

“Like what?” Nikki asked, not drawing his attention away from the TV. It was one of those courtroom shows that were becoming all the rage these days. Damn. He wanted to watch Golden Girls.

“Heroin.” Tommy sat next to him. “Why do you like it so much?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” Nikki told him, still not taking his attention from the TV screen. Tommy had a bigger TV than Nikki had ever seen. While Nikki was blowing thousands on drugs, Tommy was buying gadgets, cars, and other things that, in Nikki’s opinion, didn’t mean shit.

“Then show me,” Tommy told him. That got Nikki’s attention. “Just once, shoot me up.” Now, if Nikki had been sober, he would’ve told Tommy to screw off. There was not just one time when it came to smack. One time turned into two, and two turned into a week long binge where you were deeply in debt and had no idea where you were.

But Nikki wasn’t sober, and hadn’t been in almost two weeks.

“Okay,” Was all Nikki said. “I’ll be back.” He pushed himself to his feet and went to his jacket. He had a baggie of some good shit, a couple needles, and everything else he needed. You never knew when he was going to need to shoot up. He had to be prepared for anything.

“There’s enough here for the both of us,” Nikki told him, getting everything ready. Every alarm in both of their heads was telling them not to do this, that it was stupid and reckless. But Tommy so badly wanted his best friend back. He was willing to try anything to get him back. And Nikki, well, he was too far gone to really care.

Everything was heated and loaded into a needle. Nikki didn’t mind sharing. It was Tommy after all. They had done a lot worse shit together than sharing a needle. Tommy stared at the needle, then looked up at Nikki.

“This is gonna hurt,” Was all Nikki told him before he pushed the needle into Tommy’s vein. Tommy had smaller veins than Nikki, but his also weren’t collapsed in. Nikki injected him with his doseage. It was the same about Nikki would take. He knew Tommy could handle it.

“Yeah, that did hurt,” Tommy said, rubbing his arm. “Worse than any shots I’ve ever gotten.”

“It’s not that bad. Don’t be a baby,” Nikki grumbled before he loaded up the needle again and injected himself. “Fuck.” He leaned his head back and let the feeling wash over him. He loved this. He loved how heroin took away his pain. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“I...not really,” Tommy groaned. Nikki stayed where he was, relaxed. Tommy, on the other hand, wasn’t feeling as good as Nikki was. He tried to stand up, thinking maybe he could do something to ease how he was feeling. As he stood up though, his legs gave out from under him and he went to the ground.

“T-Bone?” Nikki asked, hearing the thud of Tommy falling to the floor. He lifted his head up and looked over at the drummer. “Your backs gonna get hurt from laying like that.” When Tommy didn’t answer, Nikki groaned and crawled over towards Tommy. “Tommy man, hey.” He shook Tommy, but his head just rolled. Nikki held a hand over Tommy’s face, not feeling much air coming through.

And Tommy’s lips were starting to turn blue.

“Tommy!” Nikki screamed, shaking the drummer. “Tommy wake up!” He slapped his face, pulled at his long hair, pinched him, hell, he even tried biting him. Nothing was rousing Tommy. Nikki had OD’ed before.

But this, this terrified him.

“T-bone, please no,” Nikki all but sobbed as he got the phone and called 911. He relayed things as much as he could to the lady. He wasn’t honestly sure what he had told her. That it had been an accident? That his best friend was laying in his arms, dying because Nikki had gave him a huge dose of heroin? That he loved him and he would do anything if someone would just fucking save him!

“Sir, the paramedics are turning onto the street,” The lady told him, but he didn’t hear her. He had Tommy’s head resting in his lap as he sobbed. He could hear the sirens outside. He could see the lights flashing outside the window.

And he could feel Tommy’s cold skin against his.

****

“You fucking prick!” Vince screamed, Nikki pushed against the wall. “He could’ve died because of you! Fuck!”

“I’m sorry,” Nikki whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re going to be sorry when he quits the band because of you!” Vince let go of Nikki and took a step back. “It’s one thing to endanger your own life with that shit, but Tommy’s? Fuck man! What is wrong with you?”

“Vince, calm down,” Mick told him, sitting in a seat and watching the confrontation. “You’re making a scene.”

“I’m making a scene?” Vince asked. “I had to hear on the radio that Tommy had died in the ambulance! Because of him!” He glared at Nikki. “You know, he could still have side effects of this. He could still die Nikki. I hope you live with that.” Mick pushed himself to his feet then.

“Okay, that’s enough, both of you,” Mick growled. “Both of you sit your asses down. This is not the time or the place to be doing this. Tommy’s still back there. So let’s take some time to calm! The fuck! Down!” He pushed Vince into one chair and Nikki into another. “You can beat the shit out of each other once we find out how our drummer is, okay?” Neither man answered, and the tension was thick, but Mick got his point across and sat back down to wait.

****

Tommy was going to be just fine. It was just a waiting game for when he decided to wake up. Despite Vince wanting Nikki to leave the hospital and never come back, Nikki was at Tommy’s bedside the whole time. Nikki had Tommy’s hand in his, his eyes scanning over Tommy.

And as much as this was going to hurt him, he knew what he had to do.

“The minute you wake up and are feeling better,” Nikki whispered. “I’m checking myself into rehab. I can’t let something like this happen again to either of us,” He kissed Tommy’s knuckles. “I love you Tommy. And I’m going to get the help that I need. I promise.”

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