Hi guys, gals, and non-binary pals! It’s your friendly neighbor queer, Mick, here!
I used Tumblr years ago and with real life taking over, I got out of the habit but a friend recently got my back on here so I wanted a fresh blog to start anew. This shall be my introductory post so please feel free to follow and interact if you find we have similar interests! I’d love to get back into the fandoms and make friendships on here.
Here’s a little about me —
I go by Mick and any pronouns are a-ok for you to use with me! I’m a 25 year old bisexual and when I’m not obsessing over fictional characters, I’m an elementary school teacher. I enjoy reading and writing (though my writing has definitely been slacking and has turned more into just developing characters that will never have anything written about them). I recently got back into reading and have found a love for YA books so I may post or reblog some things about my current read. I used to write fan fictions for different shows (some of which I may end up re-uploading here if I deem them worthy) and I currently roleplay on Instagram. If anyone on here has a common fandom interest with me and would like to roleplay, please just ask! You can also find me on Instagram at @/adultinq if you use that platform as well.
The fandoms I’m currently a part of are Marvel, Harry Potter, The Walking Dead, Sons of Anarchy, Stranger Things, Dungeons & Dragons, and Animal Crossing (if that counts). These are just a few but certainly not all.
I am looking forward to getting back into this lovely platform because some of the best fandom related posts can be found here. I promise I’m socially awkward asf so please don’t be afraid to message me or interact if you’d like to talk!
Summary: Sam’s life changes dramatically after the death of his father and he’s not coping well with it.
Characters: Samuel Teller (OC), Gemma Teller-Morrow
Words: 659
Warnings: mentions of death, mentions of blood, mentions of suicidal thoughts
Author’s Note: This is going to be a dark story with lots of possible triggers so please take the warnings into consideration. Sam is my own character that I created that I hold dearly to my heart and love writing as.
Playlist: musical inspiration for writing this fic & good songs for you to listen to while reading.
Crossfire – Stephen
Let You Down – NF
Tags: @samperv , @soamagicreality
Previous Chapters: Prologue
Thirteen days. Six hours. Twenty-seven minutes.
That’s how long it’s been since the accident. How long I’ve been without my father. How long ago my life was shattered right before my eyes.
Twenty-eight minutes.
The suit hanging from my closet door is the same suit I wore to my brother’s funeral four years ago. It’s crazy to think that in the span of four years, I lost half of my family. Tears threaten to spill from my eyes as I turn my gaze away from the formal attire. I use a pillow to cover my face and let out a loud scream, glad the pillow stopped most of the noise.
Mom checks on me too much now. She’s afraid of leaving me alone, I think and I can’t blame her. The bottle of pills that the doctor has prescribed to me sits on the bedside table and I can’t count how many times I have thought about just downing them all and meeting my father on the other side.
Thirty minutes.
The funeral starts in two hours. I’m supposed to be dressed and ready in ten minutes. Mom said we should get there early. I don’t want to go. I don’t want to watch my father’s body being lowered into the ground. I don’t want to listen to the preacher – I don’t know why we hired one anyway, it isn’t like dad believed in god. I don’t want to watch the guys that wear the same leather as my father ride in on their bikes. I don’t want to listen to the ‘he was a good man’ speeches or get hugs from people I don’t remember. I don’t want the sympathy.
I don’t want to go but I know the whispers that will be shared if I don’t show up.
Oh, that boy is traumatized. He was on the bike with him. He must feel terrible. It’s an awful thing to witness at such a young age.
Rolling out of bed, I move to get dress. I push my hair back on my head and put on the clothes I hate. Then I walk downstairs to greet the people who have already shown up. I don’t say much, just plaster a fake small smile onto my lips as I walk out to mom’s car.
Fifty-six minutes.
We arrive at the graveyard. It’s quiet except for the group of crows singing from a tree. I almost like it. The silence is much more bearable here.
It isn’t long until the others begin to show up. Roars of motorcycles fill the air around me but I can’t be bothered to peel my eyes from the large hole in the ground that is awaiting its newest host.
Thirteen days. Seven hours. Twenty-three minutes.
There’s lots of crying. I hate the sound of crying. I haven’t cried since that day. The preacher is talking, describing my father as if he knew him. I know he’s only saying what my mother told him to say. I begin to tune him out, my eyes on the wooden casket that was brought and placed over the hole in the ground.
The same image flashes through my mind, over and over again as if it was on repeat. The sound of the horn on the semi-truck. The crash of metal against metal. The blood on the pavement. It plays over and over in my head like a record. I’m lost in the images that I don’t feel the nails on my fingers break the skin on my hand and I don’t notice the blood that drips from my nose and onto my white shirt.
I don’t notice the stares from the others in the crowd or my mother’s warm hand on my shoulder trying to get my attention.
All I see are the same images I have seen for the past thirteen days, seven hours, and thirty-five minutes.
Warnings: trans!male, swearing, some violence, possible self-harm
Author’s Note: This has been a long time coming and it’s not perfect but I’m happy with it! I’m hoping to start writing more for the group again and just for myself.
Playlist: musical inspiration for writing this fic & good songs for you to listen to while reading it ;)
A low groan filled the quiet room as Mason slowly opened his eyes. He looked around the dark and musty room, recognizing it as one of the dorms in the back of the clubhouse. So, they hadn't kicked him out just yet. Which surprised Mason quite a lot. He thought he would've been out on his ass, waking up in some back alley after his secret was revealed. Sitting up slowly, Mason looked down, lifting up the shirt that someone must've put on him, and looking at the stitches on his stomach. It still hurt like a bitch but at least he was alive.
Mason sat up, running his fingers through his hair, and slowly stood to walk out of the room and towards the front of the clubhouse. A small yawn left him when he reached the bar, a low whistle coming from one of the guys when he was spotted. "Sleeping Beauty finally decided to wake up!" Mason looked over to the voice, flicking Tig off before realizing the fairy tale reference could be because they knew the truth and were just teasing him about it. He was tense as he looked around, looking to all the faces. No one seemed pissed, except for Chibs who looked about as tense as Mason felt.
"Go get dressed, kid. You've been out for a couple days and we're going to need as much help as we can on this run." That was Clay's rough voice and even he didn’t seem mad. Mason had been worried the most about him, knowing as the president, he wouldn't want this to look bad on the club. "Got it." He mumbled, slowly turning and walking back to the room he had come from, assuming his clothes were in there.
Mason took a piss before looking at himself in the mirror. He didn't look terrible, besides the mess that was on his head. Running a hand through his hair, Mason walked back out to the room, jumping slightly when the door opened quickly. Chibs walked in, jaw clenched and his lips pressed into a thin line. "When were you going to tell us?" Mason tensed slightly at that question before walking over to the dresser where his jeans were folded. "Tell you what?" He muttered in response, hoping they could just skip this conversation for now. Chibs hand fisted in the male's shirt as he walked by him, eyes hard as he stared the younger male down. "Don't bullshit me right now, kid. I'm the only reason you're still able to wear that kutte." Mason let out a quiet sigh, looking up to Chibs with his own jaw clenched. “I wasn’t going to tell you for that reason exactly. It shouldn’t be a fucking problem anyway.” Mason mumbled, pulling free from the older man’s grip and walking over to his dresser. Mason grabbed his jeans and pulled them on, glancing over to the Scotsman when he spoke again. “It’s against club rules, kid.”
Mason shook his head at that, his tongue sticking in his lower lip to push it out slightly, trying to keep his smart comments to himself. “Why is it? I’m as much a man as any one of you.” He snapped, eyes narrowed in Chibs direction. The older man sighed at that, crossing his arms over his chest. “I didn’t make the rules, Mason. I’m just trying to help you before the rest of them find out. It’s better to get out now than get kicked out later.” Lowering his head at that, Mason ran his hands over his face with a low groan. He knew the man was right but he had worked so damn hard to get this far in the club. He didn’t want to just throw all of that away because of the way his body looked. “I’ll tell them.” He said quietly, before adding, “Soon.” The Scotsman nodded at that, setting a hand on the boy’s shoulder and nodding slowly. “That’s probably best.” He said simply, giving Mason’s shoulder a squeeze before turning and walking to the door. “Good luck.” Chibs added before opening the door and walking out. Once the door was closed, Mason looked in the mirror with a frown plastered on his lips before his fist punched the glass, shattering it along with his reflection.
Hi there, friends. I know I completely disappeared from here & from discord. Life has just been absolutely crazy for me lately. I finally graduated college, my dad had cancer surgery, I came out to my parents, and on top of all of that, I’m still working two jobs.
BUT.
I need to write again. It helps clear my mind and is a good distraction and I love doing it. So, if you don’t mind, tell me which you would rather see first: the next chapter of Breaking the Rules or the first chapter of My Old Man or some new, fresh oneshot?
Thank you all for understanding, I love you so freaking much.
So, it’s been quite a long time since we had a SAMPERV writing challenge and we decided that it’s time to give our tumblr family a resurgence, so I, your VP, am presenting to you all a writing challenge. Anyone can take part, members and prospects alike!
Your challenge is this: write something showing both the caring, soft side and the harder, murderous sides of a Son of your choice! It’s pretty simple, right, and who doesn’t like to portray these hard-outer-shelled men to have a sweet side?!
You can write this in whatever format you like, whether it’s a one shot, a short story, a vignette or even a poem. You’re not being judged for this, it’s just for fun and kind of nice to give people something to run with. Send your piece into the samperv page and share it with the world!
Starting….. now!
P.s. If this goes well I may try to bring this back as a regular thing… :) If you have any questions at all, please feel free to ask myself (@girl-with-no-faith-in-medicine) or any officer :)
With every regret or every failure, comes an equivalent seed of potential success. And so, what we just have to do, which sort of speaks to what we’re talking about in the greater journey of it, is just learn from those mistakes, and glean whatever wisdom one can from failure and try not to repeat it again.
Happy 38th Birthday, Charlie Hunnam! (April 10th,1980)
Writers, GIF Makers, Artists, Text Makers, Preference writers, Etc….
Your challenge should you choose to accept it: Character A dealing with the loss of another Character B.
Yep. That’s it! It can be any two characters you want. (Some ideas to get you going…Chibs dealing with the loss of Bobby, Tig dealing with the loss of his daughter, Jax dealing with the loss of his mother, or even made up losses like Happy dealing with the loss of his mom, Juice dealing with the loss of an OC, or an OC dealing with the loss of Quinn, etc!!)
The Challenge Begins Today and will Run through April 3rd. Submit to the page or Tag @samperv to have your Fic, Art, GIF, Preference, Text, etc. contribution reblogged/posted here!
Warnings: trans!male, swearing, some violence, mentions of blood, near death experience
Author’s Note: Chapter two is finally up! Sorry it took me forever, I wasn't exactly sure where to go with it. It’s also a little shorter than the previous but I didn’t want to keep you waiting any longer!
Playlist: musical inspiration for writing this fic & good songs for you to listen to while reading it ;)
Fourteen months and several backbreaking grunt work jobs later paid off. The guys had voted Mason in and today was his first job with that full patch. He was honestly quite proud of himself for sticking with it. It wasn't easy and he definitely didn't get through it without a few bumps and bruises but luckily, they weren't anything that he couldn't handle himself. He had also saved up enough money from the jobs he completed as a prospect to buy himself a better bike which got the guys off his back a bit more.
Mason was on that bike today, following his brothers into Niner territory. The two clubs hadn't been getting along lately, the tension between them almost visible as the Sons pulled up to Laroy's hideout. Mason pulled his helmet off as he climbed off his bike, following after Clay and Jax into the dimly lit bar area. Everything seemed to happen quickly. Accusations were thrown as well as fists before a gun was pulled and a shot was fired.
Mason heard the shot, his own hand reaching for his gun that was tucked away in the back of his jeans before he felt it. Warm, dark liquid stained the white tshirt he had on and Mason's expression took on one of a confused soldier as his hand covered the wound on his stomach. No, that couldn’t have been right – it didn't even hurt. Mason's vision went blurry and he lost his balance, having to lean against the bar to keep himself up. He heard another shot ring off as he felt the thick substance leaking through his fingers. The last thing Mason remembered was an arm wrapping around him to hold him up as he was carried out the door.
When he woke up again, his vision was still blurry but he could make out the silhouette of Tara standing over him. He could feel the wound now and it stung like hell, especially with whatever Tara was doing to him. He yelled out in pain as he felt something being pulled from his body and tried to sit up, wanting Tara to stop whatever she was doing because it just felt like she was making it worse. He was stopped by a pair of strong arms holding him down, someone he couldn't see but could make out whose voice it was. That thick Scottish accent could be detected from miles away.
Mason fought against Chibs as best as he could be he was weak, had lost a lot of blood. So, he gave up fighting and laid back on the table, eyes closing again. Though there were several thoughts running through his head, Mason could make out some of the conversation that the two were having.
"He'll be done after this. If he makes it. Clay won't let him stay. Not if he knows the truth." That was Chibs speaking but Mason could only make out part of Tara's response. "They aren't visible. No one will be able to tell." He stopped listening after that. They had to be talking about his scars, which means at least two people knew know, if not more. This wasn't going to be something he could hide anymore. He mentally sighed, cursing himself for not being more careful.
He had just gotten his full patch and was going to lose it already, just because he was born with the wrong parts.
