#they gotta do this shit on my one Saturday off this month too. god forbid I have one fucking day.

[kittlyns]

It is so insane to feel everyone getting sick of you. Like goddamn I'm sorry I'm going through what may be my worst year yet but you putting up with me is somehow equivalent to christ on the fucking cross all of a sudden.

[negandarylsatisfaction]

[SUMMARY: Avayah is harassed by an ex until Negan, who is her friend decides to help her by pretending to be in a relationship with her only to unexpectedly fall in love.]

Negan and Avayah PART ONE.

It was a typical Saturday night out with your bestfriend Linda. The two of you would always go to the same bar and hang out with familiar faces, Negan being one of them. The two of you weren’t exactly close but you got along with him and his charismatic personality. Sitting at the table having a few beers, Negan bought along some shots as he always did.

“Oh crap, he’s here again tonight.” Linda suddenly whispered, Negan noticed your expression change and arched a brow.

“Who’s here?”

“Nobody.” You sighed before taking the shot.

“It’s Avayahs ex boyfriend.”

“Linda-“

“What? It’s good somebody else knows besides me, God forbid anything happens.” She insisted in her defense.

“What do you mean if anything happens?” Negan asked as you looked down at the table, you almost seemed afraid to move, afraid to make eye contact with your ex.

“That asshole James has basically been stalking her since she left him two months ago.”

“Ok can we stop talking about this.” Negan noticed you getting nervous as you took a quick chug from your beer.

“He’s still looking at you.” Linda whispered.

“Well let’s give him something to look at.” Negan suddenly grabbed you pulling you to the dance floor making you gasp.

“No what are you doing?” You whispered as Negan put your arms around him and began moving side to side to the steady music.

“Just go along with it, he sees you with someone tonight he might just leave you alone.”

“Or he‘ll just get more pissed.” You whispered, Negan could see the fear in your eyes.

“Relax, you trust me don’t you? You think I’ll let him do something to you? You known me long enough to know I don’t play that shit.” You took a deep breath not sure of what to say in return.

“Just look at me.” He insisted making you finally look up.

“Oh my God I think I see him coming this way.” You noticed with the corner of your eye, panic beginning to take over.

“Relax. Just let me talk.”

“Just....just be nice.” You whispered worrying at how James would react. You knew Negan had a stronger character, he didn’t take shit from anyone.

“Im always nice.” Negan winked at you before twirling you around, he pulled you back into him when you felt James right beside you.

“Hi Avayah, I’m sure your friend here wouldn’t mind me borrowing you for a dance.”

“Actually I would.” Negan responded rather quickly yet calmly.

“She’s here with me and I’m not really a fan of sharing what’s mine. But I’m sure you understand that.” Negan grinned at him leaving him silent.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to finish my dance with this lovely lady. Have a nice night.” Negan turned you around, pushing you away from James. Your heart was racing hoping he wouldn’t say anything else, you knew Negan wouldn’t stay quiet.

“See, told you I can play nice.” Negan smirked looking down at you.

“Thanks.” You whispered.

“I think I’m gonna get going after this.” You spoke softly looking up at him.

“Ok, I’ll walk you out with Linda.” You nodded as the song finished and you both walked back to the table. Linda was wasted sitting with a guy you already knew she would be going home with.

“Ready to go?” She smiled as the man kissed her neck.

“Yeah, let’s get out of here.” The four of you walked out together, Linda already agreed to walk you home with the guy she was with. As you stood outside thanking Negan he noticed James come out of the bar. Squinting his eyes he watched how he looked at you from afar.

“Maybe it’s better I drive you home.” He spoke discreetly looking down at you.

“It’s fine, Linda lives close to me.”

“No, Avayah listen to me.” He spoke with his eyes and you understood.

“I can give your friends a ride too if they want-“

“No we’re good. We’ll walk, I trust you to get her home safe.” Linda spoke trying not to slur her words. Without looking back Negan led you to his truck.

Once you arrived Negan insisted to walk you up to your apartment door.

“I appreciate you taking your time to bring me all the way home.” You spoke quietly as you walked out of the elevator with him.

“It’s fine, there’s nothing more that I hate than when someone just doesn’t get the message.”

“Tell me about it.” You laughed softly in response before stopping in front of your door.

“Seriously though, thank you.” Smiling looking up at him you were suddenly startled by your phone ringing.

“Shit.” You whispered making Negan frown.

“What is it?”

“It’s him, he’s calling me now.”

“Maybe I should stay for a bit.”

You pressed your lips together nervously not wanting to deny his offer but still feeling to embarrassed to take it.

“It’s fine, he never usually calls. I’m sure he’ll leave it alone.”

“Unless he doesn’t.” Negan responded bluntly.

“Just let me stay with you, Avayah. I know men like this.”

“Ok. Fine.” You quietly gave in and led him inside your apartment.

“You really don’t have to do this Negan. I’m fine here. I’m not trying to keep you from anything.” You explained as you took off your jacket.

“You’re not. I’ll leave in a bit I just want to make sure the asshole doesn’t show up. Don’t worry I’ll get out of your hair, princess.” He spoke playfully making you shake your head with a smile.

“It’s not a bother at all. I appreciate it. I don’t have anyone else.” You admitted as you motioned for him to sit and quietly sat beside him.

“Well you have me, Avayah. We’ve been friends long enough,” he spoke with sincerity. It was true, although the two of you only saw each other on Saturday nights, he still became someone you trusted to drink with.

“What’s up with this prick anyways? I always wondered why you never bought him with you to the bar.” Your expression instantly changing at his question.

“Unless you don’t wanna talk about it.” He put his arm behind you, resting it on the couch.

“It’s fine.” You sighed as you pushed a lock of hair behind your ear.

“James and I were together on and off for three years. At first it wasn’t so bad, but then he became controlling. I lost my job because of him, that’s why I started this new one I told you about. I moved from the other side of town trying to avoid him. I don’t want to think about it like he’s starting again, I’m sure he’ll leave me alone after tonight.” Negan saw the doubt in your eyes before you looked away.

“Has he seen you with anyone else before?” He asked curiously.

“No. I haven’t been with anyone else.”

“Sounds like we should make him think you are.”

“What do you mean?” You responded with a puzzled expression.

“Us. We act like we’re together, going steady at least when we go to the bar and I’m sure he will eventually leave you alone.”

“You wanna act like we’re together?” You asked not expecting his idea.

“Yeah, you have a problem pretending to be my woman?” You could hear the tease in his voice the way he asked you but you quietly shook your head.

“Just for a bit.” You yawned as you leaned your head back. Negan smiled watching your eyes slowly close, he himself feeling exhausted leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

The next morning you woke up to a loud alarm startling you awake.

“Woah-“ you whispered half asleep, opening your eyes you noticed Negan beside you, his arm around you.

“Oh crap..” you whispered when he suddenly opened his eyes.

“Fuck- what time is it?” Negan looked down at his watch shutting off the alarm.

“Shit. I gotta get to the shop.” He quickly stood up rubbing his face.

“Must’ve accidentally fell asleep, sorry.” You stood up.

“Not your fault, but I better get going.” You walked him towards the door before he stopped and turned to you.

“I’ll call you when I come out, you know...just to make sure everything is fine.”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” You smiled, he leaned in to kiss your cheek, his hand on your waist.

“I’ll see you, call me if anything.” He opened the door to find Linda on the other side.

“Well hello there!” Linda spoke with a big grin at the sight of Negan coming out of your apartment.

“I’ll see you two around. Take care.” He chuckled walking off before Linda quickly walked in.

“Oh my God, you totally slept with Negan.”

“No, Linda. He just made sure I got home safe and ended up staying for a bit-“

“Oh I’m sure he stayed, stayed to screw you.”

“We didn’t have sex.” You insisted as you walked to the kitchen.

“We just accidentally fell asleep on the couch and he has this idea-“

“What to fuck you?” Linda began to laugh making you scowl at her.

“No Linda, he thinks we should act like a couple at least until James backs off.”

“Ohhhhh, Negan wants to act like your man. Shit, I wouldn’t mind that. He’s fine.”

“Focus Linda, he’s just a friend helping me out.” Linda responded with a sarcastic look but you didn’t pay attention to it. In your eyes Negan really was just a friend doing you a favor.

Throughout the week Negan called and checked on you to make sure that you were doing fine. Thankfully, there was no sight of James that you could see, little did you know you were being watched.

Saturday night came around and as usual you all showed up at the bar. Negan sat beside you having a beer while Linda danced away with the usual guy she’d meet up with.

“What if he shows up again tonight?” You whispered looking over at Negan.

“Well you’re my girl now right? Don’t worry about it.” He winked at you. You smiled looking over at him, there shouldn’t be anything for you to worry about with James knowing how Negan was. Everyone knew Negan at the bar as the one guy nobody wanted to start anything with, everyone respected him. He left you alone as long as you didn’t fuck with him.

“I’m gonna go get us more beers.” Negan stood up as you sat by yourself feeling more positive about the situation singing along to the song that played, until James walked in.

“Crap.” You whispered to yourself with a sigh, looking over at the bar Negan was nowhere to be found, you panicked noticing James coming your way. Just as you stood up James showed up right before you.

“Avayah-“ He looked you up and down in a creepy manner.

“Where you heading off too?” He stepped closer to you making you step back when Negan noticed James with you and rushed back.

“Got our beers, baby.” Negan reached between the both of you placing the beers on the table. You breathed in relief at his return.

“Can I help you?” Negan turned to James looking at him directly in the eyes.

“Just talking to an old friend.” He responded with a slick expression. Negan put his arm around your waist and pulled you close not taking his eyes off of James, he felt you shaking.

“What’s wrong, Avayah...you don’t look too good?” James could sense your nerves and you hated it, this is what he would use to manipulate you.

“Hey-“ Negan turned to look down at you giving you a squeeze.

“You alright? Look at me.”

“I think I’m gonna be sick.” You pushed away from Negan and ran to the bathroom leaving James with a smirk on his face.

“Her nerves always have done that to her.” He spoke with just enough attitude to make Negan scowl at him.

“Why don’t you get the hell out of here before I drag you out myself.”

“Oh. Threatening me now?” James spoke in a cocky manner making Negans fist ball up tightly at his sides.

“Where’s Ava?” Linda ran towards the table noticing what was going on.

“She went to the bathroom, go check on her.” Negan responded, his eyes never leaving James.

“You can’t make me leave, she can leave if she wants too, hell she probably will with how nervous I make her.” James laughed before walking away. Negan didn’t want to let him get his way. Immediately he rushed to find you coming out of the bathroom with Linda.

“I wanna go home.” Anxiety taking over you, running away is all you wanted to do. It was what you were used to doing.

“No, we’re not letting that asshole win.” Negan spoke with an intense look.

“Negan, Avayah doesn’t want him approaching her again. Let’s just get her home.”

“He won’t approach her, trust me. Just follow my lead.” Negan took your hand as you anxiously walked back with him to your table. He sat down and unexpectedly pulled you onto his lap making Linda widen her eyes.

“Negan-“ you whispered nervously.

“Relax. You trust me don’t you?” He spoke softly to you before calling for the bartender.

“Let me get four shots, tequila. We’re celebrating something special over here!”

“Negan!” You whispered as he looked at you with a grin.

“What? You know I’m a man of many surprises.” He spoke low before the bartender arrived with the drinks. Linda and the man she was with each taking one, Negan cheered as you all took the shot.

“That reminds me-“ Negan reached in his pocket taking out fifty cents.

“Go play that song you always like to hear, baby.” You stared at him in shock, you couldn’t believe he was going this far just to get back at James. More than anything you never realized Negan always payed attention to you playing a specific song every Saturday night. With excitement you smiled and went to play the song you liked. Negan followed behind, grabbed you and began to dance with you. Another shot the two of you took in the middle of the dance making you begin to get the giggles.

“Did I tell you how damn gorgeous you look tonight?” Negans compliment caught you off guard. Well, the man had always given you compliments since he first met you, but being this close to him, with that twinkle in his eyes made you feel butterflies.

“Thank you.” You smiled sweetly.

“Negan...why are you doing this?” The look on his face changed as he looked down at you.

“I saw my mother as a kid trying to get away from some asshole. It was tough, she didn’t have anyone to help her. I remember hearing her cry a lot at night, she thought I was asleep. It left a bad taste in my mouth. You’re a good woman, I just can’t stand a prick that makes someone so good feel so fucking bad.” For the first time since you met Negan, you saw apart of him he never showed.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“It was long ago....I don’t like to talk about that shit. I just promised myself when I got older I wouldn’t let any prick make a woman feel that way again. Afraid and helpless.” He knew that was exactly what you felt, feeling ashamed you looked down.

“Hey..-“ he lifted your face back up to him.

“It’s ok to feel that way but I’m right here.” You smiled at his words.

“Now....have you been having fun?” He whispered in your ear as he swayed side to side with you.

“So much fun, I almost forgot James was even here.” You laughed.

“Good, I don’t like that prick thinking he had any control over you. Show him you now belong to someone else.”

“Oh I belong to someone else?” You laughed looking up at Negan, his eyes glimmered and his expression turned serious.

“Maybe you do.” He whispered holding you close. The two of you were no longer moving to the music, simply staring into each other’s eyes.

“Oh my God, what is he doing?” Linda whispered to herself as she watched Negan lean in and slowly take your lips with his. Placing your hands on his chest, hesitantly you kissed him back. Slowly warming up to what was happening you swirled your tongue around his, brushing your hands up his chest and wrapping them around his neck. You didn’t expect him to kiss you but you didn’t mind that he did. Gently he pulled his lips away leaning his head on yours, Negan himself didn’t expect what he did.

“Shit.” He whispered with his eyes closed, he couldn’t help in wanting more.

“I’m sorry.” He muttered before he took your hand and led you back to the table. Not knowing what to say you remained silent following his lead. Negan went to grab another drink as you sat down speechless beside your friend.

“Did he just fucking kiss you?” Linda whispered excitedly beside you.

“Yes I-I..”

“Was that apart of this whole plan or-“

“No! No we never spoke of it.” You responded in still quite a bit of shock before he returned and sat beside you. Looking up you noticed James angrily staring at you, the look almost made you chuckle.

“Let’s go dance one more song before we go.” Linda suggested before she pulled you up back to the dance floor. Truthfully she just wanted to pull you away to talk more about that kiss.

“So what did he say after he kissed you?” She whispered as you both danced.

“He apologized.”

“Apologized?! For what? You could tell he wanted to kiss you for a while, shit if only you would be able to see how he’s looking at you right now.” Linda laughed as you struggled not to look back. You laughed along with her enjoying the song as you twirled each other around. Negan kept an eye on James as you danced making sure he wouldn’t disturb you yet every time he looked back at you he would get distracted again. Clearing his throat as he noticed you were making your way back, you unexpectedly took it upon yourself to sit on his lap.

“Maybe that’s not such a good idea, sweetheart.” Negan whispered when you suddenly felt his erection. Your lips parted looking down at him, the longer you stayed on him, the harder he got. He tried to be discreet you saw it in his eyes.

“Avayah...please.” He whispered as you felt him squeeze your waist. He didn’t want you to get off him, but he also knew you only were making it harder for him to resist you.

“Are we gonna get going guys or what?” Linda asked as she stood up. Negan coughed uncomfortably as you adjusted yourself on him turning to Linda.

“Yeah, you guys can start going. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Alright, get home safe guys.”

Turning back to Negan you noticed him breathing hard.

“Do you wanna go?”

“Yeah, let’s go.” Negan agreed. Adjusting his pants as he stood up he followed behind you, the two of you passing by James, Negan pulled you close to him.

The drive home was silent, all you did was replay the kiss in your head, you wondered why he stopped. Negan kept his eyes on the road thinking about what happened. He liked spending time with you, hell he was realizing he was beginning to really like you. He didn’t know how to deal with that as Negan wasn’t really a relationship type of man. Negan felt he didn’t do good with them and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt you, he thought you were too good for him.

Walking you to your door, you stopped and turned to him to finally speak.

“So do you want to come inside?”

“Maybe I shouldn’t, doll.” You frowned not expecting his response.

“Why not? I thought we had a good time tonight-“

“I had the best time I’ve had in a long time.” He cut you off softly.

“So come inside.”

“I can’t, Avayah. Our agreement was only at the bar to do this.” You arched a brow not liking his response.

“You kissed me tonight. Or was that a joke to you?”

“No it wasn’t, I know I kissed you. I shouldn’t have but I did.” He looked down knowing you would get upset.

“What do you mean you shouldn’t have? I didn’t mind it, Negan...I liked it.” You insisted.

“Trust me, so did I but I’m trouble, sweetheart..and you don’t need that.”

“Look if you don’t want to do this anymore, just say it. I don’t need you to help me with anything else. Have a good night.” Without letting him say another word you walked into your apartment and slammed the door shut. Negan didn’t want to stop helping you, hell he didn’t even want to stop spending time with you.

“Avayah, you know I didn’t mean it like that.” You heard him yell from the other side of the door but you didn’t respond, you felt stupid, you felt embarrassed. He cursed at himself leaving your building not liking how he ended a great night with you.

Two weeks went by with Negan texting you and calling you, you wouldn’t respond as you felt there was nothing more to say. Saturday nights he would go to the bar but you weren’t showing up until finally Linda dragged you out.

That Saturday you sat at the usual table you and Linda would always have drinks at. James wasn’t in sight and neither was Negan the way you secretly hoped he would be.

“You know Negans asked me about you a couple times already.” Linda spoke loudly over the music, her words making you roll your eyes.

“Doesn’t matter, he doesn’t seem to know what he wants after he initiated everything. I don’t have time for that.” You responded taking a sip of your drink.

“Anyways, I’m going to go use the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

Fixing up the straps to your blue top, you sighed wishing Negan would see you like this. Shaking off the thought you stepped out of the bathroom when you suddenly bumped into James.

“Hi baby, I’ve missed you.” His words making you take a step back but there was nowhere to go.

“James, please-“

“It’s been a long time since I’ve had the privilege to have a private conversation with you.” He smiled in a manner that made your skin crawl before he looked around you.

“Aw, no boyfriend tonight?” A dark echo of laughter escaping his lips.

“Does that mean you’re here alone?” He grinned making your heart begin to race.

“I’m not alone.” He could hear the fear in your voice.

“Oh you’re not? Seems like you are to me.” James raised his brows humorously not realizing Negan had stepped into the bar. The first person he noticed was Linda and walked over to her.

“Is Avayah here with you?” He asked looking down at Linda who pointed towards the bathroom. Once he looked up he instantly noticed James with you.

“Son of a bitch.” He muttered under his breath before charging your way.

James stepped closer to you making you nervous. You debated on going back inside the bathroom just to get away from him, until you heard an all too familiar voice.

“Sorry I’m late, baby.” Negan pushed passed James and pulled you against him, planting a soft kiss on your cheek. Never had you been so relieved to see him. You were surprised he continued this act like nothing had happened but you appreciated he was there.

“Everything alright here?” Negan turned to James with a threatening glare.

“I just was offering Avayah here a drink.”

“She’s good.” Negan responded bluntly.

“Right baby?” He looked over at you as you nodded in silence.

“Come on, let’s go back with Linda.” Negan once again kissed you on your cheek making your heart jump. The two of you walking away you discreetly pulled away from Negan. As thankful as you were for him, you remembered what had happened before.

“You don’t need to do this.” You whispered as you walked back to the table.

“Oh but I want to.” Negan pulled you back against him before looking back at James.

“Oh what a surprise.” Linda smiled as the two of you returned to the table together.

“I think I should go home.”

“Already?” Linda asked surprised.

“I’m just not feeling too good now.” You lied.

“Well then I’ll drive you home now.” Negan turned to you making you shake your head.

“No it’s fine, I don’t need a ride.”

“I’m not taking no for answer, sweetheart. I’m dropping you off.”

Negan was silent as he drove you home for most of the ride. It was awkward for you, you sat quietly looking out the passenger window.

“What was he saying to you?” Negan broke the silence making you look at him, his eyes never leaving the road.

“He told me he missed me.” He frowned as he continued to drive.

“He asked me where my boyfriend was and that he was glad I was finally alone.”

“You’re never alone.” Negan suddenly turned to you with a serious look before turning back to the road.

Once you both arrived in front of your apartment you thanked him for the ride. He stood staring at you for a moment as you pressed your lips together with not much to say.

“Not inviting me in tonight huh?” He asked with half a smile.

“For what?”

“To talk.” You raised your brows and sighed in response.

“What’s there to speak about Negan?”

“You and I.”

“There’s no you and I.”

“You sure about that?” Negan responded confidently as he took a step forward.

“Negan-“

“Look, I didn’t mean what I said the other night. Just give me a chance to talk.” You sighed knowing you would give in.

“Fine.”

Negan walked in behind you as you kicked off your heels.

“I’m gonna go change quickly, just make yourself comfortable.” You motioned to your couch before stepping into your bedroom.

When you finally came out, Negan had his back turned to you looking at a photo you had hanging on the wall.

“Well, what do you want to talk about?” Your voice made Negan turn to you, his eyes instantly falling on the silk robe you had covering your body.

“Now how the hell-“ he walked towards you as he spoke, “do you expect me to remember what I had to say with you coming out like that?”

“Negan, you can’t even see anything.” You pouted your lips covering yourself up more and crossing your arms.

“You obviously don’t know I’m a man with a very...very vivid imagination.” He looked down at you with an alluring look in his eyes when the bell suddenly rang making you jump.

“It’s after midnight, who the hell is that?” Negan asked as you quietly ran to the door and looked through the peep hole. You gasped covering your lips taking a step back, Negans entire demeanor changed.

“It’s him,” you whispered.

PART 2 tomorrow!

[fandommix]

Off Limits!!

Pairings: Colson Baker x reader

Request by @welcometohoteldiablo Maybe can I get a request where the reader is ashleigh's little sister, and ash is forbid the guys to ask out her sister, and forbid her sister to go on a date with any of the guys. But reader and Colson started to date in secret, and when ash is found out, she is really mad about it, but after some time she sees how well Colson treats reader, and she accepts there relationship.

Warnings: swearing TW: mentions of self harm

It was a Saturday morning. Me and Colson were cuddling in bed and he suddenly got a call. He was still sleeping so I shook him. He groaned and then picked up his phone.

“Hello?” He said.

“Colson where are you? You were supposed to be at the studio at 7, it’s 8! I’m right outside your door I’m about to come in.” Said the caller. It didn’t register in my mind who it was until it was too late. It was my sister Ashleigh. She manages Colson.

Me and Colson look at each other. We’re both fucked. You see, Ashleigh told all the boys that they can’t date or hook up with me but me and Colson have been secretly dating for about a little over 8 months.

“Okay I have to hide...I’m gonna run into the bathroom hopefully she doesn’t notice” I whispered. He nodded his head and went to go meet up with Ashleigh in the living room. When I hear them start talking I run into the bathroom.

“Who was that?” I heard my sister say.

I knew colson started to panic. “No one. She’s no one. Just someone I picked up at a bar don’t worry about her, how about I meet you in the car, I’ll go get dressed in actual clothes and then we’ll go to the studio.” He said all nervously.

I heard her agree and then leave. I let out a breath I seemed to be holding. I can’t believe that worked. I come out of the bathroom and I see Colson already coming towards me. He then wrapped me in a hug.

“That was so close, Colson we gotta tell her. I can’t keep lying to her.” I said sadly. I have never in my life lied to her about anything.

“Baby look at me.” I looked up at him. “You know we can’t tell her...or just yet okay? You know what she’ll do if she found out. She would fucking kill me. And on top of that we wouldn’t get to be together. I want you Y/n, you’re my soulmate.” He said. He leaned down and kissed me.

“Okay fine, but eventually we will have to tell her.” I said walking away back into Colson’s room.

*

It’s a Friday and everyone is hanging around at the studio. We’re all having drinks and having a good time. Colson is completely wasted and I’m sitting across the room laughing at his silly antics.

“Alright guys I think all of you have had enough.” I say grabbing the drinks and putting them away in the little fridge.

“Oh come on Y/n don’t be a party pooper, you get less hot every time you end our little party...haha nah I’m just kidding, I’d still tap that fat ass.” Rook said.

“Really rook? What the fuck?” Ashleigh said. She looked angry...I looked at Colson and he looked angrier. He looked like he wanted to punch Rook.

He jumped up from the couch and went over to Rook. Then he did something that I thought he’d never do to his best friend. He punched him square in the face.

“OW! WHAT THE FUCK MAN?!” Rook yelled. His nose was bleeding. “I KNOW YOU GUYS ARE FUCKING BUT JEEZE SHE CANT POSSIBLY MEAN THAT MUCH TO YOU!” He yelled. Shit.

Ash turned to me. “What...did he just say?” She said sternly. “Nothing he’s just drunk Ash, don’t listen to him.” My voice was shakey.

“OKAY! Everyone out!!” Ash yelled. We’re so fucked were so fucked. Colson tried to sneak out but she grabbed his arm and laughed. “Not you sweetheart.” She said coldly. Colson gave me a sad look, like he was sorry.I sat on the couch and Colson sat on the arm chair. Ash just looked at us. I didn’t dare speak.

“So you wanna tell me what’s going on? Why did Rook say that?” She looked to me to answer. Shit shit shit shit shit.

“Look Ash I’m sorry, we were gonna tell you-” Colson started to say.

“Shut the fuck up Colson. You knew better. I told all of you that my sister is off limits and then I talked to you SPECIFICALLY that she is completely 100% off limits. Are you really that dumb? Like come on man I ask you to do this one personal favor for me and you can’t fucking do it. What’s wrong with you?! Oh my god...OH MY GOD SHE WAS THERE!! SATURDAY MORNING THAT WAS HER WASNT IT?!” She yelled at him. I had enough of it I didn’t like how she was only yelling at him.

“Ash stop it!! It’s not all his fault okay?! And also I know you’re trying to look out for me and I love you for that I really do but come on!! I’m fucking 23 I can fend for myself. You can’t tell me who I can and can’t date. Colson is amazing! He cares for me. The 8 months that we’ve been dating-”

“WHAT?! 8 MONTHS AND YOU HAVEN’T TOLD ME?!” She yelled at me now.

“Ash I love you but for the love of god SHUT UP. Colson is an amazing and for the 8 months that we’ve been dating he has treated me like a fucking queen. He lets me rant to him, he’s always there for me when you’re too busy, he takes me out, he makes me laugh...Ash he’s made me so fucking happy these past months I’ve...I’ve stopped cutting.” At this point tears are falling out of my eyes. “I love him. Please don’t make us break up, I need him, he needs me.” I say as I just break down. The thought of loosing him was heart breaking.

Colson looked stunned. I can’t believe I just said that. Me and Colson haven’t said “I love you” to each other yet. Fuck I probably just ruined everything now.

Colson then walked straight to me and kissed me. I was blown away by it but then I remembered that this might be the last kiss we’ll have. I kissed him back with the same love and passion he gave me.

We stopped when he both realized Ash was right in front of us. We looked at each other and then he walked right out of the studio room. More tears fell from my face. Ash sat down next to me.

“Y/n...I’m sorry. I’m your older sister I just wanted to protect you. Yes I’m upset that you didn’t tell me but...I see how clearly you love him and he loves you, I guess it’s fine with me if you guys stay together.” I looked up at her surprised. “BUT...there’s a bug, if he hurts you ONCE he’s done, you’re done, ya both are done. Okay? Understand?” She said sternly.

“Are you serious? Oh my god Ash thanks, I love you so much I promise you he’ll never hurt me!” I hugged her and then ran straight out of the room trying to catch up with Colson. He was already outside about to get into an Uber. I ran outside.

“COLSON!!!” I scream at him. He looked at me confused. I run to him and jump in his arms.

“Y/n what’s-” I cut him off by kissing him.

“It’s okay, everything’s okay. Ash is okay with us being together, she saw how happy you make me.” I say with tears falling down my cheeks.

“So...you love me huh?” He said with a smirk on his face. “Oh shut up loser...of course I love you.” I said looking down.

“Well good...I love you too.” He said smiling at me. His lips smashed onto mine. The Uber driver then honked at us. We laughed and got into the car then went back to Colson’s place.

A/N: I hope this was okay!!! I’m sorry it took me so long to write it.

[the-one-eighteen]

You asleep? I just feel calmer. When I’m with you. Stay For the soft conversation starters. You can use them together or separate! It’s up to you ❤️

I am. So sorry this took so long! But, I finally got it to a point where I like it, and enjoyed writing it, so I hope you enjoy!

(read on ao3)

Eddie couldn’t say when he fell asleep. He vaguely remembers getting out of the showers at the end of his shift. Blearily recalls catching Buck’s eye across the locker room, and answering a questioning eyebrow with a signal for five more minutes. Knows he got in a car at some point.

But the line connecting point A to point B ends about the time Buck unlocked the door to his apartment and they both tumbled inside, if he’s being honest.

What little he can now make out of the dark living room seems to suggest their normal night in - open, empty take out containers from the Chinese place down the block on the table in front of them, tv screen black from where it’d powered off after too long sitting inactive. The light streaming in from the windows is flickering off and on, that same damn lightpost that’s needed it’s bulb replaced for the last two months or so - longer, if he takes Buck’s word for it.

The night around them is quiet at this point (though, what actual point that is is anyone’s guess. He’s groggy as hell, so...late is about all he’s got), with only the occasional rumbling of a car coming down the road, and more distant but ever present white noise of a city that never truly sleeps.

If Eddie tries really, really hard, all of that fades out pretty easily, leaving him in just this moment.

In the warm dark. On Buck’s familiar couch. With Buck’s achingly familiar warmth pressed against his side from where they’d fallen asleep leaning against each other. God, Eddie could melt back into sleep, just like that, if given the chance.

He didn’t get this often. Didn’t let himself get this often. It was too close to something he wanted - something he couldn’t have but was so tantalizingly close that if he didn’t know better, he’d bet Buck was toeing the same line he was.

But he wasn’t. Because that wasn’t Eddie’s luck. And Buck was a tactile bundle of electricity that pressed up against anything he could and anyone lucky enough to be caught in his wake just needed to hold on tight.

And looking too closely at how often he ended up on Buck’s couch - or, God forbid, how often Buck ended up on his, with Chris between them, all three of them curled into their own little bubble that made Eddie’s heart hurt with the comfort - well...that way madness lay.

So. Eddie didn’t allow himself this often. Or, so he told himself.

If only because his heart couldn’t take it.

But he was only so strong. And if the opportunity was going to land in his lap, who the hell was he to fight it.

He’d just about relaxed back into the couch, carefully tilting his head back against Buck’s where it was resting against his shoulder. If he was quiet enough in his want, maybe he could keep this a little longer. Stretch the moment out into the golden illusion of an early morning, if only for a breath.

But then he feels Buck shift against him. Feels the set to his shoulders stiffen as he wakes up slowly.

Eddie’s quiet in that moment. It’s selfish, and he knows it, but…

“You asleep?” It’s so soft that Eddie knows he could get away with pretending to not hear it. Is left to wonder why it’s so quiet for only a moment before Buck carefully shifts again.

“...Yeah.” Eddie finds himself murmuring back, even as he wishes he could pull that quiet sleepiness back around them. Knows it’s slipping between his fingers even as he pulls himself away to stretch. Like he hadn’t been up for several too long, too short minutes. “Looks like we missed the end of another movie, huh? Think we’ll ever make it through one that isn’t animated?”

There’s a soft, tired laugh, and Eddie grins. Can’t not, in the face of the sheer contentedness he can feel rolling off the other man.

“Not until Chris is too old for ‘em.”

And there’s the other reason Eddie toes that line, but never...quite makes the jump. Buck is always, always there, in their future. And Eddie would rather bury his own heart than take that chance away.

Simple as that.

“Speaking of, I gotta pick him up from Pepa’s pretty early, so I should probably get going.” He’s still smiling - can feel it in the curve of his mouth. Can’t quite feel it in any way that matters.

Something flashes across Buck’s face - still tired, his eyes shiny and his mouth curved sweetly and Eddie needs to look away - but Eddie can’t parse it in the dark, and, frankly, doesn’t want to try. Reading too much into things is practically a Diaz family tradition and he’s got enough tormenting him as it is, thank you.

“Yeah, alright. Drive home safe alright? And see you tomorrow night.”

Eddie hums softly in acknowledgement, standing and stretching again - less for show this time and more because the age where sleeping well on couches regularly is slowly but surely passing him by. He sees movement out of the corner of his eyes, just manages to turn in time to see Buck flop over the rest of the couch in his place, looking for all the world content to just. Stay there.

“Nice Buck. Try to make it up to your actual bed at some point will you?” Eddie asks around a laugh - too fond, even to his own ears - even as Buck grabs the pillow from that side to bury his face in with a vague grunt of acknowledgement. “Don’t complain to me tomorrow when your back is cramped then.” Eddie adds, only getting a muffled laugh and a blind shooing motion in his direction in response.

Eddie rolls his eyes, but leaves Buck to it. If the man wants to sleep on that dumb couch, let him. Eddie’ll just ignore his complaints during their shift.

And if he’d give a whole hell of a lot to be complaining about it right there with him, well, even he knows that sounds weird.

---

The knock at the door isn’t a surprise. Probably should be, given that it’s two-thirty in the morning on a Sunday.

But, Eddie’s been following the news all day. Been waiting for a call, all day.

(He’d finally gotten sick of waiting around nine, and had called into the station. Only to be told they had plenty of hands on deck, and that, by that point, everything was under control, and the news was just milking everything they could out of a sensational, but ultimately, nontragic accident.)

But, even through the shit footage the news had been running on repeat for hours, Eddie could see that just because it hadn’t been tragic, didn’t mean it had been easy. Construction project downtown had gone up in flames. Jumped to the building next to it. The only reason it hadn’t ended in tragedy was because that building tended to be empty on Saturdays. The building next to that one? Not so much.

So. The knock at the door is no surprise at all.

He answers the door and just raises an eyebrow at the sheepish look Buck shoots him. “Why do you still knock? You have a key.”

“Look, not everyone’s you Diaz. Some of us were raised with manners.” Eddie’ll give Buck this - he manages to hold the serious face for about thirty seconds before they’re both laughing at that.

“Get in here. There’s beer in the fridge, and some left over Thai.” And Buck grins at him, big and bright, and cracked along the edges in a way Eddie’s not even sure Buck realizes. But, in Buck comes, heading straight for the kitchen.

It was a thing.

Eddie couldn’t say when it started. But it was definitely a thing.

A long shift. A hard shift. Sometimes even just one out of left field. Mud and grit and smoke and ash. Some tangled mess of emotions or adrenaline or weathered nerves exposed for too long...and they’d both find their way to each other. Eddie would drop by Buck’s after making sure Chris was safe with his abuela or Peppa or Carla or, sometimes, bring him along, because nothing soothed the tangle like a night in with his family. Or Buck would drop by their place. And they wouldn’t talk about the shift. Talk about everything else around it, sure. Everything under the damn sun except the last twelve hours.

And it worked for them.

Even if Eddie always, always wished it didn’t have to end like it always, inevitably, did.

Look, he knew he was reaching the edge of pathetic and taking a dive right over the edge. He was aware.

He can hear Buck digging around in his fridge, rolls his eyes at the sound, even though he knows he’s still grinning at the sound. “I think there’s also some-”

“Cupcakes!”

Eddie snorted, shaking his head and heading to the couch. “Yeah, those. Chris wanted to make some for Carla’s birthday. Those’re the ones that didn’t pass the visual test. Still taste pretty good though.”

There’s a muffled ‘mmph’ that he’s pretty sure is Buck stuffing one in his mouth, so he felt okay assuming he agreed with him on that. “Bring me a beer while you’re raiding my fridge, would you?” Another muffled ‘mmph’ that Eddie’s pretty sure is acknowledgement.

It’s another couple of quiet moments after that before Buck actually follows through though, eventually shuffling into the living room with two beers, one of which he hands to Eddie as he collapses on the couch next to him.

Eddie pauses in his channel flicking long enough to glance over, raising an eyebrow. “Decided you weren’t hungry, or did you eat all the cupcakes instead?” He barely ducks the couch pillow aimed at his head in response, grinning back at Buck cheekily.

“I only ate one - and you were right, they were good, remind me to tell Chris that later - but...not really hungry.” He says, shrugging, and looking for all the world like he didn’t just tumble into Eddie’s house at fuck-all in the morning.

Sucks for him then that Eddie knows his tells like the back of his own hand. Can point out the stiffness in his shoulders, the minute jitteriness in his knee, the soft frown pressed down between his eyebrows with an accuracy Eddie likes to blame on time rather than any special attentiveness on his part.

Likes to. Really can’t.

“Mm. Well, it’s there if you change your mind.” Is all he says about it though.

They don’t talk about the shifts.

They drift into each other's orbits and let things work themselves out. Talking about it when there’s nothing to really...be done, just never really seemed to help. Shifts were going to suck, no matter how prepared you were for the job. That was just life.

Eventually, they’d settle on a crappy movie, one of them would fall asleep, the other probably right behind them, and, in cases like this, they’d wake up to Chris excitedly yelling at them about Buck visiting.

It was a thing.

And it looked like Buck was going to be the first one to pass out tonight, from how quickly his head is listing to the side, and how quickly Eddie gets worried about having to possibly clean beer stains out of his carpet from the way Buck is holding the bottle.

“You doing okay there, Buck?” Eddie asks, softly. Buck never dropped this quickly. Nervous energy didn’t dissipate this quickly. They had a routine, and they both stuck to it pretty well - falling into habits well worn and settling into groves well travelled.

“Huh?” Buck asks as he pulls his head back up, blinking blearily at Eddie before gracing him with a lopsided smile. “Yeah, yeah, just...tired man. And the nerves are already gone, you know? I just feel calmer, I guess. When I’m with you.” And that last part is said around a yawn, and Eddie swears his heart skips traitorously in his chest.

Before the feeling can fill the empty space in his lungs, he hums and pushes himself to his feet. “Lemme get you a pillow and a blanket then man. No point in trying to stay up if you’re already tuning out.” This time, Eddie doesn’t miss the flash of disappointment across Buck’s face.

Can’t quite convince himself he saw it right. Can’t quite convince himself he didn’t. Instead of examining it further, he’s turning on his heel down the hall to escape the doubt.

And Eddie wants nothing more in that moment than to drop the act. Invite Buck down the hall instead, where they could both curl up in the soft quiet of the night and stop pretending it was the not talking about it that made it better, at least for him.

And maybe...maybe for Buck too.

But, he doesn’t.

Can’t.

No matter how bright his heart burns at Buck’s small smile. At his soft thank you. At the sharp look in his eyes as he chases Eddie’s gaze.

But they don’t say a word about it.

It’s a thing.

---

Eddie doesn’t really know why he’s on Buck’s doorstep right now. Knows he should’ve called. Just as he knows he’s never needed to before.

It wasn’t a bad day. Shift was quiet - as quiet as a fire station in LA can ever be. Bobby had made lunch and they’d all actually been able to eat at least half their plates before the next call had come in. Every call had ended as well as they could.

Chris was on an overnight field-trip with his class to the natural history museum, and Eddie had a picture to show just how bright and excited he’d been about it that morning.

All in all? It’d been a perfect goddamn day. Well. No, not perfect. It’d been Buck’s day off.

...Huh. Maybe that’s why Eddie was on Buck’s doorstep.

...who the hell was he fooling anymore anyway? Definitely not himself.

Hopefully, still Buck though.

He doesn’t even get a chance to knock before the door’s opening and Buck’s grinning at him. “You know, when I said I was the one raised with manners, I wasn’t expecting you to take it to heart. You have a key too.” And then he’s gone again, leaving the door open behind him.

And Eddie has no choice but to follow.

“Was wondering when you’d stop by,” Buck calls out from the living room, where there’s two beers and a pizza box on the coffee table, “Pizza’s cold by now though. You missed your chance.”

“...Did you actually expect me to come by, or did you just grab that second beer just now to make it look like you did?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

And Eddie...Eddie just laughs, feels the strain he’d been carrying in his shoulders since about noon (for no goddamn reason, why was he like this) smooth out with each step towards the living room.

“Chris make it on the bus okay this morning?”

Eddie hums as he collapses on the couch next to Buck, feeling what was left of the tenseness in his muscles melt away as he settles into his spot. “You saw the pic this morning, what do you think? He’s gonna talk your ear off when he gets back. Which reminds me, I’ve been ordered to make sure you’re at dinner tomorrow. Chris’ orders.”

Buck grins at him, slow and soft, so bright and so fond Eddie has to look away. Excuses it by grabbing for the beer in front of him. “Well, Chris’ orders, guess I’m crashing dinner tomorrow then.”

“Hope you didn’t have plans.” Eddie says, for the sake of it.

“Well, I mean, I did…” Eddie feels his stomach drop - a sharp twist of discomfort as he quickly tries to figure out how to backpedal. There were joking expectations, and then there was seriously disrupting his best plan’s day just because he and his kid wanted to, and - “I was planning on dropping by your place for lunch, probably stay for a Disney marathon, since I’m pretty sure Chris is still on that kick, maybe make some lego disasters...but yeah, I think I can manage dinner.”

Eddie stares. And Buck just grins. “You need to get your blood pressure checked, Eds. Pretty sure people aren’t supposed to go that pale that quickly.” And then he’s cackling at Eddie’s expense, and Eddie kind of wants to strangle him, even as he finds himself laughing right along with him after less than a breath.

“You are such a jerk. I should leave. Actually, yeah, no, for that, I’m leaving. You can enjoy your cold pizza alone, you jacka-” Eddie’s halfway off the couch - with the intention of getting a plate, because like hell he was actually leaving - when he feels a hand clamp around his wrist, and suddenly it’s very, very quiet, and Eddie’s not entirely sure why it feels like all the air’s been sucked out of his lungs as he looks at Buck’s suddenly very serious, very sincere face.

“Stay.” Buck says into the quiet - so soft and gentle it can’t help but shatter the stillness around them.

And Eddie wants to laugh it off. The mood switch is too much, too dramatic, too...everything and he wants to break it so it’ll snap back to normal.

Wants to. Can’t quite manage it.

“...I was just getting a plate.” Eddie tries, weakly. Knows it’s not enough as the quiet settles back in around them.

But, then, Buck’s smiling at him, and his grip is loosening, and Eddie can breathe again.

The quiet stays in place, but the air between them is bright and fizzy instead of still and hard and Eddie couldn’t explain it if he tried.

So, he doesn’t. Instead, he goes to get the plate, because he’s not sure he can look at that smile and not take everything at face value.

He doesn’t hear Buck come up behind him. But he’s kind of hard to miss when Eddie turns around and Buck’s right there. Eddie doesn’t jump, but it’s a close thing. One Buck definitely notices if the shine to his eyes and the quirk to his lips is anything to go by. But, points to him, he doesn’t actually say anything about it.

“...You know. I’ve had this...big speech, in my head, for the last like. Month. Never quite manage to get it right twice.” And Buck’s talking, but Eddie’s not quite understanding. “Always seemed too...showy, you know? Or stiff. Or practiced. But that?” Buck gestures vaguely back to the living room like Eddie’s supposed to know what that means, “That gave me an idea.” And then he’s leaning into Eddie’s space and Eddie...Eddie can’t say no to Buck. Can’t deny him space even if all he has to give is his own.

“Eddie, stay with me?” Buck asks into the bare space between them, so soft and gentle it can’t help but shatter Eddie on the spot as the question clicks into place.

Eddie thinks back. To staying still in the comfortable dark in the hope that neither of them were going to move, for just a moment longer. To knowing silence and willing comfort in familiar orbits. To the want straining his heart every time he so much as looks at Buck, in the hope that the look he’s seeing in the man’s eyes is a reflection rather than a delusion.

He doesn’t know who moves first, but the next thing he really knows is the feel of Buck’s lips against his own in a slow, languid kiss that doesn’t quite line up until it does and all Eddie can do is melt.

“Do you even have to ask?” Eddie’s heart is burning when they pull away, breathless in the quiet, his voice too loud and too quiet.

And oh, that first kiss has nothing on the second.

[mattreadsthings]

Hell (a SPN fanfic)

Trying something a little different today: posting a fanfic! My 2nd foray into fanfic writing, my first for spn (the other is a LOTR fic I may post in the future).

Takes place sometime in Season 3. Dean Winchester is preparing to go to hell, and soon. Trying to make the best of things as the clock runs out. But what does fate have in store for him? When a terrible accident occurs, he comes face to face against a simple question with a hard answer: what is hell, really?

Dean Winchester was going to hell in six months. Of that he was sure. And he was even more sure he wanted to take as many sons of bitches down with him as he could. He and Sam had been making the rounds doing small time gigs from town to town while the younger brother searched tirelessly for a way to break Dean’s demon deal. They fought often, or at least Sam did. Is it fighting if one person doesn’t reciprocate? Sam would cry out that Dean wasn’t taking this seriously enough, that he hated being in this position, that he would live his whole life knowing that he was a dead thing that should have stayed dead. That he would rather be dead than be alive and watch his brother swallowed up. Because that’s what it was, really. An annihilation. Dean lost himself in the guns and booze and women and Sam tried to find him, drag him back.

Sometimes Bobby came along on hunts; Dean suspected the old man wanted to spend as much time as he could before the clock ran out. It meant a lot to him, wholly and truly. He missed his father, the man who taught him to shoot, what iron and salt were used for, how to kill a wendigo, but Bobby-- he meant something else to Dean. Bobby was a real dad. And when damnation is staring you in the face, when you wake up from dreams of yourself with black eyes and your baby brother all alone, you want someone there to share a drink with and shoot the shit.

It was a simple job really, or should’ve been. Multiple ghosts haunting a house owned by the Pfaff family, leading to mayhem and injury. A child had been pushed down the stairs and the parents were being investigated for abuse. It was all too easy for Sam and Bobby to pose as CYS agents to get a closer look. Everything checked out; the EMF was sky high. Dean was sent in as an envoy of the gas company to fake a leak and relocate the Pfaffs to a hotel. Too easy, too easy. 

Night fell and the three men searched the old house for what they believed to be the culprit: a box of baby teeth left over from the previous owners in the basement.

“Why do they even let houses stand for more than 200 years?” Dean quipped, stomping down the stairs. “You think if they knew the chance of these bastards being haunted they’d just burn them all to the ground?”

“It’s history,” replied Sam, “Some people have respect for that kind of thing.”

“You fight ghosts for a living, I didn’t think I’d have to convince you.” Dean said, rolling his eyes

“How haunted do you think a place like the Louvre is?” called Bobby from upstairs, “Do you wanna burn that too?”

“You’re damn right I do.” Dean ran back up the stairs with a small velvet box rattling in his hand. He grimaced. “Why the hell do people collect stuff like this?”

The men took the teeth out back and destroyed them, glad for the fact that the Pfaffs lived miles away from any neighbors. The western Pennsylvania sky shone above them, besmirched by foul smoke.

“C’mon, boys,” grunted Bobby, headed back towards the house, “Let’s do a quick once over just to be safe.” It was a good decision, a wise one from years of experience, but one that would prove to be disastrous.

Dean knew something was wrong when he walked in the door, green paint chipping off in his hand, and the hair stood up on his arms. He stopped in the door. Sam had strode ahead of him into the parlor and stood in front of the fireplace. He seemed to sense that his brother had hesitated. Sam turned, the word “hey-” barely out of his mouth, when a force threw him into the mantle with a sickening crack. He fell to the ground lifeless, a scarlet pool of blood growing rapidly beneath his head.

All of the options that had been running through Dean’s mind the moment before that happened were suddenly drowned out by white noise. While Bobby fought the spirit, he ran to Sam’s side. He felt like he was trudging through wet cement. No matter how fast he went, the blood just kept coming, and Sam just laid there deadly still.

“DON’T MOVE HIM!” Bobby screamed, iron poker in his hand. Dean froze, hand an inch away from his brother’s shoulder. Sam’s face was ashen but he was breathing. God forbid he paralyzed him with a careless touch.

Too much blood, Dean thought. He saw the gaping wound on the side of Sam’s scalp, how the marble mantle had torn a deep cut several inches long. Too much blood. He thought of the crack he had heard and how he hoped it wasn’t Sam’s neck. Dean ripped off his flannel and pressed it against Sam’s temple, feeling his brother’s heartbeat in his hand, feeling his own in his ears.

“Ow.” Sam said weakly, not opening his eyes. Dean hadn’t noticed the fighting had ended behind him, that Bobby had kneeled next to the boys to take Sam by the wrist, counting his pulse, but to hear his brother speak was the most magical sound he’d ever heard.

“Sammy? Are you with me? Stay with me. You’re okay.”

“That was a bad hit Dean,” Bobby said softly, “And he’s lost a lot of blood. We need to come up with a story. We need to take him to the hospital.”

“We’ve been through worse,” Dean hissed through gritted teeth. The hospital was always a gamble; they had risked pulling out bullets in hotel bathtubs over a run in with the law. He couldn’t help but think, though, as stubborn as he was, that Bobby was right. He felt the shirt get wet in his hand. And Sam was talking but he wasn’t making much sense.

“Dad,” the younger brother whispered, opening his eyes. They were glassy, staring off at some fixed point in the distance. “I’m so sorry, I should have looked better.” He tried to push himself up onto his elbows and his eyes rolled back into his head. Bobby gently rested him on his side. He gave Dean a knowing look, and Dean nodded, swallowing fear.

They dragged all six foot and change of Sam out to the Impala, the young man groaning all the way.

“I’m okay guys, I’m okay,” he slurred, swatting at Dean’s face. Bobby climbed into the back and rested Sam’s head on his lap. As much as Dean wanted to be with his little brother, Bobby was better at this kind of stuff. This was no time for the levee to break.

“Bleeding’s mostly stopped,” Bobby grunted, checking the shirt pressed against the wound. “Sam?” Bobby asked, leaning over to look into Sam’s unfocused face. “Do you know where you are, son?”

“I’m home, Bobby. I’m home.” Sam gripped the seat of the Impala tight and winced. Bobby sighed and patted his shoulder.

“I’ll take it. Okay, what day of the week is it?”

“What?” Sam asked breathlessly, white as a sheet.

“Is it Tuesday, Wednesday?” It was Saturday, but it didn’t matter, because Sam sat up like a shot, eyes wide, and vomited all over the backseat, collapsing immediately. Bobby tried to shake him awake.

“Come on kid, don’t do this to me!”

“Bobby, what’s going on back there?” Dean shouted. His eyes darted towards the back.

“Just get us to the hospital, Dean, this isn’t good.”

----

Bobby and Dean were at the hospital an hour before they were given news of Sam’s condition. Dean sat in absolute silence, gaze locked on the floor, before, the doctor came out to speak. The neurologist on call was named Dr. Wesson, a beautiful middle-aged woman who barely came up to Bobby’s shoulder. In spite of this, she had a formidable presence-- her feet firmly grounded, her dark gray eyes sensitive yet strong.

“I’m afraid it’s serious, Mr. Vedder” she said. Dean tried to listen,  but the white noise in his head was returning. He caught the words “skull fracture” and sunk into his chair. So much talk of recovery times, the luck that it wasn’t ‘depressed,’ the possibility of traumatic brain injury, the risk of brain swelling… it all flowed over his mind like so much rainwater on a stone. He could scarcely take it in.

“But… my brother’s gonna be okay, right?” Dean managed to choke out. He could scarcely believe the sound of his own voice, so strangled and weak. Bobby looked at him gravely. Dean dragged himself out of his chair-- he couldn’t bear to be talked down to-- and stared intensely at the diminutive neurologist. Her face was clear of any pity, but also of any false hope.

“It’s going to be a waiting game to see if there are any lasting effects. Once he wakes up, I’ll give him a full neuro workup to check for permanent deficits. There’s really no way for me to know until then.” She placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder, which he had to brace himself not to shrug off. “Take care of yourself. This could be a long road ahead of you.” She brushed her long locs behind her shoulder and took her leave.

The waiting room was empty besides the two men, each covered in the blood of a third. The silence was palpable. Dean clenched his fists so tight his arms began to shake.

“Bobby.” He whispered at first, volume slowly growing, “what happened back there? What did we miss? How the hell did that happen?” By the end he was shouting, backing the older man up against a wall. “Did you mess up? Did I mess up? Is my brother half dead because of some dumb mistake?!”

“Don’t talk that way, Dean,” Bobby pointed his hand in Dean’s face-- his father always called it the knife hand, from his Marine days. “If anything Sam messed up! It was a mistake in the lore. Those girls weren’t killed in an accident, their father murdered them. I had to torch his army jacket. But it’s nobody’s goddamn fault cuz these things just happen! You never got hurt on a hunt before? This is just bad luck!”

“Bad luck?  Bobby, he could die! I gotta…. I shoulda…. There’s gotta be something I can do.”

“Just be here for him Dean.” Bobby held his surrogate son in a warm embrace. “I won’t go anywhere ‘til this is set right.” Dean allowed himself the weakness of being held for a moment, to let a single tear fall, but then stiffened and pulled away.

“Can you find us a room somewhere Bobby? I want to go see Sam.”

A nurse led Dean down the hall to room 206, the room of Sam Vedder. The fake names made it feel even more unreal. He was dying in six months, he knew that when he woke up, but what would those six months hold?

When Dean was 16 he went on a hunt with his dad that involved going to a funeral to pass as loving mourners. This victim had been a kid, the monster a shifter that enjoyed scaring people to death. The kid had run, fallen down, and hit his head on a curb. Died just like that. There in that casket, he could’ve been asleep.

“How can you die from that?” Dean asked his dad on the way back to the motel, where twelve year old Sam was holed up.

“The human brain is no joke,” John had said seriously, “it makes or breaks you.” Looking at his brother, in a hospital gown, hooked up to IVs but thankfully breathing on his own, he had a similar thought. Sam’s hair had been shaved on his left side to stitch the cut, and bandaged. He had a slight black eye on that side as well. But otherwise he looked… okay. The brothers had both been busted each way ‘til Sunday at some point, yet this would be what would take Sam Winchester out? Dean felt his eyes welling up but he steeled it away. Can’t think like that. Won’t think like that. He took a seat by Sammy’s side and waited for the sun to rise.

Bobby met Dean with coffee the next day. “You been up all night?” he asked. Dean said nothing. Of course he had. Things were uneventful until 9, Dean staring into space and Bobby talking to doctors, when suddenly, in a small voice, Sam murmured

“What happened?” He was barely conscious, looking hazily around the room.

“Sammy?” Dean moved forward with great trepidation. “Little brother, you awake?” When Sam saw Dean his eyes widened with an unnatural surprise. 

“Dean…. Dean, how did you find me?” Something was wrong. He looked strange still, with kind of a vague look about him. He gazed aimlessly at no fixed part of the room-- clearly he realized it was a hospital, but he had no idea of what brought him here

“What do you mean, bud? I was with you when you were hurt.” Sam’s brow furrowed.

“Dean, I haven’t seen you…. In years. Since I went to Stanford.” Dean tried to keep his face steady; he was successful,. Sam didn’t notice anything amiss. “What happened to me? How did you find me? I don’t feel so well-”

“Slow down, Sammy,”

“Where’s Jess?” A sharp pain tore through Dean’s heart. He thought of the young blonde woman he had met all those years ago, barely more than a kid. How terribly she had died.

“You don’t know.” He felt like all the wind had been knocked out of him. Sam started to pull himself up in bed, a look of pure terror he tried so hard to hide spreading across his face.

“What… HAPPENED?” he screamed.

“She died, Sam. Years ago.” Sam went ashen and Dean rushed to his side, easing him back into bed. “Sam, you’re hurt bud, you’re hurt real bad-”

“Were we in an accident? She died in the accident? My head…” He stared blankly into space for a moment, his eyes almost crossing, then looked at Dean with a new, incredulous expression. “Dean? What happened? Am I in a hospital?” Dean turned to look at Bobby, but he was already out of the room, getting the doctor’s attention. “Who are you looking at? Is dad here?”

“Dad’s dead.” It left his mouth before he could stop it. “He died a year ago. Sammy, you don’t remember?”

“He died and you didn’t tell me?” Sam shouted. He was trembling like a leaf in Dean’s arms before shoving him away. “Where’s Jess?” His voice was hoarse, his bruised face wet from crying, “Where the fuck is Jess?”

“I just told you, Sam. She... “ Dean shook his head tightly, lips pursed, eyes full.

“NOOO!” he screamed, “you’re crazy!” 

Bobby and a nurse ran in as Sam started to hyperventilate.

“What did you do to him?” Bobby cried.  The nurse shoved Dean back.

“Sam,” she said soothingly, trying to calm him. “Sam, can you tell me what year it is?”

“2002,” he panted. He collapsed in her arms.

“Get out!” Dr Wesson entered, ushering Dean and Bobby into the hall. Sam looked gray, lying limp on the bed. Dean felt bile rising in his own throat.

“Don’t look.” Bobby was next to him. “Sit down. Head between your knees. Always calms ya right down.” He eased Dean onto the blue tile floor. “Your brother’s gonna be alright, Dean. You boys are gonna be alright.”

And that was when Dean knew that his six months had taken a turn.

About twenty minutes later, but what felt like an eternity, Dr. Wesson came out to update. Dean didn’t even bother to rise from the floor. He figured he’d just have to sit again. All he could think was the worst, of burning his brother’s corpse and then his own death by hellhound hanging over his head.

“He had a panic attack. Looks like you had one too.” She smiled weakly. Dean returned no such gesture. “He’s physically okay right now. The anxiety made him faint so we have him on oxygen. He doesn’t remember whatever you two fought about.”

“We weren’t fighting, I was- wait, how could he not remember?” Dr. Wesson took a deep sigh. Today her hair was in many long braids, and she played with one between her fingers.

“Your brother has what’s called anterograde amnesia. He can’t make any new memories. Every minute or so his memory resets and he finds himself back in a hospital with no idea how he got there.” Dean swallowed hard. “He also seems to have retrograde amnesia spanning the last few years. He thinks it’s 2002, and no matter what you tell him he’s stuck in 2002. It will only serve to upset him. This could be temporary, or it could be permanent. If it isn’t going to last, it should only be a matter of days or even hours before it’s right.”

“How do you treat it?” Bobby asked, voice filled with pain, “The boy can’t live like this. He’d be like an Alzheimer’s patient. Someone’d have to watch him all the time.”

“We just have to--”

“Wait, right?” Dean spat, standing up suddenly. “We just have to wait and see? So much of a goddamn doctor you are. I’m going to go in and be with my brother.”

“Just please, Mr. Vedder, a moment.” Dr Wesson said. Her tone was authoritative enough that Dean stopped in his tracks. “Just try to keep your brother relaxed. Don’t try to tell him what he doesn’t remember. With god’s grace it’ll come back to him soon.” Dean stood in silence, facing away from Dr. Wesson. Bobby thanked her quietly before leading Dean back into the horror of room 206.

----

Their dad used to call it pete and repeat, he remembered, when he was in a favorable mood. Asking or saying the same thing over and over. He never learned what the reference was from-- he could definitely google it, but it was kind of nice to think it was a Winchester neologism. Nicer than thinking of the punishments that happened if John’s mood was sour. Sam slept most of the morning, but when he awoke it was hell. Every moment a whole new confusion, a whole new terror growing within him. Absolute bewilderment. And it drove Dean insane. After ten or so interactions of just telling Sam to rest (what the doctor had recommended), the older brother had a different idea. He wouldn’t tell him the bitter truth, couldn’t cause that pain again, but he could help his brother remember the best he knew how. Every time he woke up, Sam was asked a new question. Who’s Bela, Dean asked once, and got ‘the girl in my stat class’ as an answer. What monster almost ganked you? ‘But we don’t do that anymore. Please, where’s Jess?’ It was harrowing for sure, and the only reason it was allowed to continue was because Bobby had stepped out to shower at the motel. Eventually, even with the restrained but firm drilling, Sam dozed off once more. Soon, Bobby returned, being none the wiser of Dean’s plan to get Sam back to health.

However, the repetition soon started again. Sam had woken up randomly around 2 pm with a start to see Dean there. His face was dark with terror.

“Dean-?”

“Sammy, look at me. What year is it?”

“2003. What-?”

“No, wrong. Who’s president? When was the last president elected?”

“Um, um, 2000, Dean please-”

“Wrong.” Dean slammed his fist down on his own leg. The noise wasn’t loud, but the motion made Sam jump.

“Please, what’s going on?” Those big hazel eyes that were usually so sharp with humor, exasperation, or even contempt now seemed to be permanently swimming in dull confusion. Bobby, now present for this descent into insanity, gave Dean an incredulous look, but said nothing. Dean’s exasperation grew.

“What year is it?” 

“1998.” Sam’s eyes had become glassy and unfocused.

“What?!”

“It’s 1998.”

“What monster got you?”

“A werewolf.” Dean suddenly remembered a hunt they had been on with their father when Sam was a teenager. The kid had broken his arm and got a scar for the ages across his chest. Spent a night in the hospital getting stitches. So he knew he was hurt, Dean mused, the poor guy was just nearly nine years off.

“Sam, what--?”

“Stop it!”

“Sammy, what--!”

“DAD, JUST STOP! PLEASE LEAVE ME ALONE! I WANT JESS, I WANNA GO HOME, I DON’T WANNA COME WITH YOU!” He guarded his face with his left arm and struck Dean square in the jaw. As big as Sam was, it nearly knocked his brother off his feet. Dean felt a hand on his shoulder, gripping tight to steady him. He turned to see Bobby staring back.

“Come with me, son, we need to talk.” Sam had laid back in bed, forgetting the whole mess that had occurred. His eyes were empty, but Bobby’s burned with anger.

“This might be the last six months you have left with this kid, and he could be stuck like this. Is this how you wanna spend it?” Bobby shouted out in the hall. Dean turned his face away to hide true anguish. “Making him relive the worst moments of his life? Drilling him like reality is just multiplication tables? Sam could get better. That would be great. But he sure won’t if you keep stressing him out like this.”

“You’re not my father!”

“Well neither are you, but you’re sure acting like him!” As the words left his mouth the older man knew he’d done wrong. He softened. “Dean, I’m-”

“Screw you!” Dean stormed off down the hall, ignoring Bobby’s pleas. He knew what he had to do.

It took him two days to gather the supplies. He would come to visit Sam and sit in the corner, try not to make his presence known. He mostly slept anyway. When he did see Dean it was all waterworks. The poor kid was gonna get dehydrated. Nothing much had changed over two days. Sam still didn’t seem cognizant of anything other than the fact that he was hurt. And time after time it came again. Reset, reset, reset.

Bobby would try to talk to Dean in between short interactions with Sam, but Dean stonewalled him in legendary Winchester fashion. He would stare out the window, down the road of the rural hospital, picturing the crossroads that laid there.

He knew who to ask. He kept tabs on them, hunted them. The demon laughed in his face at first, but when threatened acquiesced. Yarrow, black cat’s bone, graveyard dirt… a picture of himself. All he needed was to dull the fear. How he hated the word, how it felt in his mouth, how the feeling sat heavy in his chest. A bottle of Jack was the only way to fix this. Down the drink and down the drink and down the drink and soon even he was drunk. And with intoxication came sentimentality. He needed to visit his brother one last time. In the Impala, still soaked in bile and blood, he drove past the crossroads to the hospital, stumbled past the visitors desk and up to the 2nd floor. 

“Hey Bobby.” 

Bobby sat vigil over a sleeping Sam, too relieved that Dean seemed less furious to be angry at his drunkenness. 

“He’s sleeping, Dean. Best wait until morning. Things might be better then.”

“He making any sense yet?” Dean slurred.

“Nah... still Pete and Repeat.” Dean couldn’t help it. He swallowed the tears before they came and wrapped Bobby in a tight embrace. “You alright son? You’re so drunk you could slosh when you walk. And I ain’t ever known you not to hold your liquor.”

“It’ll be okay Bobby.” Bobby looked at him suspiciously but didn’t seem to spy his true intentions.

“Go sleep it off Dean. We’ll be here in the morning”

He found himself in the waiting room.The bottle was gone. His vision was crossed and his feet couldn’t carry him. The supplies lay in his pockets. He physically couldn’t drive, he thought, but he could still walk. He just had to make it a mile. Sober up, he thought, just sober up and walk and Sammy will be right as rain by morning. They’d never know. Maybe they wouldn’t even miss him. A distant pang in his heart rang out at that thought.

Before he knew it, though, he was not alone. Dr Wesson had appeared-- appeared seemed like the right word. She was right next to him so suddenly, her hand on his arm in an almost motherly way. He looked up and just said “How did you know?”

“I can always tell when a family member is struggling. I’ve been doing this for a long time. Neurology is not an easy field for loved ones.” He noticed a lilt in her voice, of faith. One that he had heard in his brother’s before. He remembered that Sam used to pray every night before bed, hiding it from his father lest he be told the world was cruel and random. “I’m a woman of science, but I have seen miracles. I’ve seen people come back from worse odds than your brother.” 

“My mother used to tell me angels were watching over me.” Dean said, voice husky with emotion. “And I used to say it to him. And he believed it. But the people who believe it, the good people, they always die. The good people always get hurt or die.”

“If it helps, I don’t think your brother is going to die. His life just might look very different from now on.”

“But sometimes isn’t that worse?” She looked deep into his eyes, gray meeting green..

“I suppose it can be. But if you say your brother is a person who hopes, wouldn’t he want you to have hope? Even if just for tonight?” 

Dean closed his eyes and saw a six year old praying as a ten year old puts him to bed. Their father has been on a hunt for days. “Angels are watching over you,” the older one says, barely meaning it, and the younger one stops him.

“They are Dean. They are.”

He thought of his brother’s anguish at being the result of a demon deal, his fear of being alone. How Sam would never know until the next time a demon threw it in his face that Dean had sold his soul again. How he would fight til the end to get Dean back. And in that moment he felt angels. That angels would help him someday.

For that night he was a believer, and it saved his soul. He didn’t go to the crossroads. Dr Wesson grabbed a blanket from the nurses station and let Dean sleep in the chair.

---------

Was hell waking up in a plastic chair every morning to a phone buzzing in your pocket? It had to be, according to Dean Winchester’s lower spine. Add the hangover of a lifetime to that and it’s gotta be about right, Dean thought through his pounding headache. He opened his phone to check the time-- 8:23. Not too shabby. A text from Bobby awaited-- Get coffee. It was putting the phone back that he felt the bag of graveyard dirt and remembered what had almost transpired. His stomach dropped. Was he going to go now?

One moment passed.

Two moments.

White noise.

He found himself walking to the cafeteria and then from carrying two coffees. Not right now. Not right now. He entered room 206 with hesitation to find Sam curled up facing the wall and Bobby reading Nostradamus.

“Research for a case,” Bobby said without looking up.

“A case? I thought you weren’t--”

“Not my case, idjit. I’m being consulted.”

“Dean?” Sam turned around clumsily, having just woken up. “Dean what happened? Am I... in a hospital?”

Dean could feel Bobby’s stare boring into the back of his head. He sat down next to his little brother and took his hand.

“You… were in a car accident.” Sam inhaled sharply to speak “Shhh, shhh, nobody else was hurt. Jess called me cuz it was pretty touch and go for a while. Don’t be mad at her. I didn’t bring dad. I thought it might not be the best idea.” 

“Where is she? Can I see her?” Dean looked at his brother’s sparkling eyes, longing to see the woman he loved, and he knew just what to say.

“She’s getting coffee now. She’ll be here any minute.” Sam smiled in pure relief, eyes still cloudy. Looking at the door, his anxiety grew. “Don’t worry, Sasquatch. She’s just around the corner.” 

“Dean, it’s crazy to see you. I’m sorry I left…” The transient look came back. The reset button, Dean thought. It broke his heart every time. Hell had nothing on this, that was for sure. They could break every bone, they could brand him, but watching his brother like this was a torment so unique he was sure not even Lucifer could match it.

“Dean, is that you?” 

“Yeah buddy, you’re okay.” 

“Was I in….. An accident?” 

“Yeah, just lay down.” 

“Where’s Jess? Was she hurt?” Dean took a breath to answer-- she’s right around the corner she’s right around the corner, he thought--  and Sam sat straight up in bed and said “There was a fire.” 

A moment of dead silence. 

Pure grief framed his face as he turned to face Dean “And you….” 

“Shhhh, Sammy, you’re confused, just lay down.” Dean felt his heart soar that the thread of memory was returning, but that did not compare to the crushing sorrow he felt at watching his brother relearn his pain. He would cut out his own heart if it would rid the younger man of having to go through it. Sam laid quietly for a few moments before drifting off to sleep.

“Did you see that?” Bobby said. They were both in shock.“With any luck this’ll lead to something good.”

-------

“They’re dead.” He said it suddenly, taking Dean by surprise. A few hours had passed and even the older of the two had been dozing off on the watch. It was about 5 pm. He turned to look at Sam to see a face full of tears, eyes transfixed at the ceiling, breathless. “Dean they’re both… dead. Dean what happened? Why am I here? Why aren’t you hurt?” The men sat dumbstruck. Sam spoke louder. “Dean…. Bobby… what happened? How bad did the shifter go?” The shifter was the case before this one, about 3 days before the accident. Dean and Bobby rose from their chairs with bated breath. 

“Sam?”

“Wait… we got the shifter. What the fuck happened to me?” Dean walked slowly over and grabbed his brother by the face, maybe too roughly. 

“Son of a bitch Dean, my head!” 

“What year is it?” 

“2006, ouch!” 

“Dean, let the man go.”

“Do you remember any of it?” 

“Any of what?” 

“Well, what’s the last thing you remember? Unless it makes your brain hurt to think that much, you got knocked pretty hard. Cracked skull and all.” Sam’s eyes widened.

“I uh….. Remember getting to Riverwood. And going to bed and we were going to scope out the ghost in the morning.” He looked puzzled. “A ghost did this to me?” Bobby nodded solemnly. “How long was I out? You two look like shit.”

But you weren’t out. Dean thought to himself. I talked to you every moment. I nearly made a demon deal twice over.

“4 days.” said Bobby. Sam pondered on that for a minute, then laid back down. There were gears grinding in his head, that’s for sure. Dean could see it in his eyes. The younger man knew there was something unsaid. But if Dean had learned anything, it was that some things are best left that way.

“I’m not…. Right.” He said with finality. “I feel kinda funny.”

“What part of cracked skull doesn’t sit right with you? It’s a goddamn miracle you’re talking right now. It’s not a big crack but you’re gonna be in this bed for a little while.” Bobby’s voice was gruff, but a hint of relief tempered it. Dean felt stinging in his eyes again. Sam stared at him like he had three heads.

“I’m okay… really. Like I’m not okay, but I’m okay.”

“Okay little brother. Okay.” They were coming now, the tears, unable to be stopped. He knew his weakness. He had seen his own hell. That he could be someone else’s. And something out there was bigger than him, bigger than demons and monsters… maybe? He thought of the doctor walking away, and how maybe he’d seen wings on her back. Just the ghost of them, black and folded, but that filled him with comfort, not fear. I was drunk, he thought, collapsing in his chair, burying his face in his hands, shoulders heaving. Bobby pulled a bandanna from his pocket and Dean took it, furiously wiping his face. Sam, on his right, placed his arm on his brother’s shoulder.

“I really put you through it, Dean. I’m sorry.” Sam searched for words but could not find them. His head was swimming with pain. He had never seen his brother this despondent. Dean felt his pain in the hidden places of the heart.

“It was a freak thing, just a freak thing. Not your fault. Not anyone’s fault.” He wiped his nose. “Just… just take care of yourself, little brother. Just take care of yourself… when I’m gone.” The weeping man who’d been so strong for so long had let his levee break. With any luck he’d live to know the truth.

Somewhere far away, beyond the reaches of the human mind, a war was coming. And it was coming for them, fought on the backs of angels.

[houseofvans]

Art School | Edward Colver | Interview Part I

Photographer Edward Colver captured and lived the hardcore punk movement in LA from late 1978 to mid-1984.   His amazing photographs tell this story: Not only was he always on stage taking photographs or in the pit, but his work has been featured on more than 250 albums, including some of the most iconic covers of the punk era –from Black Flag’s “Damaged,” Circle Jerk’s “Group Sex,” to Wasted Youth’s “Reagan’s In,” just to name a few.  His recent exhibition ‘Idol Worship II,’ which opened Saturday, April 28th at Lethal Amounts Gallery in Los Angeles, featured some of his most iconic works as well as several unpublished photographs. We were honored to chat with Ed about various topics– from how he got into photography, how he shot amidst the chaos, and what his ingredients were for the “blood recipe” used for Black Flag’s “Damaged” cover. 

For gallery hours, contact Info@Lethalamounts.com Recorded and transcribed by Michael C. Hsiung 

How did you first get interested in photography? A friend of mine brought a 35-milimeter camera over to my place one time and we were messing around shooting pictures around the yard and shooting each other. And that’s the first time I ever used one and saw the results a couple weeks later or something, and it was pretty interesting. 

What was your first camera? My first camera was a really cheap Yashica Rangefinder that a friend of mine told me it was worth about thirty-five dollars. I always thought that was funny ‘thirty five dollars, thirty five millimeters.’

What kind of lightning were you shooting with? You know I was shooting all entirely available light with it at the time. My friend Frank Gargani– a really great LA punk photographer–and Bruce Kalberg that worked on No Mag . .  [so] Frank went and told Bruce –“Hey there’s this guy shooting available light.” Hah. It was because I didn’t have a flash or couldn’t afford one.

When did you first get published? They put some of my work in their magazine early on. I actually got my first photo published three months after I started shooting.

And how did that happen? It was all through my arts and crafts collecting from the sixties.  I got invited over for dinner by some friend’s house that also were collectors of arts and crafts period stuff. The wife’s friend or sister and these two people from BAM magazine.  My friend said “We heard you’re shooting pictures, bring some over.”  And I brought some of photos and some of them were of Johanna Went-the performance artist.  And they said “Hey we’re doing a story on her can we use these?” Hah. Yeah so it was a total fluke. Just months after I started shooting! Then, I might go on to say that I’ve been shooting for like thirty-seven years now.  

What did you use to get work? I’ve never advertised, don’t solicit work, and my phone number is unpublished and I use funeral sympathy cards with my info on it for my business cards. I always said that those cards would weed out “the clients” with no sense of humor who I wouldn’t want to work with then.  I’m sure some people and taken my business card and thrown it away immediately, and I’m like thank you! 

Did you always use Funeral Sympathy cards? Early 80’s at least I’d stamp my number on playing cards, so you know, when someone goes “hey you got a card?” Huh.  This one guy Greg Mishka turned up one on the Internet –a really early one when it was some old business card I had from some old bar I had crossed out and stamped my info on it. It was like Bob’s Smokehouse on 7th Street or something. It was really funny. We used to use instead of doing test strips I always just took a piece of paper and I would throw it out in the area where somebody’s face to get the proper tone and develop those and cut those up and use an apple on the face with an eye on it and stamp my information on the back with it. I was using scraps from my darkroom for cards

What was the first show you attended? Well, the first “band” I went to see and took my camera, and I’m even surprised I don’t even know why I did that was the Motels at Madame Wong’s. And they’re not a punk band, but they were really cool actually their early stuff is really dark and moody and stuff. A really interesting band. I’m still friends with Jeff Jourard the guitar player. 

Where did you go to see most of the bands? I had heard about that place (Madame Wong’s) and went to check it out a couple times but I was kinda of underwhelmed. Then the Hong Kong café opened right across the alleyway. And that was punk rock and I was gone forever.  They say Madame Wong’s is where New Wave went to die.  Hah.  People used to say “You into New Wave?,” and I used to say “FUCK NO,” I like PUNK ROCK!”  And I’ve never figured out why they got lumped together. Its like New Wave is like contemporary pop music and punk rock is something, totally new and branched off. It’s like they have nothing to do with each other. It’s like people who say Blondie, Talking Heads, and Devo were punk bands? It’s like what the FUCK are you talking about?

What made you stop going? When was it sort of over for you? Oh I don’t know, like I spoke earlier of the advent of the thrash bands which totally turned me off and the fact I had already seen everybody and shot everybody and worked on like eighty record jackets by the end of ’83 and I actually got my first studio at the Brewery “Art” Complex. I always have to put “ART” in quotations.  That was in early ’84 so I got a photography studio and started doing studio photography and working for record labels that actually paid me. I was gone out of the punk scene then.  To me it kind of like DIED. My buddy Steve Blush who is in American Hardcore thought it went to eighty-six. I kind of feel like it all sort of all changed. As much as I LOVED it and LIVED it, I was kind of like … it all sort of shifted. I already started doing something different at the same time and started getting paid to do photography, you know.

How would you describe 1978-1984 scene? Really creative raw energy was going on I guess it hadn’t happened before. It’s weird how hardcore turned into this huge macho thing and such. The early punk scene was all-inclusive thing, but then it became this really fuckin’ aggro, which is amazing and fascinating, but really excluded women.  Every once in a while I’d see one girl down in the pit.  

What was it like shooting at show? How comfortable were you doing that?  I never thought it in terms of “comfort.” It was like a war zone kind of.  Being in the middle of that stuff. I could say that when I started early shooting. I was always out all the time like five nights a week on the average out shooting pictures, and there were actually good bands playing that much!  It was great. Yeah, all the time there were amazing shows and they were small and at weird venues that moved around and stuff.

Who was the most photogenic band you shot? Probably the Dead Kennedy because I’ve heard Jello (Biafra) was actually theatrical.

What was it like to shoot a live show? Live is always pretty much the same situation. It was chaotic and I’d have to find a vantage point to shoot from, granted I’d move around.  But back then I was on stage with people all the time they were my friends, and I was there I’d be on stage I had carte blanche and before passes or anything.

How has shooting live shows changed for you over the years? I think twice I shot with the three song limit pass shit and I go “this is fucking bullshit folks.”  It had to do with their management and stuff. I’ve always said “God forbid you want any sweat in Rock n Roll.”  Because they wanted these guys to look good, but then scoot you out and it was like, ooohhh ok-ay. I did that about twice, and that was right around the time I totally quit. I stopped shooting live photos entirely in early ’84 I just totally stopped it. That’s when I got the studio and started studio and stopped doing live. People still think I do live stuff… I don’t do that shit anymore. I was always there. If somebody went to a show I was there. I was always there. And I was there every time you went out and if someone saw me they still didn’t fuck with me because I was part of it.  Like if I go there (shows) now, it’s like who’s this clown. It’s like a totally different thing. I wouldn’t go out in a pit and shoot for a thousand bucks nowadays. Besides not being interested, people wouldn’t know what the fuck I was doing.

Ever been injured shooting in this live show chaos? Nothing ever too crazy happened, like the barricade break at the Olympic.  I was the only person between the barricade and the stage. There was no bouncers, no nobody. I was the only person between the barricade and the stage, and this kid had like climbed up across and was going to jump off or something.  He had fallen down by me and bumped me, and it was like I helped him back up. And he jumped out. Then a minute later I got slammed in the back and looked to the right and the whole barricade had collapsed.  There were several hundred, you know, it was a three thousand people concert. There was a huge pit, and all of sudden I look over and was like oohh wwhhhaatt.  Instead of ducking under the stage, my thinking was I gotta get out of here, so I’m heading up. There’s nothing to step on as I threw my camera on the middle of the stage as this thing is collapsing and starting to pinch me. The Earl (Liberty) from Saccharine Trust was roading for Black Flag, and he ran over to help me.  But in this video I’ve seen there’s this blonde guy that runs over to help too. It actually shows me walking off the side of the stage holding my hip. Ouch.

Tell us about one of your most iconic images the Black Flag “Damaged” cover with Rollins punching the mirror? All the guys talked to me about Henry and the mirror. I shot that at the Oxford House in Hollywood, what was known as the Oxford House. It was on Oxford. I brought a red India ink with me to the photo shoot, and then I started scrounging around in the kitchen to see what I could find to make blood out. I had the red India ink and came up with the mixture of liquid dish washing soap for consistency, and instant coffee for consistency and color and red India ink for color. Made the blood in the kitchen and I took the mirror and put a masking tape all over the back of it. I flipped over and cleaned. Then hit it once with a hammer and cleaned it again. Then stood it up and did the photo. The back of the album cover using the mirror was for the text-to-overlay. [It was] my idea to use just the mirror, which I shot up in Los Feliz later that night. I laid it out on the sidewalk and photographed it on an angle. I like the way the flash made it look like– these energy bolts running through

Wow, just to think on the sidewalk in Los Feliz! It was a little bit interesting – I shot it outside of [my friend’s] apartment and it was a block or two from LaBianca murder residence. Her aunt had found bloody clothes in the alleyway right by there (St. George and Los Feliz) after the murders. Tex Watson lived on Griffith Park. I always thought that was kind of interesting.  That it was shot by the LaBianca’s place. Pettibon was always doing Manson art so.

There’s a famous photograph of Rozz Williams in Christian Death wearing a dress while sitting on a tombstone, blocking some letters out with his feet. It says Flickler …I told him to move his legs around till it covered the word so it said FUCKER.  We were out at Holy Cross Cemetery in Pomona doing a whole bunch of photographs at night. It was just Rozz, James and George and I. Rick wasn’t there I’m don’t know why but we were just shooting a bunch of individual pictures there. I have the rosaries that he’s wearing in that photo and some of his ashes.  

Wow, I’m just imagining the unpublished and printed photographs of Rozz you must have still. There are more negatives I’m looking for I shot when Rozz was in that second band called Pompeii ’99 backing him up. I did this whole photo shoot with him, and there are ones where he’s wearing a white leather jacket.  Some of those are around, but I had thoughts of doing this exhibit in this long narrow gallery, and I wanted to photograph Rozz like with his arm out and I put Weekly World News behind it. I covered a wall with Weekly World news and I wanted him with his arms out and he wasn’t into it. So I abandoned the whole thing, but I shot him, like his head and shoulders, his chest and arms and thighs and his feet. I was going to blow him up to 16 x 20 prints and they would be life-sized. I was gonna mount them on the wall. I wanted him up with arms out, and a girl under each arm had candelabra with candles burning on it. I was going to do two prints of that, and a print of each of the guys all at the end of the gallery life size all 16 by 20… I have those pictures of Rozz I never printed and they exist. Those will be amazing when I find them. He didn’t hang himself off the kitchen cabinet like they say in the Museum of Death. He hung himself in his closet. He was really destitute and poor and stuff. Real sad, very sad. 

Those photographs definitely made that tombstone famous. I think it was that one somebody on Facebook went back there to the cemetery during the daytime, and they found that tombstone and shot a farther away picture of it and then superimposed my picture of Rozz into it so a color daytime photo with him. It was really a cool concept, and I was like WOW that was really neat.  It was farther away and showed the whole scene in daytime and dropped my photo in it –pretty neat.

Don’t forget to catch Part II | Art School with Edward Colver 

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