#michigan lottery

[fullaccessdetroit]

Deep Purple + Yes + Hanna Wicklund @ Michigan Lottery Amphitheatre in Sterling Heights, Michigan on August 22, 2024

All Photos © Steve Galli + Story by Chloe Catajan Ian Paice – Deep Purple There’s no doubting the impact of Deep Purple’s “Smoke On The Water.” The first chords alone are both a calling card for ‘70s hard rock and a staple for guitarists across generations and expertise. Simply put, it’s got a riff that’s forever embedded into rock history. It’s hooky, headstrong, and a homage to Beethoven— and…

[scarletcarmensmith]

🌟 Dear Patriots, let's unite in a circle of happiness and solidarity! 🌟

Join Donald Trump's humanitarian state initiative today. With every scratch card you purchase and every potential win, 10% of the proceeds will go directly to support those fighting serious diseases and the most vulnerable in need of vitamins and supplements.

Let's show our humanity by supporting each other and those in need. Together, we can make a difference! 🤝

Good luck to all, and may kindness guide our way. 🍀

https://cutt.ly/Lw3xlCfy

[confessionsofanarcadeaddict]

And it's Christmas eve eve at the Arcade! I was thinking that it was going to be either busy or five kinds of dead today, imagine my surprise when I saw how busy it was and continued to be. Families coming in, three, four, sometimes five deep. But there is still room for you, and what's more, we're open normal business hours tomorrow from 2pm to 8pm!

Now, onto me. It's been stressful week in several ways, not the least of which is financially. Thanks to a mess up by DHHS, I have not been able to get paid for the Homecare I did for one of my clients last month so I'm short until it gets straightened out. Christmas is going to come late for my son.

Because of all of that, I haven't been able to focus enough to get episode 70 edited and posted. I'm going to work on it tomorrow once I get laundry and other stuff done. Hang in there folks, this is how my life goes sometimes.

[mrhiwaysthinkin]

One of the best birthdays 🤘🖤

[weliketheiroldstuff]

Lamb of God's Omens Tour brings Killswitch Engage, Baroness, and Suicide Silence to Michigan Lottery Amphitheatre

After the Cleveland debacle last night I was so unbelievably stoked to work this show with four truly awesome bands. Suicide Silence is one of the heaviest bands ever. Baroness was the only one I haven’t seen live yet and they were so good. Killswitch Engage is responsible for a massive amount of influence on so many bands and musicians and artists. Then there’s literally one of the biggest bands in all of metal music over the last 20 years, Kings… Lamb of God. I really can’t think of a bigger band when it comes to the new wave of American heavy metal that isn’t lumped into Nu Metal or Metalcore…

I mean, Slipknot are kings right, then who after that, as far as weight? Manson, but he’s a turd so he got flushed. Um, Deftones? Sure maybe, not Kings though. Kings of the hypersexual metal kids yeah. I mean there’s like Parkway Drive and Avenged Sevenfold. But now we’re talking two bands who have sacrificed their credibility for a broader audience. See what I’m saying? God, don’t take that the wrong way, or do, who cares anymore? I think for the metal band with their hands still stuck in the roots of the underground, LoG has a rightful stake at the throne. I mean, I just disqualified all the bands mentioned, not much left after that… Korn, but that’s Nu Metal royalty, it’s different. Five Finger Death Punch, nope fucking can sell out Wembley and I won’t acknowledge that blue line supporting dorky cop rock bull shit as a part of this. Nine Inch Nails, I mean fuck no, industrial Lords, yes, kings of new wave of heavy metal? Shut up. They’re barely on the outskirts of this network of bands. And they pre-date pretty much all of them. System of a Down? Maybe? But ya gotta play some shows and make music to be the current Kings. Safe to say, Lamb of God is up there, and do they ever deliver. The new record drops the day this comes out and everything I have heard from it says it’s going to rip and tear metalhead eardrums for a long time coming. Ya know what, I will save it for my review of the record this weekend.

I have been a fan of Suicide Silence since the first record. Mitch’s voice and the grooves Chris writes have always been some of my favorites in deathcore. They helped define a genre. They helped push it. And they dropped a new tune recently and oddly enough so did Torn Within, which features former members Rick Ash and Josh Goddard who were on the original lineup and releases, Mark actually replaced Rick. And then Lopez replaced Josh. Wild. What’s crazy about this is that the Torn Within song is a basement demo in comparison to the newest Suicide Silence song “You Must Die”. Hear it below!

What did I say? Told ya it rips. Should’ve seen my face when they played it live while we were photographing them. That “FUCK YOUR LIFE…. DEATHWISH” breakdown felt like my chest was caving in. Granted they were on a massive amphitheatre stage setup, still. It hits so fucking hard. When the next Suicide Silence tour comes up and they roll through your town, if you skip on this band, that’s on you. I have no idea what’s going on with them but I fucking love it. I don’t know if it was Covid revitalized the boys, or personal lives have gotten better, or just being back on the road and working on a new record, if it’s all of it. All I know is when I witnessed them play that new shit it bitch slapped any remaining negative about their previous songwriting choices. I honestly feel like when they stay in that early wheelhouse, they fucking write the coolest riffs and breakdowns. I know that a lot of bands try to evolve their sound and style but I think this is one of those bands that will continue to grow their audience by getting back to this just belligerently heavy deathcore. The fuck you attitude works perfectly with it. The band is called Suicide Silence not Happy Fucking Metal Guys. Like, smoke the weeds, drink the whiskeys, write the heaviest shit, and you will remain atop the deathcore world. You could feel it watching them that all of this has been a piece of it. Let’s just do what we’re good at, and the truth is they’re way better than just good at it. Master of the breakdown man. I love it. It’s taking the heaviest riffs from downtuned Nu Metal and giving it death metal drums and my fucking whole existence just wants to hug these mother fuckers.

I don’t have a history with Baroness. I have heard some songs over the years. I know a little bit about the backstory and stuff but this was a pretty virgin moment for me. I try to be as much of a connoisseur of music as possible, especially of the heavy variety. My wheelhouse is hardcore, nu-metal, punk, deathcore, and emo, and then I know a little bit about most of the subgenres of metal. The droney, stoner, more 70s-influenced style of bands has always kinda blended together for me. Over the years I have been so picky about this stuff but Baroness was always one that stayed on the list of bands I was intrigued by. I literally have them and I like Mastodon, Clutch, Melvins, Down, Kyuss, and my favorites Corrosion of Conformity, and I dive into a little Doom with Pallbearer, Neurosis, Trouble, Cathedral, and Candlemass. It’s all derivative directly from Black Sabbath. This is Tony Iommi and Geezer Butler fans more than anything, don’t @ me you old bastards! Baroness is like a weird step outside of the box. I didn’t feel the way I did after watching them as I did watching High on Fire or Mothership or The Melvins. All like ripped my face off with their energy ya know? Baroness won me over with just straight-up incredible songwriting. Like I loved the 3 songs I photographed by them and I walked out feeling more disappointed in myself. Usually, I’m relieved that I finally photographed a band I’ve been chasing for a while. That’s the normal feeling. I left being upset with myself for not being into them more and earlier. It’s like I knew walking back to VIP that I had to reward myself with Chicken Tenders because there was no way I would be able to sit there for the next 45 minutes and not beat myself up. I need energy, I need food, and I need to get over the fact that I tell people not to sleep on bands, and I legit slept on Baroness.

After Baroness, we walked back to VIP and I let them know I was going to get food. I asked if they knew where the chicken tender stand was, and I was informed that it was the first booth, on the opposite side of the venue. Ughhhhhhhh. So, tubby mchighasfuck starts to speedwalk or so it seemed in my head, then I realized I was just regular walking and just buzzed. It seemed like it took the entire time to get there. Once I finally got there I then did a light yogging around the amphitheater to get to where the media hounds were chilling amidst drunken VIP’s and bored security. I then noticed we were leaving to go to the photo pit and my dinner is in my hands. Look, I understand it’s kinda funny to some people that a stoner photographer would be walking into a photo pit eating chicken tenders and fries… but it was so much funnier to me. I have always loved seeing people getting down with food, or with their cameras, or in a weird outfit, or whatever. But a chubby stoner with a beer and a chicken finger basket is just, it’s so on brand.

This is the second time I photographed KSE this year and my third time in total. They are one of the 2016 bands. A reminder any band photographed in 2016 is earmarked for being a foundational piece to the photography side of ILTOS. No one from Warped Tour 2016 used my work besides The Interrupters. But when I photographed the final Dirt Fest in Pontiac, almost all those artists shared my work. Jesse was I think the first one to do so. So crazy. With that being said, this was a special set as I got my chicken tenders and literally walked into the photo pit eating them. I was so elevated and had all sorts of emotions and tons of adrenaline going, but I was so fucking hungry… I shoveled the rest of my food into my face while laughing about how ridiculous it was and then photographed the dudes rip through 3 songs, one of them being “My Last Serenade” which was the first one that hit me directly, back when it was released. Bands, it should be obvious how we feel about you playing your older material. You gotta throw us a bone here. And KSE does it so well.

Shoutout to the Chicken Tender Booth Staff.

My photographic history with this band is one show, Slayer’s last in Michigan. I have relished that experience for years. To me, that night solidified I was willing to do whatever as I wobbled on a sprained ankle the entire time. Fun walking up and down Pine Knob’s steps after walking through the rain too. Wild experience and so thankful for it. Although I have been waiting for a Lamb of God headliner here that I could get access to for the entire time I have been doing this shit. This band has been dropping singles for their new record Omens for a minute now and today is the day it dropped. I waited to finish this piece so I could release it today along with a few new assets that will drop to help promote the post and the record. Straight up, it’s heavy as fuck and it basically shuts every Art Cruz doubter the fuck up. 10 songs and now these dudes can shut up. So fucking good. I’m not going to go any further about the album… The dudes came out ripping into “Memento Mori” and got the fire going in “Walk With Me In Hell” and absolute chaos during “Now You’ve Got Something To Die For. As an older Lamb of God fan, I could not be more impressed with their live show. It was fucking HELL in the photo pit though. We had you know, two dozen security, a dozen VIP’s, tour guys, and about 10 photographers. It was a bit crowded. Thank Fuck, it is a rather deep pit and there is room, but yeah it was a bit too chaotic to do the job at 100%. It’s why you just gotta roll with what ya get. Sometimes the situation is not ideal whatsoever. This was very frustrating but it just happens sometimes. Be fluid, and just do what you can. No reason to be a dick about anything. And besides, being a dick at a Lamb of God show to another LoG fan or someone working the event is pretty counterintuitive to the ideals pushed by this band. Which has always been soaked in the DIY Hardcore ethos of which they came from and are most influenced by. Remember, these are hardcore kids playing metal and that’s why this shit is so special. These aren’t heshers. These aren’t black metal dudes or death metal guys. These are badass open-minded folks who literally got to go to hardcore shows in DC in the 80s and 90s. I feel like I’m repeating myself.

Check out the gallery below! All photos by yours truly! Thank you Lamb of God for having me out for this one, I thoroughly enjoyed myself and am glad I could get some shots and add an experience to my memory banks.

LISTEN AND DOWNLOAD ‘OMENS’ HERE

www.lamb-of-god.com www.facebook.com/lambofgod https://twitter.com/lambofgod http://instagram.com/lambofgod https://www.facebook.com/killswitchengage https://twitter.com/kseofficial http://www.killswitchengage.com https://instagram.com/killswitchengage http://yourbaroness.com https://www.instagram.com/yourbaroness https://www.facebook.com/YourBaroness https://twitter.com/yourbaroness https://suicidesilence.store/ https://www.facebook.com/suicidesilence/ https://www.instagram.com/suicidesilence/ https://twitter.com/suicidesilence

[dailytomlinson]

369 HOTSPOTS:

Africa: Asia: — Saranrom Park, Bangkok (3PM—5PM) — New Delhi, Lodhi Garden (1:30PM—3:30PM) — Tennis Indoor Senayan, Jakarta (3PM—5PM) — Bengkel SCBD, Jakarta (3PM—5PM) — Cross Maidan Garden, Mumbai (1:30PM—3:30PM) Europe: — Wizink, Madrid — La Riviera, Madrid — Razzmatazz, Barcelona — Palau, Barcelona — Miribilla, Bilbao — Scala, London — Shepherds Bush Empire, London — O2 Manchester Apollo, Manchester — O2 Arena, London —Atlas Arena, Łódź (12PM—2PM) — The Dome, Doncaster — Utilita Arena, Sheffield — Tauron Arena, Kraków (12PM—2PM) — Międzynarodowe Targi Poznańskie, Poznań (12PM—2PM) — Meo Arena, Lisbon (3PM—5PM) Latin America: — Rioarena, Rio de Janeiro (12PM—2PM) — Allianz Parque, São Paulo (12PM—2PM) — Espaço Unimed, São Paulo (12PM—2PM) — Liggo Arena, Curitiba (12PM—2PM) — Movistar Arena, Santiago (12PM—2PM) — Estadio Bicentenario, Santiago (12PM—2PM) —Pepsi Center WTC, CDMX (2PM—4PM) — Autódromo Hermanos Rodríguez, CDMX (2PM—4PM) — Auditorio Josefa Ortiz de Domínguez, Queretaro (2PM—4PM) — Auditorio Telmex, Gudalajara (2PM—4PM) — Arena V.F.G., Guadalajara (2PM—4PM) — Parque Fundidora, Monterrey (2PM—4PM) — Auditorio Citibanamex, Monterrey (2PM—4PM) — Parque Centenario, Guayaquil (2PM—4PM) — Coliseo Live, Bogotá (1PM—3PM) — Movistar Arena, Bogotá (1PM—3PM) — Movistar Arena, Buenos Aires — Velez Sarsfield Stadium, Buenos Aires

North America: — Skyla Credit Union Amphitheater, Charlotte (12PM—2PM) —MGM Music Hall, Boston (12PM—2PM) — House of Blues, Boston (12PM—2PM) — AZ Financial Theater, Phoenix (2PM—4PM) — Merriweather Post Pavillion, Columbia, MD (12PM—2PM) — Kemba Live, Columbus (12PM—2PM) — Oprheum Theathe, Vancouver (2PM—4PM) —Doug Mitchell Thunderbird Sports Centre, Vancouver (2PM—4PM) — Red Hat Amphitheater, Raleigh (1PM—3PM) — Budweiser Stage, Toronto (12PM—2PM) — Greek Theater, Berkeley (2PM—4PM) — Fox Theater, Oakland (2PM—4PM) —The Anthem, DC (1PM—3PM) — Michigan Lottery Amphitheater, Sterling Heights — Fillmore Auditorium, Denver Oceania:

— Spark Arena, Auckland (7PM—9PM)

All times are LOCAL

*If you have information on more hotspots, feel free to send an inbox or add a comment with the exact place and time window

*Most hotspots are at venues Louis has played before, on tour or other separate gigs so if you're at a city Louis has been before, those places are most likely the ones you'll find. If not, there's still some hotspots in countries he's never visited so keep an eye out.

[sc0tters]

It Ain’t Easy | Ethan Edwards

summary: love would be a whole lot easier if your brothers were all on board with your boyfriend.

request: yes/no

warnings: swearing, 4:00am slightly edited writing 😭

word count: 1.63k

authors note: this is the official last piece before we start working on the December works. This is less than perfect because I tried to get this done beforehand, so let’s all play nice.

When Luke left Michigan he never thought that you’d end up dating one of his friends.

Sure you were twins and in the same friend group but the idea of you and one of his previous teammates was truly not something Luke even contemplated. Had he asked his ex housemates to keep an eye on you? Yes. Did he think that it would end up biting him in the ass as you rocked up to the lake house for the summer before your senior year with a boyfriend? Never in a million years, but somehow he was still sat there watching you cuddle Ethan on the couch.

You thought you struck the lottery dating a guy that your brothers already approved of. Ethan treated you well and after months of growing closer as you leaned on the older boy whenever you missed your brother it was no surprise when he finally made a move on you.

It was a warm February evening as Ethan walked you back to your dorm “you know you don’t have to do this every time we leave.” Without fail each time you came home from these parties Ethan was by your side keeping you company “someone has to make sure you get back in one piece.” The hockey player teased as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders.

You looked up at him with a smile “well thank you for that.” You squeezed his hand as your heels clicked against the concrete path “I’m gonna have to find someone new to walk me home when you get a girl.” You joked letting out a giggle that was like music to Ethan’s ears as you both stopped seeing your dormitory appear in front of you.

Ethan scrunched his face in disgust at those words “not interested in those girls.” He explained shaking his head “didn’t know I’d be fighting men for you.” Amusement was evident on your voice as you crossed your arms.

It made Ethan click his tongue as a laugh left his lips “y/n I’m looking at the damn girl I want.” His words made you stop with wide eyes as your jaw went slack “you better not be fucking with me E.” you warned as the boy reached out to grab your hands with a smile lingering on his face.

Before either of your could wait for wind to push you two together you instead let fate do it “you gonna let me kiss you?” The hockey player asked as he smiled “fuck yeah.” You swore pushing yourself onto your tippy toes so you could kiss him.

Over the next few months the relationship blossomed into the thing that became both of your missing pieces to the puzzle that was your lives. As you kept it to yourselves only letting images hinting to who your boyfriend could have been appear as they got sandwiched into your monthly dumps.

Quinn accepted that you’d eventually tell him who the boy was but what he didn’t think was that Jack and Luke would spend the days leading to the family trip to the lake house with a board guessing who your boyfriend could be.

The umich boys had been sworn to secrecy as you didn’t want to just tell Luke over the phone. Yet as you watched your brothers guide Ethan to the boat you wondered if maybe you should have told the boys sooner “they will play nice I’m sure of it.” Ellen could see the look of worry on her daughters face who could do nothing more than send her daughter a hopeful look that your mom was right.

But of course the Hughes brothers were fulfilling their brotherly duties as they stared down Ethan quickly bombarding him with questions about his intentions. Everything from if he saw himself being in a relationship for the long term with you to what he would do if you got pregnant. Any question they all seemed to not care that it was maybe a bit too far to be asking because as messed up as it seemed in essence they wanted to know if Ethan loved you enough to stay when they got scary.

Luke barely said a few words to his friend as he was still upset that Ethan could have gone behind his back to get with you. So as you helped Ellen start dinner Ethan was actually figuring out the quickest way to get off of the boat “you’re back!” The relieve in your voice was evident as you wiped your hands on the kitchen towel and sped to the living room “baby?” You added furrowing your eyebrows as you saw Ethan with a frown on his face “we need to talk.” His hand wrapped into yours as he pulled you to the staircase.

You couldn’t help it as you turned around to send your brothers a glare who could do nothing more than smile “please tell me you boys didn’t do what I think you did.” Ellen sighed as she crossed her arms behind them. Ethan made your heart break as he began pulling his clothes back into his suitcase “could you just talk to me!” You complained making him frown as he stopped “your brothers hate me so it’s for the best if I go.” His words made you feel sick as you furrowed your brows.

Part of you wanted to grow defensive and irritated as the other part of you just hoped to wake up from whatever this was “I know they’re tough but you’re really going to leave because they asked you a couple of questions?” You knew what your brothers were like but you thought Ethan of all people would have survived it.

Your irritation quickly became his too “it wasn’t just a couple fucking questions.” Ethan spat shaking his head “look I love you but I’m not gonna sit here and have my every move questioned for the next two weeks.” Tears began to form in your waterline “maybe we should take a break.” His fingers brushed through his hair as he sighed.

It felt like your world was coming to an end as it dropped off of a ledge “god I thought you were gonna be good.” You didn’t mean to be as harsh as you were but seeing him so ready to leave was a punch to your gut “they’re just protective it’ll blow over!” Your fists clenched “look they are important to you and I think you need to spend time with them.” Ethan cupped your cheeks as he leaned forward to kiss your head.

Maybe you didn’t agree with his logic but you knew that it was only going to end in an argument and for that you kept your mouth shut “I’ll see you out then.” Ethan had to admit that he was partly hurt that you weren’t putting up a fight for him but if only he knew you were holding all of this back because you didn’t want to make this harder.

And you had a sneaky suspicion that your brothers were stood at the door.

As you watched the car roll down the drive you couldn’t help it as you turned to glare at the boys “could you not let me be happy?” You frowned as you looked at your brothers who sat on the couch.

Quinn was the first to shake his head “we are just making sure you’re safe.” He pointed out as Jack nodded “we know hockey players and we know you.” That comment enraged you as you scoffed crossing your arms “you boys don’t know shit!” You hated saying it but you had fallen away from your brothers as they all became NHL players.

You would never admit it but you felt left behind as their lives “last season you all managed to forget my birthday when I fucking share one with you!” You pointed at Luke making him slide further into his seat on the couch.

The boys weren’t proud of the fact that it took a call from Ellen to make them remember that it was the youngest Hughes kids birthday too “Ethan reminds me how to smile and how to be happy.” Tears streamed down your face as the boys finally realised how they had screwed up “y/n.” Quinn was the first to keep up wanting to apologise “just stay out of my way for the rest of summer please.” You were the one sibling who never got mad, Jack broke your toys more times than you could count as a kid but you never lashed out. Luke cut your hair once and all you did was laugh.

But here you were now in tears as you could barley look at your brothers as you pushed up the stairs to your room. Quinn looked down to his younger brothers “we fucked up.” He mumbled falling back into the couch “like big time.” He frowned thinking about how upset you had gotten.

It was clear that all of the boys hadn’t noticed how much they actually pushed away from their sister. With Luke being at school with you they didn’t need to make the effort, so when he went the gap in your life truly begun to show. You were always going to be supportive of them but it felt like you were losing your boys.

Jack led the trio to the door “where are you going?” Ellen furrowed her brows as she watched the boys slip on their shoes “someone has to go get y/n’s boy back for her.” Luke sighed agreeing with his brothers that they all took things too far with Ethan “Quinn is upstairs apologising to y/n.” He added motioning to the steps.

The Hughes boys had a plan.

[mydaddywiki]

Gary Peters

Physique: Average Build Height: 5' 10" (1.77 m)

Gary Charles Peters Sr. (born December 1, 1958) is an American lawyer, politician, and former military officer serving as the junior United States senator from Michigan since 2015. A member of the Democratic Party, he was the U.S. representative for Michigan's 14th congressional district, which included the eastern half of Detroit, the Grosse Pointes, Hamtramck, Southfield, and Pontiac, from 2009 to 2015.

Before his election to Congress, Peters served in the United States Navy Reserve, spent 22 years as an investment advisor, and worked briefly in academia. He was elected to the Rochester Hills City Council in 1991 and represented the 14th district in the Michigan Senate from 1995 to 2002. He was then appointed commissioner of the Michigan Lottery by Governor Jennifer Granholm, serving from 2003 to 2008, when he resigned to successfully run for Congress.

A bearded, buttoned-down genial Midwesterner known in the Senate mostly for steering as far clear from the spotlight as he possibly can. One ally calls him a “worker bee,” while a Republican describes him as “about as exciting as a bowl of cold oatmeal.” He didn't do anything for me when he was clean shaven, but when he grew his beard, he became smoking hot and I fell in love immediately.

Lets see, married to Colleen Ochoa and they have three children. He's an avid motorcyclist and has made a tradition of annual motorcycle tours of Michigan. He stands for… political things and he has a very strong stance on… stuff. You know what, I don't really care. I think he's beautiful and has a great, sexy beard. Peters strikes me as the kind of guy who would be into leather. A real 'spank my ass and call me bitch' kind of guy wearing leather and thick black boots. What? He rides a Harley, so of course he has leather and thick black boots.

[toasttt11]

introducing hayden

Hayden Lee Blake was born June 4, 2001 in San Diego, California to her parents Harrison and Maddison Blake.

Harrison and Maddison met each other when they were very young at a hickey training camp hitting it off immediately, they are childhood sweethearts.

Harrison was drafted second overall in the 1986 draft to the Edmonton Oilers, he played with the oilers for eighteen seasons and won three stanley cups with them, he made many records and had incredible accomplishments in the NHL becoming of the one most well named in Hockey.

Maddison was an incredible hockey player, playing four years of hockey in collage and getting multiple gold medals for her national team, she stopped playing on a team after the birth of her daughter.

Hayden inherited both of her parents incredible hockey skills and passion and knew she wanted to play since she could skate on the ice.

After Harrison retired in 2005, the blake’s moved to Toronto and their house was next store to the Hughes’s.

The Blake’s and Hughes’s both immediately got along so well, Harrison and Jim became the best of buddies, Maddison and Ellen both had so many similarities they became best friends, Hayden and Jack are only a few days apart so they just easily clicked and became each other’s best friend, Quinn becalmed Hayden’s biggest protector and her older brother figure, Luke was young when he met the Blake’s but right away he immediately adored Hayden and would follow her every where.

Quinn immediately saw Hayden as his sister and became a very protective older brother to her, he has always been the person she goes to when she needs a hug and just some comfort.

Jack and Hayden are platonic soulmates, the two are so close and know everything about each other. More often than not they were mistaken for twins.

Luke has been Hayden’s little shadow since they met, Luke had always loved just being around Hayden and Hayden has always treated him as her child and has a very large soft spot for him.

The Blake’s and Hughes’s moved to Michigan in 2019 when Jack and Hayden both joined the program, that’s where Jack and Hayden met the rest of their best friends.

Trevor, his sunshine personality mends so well with Hayden, he is always making her laugh and smile and adores his best friend.

Cole, he became her unpaid therapist and her best friend who always knows what to say.

Alex, the one who brought out Hayden’s chaotic side and the two were usually up to no good when they are together and love to prank others.

Matt, her favorite reading buddy, the two sharing a love for reading and always sharing books, he’s who she goes to when she needs to calm down.

Hayden’s parents tragically passed away in 2018 and she was not yet 18 and had no other blood family alive, the Hughes took her in as that is what her parents had wished for if something had happened.

Hayden’s draft year was extremely tough for her, the pressure of the upcoming draft but also her being heartbroken from her parents death it was a hard year for her, when she in the draft lottery that the Oilers had the first pick she hoped that is where she would get picked just as her dad did.

Hayden found another piece of her family in the Oilers specifically Connor, Leon, Zach, Ryan and their families.

Hayden’s story is only just beginning.

[mur-art]

Mur's WTTT Art Master Post (Part 1)

A compilation of all my Welcome to the Table/Ben Brainard-verse art (so far), sorted by topic and character. I think I covered everything! I tried to organize them the best I could but some categories were hard to define. If I missed anything, plese lmk! WARNING: LONG POST AHEAD!

(GEN) COMICS/MULTI-CHARACTER SCENES:

---> Weekend at Congress (Florida, Loui, Gov)

---> Baby's First Hurricane! (Florida, California, Mother Nature)

---> Pile O' Corners (Four Corners)

---> The Gambler, The Family Man, and The Stoner (Nevada, Utah, Colorado)

---> A Family Affair (IDC, Penn, Gov)

---> Gator Onesie (Florida, Gov)

—> Surfin’ USA (California, Hawai’i, Alaska)

—-> To the Town of Agua Fria Rode a Stranger One Fine Day (Texas, Arizona)

FLORIDA AND CALIFORNIA ANTICS:

Continued under the cut...

---> Karaoke Night at the Statehouse

---> Halloween Horror Night

---> What is This "Moun-tan" You Speak of?

---> "Whatcha readin', Safe Space?"

—> Cali’s Gonna Yeet Him off a cliff

—> The One Where They Work at In-N-Out

INDIVIDUAL WTTT CHARACTERS:

Alaska

---> Good View From Up Here (Alaska + Hawai'i)

---> I Was Born Under a Wan'drin Star... (tw: blood)

Arkansas

---> Pirate Kansas!

California

(This diva has his own category; see below)

Colorado

---> Snowy Selfie

Florida

—> Florida!!! (Mur’s Version) (TW: Blood)

—> Emotional Support Alligator

---> Astrophysics for People in a Hurry

---> The Price of Freedom

---> Gator Onesie

Gov

---> You Should See The Other Guy (tw: blood)

---> "I Was So Worried" (Gov + IDC)

---> Gator Onesie

Hawai'i

---> Good View From Up Here (Alaska + Hawai'i)

---> Gossip Girls (California + Hawai'i)

IDC

---> "I Was So Worried" (Gov + IDC)

Louisiana

---> <3 Heart Eyes <3

Massachusetts

---> Spiked Dunks!

---> I Started a War!

---> Dunks Onesie! (feat. New York)

Michigan

---> "I Brought Salad!"

Montana

---> Treasure State // Big Sky Country

National Guard

---> POV You're Late to Your Date w/Natty Guard

Nevada

—> Playing With Fire (Nevada and Utah)

—> Vegas Vic (collab with @freshwolfhell)

—> Circus, Circus (collab with @freshwolfhell)

—> “Wait, YOU don’t have a lottery?” (Utah and Nevada)

---> Neon Showgirl

---> Caution, Do Not Dig (semi-nsfw)

---> Oh, You're Actin' So Holy (Utah and Nevada)

---> MOBvada

---> Being an Absolute Mood

New Jersey

---> Stick 'Em Up! (tw: blood)

---> Bad Boy (tw: smoking)

New York

—-> Emotional Support Pigeons

Oregon

---> Get In Loser, We're Dying of Dysentery

Utah

—> “Wait, YOU don’t have a lottery?” (Utah and Nevada)

---> "I'm Not Like Other States, I'm a COOL State!"

---> Oh, You're Actin' So Holy (Utah and Nevada)

Washington

---> Get In Loser, We're Dying of Dysentery

---> Judgy Washing Machine

Wisconsin

—> Go Pack Go!

SHIPS/DUOS:

Texas/California

---> Dios Mio, Erán Vaqueros!!

—> “Stay Still, Idiot!” (Hurt/“Comfort”)

—> OMG They Were Cowboys!

---> "Let Him Kiss Me..." (nsfw)

---> I Hate Everything About You

---> Not-So-Lone Star (semi-nsfw)

---> Wildflowers

---> Saw Your Face in a Dusty Daguerrotype

---> "It Suits You, You Know" (Cali/Austin)

Florida/Louisiana

---> Summer Afternoon Flirting

—> Karaoke Night at the Statehouse

---> "Mornin', Sunshine" (semi-nsfw)

---> OMG They Were Pirates!

---> Bisou Ur Face

---> Those eyes, damn those eyes

---> "Hey Loui-- <3"

Utah/Nevada

—-> Playing the slots (slot canyons)

Florida/Gov

—> Send Me a Selfie

California/Nevada

—> “Fighting” Over the Remote

---> California is a Big Spoon (nsfw)

---> 99 Problems

California/New York

---> First Meeting (“I’m Not Here For Your Silly Rocks”)

—-> Working Late

---> Straight Gay Espresso Morning

---> "Get Loved, Idiot"

---> Can't Handle the Cold

New York/New Jersey

---> "What the [bleep] are you lookin' at?"

Massachusetts/Virginia

—> The Gentleman and the Sailor

---> Kingdom of Days

Oregon/Washington

---> Get In Loser, We're Dying of Dysentery

---> May 18, 1980 (tw: blood)

Alaska/Hawai'i

---> Good View From Up Here

Massachusetts/New York:

—> I am NOT Wearing That!! (The Dunks Onesie Saga continues!)

A SECTION just for CALIFORNIA since I draw him so much (whoops):

---> Money, Power, Glory (CA Statehood Day Art 2023)

---> Fem!Cali

---> Looking for the Golden Light

---> Two Sides of the Same Coin/King of Diamonds (NorCal + SoCal)

---> Twelve Atmospheric Rivers Later...

---> "I am California, Can't You See?" (CA Statehood Day Art 2022)

---> Gossip Girls (California + Hawai'i)

---> Firebender Cali

NON-CANON CHARACTERS/OCS:

Jefferson

---> Abolish the Police...Birds? (feat. Austin)

San Diego and San Francisco

---> CA's Favorite/s?

[damiannasworld]

Michigan Lottery Amphitheatre, Detroit 01.10.23

📸 lillyconklin ritacatolino

[builtbybrokenbells]

belladonna | ii

Too beautiful to resist, and too deadly to survive; the tragic tale of belladonna in all its glory.

Masterlist | Taglist

Pairing: Danny Wagner x f!reader, f!reader x OC

Word Count: 11k

Warnings: mentions of toxic/abusive parents, mentions of/toxic relationships, gaslighting/manipulative phrases, arguing/fighting, mentions of criminal activity/criminal records, poverty, mentions of physical violence, mentions of blood, mentions of AA/NA, addictions, use of/mentions of drugs, mentions of relapsing, mentions of OD, mentions of drinking, flirting, mentions of hookups/sex, smoking, depression/anxiety, mental health struggles, swearing, sorry if I miss any!!

hi lovelies 🤍 back again with some more belladonna… been going through some things and this story has been a fantastic outlet for me. i hope you’re all liking it so far. as always, enjoy, be kind and don’t mind any grammar mistakes 🫶🏻

April 4th, 2022

Your fingers trembled as you held your phone in your hand, your stomach positively sick with anxiety as you wished you never sent the message at all. You wracked your brain for answers on why you were so stupid as you re-read the message a million times.

Was it too forward? Was he just being nice and didn’t actually want you to text him? Why were so naïve to believe someone like him would actually like someone like you?

You

So you really want to hear about Utah, huh?

‘What a fucking stupid thing to say.’ You cursed yourself, wondering if maybe there was an unsend option on the text. As you fumbled around, looking for an easy way out of the hole you had just dug for yourself, you debated throwing your phone out the window and skipping town, just to never chance the opportunity to run into him again. As you paced your living room, questioning every single life choice you’d ever made, your phone buzzed in your hand.

All of a sudden, the noise seemed to disappear. The never ending buzz of anxious thoughts slowed to a stop, and your hands turned clammy. You were so nervous that your brain had short circuited, and not even the relentless overthinking remained.

Somehow, the silence seemed worse than the sound of your own mind.

Unknown

I do.

Unknown

Always thought it was nothing but mormons and beehives, but now I know that incredibly beautiful girls live there, too.

Unknown

Well, used to, anyway. Maybe you were the only interesting thing about the place.

The triple text would normally send you running, but coming from him, it felt like winning the lottery. You could not contain the smile on your face as you typed back a response, the nervous jitters suddenly turning into excitement.

You

I’ll tell you whatever you wanna know, but you’ll have to tell me about Michigan, too.

You

All I know is that Detroit is a shithole, and you gave us Stevie Wonder.

Unknown

Tough crowd. Guess I’ll have to change your mind about it.

You

You can try, but I can’t make any promises.

Unknown

I’ll have to make it good, then.

You

Seems so, sweetheart. I’ll be waiting ;)

April 21st, 2022

“You think John is ever going to fix this lousy fuckin’ window?” Vincent grumbled, dropping the roll of tape in his hand for the tenth time. You rolled your eyes, bending down to pick it up for him. Before responding, you climbed in the booth beside him, leaning into him and holding the plastic wrap straight. He turned his head down towards you, giving you a smile at the close proximity. He didn’t say a word, but he didn’t need to; you knew exactly what he was thinking.

“He was going to, and then they told him it would be two thousand dollars.” You reminded him, watching as he ripped the tape between his teeth. He reached upwards, taping down the top corner and securing it in place. “So the plastic will have to do.”

“For a sheet of glass? Are they in-fuckin’-sane?” He placed down another sheet of duct tape, and you let your arms fall back to your sides.

“Who knew it would be so expensive for some sand?” You chuckled, flattening out the bottom corner so he could do the same thing with it. He paused for a moment, his face contorting into an expression of confusion. For a second, his head cocked to the side as he tried to relate the two topics.

“Sand?” You looked up at him, confused at his confusion.

“Y-yeah,” you stuttered, giving a small nod. “That’s how glass is made.”

“You’re messing with me,” he said, weary of your words. Your lips upturned into a small smile, but you shook your head.

“No, I swear to it.” You promised, finding his surprise oddly charming. You did not mind that Vincent didn’t always know what you were talking about, and you never minded having to explain it to him. Making him feel bad about not knowing something would not get either of you anywhere, and educating him on it was a fun little pastime. He didn’t graduate high school, and he thought you were a genius; it was a win-win for both of you, as you got to feel smart, and he got to learn something new. After a moment, he began to tape down the next corner.

“Huh,” he muttered to himself, taking in all that you were telling him. “That’s… kind of cool, actually. Guess I never really had to know how glass is made.” You gave a small shrug, sliding out of the booth and on the other side. You stood, holding the sheet taut so it wouldn’t sag. He got in behind you, certainly a little closer than he needed to, but you didn’t say a word. As of late, Vincent had been awfully distant, and you felt guilty in admitting that you missed him. Maybe not the relentless flirting, but definitely the constant company.

In truth, you hadn’t reached out to him much, either. The conversation in the kitchen paired with your ogling of Danny had driven a stake between you two. Well, that, and the fact that you had taken Danny up on his offer to talk about Utah the minute you got home from that fateful afternoon shift. Since then, you’d spent an awful amount of time texting him, and when the time allowed for it, calling him. When you weren’t preoccupied with him, your nose was buried in a journal, and your fingers were clasped around a pen. It seemed as though the minute Danny stepped into your life, your desire to write hit you with a new-found force.

When you weren’t writing or calling Danny, your weekly Narcotics Anonymous meetings filled the empty time slots, and of course, your shifts at the Fox. For once, your life seemed pleasantly balanced with work and play, and the play was finally enjoyable. In the last three weeks, your free time had grown into something you cherished rather than something you coped with; as you always liked to say, spare time was the mentally ill’s biggest enemy. Three weeks ago, when you weren’t working, you sat in your apartment most nights, tapping your foot against the floor or rolling around in bed to pass the time. Freedom was a curse to someone who’s only ever known how to abuse it. Your shifts at the Foxhole were your favorite part of the day, because it ensured you would get to socialize (even if it was rude bickering with Katie), that you would have something to eat, and most of all, you would have a distraction.

Eighteen months of (rocky) sobriety had taught you one thing: after so long living life a certain way, you had no idea what to do with yourself now that you could not give in to the temptation of substance.

Aside from drinking, you had cut out every other illicit substance that you could think of, and even when you drank, you had to be incredibly mindful of how much you consumed, and more specifically, how often you consumed it. Although alcohol was not your biggest vice, it was a habit that you did not need to take to. Plus, it was a certain pathway to even worse decisions, and you were not wealthy enough to afford any bad decisions. Now that you were living your life so straight, it brought up some hard truths, the biggest being that you had no idea who you were when you were not high, or desperately searching for one. For a very long time, until you could find that piece of yourself again, being alone with your own thoughts was equal to torture.

Now, you had found a spark of life in the company of a certain curly headed boy who made your heart do backflips when he said your name.

He did not solve all of your issues, and you never expected him to. He did, however, make them a whole lot easier to digest. His joyful voice and his sweet words were addicting, more so than any substance you had ever tried, and his happiness was infectious. You had spent so long believing that all you knew how to feel was misery, but since meeting him, you wondered if maybe misery was not your only friend, but rather the very thing you chose to surround yourself with. One thing you had learned about yourself was that you were incredibly impressionable, and that was evident in many of your life choices. As of recent, you began to wonder if your misery came from yourself, or if it bled into you from the people you allowed yourself to be around.

It was a tough topic, and an answer was not certain; perhaps you were just excited about having someone around that made you feel things that only substance knew how to do, and maybe that was why you were so happy. Yes, before Danny, life was bleak, and the people constantly surrounding you were known to be negative and pessimistic (and that was putting it lightly), but you still chose to believe that Vincent and Dylan were not the source of your misery, for you had felt it long before they showed up in your life. No matter which it was, you still cared deeply about them and wanted to spend time with them, but you did have to admit that the lack of constant anger and emotion was very nice. Plus, it was always a bonus when you weren’t tripping over yourself to clean them up after a bar fight, or break down their front door to drag them to NA with you.

“Where’ve you been, anyway?” Vincent asked, stretching his arms upwards to run a long line of tape across the edge of the plastic film covering the window. As if on instinct, your eyes drifted downwards to the flash of a toned stomach peeking out from under his black shirt. You swallowed hard, forcing your eyes away from him and reminding yourself that you absolutely, under no circumstance, could give in to that temptation.

“What do you mean?” You avoided the topic as if it were the plague. He made sure that the covering of the window was airtight, giving a huff of satisfaction as he looked it over. A few weeks ago, a couple of kids thought it would be funny to throw rocks at windows, but did not seem to understand the implications of their actions. Now, you were all suffering from the frigid weather seeping in through the shattered glass.

“Haven’t seen much of you, lately.” You climbed down from the booth, steadying yourself on your feet before turning to face him again. You gave a shrug, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I’ve been writing a lot.” You admitted, a small smile tugging at your lips. He looked back over his shoulder, his brown curls sweeping down over his forehead and falling into his line of sight. His eyes were happy, as if the statement had given him his daily dose of hope. The world seemed right when you were writing, but you feared if he knew the truth behind your motivation, it would break his heart beyond recognition.

“It’s Thursday night.” He stated, straightening up for a moment. “Did you bring anything?”

“It is,” you nodded slowly, reaching into your apron. You pulled out one of the things inside, and his smile grew at the sight of a ripped out journal page. “How could I forget?”

“Shall we begin?” He asked, motioning to the empty dining room. The night was dark outside, and you did not expect any customers for the foreseeable future. Katie was ‘sick’ again, to no one’s surprise, and Dylan was only half-occupied with emptying the grease traps under the grill. You could see him lazily working through the kitchen window, too uninvolved in the moment to realize you were both staring at him.

Every Thursday night was always a safe bet for your own homemade version of slam poetry. Katie was almost always ‘sick’, and the boys were always looking for an excuse to get out of working (not like they were ever over-exerting themselves, anyway). Over a year ago, they had found out the real reason you’d moved to the city, and since then, they had done everything in their power to encourage you to keep going. They were your biggest fans, and although your work was extremely personal to you, you found a happy medium to share it with them comfortably. When the evening rush died down, you took post on a booth, dramatically recounting whatever torturous things that had been ravishing your brain. By doing this, it ensured you would always write enough to form a single poem, and it fulfilled their need to be included in the process.

Some weeks, it was funny blurbs about the pigeons fighting over an empty dime bag in the parking lot of the Pony, or the mice on the subway dragging dropped food three times their size. Other times, it was heavier, and much more meaningful; stories about your own recovery, or your family’s devastatingly bad relationships with each other. Oftentimes, you took symbolism from sitting in the nearly empty hall during NA meetings, sipping at bitter, cold coffee while listening to people tell stories of how badly they fucked their own life up. Other times, you drew inspiration from your audience’s very own struggle, to which they never seemed to catch on to.

You tried to keep the heavier topics few and far between, because they were just that. When the words were in the air, it laid heavy over the three of you. Misery was a concrete blanket that all of you had grown comfortable underneath, but it did not mean you liked to exist within it constantly. But, every now and again, you realized that sharing something with substance was exactly what your heart craved, and you ripped out a page all about your own suffering to share with the world for a moment.

Tonight was that night, and after weeks of meaningless conversation about the birds and the leaves on trees, you knew you had to share something with meaning. Before work that night, you grabbed a poem to share, but it was not without great hesitation. You had no problem talking about your own journey with sobriety, or your Narcotics Anonymous escapades. You did not even care about discussing your gruesome experiences in the detox room in the county hospitals, nor the mornings waking up with shaking limbs and sweaty skin. That was something the other two knew, and what they had seen of you already. You were not sharing anything that they did not know about, and if anything, you were sharing something that could directly relate to them, and something that carved the very foundation of your friendships.

The poem you had chosen tonight was none of those things, and instead about the thing in the world you hated talking about most; your mother.

Of course, they knew bits and pieces of your own tragedies, and they understood the grand aspect of your miserable childhood, but she was a monster in your closet that was bigger than all of the others, and she was one you were so afraid of that it nearly paralyzed you.

So why had you chosen such a touchy topic?

That was the begging question, after all, but that was an answer you did not have. Sometimes, the pain was so large that it seemed to engulf every other feeling or emotion in your body, and it felt like if you did not get it off your chest, you would explode and become nothing, just like she always expected of you. Instead of letting it consume you, you decided to speak it aloud, and hopefully by doing so, ease some of the discomfort that was steadily accumulating in your chest.

Well, that, and it was nearly her birthday, and birthdays are the absolute fucking worst.

“Dylan!” Vincent shouted, barrelling a balled up rag through the kitchen window. It knocked Dylan in the top of the head, not causing any harm, but definitely catching him off guard. He looked up, shocked at the sudden outburst, pausing the music playing from his smashed up phone.

“The fuck was that for?”

“It’s Thursday night,” he said in a tone that seemed like he was begging for a fight. “Get the fuck out here and listen to the lady read her poem.” Dylan’s eyes lit up as if he’d almost forgotten, too. He threw a kitchen towel over his shoulder, covering one strap of his torn, dirty white tank top. He took a step towards the swinging door, and moved to join you in the dining room. He grabbed a chair from a table, moving it in front of the booth you were standing at, then swinging it around and sitting down. Vincent gave a nod of approval, a small smile forming on his lips as he turned his head towards you.

Vincent and Dylan were friends, but under the surface, you knew it ran much deeper than that. They were brothers, and although they were not born from the same family, they understood each other better than their own kin. They fought, and arguing was almost their only form of communication, but it was meaningful to them. Their harsh words were not meant to harm, but rather because that was the only way they knew how to express themselves. Their addictions and attitudes made them more alike than even they could even comprehend, and you knew that despite the troubles that landed them in their current position, they would always have each other to lean on.

“What do you have for us tonight, doll?” Dylan asked, leaning his chest into the back of the chair, showing you his attention was only on you. You sat down on the edge of the booth table, the poorly secured plastic wrap on the window giving you a luminescent background. The moonlight scattered across the rippled material, sending waves of white light through the dining room. You left the main lights off almost always, because the fluorescent bulbs were nothing but a further irritant to your already bothered mind. The outside streetlights and moon worked on one side of the dining room, and the kitchen lights filled in the other side. John didn’t care, because your habit seemed to cut loads of money off of his electricity bills.

“I have,” you started, unfolding the paper as you cleared your throat for dramatic effect. “A tragic tale about seeing the parts you hate most about your mother in your reflection when you look in a mirror.”

“Oh?” Vincent asked, raising an eyebrow. That was definitely not what he had expected to come out of your mouth, but he wasn’t necessarily unhappy about it. He knew how much it bothered you, and how little you cared for talking about it.

“Guess all of that misery always comes back to the same thing.” You muttered.

“Don’t make me cry, Angel, cause that’ll be a poor sight for all of us to see.” Dylan warned, a joking smile on his lips. That was one reason you loved to share your sadness with them; it was always lighthearted, because they knew sympathy was not what you needed. If you wanted a shoulder to cry on, you would go to a therapist and allow them to tell you how it wasn’t your fault, and you were so strong for ensuring what you did. You broke up the monotony of depression with laughter and insults towards the subject of the conversation, and sometimes even each other. It helped you swallow down the pain that always seemed to be stuck in your throat, and it was the only thing that helped you move on.

“Don’t be a fucking pussy.” Vincent scoffed, rolling his eyes. Dylan shot him a look of warning, reaching one arm out and giving him a forceful shove. Vincent stumbled slightly, as he’d always been the smaller of the two, and his eyes darkened with anger in a split second. Instead of jumping forward and fighting back, he took a moment to realize the situation. He deemed his desire to hear your writing more important than defending himself, and instead took a deep breath, steadying himself and planting his feet firmly on the ground. He looked at you, forcing a pleasant expression as he tried to reassure you of his intent to listen.

You could never tell him, but in those few seconds, you were proud of him. You wished he could demonstrate that ability more often, but critical thinking was never Vincent’s forte.

“Are the judges ready?” You asked, changing the topic before he had too much time to dwell. Or, perhaps you were trying to avoid the emotion blossoming in your chest for Vincent. Either way, you knew it was best to move on and move forward, because neither outcome to the situation was ideal. When faced between falling further for Vincent, or him doing something that would ultimately force you out of love, it was a lose-lose.

“Whenever you are, sweetheart.” Vincent said, leaning against the counter as he waited for you to begin. You took a deep breath, crossing your ankles as you tried to calm your nerves. You held the paper in your shaking hands as you began to read the first line.

“Born from the very heart that was destined to be my demise,

I stand in front of the mirror and wonder if I have my mothers eyes.” You started, looking up over the top of the crumpled shirt to gauge the reaction. Dylan’s face was stony, as if he was trying to process the words without any emotion getting in the way. Vincent looked as if he wanted to speak, but shook his head at himself and looked towards the ground. He wanted to argue, to denounce the idea and assure you that you were nothing like her, but he knew it was not his place, even if he wished it was.

“Walking the earth that I now know not to touch

Tell me, how do I navigate this wasteland without a mothers crutch?”

“It is a fuckin’ wasteland, isn’t it?” Dylan interjected, smiling to ease the tension. You gave a nod of agreement, chuckling slightly before you continued on.

“For she has told me that all I know is ruin,

and that I have such catastrophic feelings

for such a tiny human.” You took in a shaky breath, the line hitting you harder than you thought it would after saying it aloud. You looked up again, catching Vincent’s eyes for a moment. He had a small look of confusion on his face, but seemed as though he didn’t want to speak. After a while, he eventually aired out his thoughts.

“You’re not tiny, though.” He said, cocking his head to the side. “I mean, not like that, but you’re… You’re a regular sized adult.” You let out a small giggle, finding the interjection a good source of comedic relief.

“It’s a metaphor, dumbass. Her mom makes her feel tiny, she doesn’t mean she’s actually tiny.” Dylan explained, sparking another nerve in Vincent. “Right?” He looked back to you for clarification.

“That’s a good point, Dyl.” You complimented him, pondering the idea. “I meant it more like she was telling me that when I was a little kid, but I like that too.” You smiled.

“Shove it, you fuckin’ know it all.” Vincent sneered, but it was playful. You laughed at the banter. One thing you absolutely adored about the Thursday night routine was that it not only allowed you to share your work with people who cared, but also seemed to teach them a little more about the craft you loved so deeply. Neither of them finished high school, and it was something that bothered them deeply, even if they didn’t say it aloud. You could see the frustration, especially in Vincent, when he couldn’t understand the figurative language and literary devices you were using. With time, you saw the frustration turn into curiosity, and it made your heart soar with joy. “Anyway, continue.” He said, smiling. You gave a nod, happy to move on as a collective.

“With backhanded attitude, she convinces me that the monster in the closet

Is none other than my own avid imagination, and that I am my own worst enemy

When I point my finger at her to correct the blame, she laughs as if I have it misconstrued.” You spoke slowly, allowing them to grasp on to every word. When they had no further input aside from nods and hums of agreement, you began again.

“But that I am not, and I know I have never been

The monster does not live inside my head,

because—“ you were cut off by the door opening, sending the shrill chime echoing against the walls. Your head whipped around to face the entrance, your heart pounding against your chest. You were so involved in the reading that you almost seemed to forget where you were. You scrambled to stand, ready to shove the paper back in your pocket and pretend the scene had never happened, but then you caught sight of the familiar head of brown, curly hair. When the silhouette of his big nose came into view, your cheeks began burning red for a whole new reason. Danny was standing in the doorway, seemingly curious as to what was going on.

“S-sorry, Danny.” You stuttered, giving a chuckle. “Come in, sit down.” You waved him inside, making sure he knew he was welcome. You were too enthralled in the newest addition of the audience to notice Vincent’s eyes burning holes in your head. He was wondering why you seemed so excited, and how the hell you knew his name. He could have picked Danny out from a crowd of thousands, because after seeing your awe-struck expression at the sight of his face only a few weeks prior, Vincent had been positively sick with worry. He was flooded with jealousy, but more than that, he was terrified he would lose you, even if he did not technically have you.

“No, actually.” Danny shook his head, smirking at your crimson cheeks and desire to move on. He looked at the paper in your hand, quickly piecing the scene together. He remembered you saying you were a writer, and he was itching to hear some of your work. “I think you should keep going.”

“W-what?” You asked, clearly flustered and definitely not expecting to hear that.

“Keep reading,” he said, giving you a smile. “Unless you aren’t looking for a bigger audience. If that’s the case, I can wait outside.” He offered, but you knew he was all but serious. He wanted to hear whatever you had down on that paper, and he wouldn’t walk away without a fight.

“No, it’s okay.” You assured him.

“Okay, proceed.” He chuckled, leaning against the wall as he waited for you to continue. You nodded, forcing your eyes away from him and back to the paper. The nervous ticks you had already conquered made their way back with a new found force, and now there was a quiver in your voice when you spoke, too. You could barely hold the paper still, and you were forcing the words out, but you continued on despite the fact.

“But that I am not, and I know I have never been

The monster does not live inside my head,

because when I look for too long

I begin to notice her skin turn red

In the daylight she has a smile as warm as the sun,

But at night, behind closed doors,

her eyes blacken

and I have nowhere to run.”

“Oh, that’s good.” Dylan nodded, giving a hum of approval. He was so invested in the storytelling that he had leaned forward over the back of the chair without even noticing it. His elbow was propped on the edge of the chair, his palm holding his head up as he clung to every word.

“You think?” You smiled, intrigued at his fascination. “I was actually going to change that part. I didn’t like it very much.”

“No, keep it.” Vincent cut in, not willing to debate the idea. You couldn’t read the expression on his face; it was unfamiliar, and you weren’t sure if it was because of Danny leaning against the wall, joining in on a normally intimate exchange, or if it was because of the words you were reading aloud. “He’s right, it’s really good.” He cleared his throat, ridding the room of the awkward silence. You looked towards Danny, who also gave a nod. His eyes told you that you’d taken him by surprise, and that when you told him you were a writer, he did not expect such words to come from your mind.

Then again, Danny only seemed to know you as a little ball of sunshine, and unfortunately, that was far from the truth. You only hoped that after he knew of the bad, he would still be keen on being friends. Or, hopefully, maybe even more.

“Alright, last verse.” You announced, looking back down at your hands. “Ready?”

“Always.” Vincent answered for everyone, his eyes focused only on you. As much as he wanted to sneer in Danny’s direction, he knew his attention would be most useful when it was directed towards you. Plus, he wasn’t sure if there was anything to be defensive about, but he still felt the need to be, anyway. When it came to you, he was always on the defensive.

“My mother the Angel, who has given her life for mine

I never care to speak out, because she’s left me without a spine

Who often talks praise about her generosity

But refuses to acknowledge that she is a monstrosity.” You paused, briefly looking up to see the reaction. When nobody spoke, you continued. “I am her daughter, and that I will always be; i cannot call her on her evil, because it also exists within me

I am her rage, her fear and her fire

All that I am is that in which I cannot rewire

All that I hate has become my own fate

When I look in the mirror,

I cannot swallow my own distaste.

I have become what I despise the most

My life is her own wicked puppet show

And I have become the morbid host.”

The silence that hung over the room was heavy, but not uncomfortable. The whole world seemed still as the four of you processed the intensity of the emotion, and it even seemed for a second that the moon had stopped casting light inside. Eventually, you folded the paper up and stuck it in your apron, slowly turning your head upwards and unfortunately, looking at Vincent first. You always looked for him first. As much as you did not want to be with him, you could not help but feel drawn to him. You wanted it to stop, but you couldn’t seem to break the habit.

Unfortunately for you, habit-breaking had never been your area of expertise.

His head was pointed towards the floor, and when he noticed your staring and looked to meet your gaze, you knew why. Even from the distance, and in the dim light, you could see the shine of tears brimming his eyes. You swallowed hard, trying to process the emotion from him. Vincent was a man who refused to give in to vulnerabilities, yet he stood before you in a room with two other men, unashamed of the sadness plaguing him. His heart ached for the little girl who was hurt so badly, and his chest hurt at the sight of the woman who was still standing despite the suffering. Of course, he had no idea how to voice such profound feelings, so he just cleared his throat and gave a curt nod.

You wished for a moment that he could have spoken all that his heart was telling him, but as always, he did not. Maybe if he did, things would be different, but it reminded you that Vincent would always be exactly what he was; a man who could not comprehend change, and a creature of habit that could not fathom anything other than what he was used to. It was not his abundance of action that drove the two of you apart, but rather his lack of. He showed no interest in bettering himself, and his lack of trying made it harder and harder for you to want to fight for him. You knew that he could be what you needed, but he did not want to be. You could not fix him, and he did not know how to fix himself, nor did he want to learn how. Because of this, he was inadvertently forcing you to move on.

Even so, your heart ached, and your desire to love him grew stronger as you watched him blink his tears away. He was worse than the drugs you were trying to stay away from; he was more addicting, more dangerous, and definitely more disastrous. Loving him would do all the same things as relapsing, and it would kill you ten times faster. You hated that when you turned your head to look at Danny, you felt none of those feelings or fears. Instead, a flutter of excitement ran through you and instead of the usual dread, hope seemed to take its place. It hurt you to know that despite barely knowing Danny at all, you knew he would be the best person to you. Wanting to explore the possibilities made you feel dirty, but you were tired of constantly denying yourself the simple pleasures in life.

You had wasted eighteen months waiting for Vincent to change, and it would be unfair to yourself to pass up a good opportunity in hopes that he would become what you wanted. Not only would it be unfair to you, but to Danny too, who seemed undeniably interested in you. You could not wait for something that may never happen, and you certainly did not want to miss out on the opportunity of knowing Danny, because he appeared to be everything you were searching for when you moved to the city. Even if it was with a heavy heart, moving on was the best thing for everyone.

“So, what do you think?” You breathed, looking between the three.

“I don’t know how you’re not famous yet,” Dylan said, shifting in his chair as he spoke. “I think the whole world should hear that, doll.” Your lips pulled into a small smile and your cheeks heated with a blush.

“Thank you.”

“Seriously, sweetheart. He’s not joking.” Vincent agreed, nodding slowly. “It’s… real, and it’s good. You were meant to write. There’s more emotion in that than I’ve probably ever felt.”

“Thanks, Vin.” You gave him a soft smile, lingering over his face for a moment longer than you should have. He was looking at you too, hoping you would say something more, to invite him to keep flattering you, but you didn’t.

“I think you might have played your talent down a little too much.” Danny said, standing up straight from his spot against the wall. You looked over to him, nervous about what was running through his head. “For someone who only writes every now and then, that was pretty damn good.” Your cheeks were crimson, incriminating of all you felt for him. It was the first time you had seen him face to face since your first encounter, and he was just as beautiful as you remembered, even in the dull night light.

“Maybe I lied,” you shrugged, giving a small chuckle. “I write a lot, actually.”

“When you write like that, it would be a shame not to do it all of the time.” He explained, now stepping closer to you. The smell of his cologne hit you with a strength that made your head spin; it was delicious, not too heavy or woody, almost fresh and light smelling. It fit his bright personality, and the minute it reached your nose you wanted more.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” You brushed him off, the smile still lingering on your lips. “What are you here for, anyway? Like I said last time, I know it’s not the food.”

“Is it a crime to come here? You’re not selling the place very well.” He joked, now within an arm's reach. Your conversation was so enthralling that you seemed to forget the presence of the other two boys, one more so than the other watching the interaction carefully.

“Yeah, cause there’s a whole lot to sell.” You laughed, motioning around the room. “The broken window and the rotten foundation gives it charm, eh?”

“I think you could sell anything, sunshine.” He smirked. “Mind if I have a seat?” He asked, nodding his head towards the booth that you were sitting atop.

“Of all the places to sit, you want to sit here?” You questioned, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Well duh,” he chuckled, “cause it’s closest to you.”

At that, you were certain Vincent turned as red as the sun. His blood was boiling and his fists were clenched to his sides as he bargained with himself to stay calm. He wanted you to look over at him, to see the agony he was in while watching you flirt with another man, but you did not once stray away from Danny’s heavy stare and flirtatious smile.

“If that’s the case,” you teased, giving him a small nod. “I’m sure it would be alright.”

“Thank you,” he chuckled, sliding in the booth. He kept his eyes on you, hoping you would remain sitting at the edge of the table. He wasn’t shy to admit that he liked the sight of you, and the position was allowing him to see much more of you than he expected to see that night. You did just that, turning your head over your shoulder to look at him again.

“You gonna introduce us to your friend?” Dylan asked, clearly oblivious to Vincent’s volatile anger and the reasoning behind it. He was intrigued at the chemistry between you and Danny, and excited to finally see a smile on your face that was not laced with a hint of sadness. Your head snapped towards him, coming to reality and realizing that you were not alone with Danny, even if you wished to be.

“Right, sorry.” You chuckled, giving your head a shake, embarrassed at your own lack of manners. “This is Danny, I met him the other day when I worked the afternoon shift.”

“After you were too scared to introduce yourself the night before?” Dylan teased, hoping to get a reaction out of you. Your jaw dropped slightly, shocked at his bold statement. Suddenly, you felt a wave of embarrassment wash over you as you fought the urge to reach out and strangle him.

“Shut up,” you snipped, your face burning with heat as you prayed that the conversation would not continue in the same direction.

“Oh?” Danny asked, looking up at your blushing face with curiosity.

“She didn’t tell you?” Dylan chuckled, clearly still trying his best to get under your skin. “She was head over heels when you walked in that night, but she was too scared to say hi.”

“Interesting,” Danny chuckled, finding your embarrassment endearing. He thought the whole idea was quite cute. “She didn’t say a word about that.”

“Anyway,” you cleared your throat dramatically, begging to change topics. “Danny, this is Dylan.”

“Nice to meet you, man.” Dylan laughed, finding your tone of voice funny. He loved bothering you, and if you had to admit, he was damn good at it, too.

“You too.” Danny grinned. You were devastated at the idea that he had the ability to get along with anyone. Everything you seemed to learn about him made the feelings grow stronger in your chest, and you knew it was much too early to be so infatuated with him.

“And that’s Vincent.” You pointed at the boy standing beside Dylan, finally noticing the veins in his forehead and the tense muscles in his jaw. You tried to catch his eye, but his stare seemed set on Danny, now.

“You decided to come back here after trying the shit food?” Vincent asked, trying to pass his question off as a joke, but you could tell his tone was off. He wanted to know everything and anything about the relationship the two of you seemed to form, starting at the very beginning.

“I didn’t think it was that bad,” Danny shrugged, chuckling quietly. He seemed to sense the tension, but was doing his best to keep it minimal.

“He thinks I’m a good cook,” Dylan said, smirking as he nudged Vincent in the side. He didn’t respond, instead continuing to stare at the newest member of the group.

“And you guys met on your day shift?” He asked, turning his head towards you, now. You swallowed hard, trying to hide your nervousness. You gave a nod, praying that he wouldn’t overreact to the innocent nature of the situation.

“Yeah, he came back and we ran into each other. Guess it was just a little coincidence that I got called in.” Vincent gave a slow nod as you shrugged off the idea, taking in all of the information.

“Yeah, isn’t that just fan-fuckin’-tastic.” Vincent forced out a smile, scoffing slightly at his own words. He watched you for a moment longer, waiting to see if you would say anything that would calm his mind, but he grew tired of waiting. You had nothing to say, and it hurt him further the longer he waited. Without any further comments, he turned on his heel and walked towards the kitchen. After a moment of silence, the back door slammed behind him, and you closed your eyes to rid yourself of the regret that came along with it.

Just because you could not be with Vincent did not mean that you felt good about hurting him.

“Wonder what his problem is,” Dylan muttered, looking back over his shoulder in the direction Vincent had just stormed off to.

“No idea,” you lied, looking down towards the ground.

“He’ll get over himself, he always does.” Dylan sighed, standing up and stretching out his arms. “You gettin’ something to eat, or just here to see her?” Dylan asked Danny, raising an eyebrow.

“Just here to see her.” He admitted.

“Alright, man.” Dylan nodded. “Gonna go finish cleaning those traps. I might be finished by the time the sun comes up.” You chucked, nodding in agreement.

“You deserve a raise for that alone.” You said, watching as he placed the chair back in its original spot.

“Gotta pass the time somehow.” He shrugged, pulling the towel from his shoulder and walking back towards the kitchen. “Just let me know if you need anything.”

“You know I will!” You called back, drumming your fingers against your leg. Now that the other two had gone, the idea of being alone with Danny was making you anxious. Never had the two of you been face to face in such seclusion. After a moment of silence, Danny spoke first.

“I take it you do know why Vincent’s upset?” He asked, leaning back in the booth. You kept your head down, looking at your legs as you tried to formulate a response. He was suspicious, and rightfully so. The entire exchange was quite interesting, and definitely telling of the relationship between you two.

“I do, but it’s not what you’re thinking.” You assured him, sliding off the table and into the seat across from him. “It’s a long story.”

“Is everything a long story with you?” He joked, trying to lighten the mood. A sad smile crossed your lips, because he was right. Everything in your life was a long story, and none of them ever pleasant. He noticed the sadness encasing your features, worried he might have overstepped. “I didn’t realize you were seeing someone. I'm sorry if I took it too far.” You reached across the table, landing a gentle hand on his wrist as you shook your head.

“I told you, it’s not what you’re thinking.” You promised, heaving a sigh. “And yeah, everything certainly does seem to be a long story.” You smiled, pushing away the emotion and covering it up. “When I first moved here, we were… something, but definitely not dating. It was pretty obvious from the start that the two of us didn’t have the same outlook on life.” You explained it in the gentlest terms possible.

“So not dating, just complicated?” He asked, trying to get a better grasp on the situation.

“Complicated for sure, but I think mostly on his part.” You said, looking up to meet his eyes. “I’m not that type of person, and I wouldn’t have led you on if I was caught up with someone else.” It was only partially true; yours and Vincent’s story would never fully end, but something with Danny might help it grow closer to closure.

“I never thought you were, but you never know, right?” He chuckled, enjoying that you were looking at him now. He was stunning, and it was making it hard for you to think of anything other than his smiling face. Your hand was still lingering on his arm, and he didn’t seem keen on changing the fact.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “You never know.” He was right, even if it did make you feel dirty to be perceived in such a light. Two timing was not something that you would do, even if most other things were, but you could understand why the thought ran through his head.

“So single, and interested?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Single, and definitely interested.” You nodded, your cheeks heating slightly as he smiled down at you. You could not comprehend how someone could be so beautiful, nor how someone like him could have so much interest in you. “After all, you did come here just to see me, and I haven’t told you to leave yet.” You smirked, calling him on his earlier comment.

“At least I wasn’t the one too shy to say hello.” He argued back, his tone light and his eyes playful.

“Didn’t matter much anyway, cause we’re here now.” You giggled, dismissing the idea. “I like you, Michigan.” He let out a low laugh at the sound of the nickname.

“I like you too, Utah.” He reiterated the sentiment, looking out the plastic covered window for a moment. “I’m happy you texted me. Was worried you thought I was a loser.”

“I’m happy I did too. I was scared you thought I was stupid.”

“I gave you the number for a reason, sunshine.” He recalled, looking back at your face. He took a few moments to study the details, finding himself enthralled in all of the things he did not have the opportunity to notice before. The way your dark eyelashes swooped down over your under eyes when you blinked, standing prominently against your skin. The way your nose angled down, sharp yet rounded perfectly at the tip. He noticed a dust of blush across the tip, matching the makeup you’d swiped onto your cheeks. He noticed your lips, soft and inviting despite the dryness from the cold air outside. Further than that, he saw scars littered over your skin, what looked to be from acne but he couldn’t be certain. You were young, vibrant looking, yet there was a certain wisdom held deep in the features of your face.

He thought you were stunning, and every time he looked too closely, you seemed to take his breath away.

He wanted to be closer, to study even more than he could see from the short distance between you. He wanted to connect the constellations of freckles over the bridge of your nose and he wanted to memorize the specs of color offsetting the main hue of your irises. He needed more, but he knew he could not have that yet. Meeting you on his first day in New York told him that the trip was going to be everything he hoped for and more; a breath of fresh air, and a new perspective on life. When he noticed your sweet smile and witty humor, he realized that the city was exactly what he needed to start fresh, and you were the very thing that would help him do so. The texts and limited phone calls shared between the two of you over the last week and a half was not enough for him, even if it did make him feel selfish.

He wanted to know why a girl from Utah would rather be far away from home, struggling to pay rent with a disappointing paycheck from a shitty diner. He wanted to know why you felt the need to travel across the country to write stories and poems, and why you seemed so adamant about never going back. The desire was more than a feeble want, but rather a desperate need. He’d never stumbled across another person who intrigued him so easily, and he never wanted to let it slip through his fingers. You were a puzzle waiting to be solved, and he would be damned if he was not the one to piece it together.

His curiosity was not one sided, and you too felt the same way about him. You had no idea how a boy from Michigan landed himself on the outskirts of New York City, renting an Airbnb with his best friend for an undisclosed amount of time. You wanted to know his dreams, his hopes, and his fears, because within that, you could find more inspiration to continue writing. He was a breath of fresh air, and different from anyone you’d met since moving to the city. He was kind, polite and respectful. He flirted, but did not overstep. More than anything, he was funny, and he was stunning. Everything about him made you want to be loved by him. You didn’t know him, and he did not know you, but the two of you were dedicated to changing that.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” He asked, breaking the silence you’d fallen into. The question surprised you, but you were happy to answer it.

“Well, I get out of here at six, and I usually sleep until twelve.” You laughed, knowing that the two of you were living on opposite schedules. “I have to be back here tomorrow at six, but other than that, nothing really.”

“You work twelves here?” He asked, curious about the prospect.

“I do,” you nodded. “It’s not as bad as it sounds. I mean, this is what we do all night.” You laughed, motioning around the empty room. “We get the last part of the dinner rush, and usually one around eight or nine, then we just do whatever we want. Every now and again we get a couple rounds of customers, but it’s definitely not too stressful.”

“Probably helps that you work with friends.” He noted, referring to the two boys you’d introduced him to.

“It does.” You nodded. “I mean, I guess this place gave me the friends to work with. When I moved here, I didn’t know anyone.”

“You met them here?”

“Yeah, when I got hired they’d already been here for a while. It was nice to be around people who I could get along with. Makes the whole job a lot less miserable.” You explained, giving him a soft smile. “I don’t hate the job, even if most people would. It pays the bills, and it gets me out of the house. I only work four days a week, so I have plenty of time for other things.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad, then.” He agreed, nodding along with your words. “The overnights don’t mess with your head?”

“No,” you shook your head, being completely honest with him. “I’ve always been a night owl, so I guess I never really thought twice about it.” He hummed in agreement, opting to stay quiet for a moment to process everything you had told him. “So why are you wondering if I’m busy tomorrow?” You smirked.

“I was just wondering,” he smiled, giving a shrug. “Thought maybe you could meet Sam and show us around the city a little bit.”

“Sam? Like the friend you came here with?” He nodded at your words, a hopeful look in his eye.

“He’s a great guy. A lot to handle sometimes, but he’s fun to be around.” He offered, hoping that the idea wasn’t too much for you. “I think you’ll like him.”

“Yeah, I think we could do that.” You agreed, smiling. “That sounds fun, actually.”

“Great,” he sighed, relieved at your enthusiasm. “It’s a date, then.”

“Is it?” You raised an eyebrow, biting back a grin. “Don’t know if I could go on a date with a man I don’t know. I might not even like this Sam guy.” You theorized, teasing him. “Unless you meant the three of us together. Is that your thing?” He let out a laugh at your words, one that came straight from his chest and filled the stale air. It was just as beautiful as you remembered it to be, and you wished you could spend the rest of your life listening to that sound alone.

“I was thinking more like you and me, and he can be a third wheel.” He explained, his eyes twinkling with happiness at the jokes shared between you.

“Oh, I see.” You pretended to understand, as if you had actually missed his intention entirely. “Yeah, that would be alright. Seems kind of mean to him, does it not?”

“He’ll live.” Danny assured you.

“If you say so.” You grinned.

“I promise.”

“Alright,” you breathed, still trying to wrap your head around him wanting to go on a date with you. “It’s settled then. We’ll go on a date, and Sam can follow behind and enjoy the experience.”

“Sounds fantastic. You’ll call me when you wake up?”

“I will.” You nodded, already excited for the next day.

“I’ll leave you to it, then.” He said, looking over your face one last time. “Before I go, do you have a pen by any chance?” He asked as if he suddenly remembered the most important part of his visit.

“Oh, yeah.” You dug into your pocket, grabbing the one clipped to your order pad. You slid it across the table, and he grabbed a torn piece of paper from his pocket. You watched as he scribbled something down, wondering if he’d brought his own paper just so he could leave you another note. After a moment, he slid the paper and the pen back across the table to you, and stood without any further notice.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Utah.”

“See you tomorrow, Michigan.” You smiled, watching him turn towards the door. As he stepped towards it, wrapping his large hand around the doorknob, he turned to look back at you one last time. You blew him a kiss, subtle but still sweet. He chuckled at your expression as he stepped out the door, wishing he had enough courage to say something more.

When the door closed behind him, you looked down at the paper, feeling your stomach twist with butterflies at the messy handwriting.

Keep writing, Utah. You have what it takes to make it big. Can’t wait to see you tomorrow ♡

- Michigan xx

You could not bite back the smile as you slipped the note into your pocket. Somehow, after all of the misery that life had thrown at you, it seemed as though there was a light at the end of the tunnel, or a rainbow after the storm. Danny was refreshing, and he was captivating. He gave life the sparkle it so often lacked, and he gave you the desire to live, instead of just exist. You no longer felt content with working, sleeping, and forcing yourself through the day. You wanted to jump out of bed and discover all the world had to offer. You wanted to live life the way a twenty-three year old should instead of wasting it away and hoping that the next life would be kinder.

Unfortunately, you did not exist within your bubble of happiness for very long, because a voice with immeasurable disdain cut through the air and caught your attention. “What’s that all about, then?” You looked over to the swinging door separating the kitchen from the dining room, seeing Vincent standing against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face.

“Not much to talk about. We’re friends, Vin. Met him the other day, and he stopped by to say hello.” You shrugged, downplaying the situation in hopes that you would not cause him any more hurt. You could see in his eyes what you had already done to him, and you were desperate to avoid any further damage.

“You say we’re just friends, too.” He offered, refusing to move from his spot on the wall.

“‘Cause we are,” you said, reminding him of the fact.

“Right, how could I ever forget.” He rolled his eyes.

“What’s your point?” You said, your fuse burning closer to the end. He had a fantastic way at making you lose your temper, so much so that you could not even comprehend it.

“Point is, you and I both know we’re far from friends. It might not be perfect, but there’s something there.” He said, trying to keep his cool. “Just sucks when you decide to flirt with someone else right in front of me.”

“You know what my stipulations are, and you don’t want to do it.” You argued, unwilling to take the blame for something that was not solely your fault. “We could have been more than friends, but it seems like you didn’t want that.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, although the situation was humorless. “Forgot, it’s always my fuckin’ fault. Little miss sunshine can’t take the blame for anything.” He grumbled, clearing holding back from all of the things he truly wanted to say. “You didn’t try very hard either, sweetheart. In fact, don’t really think you tried at all.”

“You don’t get to say that,” you shook your head, your cheeks burning with anger. “I tried, and I still do.” You snapped, willing yourself to stay seated even if you wanted to get in up his face and scream everything he’d ever done wrong. “I gave you the chance to get clean a million times, and you won’t do it. Who cleaned you up after every bar fight? Every detox?” You pressed. “Or when you OD’ed? Who sat with you at the hospital, begging you to get better?”

“You’re gonna throw that in my face?” He said, his expression stony. “After everything we’ve been through, you’re gonna use it against me?”

“Point is, Vincent, I did it ‘cause I cared. I did it, and no one else, but you don’t care enough to stop doing it. I’d do it again a million times, but you won’t even try to do what I’m asking.” You blinked hard, knowing that tears were desperate to fall. Your chest was tight and your throat felt like it was constricting around the words as they came out of your mouth. “I can’t wait forever, cause I’ll be dead before I see you sober.”

“Maybe I could if I had a little support instead of you always expecting me to fail.” He argued. Instead of answering, you turned to look away from him, finding the conversation redundant and painful. You’d given him so much support that you were lacking when it came to yourself. You’d taken care of him so much that you neglected to do it for yourself. You couldn’t say it aloud, because you knew it would hurt him too badly. His ego was too fragile, and you would scream and yell only start at the very beginning tomorrow morning with no change. It didn’t get you anywhere, and telling him such would only make him feel responsible for your own relapses.

“You just want to fight, or do you have something worthwhile to say?” You said, tapping the pen against the wood grain of the table.

“You think he’s the one? Really?” He asked, changing subjects again. He didn’t like it when the heat was on him. “Looks like he has a VIP spot at the golf and country club. I bet his parents pay his way through life, and I doubt he even knows what suffering is.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” You scoffed, turning back towards him. “If my parents did that for me, I’d take advantage of it too. You can’t judge a book by its cover, Vincent.”

“Never said it was a bad thing, but you just proved my point.” He said, pointing a finger towards you with a smug smile on his face. It was not one of joy, but rather one that showed how happy he was to be proven right. “You couldn’t imagine what a life like that is like. Your parents would never do that for you. He doesn’t get you, doll, and he never fuckin’ will.”

“Maybe that’s not a bad thing either, Vincent. Maybe I need someone or something that doesn’t get it, so I can have a chance to get away from it.” You explained, praying he would see some kind of reason.

“Or, he’ll think you’re too fucked up and leave you just like the rest of em’. Rich people don’t like struggle, sweetheart, and struggle is all we know how to do.” He shot back, praying you would see his side. “I get it. I get you and what you’ve been through. Doesn’t that mean anything?”

“You don’t, though.” You gave a small, breathy laugh. You shook your head as you thought over his words. “We came from the same things, Vin, but you don’t get me. You’re still stuck there, and I’m trying to get away from it.”

“Right,” he gave a slow nod, looking to the floor for a second. “Do what you want, doll. Keep thinkin’ he’s what you need, but I know it’s too much for him. He can’t handle you, and it’s okay to admit that.” He paused, looking back up at your saddened expression. “I can’t stop you, but I’ll be here when you come back crying. I’ll be here when he realizes what he actually got himself into.”

“Fuck you, Vincent.” You spat, your stomach sick at the sound of his words. You hated how vile he turned when his feelings were hurt. He was a man who loved to hurt others in reaction to getting hurt, and he knew how to hurt you better than anyone else. It was hard to love him when he was only himself half of the time. Sometimes you had to wonder if he did it on purpose, or if he was even aware of the damage he was causing.

“You can be mad all you want, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m right.” He said, turning on his heel and walking back into the kitchen. You stared at the spot he once stood, his words still looming over your head and begging to destroy every bit of happiness you’d built up.

You wanted to be angry, to scream at him and throw things and tell him how terrible he was, but you couldn’t. Instead, you sat at the booth, remembering what it felt like when Danny was sitting across from you and how nothing else in the world mattered. Then, you pictured him leaving. You imagined him walking away after you spilled your guts to him about the horrors your life has been. Instead of arguing that Vincent was wrong, you were plagued with the knowledge that it was very likely that he was correct, and there wasn’t a thing in the world you could do about it. You were too much, and you always had been. There were few people in the world who could comprehend what you had been through, and even fewer who were willing to stay. Danny seemed like a breath of fresh air, but you wondered if he still would be even after knowing you completely, or if you would have to hide parts of yourself from him so he would stay.

Maybe, your skies were just a little too dark to ever be graced with the light of a rainbow, and that thought was possibly the most sickening of them all.

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[scarletcarmensmith]

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[wandering-winchesters]

Premonitions

Pairing: Dean x Reader, implied feelings. Word Count: 2,239 Summary: The reader has always had visions, but now they're changing and causing her physical harm. Trigger Warnings: Mentions of death, implied vomiting and pain. Requested: Yes, by anonymous. The reader has visions of future events since her childhood, but since the last hunt and burn of a witch her visions are getting more powerful and begin to affect her health condition. The visions weakening her, she suffers from heavy migraine and also dizzy spells and nausea. She tries to hide it from the Winchesters but as observing as they are, they instantly recognize her pale and sick appearance.  A/N: Requests are open! I hope you enjoy my take on this request, please let me know!

Masterlist

Visions are something I’m very familiar with, I’ve had them since I was a child. They felt like dreams, mostly peaceful and serine. Predicting the things that were to come, always happy occasions. I knew the days to come that I would enjoy, the places we’d visit and joys I’d experience before they ever happened. It was a good thing, I was thankful for it. It brought reassurance in times of doubt, joy in times of sadness and it didn’t really affect my day to day life. Dean would try to use it to their advantage, running lottery ticket numbers by me in hopes of me having a vision of him winning, he hadn’t been successful yet. Sam always rolled his eyes at Dean’s childishness, but would listen intently to whatever I recounted for them. 

Since the last hunt that we been on my visions had changed, they were no longer predicting joyful occurrences, they were dark. Foreshadowing death and torture, often continuing on for twenty or thirty minutes. The amount of time a drastic change to the maybe five minute long visions that I was used to having. They caused me to get sick almost every time, a wave of nausea taking over the second the vision ended. My body felt weak, muscles ached and I had a headache that had taken up permanent residence since these new visions had started. I was doing my best to keep it from the boys, not wanting them to worry about me anymore than they already did. They already watched me closely, concerned that I would get hurt while on a hunt. If they knew about this, well, I don’t know what they would do. Probably bench me, if we are being honest. I had managed to keep it to myself, thankful that most of the visions seemed to appear at night, to the point where I could almost call them nightmares. Yet I knew better, I know that they’re predictions, some of the things I have already confirmed to be true. A train derailing in Michigan, a bus crash in Ohio, the list goes on. Every time I have one, I search the news headlines, praying that I won’t find what I am looking for. However, it’s always there, a day or two after it happens. 

For the life of me, I cannot figure out why my visions had changed, the only plausible explanation was the witch that had escaped on our last hunt. Despite our every effort, she had fled moments before we would have killed her. My guess is a spell, what spell you might ask? No clue. All of the research I had been doing, has been turning up empty. No explanation for the full body symptoms I had been having in response to the visions. 

Which is how I wound up here, hugging the toilet in the bathroom connected to my room. My head is spinning and throbbing, the pit in my stomach nauseating and unbearable. My body was aching from the constant shivers running through my body. There was nothing I could do but sit and wait, and hope that it faded overtime. This was by far the worst one, it had pulled me in and completely overcome my every thought and action. Flashes of red and orange flames, the screams of innocent people trapped within the building, being burned alive or smothered by smoke. All of it so real and vivid, forcing tears to fall from my eyes as I laid there paralyzed, unable to snap out of it, until it was over. Just as abruptly as it had begun, it was gone. I was back in my room at the bunker, sick from fear. I had painstakingly made my way to the bathroom, my eyes closed and my feet shuffling. Avoiding any sudden movements due to fear of passing out or throwing up. Judging by the time on my phone, it had lasted nearly an hour, fifty-three minutes to be exact, the longest vision I had ever had. I remain on the floor of the bathroom for almost an additional hour, taking slow, even breaths, waiting out the nausea. Which eventually faded, I had hoped that the migraine would fade too, however no luck. I opened my eyes, allowing them to adjust to the harsh light in the bathroom, a light that I didn’t recall turning on. I stand slowly and turn to head towards my bed, hopeful that the rest of my sleep would be uninterrupted and dreamless. 

I am awoken by a knock on my door, followed by a voice calling out my name. I ignore it, hoping they’ll go away. I am tired, so tired. The thought of getting out of bed felt like the most insurmountable task, I was already being lulled back to sleep by the warmth of my blankets. 

“Y/N, it’s almost noon, are you okay?” Sam enters the room, his voice much louder than I would prefer. I would rather he not be here at all and to just leave me to my sleep. 

“‘M fine, Sam. Go away, tired.” I mumble, throwing my arm back behind me and motioning for him to leave, not bothering to open my eyes. I hear light shuffling and I assume that he is leaving, but I am proven wrong when I feel the bed next to me dip down. Sam has not left, but come to sit beside me. I open one eye to glance at him, but close it again quickly, the lights flooding my senses with searing pain. His hand comes to rest on my shoulder and when I still don’t stir to look at him again, he speaks.

“What’s going on with you? You might think you’re doing a good job at hiding whatever it is, but you’re really not. Dean and I both know that something is going on that you’re not telling us about and its getting concerning. You’ve been sleeping a lot, in constant pain when you’re awake and you’re pale as a ghost, Y/N.” I know he isn’t going to leave me be without an answer of some sort. So I do my best to come up with one, something that sounds believable but not too concerning. 

“Just haven’t been feeling the best, must be food poisoning or something.” I whisper, again willing that he will leave me alone to sleep. My body physically exhausted, head throbbing, pain pulsating through my every nerve. He shifts again and I rejoice, hoping he’s headed for the door. But instead, his hand comes to rest on my forehead, a hiss leaving his lips as he makes contact. 

“Shit, Y/N, you’re burning up.” He says, tugging back the blankets that I have pulled up around my face, revealing my sweat soaked t-shirt. “How bad?” I hear Dean mutter from the doorway, the sound of his foot steps indicating that he has crossed the room to stand next to my bed as well. I hesitantly open my eyes, squinting to try and lower the amount of light that is allowed to enter. 

“Feel for yourself, Dean.” Sam says, standing up and letting Dean take his place on the bed next to me. Dean rests his hand against my forehead, grimacing. It must be bad judging by the look on both of their faces. I push myself up into a sitting position, tugging the blankets up to cover my bear legs. Painfully aware of how little clothing I have on compared to them, not that they hadn’t seen me dressed like this before, it just made me feel weak in this moment. 

“I’m fine, just need a shower.” I mumble, I throw my legs over the edge of my bed and begin the short walk to my bathroom, ignoring both of Sam and Dean’s protests and offers of help. I barely make it three feet before my world is spinning, darkening at the edges and crumbling around me. 

My body collapses, colliding with the hard wood of the floor and I can faintly hear my name being yelled, but it is all drowned out by the vision dancing before my eyes. This time it is different, it’s not strangers in a different state, it’s Bobby, Ellen and Jo. They’re surrounded by vampires and it doesn’t look good. All of them injured in some way, Bobby worse than the girls. They stand in a circle, their backs together and weapons raised in front of them. I know what is about to happen and I try to scream, try to warn them in some way, to move faster to run! But nothing comes out, my voice but a silent whisper in my throat. I am forced to watch as the vampires kill them, their bodies falling to the ground and, and then it is gone. 

My eyes fly open a scream bubbling out of my throat, terror filling my every nerve ending. Dean’s above me, his voice shushing me, telling me that I am safe, nothing happened and that everything is okay, but nothing is okay. Bobby, Ellen and Jo, They’re all in danger. 

“Sam, call Bobby right now, tell him not to go on that vampire hunt.” Sam hesitates, his eyes trained on me and filled with questions. But there’s no time. “Now, please! I had a vision!” I snap, putting all of the emotion I can into those words, trying to convey just how urgent they really are. Sam nods, still silent, but pulls out his phone and leaves the room to call Bobby. I take a couple of breaths, trying to focus on my surroundings once again. I am on the floor, Dean cradling me in his arms, his eyes trained on my face concern and confusion written through every inch of his skin. 

“How did you know about that hunt, Y/N? Bobby just told us about it five minutes before we came in to wake you.” He says, his hand brushing a strand of hair out of my face, his touch comforting me slightly. 

“I-I, promise not to be angry with me?” I ask, letting out a rather large sigh. He hesitates, but nods in agreement and I begin to explain. “You know about the visions that I have, they’re normally happy predictions. But ever since the last hunt, with that damn witch that got away, my visions have changed. All of them are now predicting death and tragedy. I’ve had one everyday this last week, all of them have come true. I’ve seen it on the news or in an article online. Before today, they were all strangers, but now, today, it was Bobby, Ellen and Jo. I couldn’t bear to let anything happen to them Dean, God what if I wasn’t in time?” I ask, tears beginning to form in my eyes. He hushes me, reassuring me through his touch, pressing a quick kiss to my forehead. Sam comes back into the room, his phone still clutched in his hand. His face slightly pale and concern etched throughout his features. 

“I got through to Bobby, he’s okay. So are Ellen and Jo. They were about to leave when I called, but they stopped when I told them you had a vision. Bobby wants to talk to you about it all when you are feeling up to it, Y/N.” He says, I nod in response, relief washing over me, they’re okay. They’re not going, which means they won’t die. 

Dean takes a minute to repeat what I had told him to Sam, the tension in the room growing every second. Sam is angry, Dean is angry and I am tired, oh so tired. These premonitions have really started to take it out of me physically and mentally. I listen to the boys discuss the steps that need to be taken, the witch has to burn. Sam volunteers to go and Dean agrees to stay behind with me. 

“You should both go, I’ll be fine here on my own.” I argue, trying to offer them a reassuring smile, but neither of them buy it. Sam shakes his head, his mouth parting to answer but Dean beats him to it. 

“In your dreams sweetheart, there’s no way in hell that we’re leaving you here alone. You fainted, you could’ve smacked your head if I hadn’t caught you as you fell. One of us is going to stay with you until this witch is dead. Don’t even bother arguing, you’re not going to win.” He adds on the last part as he notices my enthusiasm towards disagreeing with him. I close my mouth, exhaustion sweeping back over me. Dean notices and carefully carries me back to my bed, again ignoring my protests. He sets me gently on the mattress and I eagerly roll onto my side, resting my aching head onto the cool, soft surface of my pillow. He tugs the blanket over my body, pressing another kiss to my forehead. He makes up some excuse about it being the best way to check my temperature, but I don’t mind. He plants himself in the chair by my bed, pulling out his laptop. His presence enough comfort and safety to lull me into a peaceful sleep. They’ve got me. Sam is going to go take care of the witch and I will be okay. Those were my last thoughts before I was pulled into the blanket of sleep. 

[welldigger62]

Happy Sunday

Things are chugging along here in mid Michigan. We have another grey sky day and the birds are fighting over that prime piece of suet. 😂

The Easter Bunny did not stop here but look at this. Bill D Cook was here yesterday and I got a whole box of fresh made brownies that get to dive into today. Taste tested this morning 😋

No, I didn’t win the Powerball lottery last night 😫