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#Mentions of Drug Use
dailydragon08 · 1 year
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Avalanche
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Pairings: Will “Ironhead” Miller x DeltaForce!Reader (gender neutral) Warnings: descriptions of canon-typical violence (a stab wound), cursing, and mentions of cocaine. Summary: Imagine surviving the helicopter crash with Will. A/N: let me know if you’d be interested in this becoming a series/more fics in this verse! Read here on AO3.
*
The steady whump-whump-whump of the helicopter’s blades almost lulled you to sleep. You glanced out the window at the snow-capped mountains before returning your attention to the others. Frankie and Tom sat in the cockpit while Santi and Benny settled against the bench seats. Will was stretched out between you and Benny, his back leaning against the wall awkwardly. 
You watched as Pope stood and made his way to the cockpit before letting your headset fall around your shoulders to give your ears a break. You blew out a harsh, slow breath and let your head fall against the wall while Benny followed Pope. A little grunt escaped you as Fish raised your altitude and your ears popped. 
Will took his headset off his ears and leaned his back against your shoulder, turning so his mouth was directly in front of your ear. “You all right?”
“Yeah,” you answered. “Ears are just popping.”
“Mine, too.” He rotated more to look at you and you could feel yourself drowning in his baby blues. He stared back with just as much intensity and something unspoken passed between you like it always did. You and Will had always been the most similar out of the group. It had created a bond between you that felt different than your relationship with the others. You two could read each other with just a look—something you’d been able to do since you’d first met when you both joined Delta Force. He’d been the only one who hadn’t immediately doubted your skills because of your smaller frame and youth and always treated you like the accomplished, capable soldier you were. You’d saved his neck multiple times, just like he’d saved yours. After retiring, you’d stayed in the same town and became practically inseparable. Even through failed relationships, fights, and PTSD episodes, you were there thick and thin. 
You hadn’t realized precisely what shape your friendship took in the center of your chest until a few hours ago when Will’s strained voice called, “I’ve been hit.” The red that tinted his hands had your heart trying to scramble out of your throat and the first words in your mind were I love you. Now a war waged in your head over whether to say something before you really did lose him and knowing this was nowhere near the opportune moment.
“How’s your side?” you asked, returning to the moment. You had to shout in his ear to be heard over the noise of the chopper. 
“I’m okay…How’s your leg?”
You glanced down at your own bloody, bandaged mess. One of Lorea’s men had stabbed you in the leg and although it wasn’t deep, another of his cronies had pushed you over the banister of the stairwell with the first man’s hand still on the hilt. You’d dragged him down with you, but it had also dragged the blade, and he’d nearly skinned half your leg before falling to the floor below. Will had insisted on bandaging it for you and helping you walk. He’d even tried to carry you a few times, but had stopped at your protests as he groaned and stumbled under the weight of both you and his gunshot wound. “Throbbing,” you answered honestly, “but I’ll live.”
“When we land, I wanna look at it. Make sure it isn’t getting infected.”
You nodded and silence fell over the pair of you again. Something had shifted in his gaze—it felt softer, more private. He’d always looked at you affectionately (and earlier, he’d looked at your leg terrified), but this felt…different. You weren’t sure how to describe it and wondered if he felt the same avalanche of feelings you did. There couldn’t have been a worse time to realize you were in love with your best friend, but you felt the weight of it tumble down and bury you too quickly for you to resist. There was a new depth in his eyes that hadn’t been there before that felt like finally finding air after almost drowning and you clung to it. 
Will suddenly swung his legs to the ground and scooted closer to you on the bench. He threw a glance at the cockpit and you followed his gaze. Pope and Benny were still distracted by whatever Fish was telling them. You were about to put your headset back on to see what they were saying when you felt something gently brush against your pinky finger. You glanced at your hand resting on your thigh to see Will’s pinky gently brushing against you. When you risked a look at his eyes, there was a longing and nervousness you’d never seen before and it made your heart flutter. When you didn’t pull away, he let his fingers gently swipe over the back of your hand. You’d watched—and helped—him use crushing strength in missions countless times. His fingers now brushed you like both you and the moment were made of glass that he was desperate not to shatter. 
The desperation in his eyes and the hard clench of his jaw had you gently tangling your fingers with his. Before you could turn your hand to fully hold his, the chopper rattled and shook around you. Frankie bellowed, “Lose the money or we’re all gonna die!”
Pope and Benny rushed towards the back as you and Will stood. 
“We’ll get it!” Will shouted as he pulled the lever to open the back doors. The two of you shoved several duffel bags out the back. Frankie had warned you that there would be a weight problem and while you felt a pang of sadness at seeing the money go, you’d like to return home in one piece with all of your brothers—especially Will. You had a feeling conversations needed to be had after all this was over. 
With the pile of duffel bags cut in half, Pope yelled, “I’ll go check!”
Will ushered you back over to the bench to sit next to him. Benny returned to his spot by his brother’s side as you gripped the handrail. Will gripped his own in one hand, the other hand slung over your torso to hold you in place like a seatbelt, his hand fisting in your shirt as the helicopter suddenly plummeted. 
“What the fuck are you doing, Catfish?!” Will screamed beside you, pulling you closer against his side. His arm bent awkwardly in an attempt to keep you safe and you let your fingers finally tangle with his as your heart pounded in your chest. He squeezed your hand as your world bobbed and tilted with the falling helicopter. 
Frankie screamed something about an external load release you couldn’t fully hear without your headset. “Pull the lever, Ben!” Pope yelled. 
The chopper shifted as the lever came down, but you could still feel it falling. You quickly slipped out of Will’s hold to open the hatch in the floor. You could feel his hand grabbing for you as he yelled, “wait!”
You gave him a reassuring glance as he dropped his arm, looking at you with concern. You grunted with the effort it took to open the trapdoor and felt your stomach drop at the bag still attached to the cable. “It didn’t work!” you yelled. 
After a long moment of listening through the headset, Pope said, “Fish says there’s a manual override on the cargo hook.”
Will seemed to sense that you were about to swing your legs out and launched forward to hold your waist. He pulled you against him with a crushing grip, despite your protests. His concern warmed you, but this was your job, damn it. If this was what him liking you back meant, you weren’t sure if you were a fan of that particular development. 
“Let me through!” Benny demanded as he carefully lowered his legs outside. Will pushed you behind him and gripped his brother’s shirt hard. 
A moment later, you heard the clang of the release and fell back as the chopper surged upwards, free of its ball and chain. You only wished you could get rid of the burden as easily; this job was quickly becoming not worth the risk. 
Will scrambled up from where he’d fallen next to you and reached out to Benny, who had now fallen all the way through the hatch and was barely holding onto the opening with his fingertips. “Benny!”
“I’ve gotta jump!” you heard him call. He screamed as Will called his name again, swiping futilely for him. 
The chopper hit the ground so hard it rattled your teeth before bouncing back up and slamming down again. The world spun in a circle outside the windows, and you grabbed onto the bench from your seat on the floor to steady yourself. Not even a second later, Will was by your side, hauling you against him and burying his face in your neck. You heard his hand slap down on the bench beside you in an attempt to find his footing. You wanted to say something—anything—but the roar of the failing engines, blades, and alarms drowned everything out. 
Just as Will finally made some progress with his feet and began to lift you with him, the whole world tilted with a metallic groan. Will quickly turned so he landed back-first to cushion your fall and held you so tight, you could hardly breathe. You clung to him just as hard as you felt the giant piece of machinery spin in a circle a few more times before the telltale whine of the engines dying and the blades snapping off punctuated the cacophony. 
The ringing in your ears almost drowned out Will’s harsh breath. You were panting just as hard and still clinging to him like a life preserver. You let out a ragged breath before lifting your head to find his eyes. He was bleeding badly from the head and blood trickled down the side of his face. You gently traced the edge of it with your thumb. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” he breathed. His own hand came up to trace your jaw and you winced at the unexpected sting. When he brought his hand back, there was blood on it as well. “Are you?”
“I think so—”
“Are you two okay?” Pope asked in a rushed breath as he scrambled over to you. 
You both nodded and you took his hand to help you up. Will’s hand stayed clenched around your shirt as you pulled him up. Santi grunted as he yanked the side door open above him and Will took his moment of distraction to tilt his forehead against yours. You released the breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding as you squeezed his fingers. 
“You first,” he said, gesturing to the open door. He bent his knees and wrapped his arms tightly around your waist. 
“Your side—”
“I’m okay,” he said in a strained voice. He grunted slightly as he lifted you towards the opening. 
You found purchase and yanked yourself up with your hands, hissing as your injured leg brushed against the doorframe. You carefully lifted yourself to sit on top as Benny pulled a bleary Fish and Tom through the shattered windshield. Donkeys brayed in the small village in the distance as several people climbed onto the net with all your bounty. Your heart physically hurt as the sun flashed off what you assumed were several knives. 
“They’re cutting into the fucking net,” Fish muttered from below as Santi popped up beside you. He laid a comforting hand on your shoulder before sliding down the chopper. 
Will appeared by your side with a grunt and you helped yank him the rest of the way through the door. Surveying the ground below, you weren’t sure how you would make that drop with your leg as it was. Maybe if you rolled to land on your side—
“What’s the plan here?” Santi asked. 
“Woah, woah, woah!” Benny cried, rushing forward as Will slid to the ground, landing on his knees hard and holding his hip. 
Benny stared at his brother briefly, hands hovering over him before turning to you and holding out a hand. 
You began to reach for him when Will quickly stood and grabbed Benny’s arm. “Here, let me.” Something passed between them before the younger Miller nodded and turned his attention to Tom. Will held out his arms for you, and you slid forward to slot your waist between them. You laid your hands on his muscled and veined forearms and clenched your teeth in anticipation of the landing to come. 
“I won’t let you fall,” Will said quietly. “Come on.”
You nodded before gingerly sliding down. True to his word, Will caught your waist just a foot off the ground before tenderly lowering you to stand beside him. His thumbs rubbed soothing circles into your hip bones and you let out a shuddery breath as you stared at each other, completely lost. 
“That’s cocaine they’re growing,” Tom’s voice pulled you out of your trance, “so they may have weapons trained on us from there and there.”
“Thanks, Ironhead,” you muttered with a small smile, giving Will a gentle pad on the chest. 
He gave you a grin in return, his eyes soft. “Anything for you, darlin’.”
Your heart fluttered as you turned your focus to Tom’s plan. Since you were both injured, you and Will stayed by the chopper, but he made sure to stick close to your side. You didn’t want to stray too far from his either. Benny and Fish disappeared into the brush while Tom and Santi headed towards the villagers gathered around the net. Black smoke from the crash piled into the air, clouding the blue sky that reminded you so much of Will’s eyes, and you coughed as it infiltrated your lungs. Will gently rubbed your back, letting his hand slide down your shoulder and arm to gently squeeze your hand. You squeezed back and sighed, praying you’d both get home in one piece.
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gintrinsic-writing · 2 months
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Time stamp prompt thing! Like 2 hours after Time finds Legend smoking weed (or however long it takes Legend to finish and come back)
The short story referenced.
I'd give it 20-30 minutes or so? More than long enough to smoke then simply sit and enjoy some solitude for a bit, otherwise the others might grow concerned about eventual monster activity.
Legend returns, and by then the twilight hour does enough to mask the little bit of redness in his eyes. He's got just enough of a tolerance level to play things normal (though Warriors and Twilight would love coaxing some goofiness from him given the first discreet opportunity). He nods to Hyrule, who notices his return immediately, then eyes Wild's cooking pot with some interest.
Time watches and finds himself wondering about all the instances in which Legend's appetite has been bigger/healthier than usual. Legend's a thin teenager. Time figures this may be another beneficial side effect. He doesn't comment on any of it, doesn't want Legend--who is already prone to self-consciousness, even if it takes the form of waspish comebacks sometimes--to feel like he should've done more to hide the truth from him. He understands the desire to keep secrets, but he also wishes these younger heroes would confide in each other more. He tries not to feel like a hypocrite about that.
Legend calls it an early night, after dinner. He offers to take third watch--Warriors finds a way to claim the shift in a way that feels morel like a teasing joke than any real considerateness--then heats some warm rags by the fire to massage his knees and calves. While the others continue to talk, he falls asleep.
Time quietly asks, "How long?"
And Warriors shrugs and replies, "Half the night, if he's lucky."
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ch3rr13zk1n · 4 days
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Imagine if i made a joke AU where Wallter from REGRETEVATOR gets high on drugs and hallucinates a sentient concrete block with legs and a living can of Grey stuff/wet cement with wings
seriously it would kinda be fucking funny as hell
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(This is the long, completed version of Jess dreaming about Lenny after he’s passed away)
He’s been reading too hard again.
Jess Mariano has a weird habit, where if he reads too hard, too much, it all starts showing up in his dreams, and Lenny’s memoir is no exception.
He dreams of a dim, smoky café, where a woman in a fancy black dress and pearls is making the audience laugh. 
“She’s so good,” the man next to him says reverently, and when he looks, he finds a tall man, dark hair and a hand in front of his mouth, watching the woman intently. 
“Lenny?” Jess marvels. 
He smirks. “Hey, kid.” 
“You-” 
“Ssshh. Just listen.” 
And Jess does, and it takes him all of a second to realize that that’s Midge onstage, eating the audience alive. And Lenny is right. She is so, so good.
“...Anyhow, my point is, with the ring came the sex. Exclusive sex. Right? Something to count on. Something you know is yours. Like a social security number or a family history of insanity.” 
Jess laughs quietly and Lenny smiles. 
“Sometimes I look back on this night,” he tells Jess. “And I wonder why I waited so long.” 
“Weren’t you still married to Honey when this happened?” Jess asks. 
Lenny nods. “I was. But not for very much longer. I could have made a move sooner. I just- I didn’t know if she- hold on, this is my cue.” 
Midge wraps her set to thunderous applause, and then rushes off the stage, launching herself into Lenny’s arms, and he hugs her tightly. 
“How could you not have known that she wanted you?” Jess asks, a little annoyed. 
Lenny smirks from over Midge’s shoulder. “Don’t bother the dead, kid.” 
Jess wakes up with a jolt after that, looking around Luke’s old apartment above the diner and rolls his eyes.
“Fuck.” 
***** 
Another night. Another dream. A cramped little jazz club, and this time, he’s onstage with Lenny as Lenny does his set.
Except he’s not actually doing his set, he’s talking to Jess. 
“I clocked her in the audience right when she took a seat,” Lenny tells him. “The headband and the cute little black pants and the coat. After Trent and the three - the guys behind me - hey guys - play their first set, I’m gonna invite her out back with us to get high, and then she’s going to stand right here where I’m standing, and roast the fuck out of me for a years-old joke she saw me tell at a strip club once.” 
Jess watches Lenny carefully, this youthful version he’s only seen in photos and the occasional documentary. He’s so used to the older version: a little stooped and white-haired with hard-earned wrinkles. It’s deeply strange to see him at nearly thirty-five. 
“Love at first roast?” Jess offers, amused.
Lenny grins and nods sheepishly. “It’s not entirely inaccurate.” 
Jess wakes with less of a jolt then and sighs. It feels like Lenny is trying to tell him something, but that’s fucking ridiculous. 
He takes the coldest shower he can stand and starts his day. 
***** 
Another night.
Another dream. 
A dive bar on a rainy night. 
Lenny sits between Jess and Midge, and he’s looking truly rundown. 
“Newly divorced, on the run from a warrant for my arrest in Chicago,” Lenny shrugs. “Missing my daughter, and a little homeless…aimless…and there she is. Until the day I died I never figured out why she kept saving me.” 
“She loves you, Lenny,” Jess tells him. “It’s that simple.” 
Lenny takes the drink in front of Jess and downs it, clearly feeling the burn of it. “That was still not my drink.” 
Jess chuckles softly. 
“It’s going to be okay,” Midge says firmly. 
Lenny looks at Midge and shakes his head. “She has this habit, you know. She knows just what to say when my whole heart is in tatters. She’s gonna do it again in another moment.” 
Jess looks confused. These dreams never have full conversations, it seems. 
“I’m going to tell her about my Steve Allen gig, and she’s going to catch that I am fucking nervous,” Lenny explains. “She’s going to tell me about accompanying her very young son- who will, in a handful of years - become my stepson - on his first playdate, and how she stayed outside the whole time, even though it rained.” 
“Want me to stand outside your playdate?” Midge asks, grinning at Lenny understandingly.
“And there it is,” Lenny tells him. “In that one sentence. That’s when there was no turning back.” He gets to his feet, digging out some money to pay for the drink he stole, and keeps chatting with Jess. “I’m going to tell her to bring her umbrella to my playdate, and leave like I’m cool or something. But in reality…fuck, I don’t know. Sometimes it was tough not to beg her to come home with me - not that I had a home at this point.” 
Jess follows, shoving his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. “Umbrella.” He remembers Lenny’s funeral. Being asked to bring one. Everyone being asked to bring one. Midge had stepped out of the car at the cemetery for the burial to a sea of umbrellas, lifted her own very pink one, and led the way. 
And this is why.
Jess wakes up and sighs, staring at the ceiling. What are the point of these stupid fucking dreams? Is he really just reading too much, too hard on Lenny’s memoir? Is this a belated grieving thing? 
Jesus. 
***** 
“This is not a proud moment for me,” Lenny tells Jess as they stand out on the sidewalk in front of Midge’s apartment building on the Upper West Side. 
The sun is shining, Lenny has lost a shoe, Midge is bewildered, and the whole thing looks like I mess. 
“I got high last night,” Lenny explains. “And then drank a lot of whiskey. A lot. Of whiskey. And I blacked out on 8th Street. And luckily - or unluckily, I thought at the time - Midge was passing by. She spotted me. Brought me here.” He turns to the building. “To sleep it off safely.” 
“Were you together?” 
“No,” Lenny confesses. “We’ve been…dancing. Around this thing of ours, but no. And I was humiliated. And hungover and just-” He sighs, looking ashamed. “I took my shame out on her. I was horrible to her.” 
“Why?” 
“What was the impetus every time you were an asshole to Rory?” Lenny asks as he tries to offer Midge money, and Jess’s eyes go wide with panic at the gesture. 
“Lenny - fucking - no!” 
“I’m sorry, what do you think happened last night?” 
“Answer the question,” Lenny says. 
“I was fucked up and angry at myself and - ashamed of myself,” Jess tells him as he climbs into the cab with Lenny while Midge storms back into the building. 
“Yeah,” Lenny drawls. “My poor Miriam. The things I put her through. This bullshit, and the drugs…the convictions and appeals…she should have left me so many times. She had every right to, and she couldn’t do it.” 
“That whole love thing again,” Jess quips. 
“Don’t joke,” Lenny tells him as he lights a cigarette. “Midge has seen shit that would have you running scared.” 
Jess takes a breath. “Lenny, why do you keep popping up like this?” 
Lenny shrugs. “Seemed like there was more to talk about with you. More to explain. You and I, we always had nice conversations. Maybe you’re not ready for them to end yet.” 
He wakes up and shakes his head. “Fuck.” 
***** 
He stops Jess from walking into that very blue hotel room. 
“Not on your fucking life, kid,” Lenny tells him, and shuts the door. 
Jess wakes up laughing, but once he goes back to sleep, he finds himself dreaming of a bathroom and a bag. 
And Lenny again. 
“The thing you don’t know about me,” he says, standing there in nothing but a pair of undershorts, looking younger than Jess can ever remember even in pictures, the scars on the insides of his arms on display. “Is that I have always been a god-damn monster. And the idea that Midge didn’t think so is the only thing that kept me from dying young.” 
Jess wakes up again, and finds himself in his own bathroom with his cell phone. 
“Hello?” Rory asks sleepily. 
“I-” 
“Jess?” 
“Sorry. I’m sorry.” 
He hangs up. 
***** 
The problem with these dreams - the big problem - is that none of these instances are detailed in the book. Mentions are made of clubs and cafes. Of Blue rooms. But Lenny purposefully left out details that Jess has been dreaming about.
And he’s not sure what to do with that information, because either those things really happened and Jess is going bonkers, or he’s just dreaming weirdly specific stuff. 
And he knows he should ask Midge about it, but he can’t bring himself to do so. Midge is Midge and Midge will always tell him that she’s okay. That it doesn’t hurt too much. That Lenny lived a long, full life, and it was his time. But it doesn’t change the fact that she’s now living out the last years of her life without him, and that has to hurt. 
So in the morning when she stops in for breakfast, as she so often does, he just pours her coffee and asks her how her day is so far. 
But he finds himself looking at Midge in a new light. Not as the elderly woman who has always, somehow shown him kindness and tried to be family to him when he had very little, but he sees, now, the young, funny, fierce woman Lenny had fallen in love with.
“Have you ever thought about writing another book?” Jess asks out of the blue.
Midge looks surprised. “Not really.” 
“I mean, you don’t talk much about the early days in the one you wrote,” Jess points out. “Lenny doesn’t give a whole lot of details, but he talks about meeting you in the memoir. You kind of gloss over a lot of that stuff.” 
She shrugs, grinning. “Some things are just for me.” 
Jess nods, and keeps working, only for Rory to pop over to the counter. 
"Hey."
He nods to her. "Hey."
Rory purses her lips. "You called me last night and then hung up."
"Yeah," Jess confirms sheepishly. "I had a weird dream and I … I guess I wigged out a little.: 
She frowns. "Wanna talk about it?" 
"No. But thanks."
*****
"You know when you really let someone down?" Lenny asks from a hospital bed. 
Another dream. 
Lenny looks young and too thin and too pale. 
And Jess knows this is the overdose. 
Jess nods. "Yeah."
Lenny sighs and gazes past him, at the woman dozing in a chair in the corner. "Yeah."
Jess takes a breath and looks Lenny in the eyes. “Why?” 
The other man can only shrug and shake his head. “I don’t have answers. If I did, I don’t think I’d have wound up in this hospital bed.” 
“It just feels like you’ve been trying to tell me something,” Jess presses. “All these dreams, night after night.” 
Lenny just grins.
And Jess wakes up. 
***** 
“Do you dream about your grandfather?” Jess asks as he and Rory wander around the bookstore the next day. “Richard. Does he pop up a lot?” 
Rory frowns at him curiously. “Sometimes. But not in a significant way. Like, I’ll turn a corner, and he’ll be sitting there, reading a newspaper, and he’ll smile, or…or wave. But nothing intense or detailed.” 
Jess nods slowly as he tosses another book onto his stack of “to buy”’s. 
“Are you dreaming about Lenny?” Rory asks carefully. 
Jess blinks. “It’s just- weird. It’s weird. You know?” 
“He was family to you,” Rory points out gently. “And you miss him.” 
Jess just nods, but doesn’t say anything. 
“If you wanted to talk about it,” Rory offers gently. 
“Maybe,” he allows. “Maybe not now, but…maybe.” 
She shrugs and grins at him. “Whenever.” 
“Yeah.” 
***** 
“People really hated Midge after we got together,” Lenny explains as he lays back on a couch with Midge snuggled in against his chest as they read a newspaper together. “They thought that she was the reason I got clean, and they thought it made my comedy weaker. Less funny. Except all the bits people claimed were from my early days were from my post-drugs, with-Midge days…getting clean made me sharper, made the humor more biting. Angrier in a lot of ways. Got me in more trouble in some ways. People didn’t want to believe it.” 
“Another reason she should have left you?” Jess offers. 
“Eh. She’s not gonna,” Lenny shrugs, kissing the top of Midge’s head tenderly. “I got lucky.” 
“I’m sick of these dreams,” Jess snaps as he paces around the living room. 
“Then stop having them.” 
“How?!” 
Lenny shrugs again.
Jess wakes up and snarls, hopping out of bed and calling Rory.
*****  
“I keep having these dreams,” he admits, agitated as he paces the gazebo. The sun isn’t up. He woke Rory up for this, and he feels bad, but- “Every night this week, just - dream after dream, always Lenny, always something I’m pretty sure happened but I shouldn’t know that it happened. Always - talking about - him and Midge.” 
“Jess-” 
“I don’t know what he’s trying to tell me! Should this stuff be in the book? Am I supposed to learn some kind of after-school-special bullshit life lesson from all of this?” 
“Maybe you just miss him,” Rory says firmly from her seat on the bench, and it stops him in his tracks. 
He says nothing, staring at her face. 
“Lenny and Midge were a really stabilizing force in your life,” Rory offers. “They never broke up. They never got divorced, they never cheated on each other or actively hated each other. They were in love, and they love you like you're one of their own grandkids. And now half of that force is gone, and your brain is trying to make sense of that reality.” 
Jess swallows and looks down.  
“Do you need a hug?” Rory asks, getting to her feet. “I promise no funny stuff.” 
He shrugs and tries to joke. “I wouldn’t necessarily be opposed to funny stuff.” 
Rory laughs softly and hugs him around the neck. “Shut up.” 
***** 
Jess stands in the corner behind Midge's chair, watching them stare at each other.
"This place doesn't feel a little...I don't know. Weird and racist to you?" he asks.
Lenny shrugs. "It was the sixties. We were not woke."
Jess chuckles softly and wanders around a little, looking at the other patrons as they dance and drink.
"So this was your big plan to get her to fall for you?" he asks.
"Part of a larger scheme," Lenny admits. "Before this, we did a TV appearance on Miami After Dark with Bry Adler."
"The Hugh Hefner Wannabe?" Jess scoffs.
"Eh, I had already done the Playboy Penthouse thing," Lenny shrugs. "So we just ate dinner. We're enjoying drinks and each other's company. Nice and atmospheric."
"And weird and racist," Jess adds.
"Thanks for that."
"I'm just saying."
Lenny sighs heavily. "I wanted everything to be perfect. I wanted this night to be...I don't know. I think in the back of my head, I figured if I get one shot at this, I wanted to make it count. She's going to turn me down at the end of the night, by the way. We'll get back to my place, and she'll look at me and I'll look at her, and she'll hail a cab to get back to her hotel."
Jess frowns. "Why?"
Lenny takes a drag off his cigarette before putting it out and getting to his feet, offering Midge a hand. "Because stepping into that room would change what we are to each other. And she wasn't ready for it yet."
"You dance?"
Jess watches as Midge takes his hand and he gently leads her onto the dance floor.
He watches them, and thinks back on dancing with Rory at Luke and Lorelai's wedding. How comfortable that had been.
And suddenly, for the first time in any of these dreams, Lenny isn't talking to him.
"What's the matter? I'm not that bad."
Midge gazes at him. "I just can't think of anything funny to say."
Lenny agrees. "Me either. It's kind of nice, isn't it?"
Jess sits back, still watching as Midge rests her head on Lenny's shoulder, and he settles her hand onto his neck, holding her arm gently. And just like that, they go from Midge and Lenny...to MidgeandLenny. The MidgeandLenny that Jess has known since he was a dumb kid, with all of the tenderness and strength they always had with each other. For each other. Because of each other.
When he wakes up, he stares at the ceiling, 
***** 
He winds up coming clean to Liz one night on her front porch, over a couple of beers. 
Liz shrugs. “You just miss him, Jess.”
“You really think that’s it?” Jess asks. 
She nods. “I really do. He helped you a lot. He was invested in your wellbeing. In your future. And he bribed you with all those stories to get you to go to class. Luke told me about that. It’s hard to lose that kind of support.” 
“So…what do I do?” Jess asks. “How do I make these dreams stop?” 
“I don’t know that you can,” Liz admits. “It sounds like he’s sticking around, because he feels like you still need his help. So maybe…let him know that you’re gonna be okay. That he did a good enough job and that you can manage without him. Because he helped teach you how to.”
“That sounds so stupid,” Jess tells her.
 She laughs. “I know it does. But you know, I dreamt about my dad for a whole year after he passed away. And we would just have these fights. About nothing. About you. About Jimmy, and Luke and my mother and everything in my life. I decided to send you here in part because I started having those dreams again when you were in high school.” 
“That also sounds stupid.” 
“Drink your beer.” 
***** 
He dreams of an open field in the middle of nowhere, and Lenny is next to him. Younger than Jess has ever seen him, in documentaries, dreams or otherwise. 
Painfully young. Maybe twenty.  
“I worked here before the war,” Lenny explains. “This farm. I really liked it, but when I came back from the navy nobody really…” he shrugs. “They didn’t really want me here anymore. No one cared that I had come back.”
Jess stays quiet, watching the contemplative look on Lenny’s face. 
“And that feeling…that absence of belonging didn’t really go away until I found Midge,” Lenny says quietly. “But I always liked it here. I always meant to take Midge to see it, but I guess things were too busy. Family and work and whatnot.” 
“You should stay,” Jess tells him. “Hang out here for a while. See if it still fits.” 
Lenny lifts an eyebrow at him. 
“I’m okay,” Jess assures him. “I am.” 
Lenny still says nothing. 
“I’m okay, because you and Midge didn’t give up on me like everyone else had,” Jess admits. “My mom. The town. Even Luke almost gave up a couple of times, before I pulled it together. Lorelai from the second we met.”
Lenny huffs out a laugh. “You made quite the impression on her.” 
Jess smirks. “But you and Midge, you always had my back. And I’m grateful. And I’m okay.” 
Lenny nods, looking him over and patting his shoulder. “Okay, kid. If you’ve got it from here, then you’ve got it from here.” 
“I got it from here,” Jess confirms, looking back out over the landscape. 
“Hey,” Lenny says. “Don’t leave the Rory thing too long. She’ss gonna find somebody else if you do.” 
Jess chuckles and shakes his head. “I’ll keep that in mind.” 
When he wakes up, he wakes up crying.
***** 
Luke and Lorelai come back to town the next day, and Jess makes sure the diner is running smoothly, and everything is just the way Luke left it. They work behind the counter together, while Lorelai and Rory chat at one of the tables, and Midge joins them when she walks in, giving Lorelai a welcome home kiss, and patting Rory’s hand as they talk. 
“You okay?” Luke asks, lifting an eyebrow at him. “You seem kinda quiet today, even for you.” 
Jess nods “I’m good. Actually, you mind if I take a break?” 
Luke shrugs. “Go ahead.” 
He grabs his jacket and heads for the door. He catches Rory’s eye and nods, and she grins, promising her mother she’ll return shortly before following him.
“Hey,” she says, catching up with him as he heads for the gazebo. “Everything okay?” 
Jess nods. “Everything’s okay. I think the dreams are done.” 
Rory gives him a sympathetic look. “That’s good. That means you’re moving on a little more.” 
He takes a breath. “I just wanna say thank you for letting me lose my shit on you a little.” 
She laughs softly. “It’s really okay. Maybe I’ll turn that into a book one day, too.” 
“Some poor asshole getting haunted by the ghost of Lenny Bruce,” Jess jokes. “There are a lot of hipsters who would eat that up.” 
“Well maybe you should write it,” Rory suggests. 
He shrugs. “Seems too personal.” He takes a breath. “Maybe I can buy you dinner tomorrow night as a thank you for putting up with my insanity?” 
Rory smiles. “I’d like that. Like old times.” 
“I was hoping literally,” he admits. “Like a date.” 
Her smile falls a little, and she looks surprised. “Wow. A date? Like a…a date-date?” 
Jess shrugs. “I’m in a good place, you’re in a good place…I thought maybe…why the fuck not?” 
Rory smiles again, obviously thinking that over. “Why the fuck not. Okay. It’s a date-date.” 
He nods. “Good.” 
Jess nudges her shoulder with his on his way past her, back to the diner, but she reaches out for his coat and stops him, pulling him back, and into a brief kiss.
He blinks at her when it ends. “What was that for?” 
Rory just smiles and gives him a gentle shove before heading back to the diner. 
Jess shakes his head and follows.
END
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great-fictionsworld · 2 years
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#51 Steddie
sub-culture
“is he whining about Eddie being mean to him again?” Robin is leaning in the doorway, eating a leftover slice that’s probably cold by now. “You talk about him more than you talk about girls, Steve, It’s getting concerning. Anyone would think you had a crush.”
or, Steve is pretty convinced Eddie now hates him. Turns out Eddie has the opposite problem. 
by the amazing @palmviolet​
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letslipthehounds · 1 year
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A group of Autobots have a night on the town. Optimus has to deal with the aftermath. And sort out just why they've painted a very profane mural in Portland. (Thank goodness the humans can't read Cybertronian glyphs.) 
G1 flavored Crack, for a change. 
Implied/referenced drug use, for a warning.
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xo-jett · 16 years
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the wind howled in the dark.
hands were tugging at your hair.
the hands, you came to realize, were your own.
dazed and confused, you looked around.
your surroundings remained unfamiliar.
you were alone.
and the world was out to get you.
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"Probably because they don't have a grave," Danny said, pulling out his vape. "Final resting places are--HEY!"
Nightwing held the pilfered vape above his head. "Where did you get this?" he asked, scandalized.
Danny jumped for it, but Nightwing was too tall! Even at 5'7 he'd have to use his powers to reach the vape; he had no chance as a 9 year old. "We're in Gotham! You're lucky I didn't get cocaine instead!"
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steddieas-shegoes · 1 month
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cw: discussion of past parental death due to overdose, mention of drug use
Steve stumbled upon the article when he was helping Robin collect articles for a project for her Industry Studies course.
He didn’t think much of reading about another small time musician getting caught up with the wrong crowd, and overdosing or getting in a drunk driving accident. It seemed like a pretty common theme. It was terrible, sad, horrible, but he’d seen about 30 stories like that in the last two days and he was kind of getting numb to it all.
Until he saw the name Munson.
Until a picture of a woman with long, curly hair and Eddie’s smile stared back at him next to a headline that read: “Kentucky Country Queen Dead at 27.”
He read the article with tears in his eyes.
Elizabeth “El” Munson, a hopeful country singer and guitarist, was found dead in her home by her six year old son, Edward. The boy reportedly tried calling his father at work with no luck before finally calling his uncle, Wayne Munson.
Toxicology reports show that she overdosed on multiple illegal substances. At this time, it is believed to have been accidental and no foul play is suspected.
It has now been made clear that Elizabeth was seeking a divorce from her husband, Al Munson, but had not been successful as lawyers were unable to locate him until her funeral. Their son has been put in the care of Wayne until further notice.
Robin found him 20 minutes later, staring at the page with swollen, red eyes. She took the paper, read the article, and put it back in the files wordlessly.
“I don’t think he wants us to know,” she finally said.
She was probably right.
But Steve had grown pretty close to Eddie over the last six months, had opened up to him about his parents, his fake friends, his concussions and nightmares. Eddie had started opening up to him, too.
He thought he had, anyway.
He told him about how his mom died when he was young and his dad was awful so he moved in with Wayne. He told him about how his dad appeared every couple years looking for money or a place to stay and Wayne always turned him away.
But he never really talked about his mom, always said he barely remembered her.
Did he know what happened?
——
Steve asked Wayne the next morning.
He’d come by to pick Eddie up for a day with the kids, but Eddie hadn’t set his alarm and was still asleep.
Perfect opportunity to find out more.
“So. Eddie’s mom.”
Wayne tensed over his plate of toast and scrambled eggs. He didn’t look up, just took another bite of food.
“Does he know how she died?”
“Do you?”
“Newspaper said overdose,” Steve tapped his fingers nervously against his thigh. “Says Eddie found her.”
“Trauma messes with your memory.”
It was final, a statement that left Steve with more questions, but a certainty that he’d get no answers.
“Yeah.” He gulped. “I’ve heard.”
——
Steve doesn’t bring it up to Eddie for a while.
He figured Wayne’s reaction said a lot about what Eddie knew or would be willing to share.
But they were a little high and alone and Eddie’s hand was warm in his and his filter was broken.
“I’m sorry you had to be the one to find your mom.”
The air around them was thick. The silence was deafening.
“Me too.”
Eddie’s voice was quiet, nothing like his usual playful tone.
Steve immediately wanted to put this conversation in reverse, pretend his curiosity didn’t matter.
“I’m sorry.”
Eddie moved closer to Steve, his arm a constant pressure against Steve’s. His head leaned against Steve’s shoulder.
“Wayne doesn’t know I know how she died. He doesn’t know I know my dad gave her bad drugs, convinced her all the up and coming musicians were doing a new strain of heroin. She’d kicked him out of the house,” Eddie’s breath caught. “She shouldn’t have let him come back that day. I heard them arguing before I left for school. She told him she was finding a manager and recording an album and that she was divorcing him. I didn’t know what that meant, but I knew it was bad.”
“Eds, you don’t have to tell me.”
“I know, Stevie. But you know everything else.” Eddie’s face turned until his nose and mouth were pressed against Steve’s arm. “I went to school. Didn’t think about it. Figured my dad would be gone when I got home and might come back in a few days once they cooled off. But when I got home, he was gone and my mom’s bedroom door was closed. And I opened it and there she was.”
Steve turned so he was face to face with Eddie, cupping his jaw and rubbing his thumb along his cheek in encouragement.
“I don’t even know why I tried calling the store first. I didn’t even know if he still worked there. But then I called Wayne and it’s like he just knew.” Eddie’s eyes closed for a moment. “Don’t think he’d ever gotten to our house so quick.”
“Did he know all this?”
“He knew enough. I stayed with him and then my dad gave up his rights. Lied to the counselor about what I knew so Wayne wouldn’t freak. Kept it up for a while,” Eddie let out a small exhale that slightly resembled a laugh. “I read the article about eight years ago. A kid in my class made a joke about me being an orphan because of the drug problem in America as if he even knew what that meant and I decided to see what the newspaper reported.”
“Do you play because of her?” Steve asked.
Eddie blinked back at him.
“I play for a lot of reasons. But I started because of her, yeah,” he whispers. “You’re the first person to ask me that instead of give me that look of pity.”
“I’m sad about how it happened, but giving you pity doesn’t change it. I’d rather hear how it changed you,” Steve whispered back.
They were close, legs intertwined, hands touching bare skin under shirts and on faces and necks.
“It changed everything for me. Wayne packed us up and moved us here as soon as he legally could. Probably for the best. Well,” Eddie gave a small smile. “Definitely for the best. Wouldn’t be here with you if he hadn’t.”
“Do you ever go back?” Steve did his best to ignore the fluttering in his stomach.
“Her birthday every year. She’s got a nice spot near her mom.” Eddie bit his lip. “It’s actually coming up in a couple weeks. Maybe you could come with me?”
“Me? Are you sure?”
Eddie nodded. “If it doesn’t weird you out that I talk to her. I like to give her updates on my life, Wayne’s life, music. Think she’d find it quite funny that I bring the guy I’ve had a crush on for two years.”
It takes a minute for the words to sink in.
“Two years?” Steve’s lips curled up into a smile. “I hope I live up to expectations.”
“I think she’d like you. She’d definitely make fun of me for having a boyfriend who wears polos though.”
“Is that how you’d introduce me?”
“If you’re okay with it.” Eddie leaned his forehead against Steve’s. “I know we haven’t talked about what we-“
Steve pressed his lips to Eddie’s, nearly knocking their noses together painfully in the process.
After the initial shock, they both relaxed into the kiss.
“I’d love to go. As your boyfriend,” Steve said after pulling away for air. “What was her favorite flower?”
“Gardenias. Always wore perfume that smelled like it. Why?”
“Because I have to impress her, right?”
“You realize she’s not gonna actually see or hear you? She’s definitely dead.”
Steve snorted. “I know. But she can still have nice things. Maybe us bringing her nice things in death is a way to apologize for the not nice things she had in life.”
“You’re a pretty incredible boyfriend, sweetheart.” Eddie kissed the tip of his nose. “And you now know more than Wayne, so it’s time for a pinky promise.”
Steve giggled before holding up his pinky. “I swear I won’t tell Wayne anything.”
“And you’ll kiss me whenever I want…”
“That’s a guarantee.”
“And you’ll let me win at Go Fish…”
“Not a chance, Eds.”
Eddie laughed. “Worth a try.”
Steve curled his pinky against Eddie’s. “So do you think she’d like me?”
“Oh. Oh god. She’d love you. You’re exactly who she’d want for me,” Eddie rolled his eyes when Steve flipped his hair back confidently. “And she’d braid your hair every night while you gossiped and sipped tea.”
“And what would you do?”
“Probably just soak it in. Appreciate having her and you around. You’ll just have to gossip with Wayne.”
“Wayne doesn’t strike me as-“
“Oh, he’s got you fooled! He’s a worse gossip than the ladies at the hair salon. Just ask him about the mailbox at the end of the road sometime. Make sure you’ve got an hour to spare.”
“Really?” Steve’s eyes lit up. “Is he home now?”
Eddie pulled Steve forward until he was flush against his front. “No and I have much better plans than gossiping with my uncle.”
“Oh?” Steve’s brow raised.
“It involves my bed and handcuffs. You in?”
“Hopefully you’re in.”
“God, you’re ridiculous. C’mon, now I’m even harder from your stupid flirting,” Eddie sat up and tugged until Steve followed. “Can’t believe this is how my night’s going.”
“Believe it, baby.”
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incognitopolls · 2 months
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We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.
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moistrodent · 1 month
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I love how Hazbin Hotel brushed over Angel Dust’s drug use, because in the eyes of the show drug use isn’t something very traumatic, leads to much more vulnerable to human and sex trafficking, SA, and abusive relationships. Drug use is very complicated but in Hazbin Hotel Angel Dust’s drug problem is mentioned like…four times and one of those three times was a fucking joke. Drug use is often very misrepresented in media, also being an addict doesn’t make you a bad person, drug use shouldn't be criminalised (it makes it much harder to seek help), and rehab shouldn’t expensive as fuck. And also Angel Dust’s name? Weird as shit. That’s like naming your OC crack. It’s treating Angel Dust like he’s only his addiction wich is really horrible representation for obvious reasons. Vivziepop does not know how to represent serious topics, she either uses it for fetish bait or an actual literal joke. Also his name? Doesn’t make any sense. The effects of PCP were discovered over ten years after Angel Dust canonically died. It’s so clear Vivzepop didn’t do any research on the topic she’s trying to represent, it takes five seconds to google this shit.
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Midge drags lenny to the synagogue
He's hungry.
He's hungry and he's tired and he's jonesing and he's standing there in Synagogue pounding on his own fucking chest during Yom Kippur services and he just wants to go the fuck home and eat something so he doesn't go fucking nuts and eat Astrid, who is standing next to him, yell-chanting along with the rabbi.
He doesn't even believe in god, and here he is, because the entire family went to services, and he had offered multiple times to stay home with the kids, but the kids had to go too, so here he the entire Maisel/Weissman clan, just trying to get through it.
They've been here all day.
All fucking day.
God he's hungry.
God he wishes he were high.
'Dear God, please forgive me,' Lenny thinks. 'I know I should be atoning for my sins and not thinking about sticking drugs into my arm, but you did, if you exist, make me this way, so really, you've only yourself to blame.'
As if God is listening, Midge reaches out then and takes his hand, her thumb rubbing soothing circle on his palm, and he sighs softly, glancing at her.
"Almost there," she promises. "And then I will feed you brisket."
He grins a little, squeezing her hand gently.
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autisticenbydonnie · 9 months
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anotherpapercut · 8 months
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genuinely so many of you want to be leftist and "punk" and countercultural soooooo bad but you refuse to become comfortable with the concept of people taking drugs for fun because they like it and not because they were somehow tricked or forced into it without knowing what they were getting themselves into
you'll be like "addiction is a disease!!" but think you're better than those degenerate stoners because you only drink energy drinks and white claws and would never touch "illegal drugs"
many if not most drugs CAN be consumed completely safely with almost 0 risk to the user and even if that werent true and all drugs were extremely dangerous you still wouldn't be better than those of us who love doing drugs recreationally
lighten up and grow up. get offline, talk to real adults, and stop being shocked to discover that they enjoy doing stuff that adults do like have sex and do drugs and even listen to rock and roll
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shiftythrifting · 5 months
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funny Mario smonk the weed shirt
Welcome hame
It's the Uncanny Valley, Charlie Brown!
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digitized some of the nickel doodles ive done in class over the past couple months
(edible post)
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