#also who just lets a 15 year old into a bar and doesn’t id him

[buk0wskis]

final verdict

also with this my oscar playlist is up! just a sweet lil angel boy who deserves nothing but the world. brother needed a bodyguard like yesterday

[hermannsthumb]

Maria. *Grabs your face* MARIA. I would LOVE to see 15 bobbing for apples from the autumn fic meme written by you. Nothing would delight me more!

Anonymous asked: Halloween prompt #15 please!!... "Bobbing for apples but we meet accidentally underwater lady and the tramp style." OR "I thought we'd have fun bobbing for apples but you actually hate it and are really mad now"

15. Bobbing For Apples

from autumn fic prompts here

KATE ❤️__ ❤️for you id write anything... and anon the lady and the tramp scenario is so fucking funny/good

---------------------------

It’s a really good thing that Hermann has Newt, because if Newt’s being honest, he has no damn clue what the poor dude would do without him. Work himself to death, probably. Or spend every Saturday night alone in his bunk. So depressing. Newt considers it his big charitable act of���well, of all time—to force Hermann into social functions, whether it's fun nights out at the bar (with Newt!), or down the hall a few feet for awesome movie marathons in Newt’s quarters (with Newt!), or something like tonight, which is a super awesome and fun Halloween party that, like, everyone on the base was invited to (including Newt!).

Hermann was all set to spend another night alone (probably changing the batteries in all his calculators or rearranging the hangers in his closet) when Newt dragged him out, more or less by the collar of his argyle sweater, with multiple threats to make his life a living hell the following week in the lab if he didn't comply immediately. "Seriously, dude," Newt had said, ominously, while Hermann looked at him like a furious cat ready to take a swipe, "you're gonna put in those vampire fangs and get drunk with me, or you're gonna regret it. I mean it." Newt was not opposed to blasting the shittiest depths of his Spotify account over his bluetooth speakers or using Hermann's favorite coffee mug to hold his dissection tools. Luckily for both of them, Hermann decided the risk wasn't worth it.

Newt knows Hermann is bound to recognize how selfless Newt is being and thank him for it eventually. Probably. Maybe a few years from now. For now, Newt is enjoying the warm and fuzzy feeling of having done a good deed, and also of drinking a considerable amount of spiked punch.

Hermann is not enjoying either.

"I did, in fact, have plans for tonight," he tells Newt, sipping his ginger ale and observing Newt with a fierce scowl. He flat-out refused the booze Newt tried to push on him. It's fine, whatever—it's enough for Newt, right now anyway, that he actually came. They'll work up to bigger stuff like that later.

"Like what?" Newt says. "Doing a crossword puzzle and watching the second half of that boring-ass documentary you put on last weekend?"

Newt considers it an affront to the very concept of movie nights that Hermann used his pick on a documentary, and one about the jaeger program that didn't even bother interviewing him, no less. Newt loves a good documentary, don't get him wrong, but movie nights are for escapist shit. You don't see him switching on Godzilla. Plus, having to watch stock footage of Dr. Gottlieb Sr. blabbing his mouth about how smart he was while you were debating making a move on his son (who was currently in you bed, looking super cute in your sweatpants, because he'd forgotten to pack pj's) was kind of a mood-killer. "It wasn't boring," Hermann sniffs, which tells Newt that his guess was dead-on. "It was...interesting. And anyway, just because they aren't your idea of plans..."

"Okay, whatever," Newt says. "Let's just have fun. That's the point of a party."

He throws an arm around Hermann's shoulder and drags him closer, until their heads knock together painfully. He hears Hermann growl low in his throat. Newt doesn't say, soon, we won't have the time to do stupid shit like this anymore, so we should enjoy it while we can, even though he wants to. It's better to not make fun stuff depressing. Plus, Hermann might decide to take that as an invitation to bail and put on his documentary. Instead he reaches up across Hermann and flicks his chin. Hermann's whole body stiffens. "I can't believe I got you into this super awesome party and you're not even pretending to be thankful," Newt says.

With no great deal of difficulty, Hermann pushes Newt off of him. Newt lands heavily back in his chair, making the whole thing wobble, and he laughs as he just manages to catch himself from falling off the other side. "You got me in?" Hermann says. "Newton, I was invited three weeks ago."

Newt stops laughing. "You were?"

"Yes," Hermann says. The corner of his lip twitches up, with a smugness so powerful Newt can feel it radiating off of him in waves. Bastard. "I took it upon myself to ask if you might be permitted to come, too." He adds, sarcastically, "Out of the kindness of my heart. I know how terribly put out you get when you aren't included in these sorts of things."

Newt considers this new information, and then discards it, because it really doesn't fit the image of himself he's been cultivating as the cool, hip friend to Hermann's uncool, unhip nerd. Like, come on, between the two of them, Newt is obviously the one you'd want at your party. Hermann's gotta be kidding. Probably. Maybe. "It's a lame party anyway," Newt mumbles.

He tries to put his arm around Hermann's shoulder again, remembers that Hermann really didn't like that the first time, and then drops it back down at his side instead. "Totally lame," he continues. Newt recalls the Halloween parties of his youth with a warm, fond glow: elaborate costumes, tacky decorations, passing around bowls of peeled grapes in the dark, carving jack-o-lanterns while his dad hovered protectively over him to make sure he didn't take a finger off with the knife. This is none of that. Barely anyone even dressed up! The lack of Halloween spirit is tragic. "There aren't even any party games."

"Yes there are," Hermann says, mildly.

He points across the room at a large metal tub that Newt somehow missed before. It looks like it's filled with water, and...

"Dude," Newt says.

He doesn't wait to ask before he's hopping to his feet and dragging Hermann along after him by his blazer cuff. Hermann swats at his heels a few times with his cane, but eventually—like he does with most of Newt's ideas—gives in. "I'm a fuckin' champ at bobbing for apples," Newt boasts. "I used to—oops, excuse me," (he runs into two guys who are, like, twice his height, upsetting their drinks, and he hears Hermann groan as something purple spills on his sweater), "I used to always win it at the fall fest when my dad would take me." And then when he went back as an adult by himself, but it was less impressive a win when you were up against a bunch of ten-year-olds.

"You do have an exceptionally large mouth," Hermann says, rubbing at his stained shoulder. "I suppose that helps." As Newt bends to investigate the iron tub, he says, "Oh, Newton, don't, it's been out all night. Who knows what sorts of germs are in there?"

Newt gets to his knees and rolls up the sleeves of his PPDC-issued labcoat. He's a mad scientist to Hermann's vampire (vampire librarian?) tonight. Yeah, it's kind of a lazy costume, but it was free—he already had everything he needed in the lab. "I can get it in five seconds, max," he declares. His record is one second, but he's the first to admit he's a little rusty, and he'd rather impress Hermann by beating his estimate. "Will you hold my headlamp?"

Grumbling, Hermann takes it. Newt sets his glasses on the ground. "You're going to get yourself bloody soaking," Hermann says, and then he complains about something else, too, but Newt is screwing his eyes shut and ducking his head into the tub, which makes it difficult to hear him. One second—two seconds—two and a half—Newt emerges victorious from the tub, teeth clenched down firmly on an apple, and accidentally splatters a large amount of water on Hermann's shoes. He pulls the apple out of his mouth with a grin and waves it at Hermann. "See. I'm a fucking pro."

He tucks his glasses back on his face to discover that Hermann is staring at him with a very strange expression on his face. Newt can't decide if it's the blacklight bulbs overhead that are washing him out and making him look so flushed, or something else entirely. Then, in a second, he's grumpy and scowling and tsking over his wet shoes. "A pro," he echoes. "Hardly. It can't be that complicated."

Newt gestures grandly at the tub and takes a bite out of his apple. Hermann can always be relied upon to never turn down a challenge, especially when it means making Newt look—potentially—stupid. Newt uses it to his advantage often. Whatever it takes to help the guy have a good time. "It's all yours, dude."

Hermann grumbles something again about Newt being too arrogant for his own good, and something else about showing Newt how to do it without making a mess of everything, then gets down to his knees with a quiet hiss of discomfort. He shoves his cane, and Newt's headlamp, at Newt, though bewilderingly leaves his blazer on. "I'll be just a moment," he says, and dunks his head into the tub.

He splashes back up no more than five seconds later. Apple-less. "Bugger," he coughs, and then coughs some more. The entire front of his sweater is soaked. "I didn't—I didn't start out right. Let me—"

Newt watches Hermann try to drown himself a few more times in mild interest before he finally intercedes. "Need a hand?" he says, getting to his knees next to Hermann.

"No," Hermann splutters.

Newt takes his glasses off again. "Yeah, you do. Okay, now watch me—"

He emerges with another apple in seconds.

Hermann grits his teeth. "Newton—"

"One more?" Newt says, his grin widening.

Back under. Another apple. He winks at Hermann when he goes in for a fourth time, and this time, he feels the water of the tank being upset as Hermann (refusing to be outdone once again) splashes in alongside him. God, Newt loves riling Hermann up like this—he gets so funny, and kinda cute, when he's mad about something. Red in the face, and scowling, and sometimes (when he's real mad) speaking in a dangerously low and rough sort of voice with his r's rolling that makes Newt shiver, just a little. Like, Newton, you worthless, pathetic little man, cease this immediately, or else I'll... He actually said that to Newt once. It made Newt feel a little warm under his collar. Hermann's probably going to say something similar to him this time, and Newt can't wait.

Ten seconds in. Newt has been cutting Hermann a little slack at first, just to see if he can catch up, but finally decides to just go for the apple that's been bobbing steadily against his mouth this whole time. (He loves beating Hermann at stuff.)

And, well, apparently Hermann goes for it too.

They both miss the apple. Newt's mouth is up against Hermann's for another five seconds before he realizes what's happening (that that is definitely not an apple, that that is definitely a mouth, that that mouth is wide and weird another to belong to only one person Newt knows, that that mouth is parting in surprise, oh my God) and then he pulls away so quickly that he breathes in what feels like half the tub of water. He falls back on his ass, coughing furiously, and it's not until he shoves his glasses back on with a shaking hand that he realizes that Hermann has done the same. "I," Hermann says. His eyes are wide. "I'm sor—"

"It's fine," Newt squeaks.

"It was—"

"I know!"

Newt and Hermann's mouths were touching for five whole seconds. Underwater, while apples bobbed against their foreheads, but their mouths still touched. Oh my God. In elementary school, Newt thinks dizzily, that would be enough to catch cooties. This was so not how he wanted his awesome eventual seduction of Hermann to go down. For one thing, it wasn't even a seduction.

"I'm gonna get a towel," Newt says.

Hermann nods. He looks strangely adorable with water droplets on his nose and his hair plastered to his head like that. Newt has to get out of here before he does something stupid, like take Hermann's pointy cheeks between his hands and put their mouths together on purpose. He doesn't think Hermann would respond to that very well right now.

"I'll get you one too," Newt says, and it takes a lot of effort to force himself to his feet.

Hermann nods again.

"Okay," Newt says, and stumbles away. Out of the corner of his eye, he just catches Hermann raising a hand to his mouth.

[yvaineseleneposts]

The Troubadour

Requested: no

A/N: This has to be my longest piece ever! I hope it was worth the wait and that you enjoyed it. There could be a few mistakes in there both in English and Italian, sorry in advance. I loved writing this, it wasn’t exactly what I wanted but I am a perfectionist and I have rewritten this about 5 times. I just needed to post it now!

Pairing: OC!Diana Bianchi & Damiano David

Words: 3k

Warning(s): swearing, drinking, smoking (I mean it’s the 70s…), smoking weed, my Italian (I have been studying this beautiful language for three years now but people make mistakes)

West Hollywood, California // Mid-January 1972

Red eyes.

Sweaty foreheads.

That is all Diana would see when they screamed at her. “CAN I GET TWO BEERS AND A COKE PLEASE?!”

Working behind the bar was not her dream job. Diana remembered it like it was yesterday, she and her friend Tami had gone to The Troubadour to celebrate the weekend when she saw a “help wanted” poster. It was a godsend. Diana applied there and then and not long after she found herself behind the bar, handing out drinks to people who looked like they were having the best time of their lives. Another plus side was the fact that she could attend the concerts of all the artists and bands for free.

Obviously, there were also downsides to this job. For example, Diana couldn’t go out and live her teenage years. She isn’t allowed to drink (too much) on the job and the hours aren’t exactly great. The pay is okay though and the tips are even better. Half of the people don’t even know how much they are giving and walk off like they didn’t just hand you 20 for an eight dollar drink. She doesn’t complain much about her job but she does feel left behind sometimes. Like when Tami or her other friend chat about some weird adventure they had the night before and who they met or kissed. Diana felt like she missed out on a lot of things but she had no other choice.

Her parents had kicked her out when she was 15. Diana moved in with her grandmother and lived with her for a while until she passed away. She has been living alone in her grandmother’s old apartment ever since. A few friends had moved in with her but then moved out again when they had found a better place to live. So it was just Diana paying the rent for the place.

 “CAN I GET A RUM AND COKE?!” Diana gets snapped out of her thoughts. Shit, what did he want?! She thinks to herself as she stares at the intoxicated man.  “SORRY?!” She shouts back over the loud music. At least she had another reason for not hearing the man.  “RUM AND COKE!” That is all the man yells before turning his band to her so he could face the stage. Some weird indie band is playing tonight. Diana wasn’t really into it and honestly couldn’t wait until her boss would send her home for the night. She puts in a little less rum, the man will probably not even taste the difference.

The band had stopped playing somewhere around two a.m. However not all the guests had left around 2.30 which is something Diana hated the most. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy her job but after so many hours standing on her feet, she wanted nothing more than to clean up, go home and get into her warm bed.

 “Diana, can you come here for a minute?” her boss asked. What was that tone, was he going to fire her?! “It’s nothing bad, don’t worry.” Pfew. Diana walked behind him into his office.

 “What can I help you with, Doug?” She asked as she sat down in the very comfortable chair across from him. Doug Weston had somewhat become her parent over the last few years that she had worked here. He was always so kind to her and could always ask him for help if she needed him.

 “I want to get more bands from across the sea. I want interesting people and not just the same bands playing over and over again. New talent that no one has heard of before but will become known because of this place. Inspire new talent, you know?” He was rambling on with his sales pitch as if you had any input, it was his place after all. “And seeing that you can speak more languages than I have ever could, I was wondering if you could write small pieces for newspapers in Europe that will inspire these artists to come here and get all the fame and fortune they want.”

 “Sure, Doug. You know I would do anything to help this place… and you of course”, Diana said while a wide grin spread on her face. She felt like she was moving up when in reality it wasn’t a new job position. She would do anything to not have the same indie bands playing almost every night. Diana would never have imagined that she would change the lives of four individuals barely six months later, and change her own life along with it.

Rome, Italy // Mid-March 1972

 “The Troubadour. The place where artists and bands from all over the world can make it or break it in the United States. It all depends on the crowd. If they love you, you can come back for an entire week! If not you will receive the money for that evening but sadly you won’t be allowed back. It’s always packed with record executives so you could get a sweet record deal out of this experience. Do you have what it takes? Sign up and good luck to everyone competing in the battle of the bands! – D. B.” Damiano finishes reading. “Ragazzi, I honestly cannot wait till we get to play there! It’s going to be veramente stupendo!”

 “Bene Damiano, calm yourself. It’s less than five months away. We still have to play in this dump to even afford to go. We barely have enough money for a motel, we don’t even have the plane tickets yet!” Classic Victoria, always worrying as if she is the mother of the group.  “Calmati Victoria, noi staremo bene”, Ethan jumps in. “Let’s get back to practising before we start another fight, sì?” The rest nods their head and pick up their instruments.  “I was thinking, should we start with I wanna be your slave oppuro no? Is it too much?” Damiano suggest.  “Oh, and for outfits, I have a few ideas?!” Thomas adds like a little kid who is excited for Christmas day.  “Positivo, let’s look at those after practice”, Damiano says. Not even ten minutes later they had many up a little setlist. It was a battle of the bands so they had to at least practice 4-5 songs to play against other bands. Then if they were allowed to come back they had to prepare yet another 6 songs on top of those 5 they had already played. They could do it, they had enough songs in their database but were they going to sing their Italian songs or did they have to translate them? The members of Måneskin weren’t sure yet. Luckily for them, they had four months to think about it.

West Hollywood, California // Mid-July 1972

Diana hadn’t even woken up yet, but on the other side of the city, Måneskin had arrived at the airport.  “Finalmente ci siamo. Ce l’abbiamo fatta!” Thomas exclaims. Damiano chuckles and throws an arm around Thomas’s shoulders.  “Slow down, loverboy. We have not made it yet. We landed yes, but we have a long way to go from here to that stage tonight.”  “How every grown-up of you, Damiano”, Victoria teases. “I bet with Ethan that you would follow the first American girl that you saw in this airport and that we wouldn’t see you until much later.”  “Ha ha, molto divertente, Victoria. Sei una persona così divertente.” They continue their bickering whilst Ethan collects all of their suitcases.   “Addiamo?” He finally asks the group, they all agree and make their way through the busy airport to the designated taxi area. During this, they complain about how crowded it is and how much the air smells. It is nothing like their own country but you have to take chances if you want to become famous like their dream.

Later that day

Doug had told Diana to come into work later than she usually would. It was going to be a busy night and he’d rather have her work during the performances than during the day and wear her out. So here she was around six-thirty instead of two o’clock. It felt so weird because usually when she arrives there is no line out front and now there was one to the end of the block. She passed all the people waiting in line, hearing them complain and moan as she walks up to Mario, the bouncer. He doesn’t even need to see her worker-id, as she walks in he wishes her good luck with tonight. She liked Mario, he was working here before she came and even then he had told her if she ever needed anything him and his wife had an extra bed for her. Honestly, the sweetest guy… also the toughest guy you will ever meet.

As Diana walked to the changing area to hang her coat and bag, she ran into a few participants of tonight’s show. She greeted most of them but they were too busy with themselves, the fame they hadn’t even earned yet was already rising to their heads. Before she could make her way to the bar, Doug called her over.

 “Diana, come here for a second. I want to introduce you to a few people.” Classic Doug, always introducing everybody to everybody. If he believed you could make it, he would introduce you to all his workers. However, the bands did not know this, the workers would treat them a little extra. “They are from Italy as well!” As if Diana herself had moved for their, it was actually her grandparents. She could speak a little Italian but other than her last name, there was nothing Italian about her. Doug briefly introduced the members of Måneskin to Diana, who couldn’t keep her eyes off a certain member. To be quite honest she had not remembered everyone’s names and she stumbled to get her name out of her mouth. All because she was already head over heels with this handsome, tall, young Italian man.

After a couple of introduction, Diana was finally behind her bar, her safe space. Meeting Damiano had made her weak in her knees, she had never had a reaction like this before. She didn’t really pay attention to the competitors and focused on serving the people but when it was Måneskin’s turn, she started to lose focus on her work.

During most of their setlist, Damiano kept glancing over to Diana and winking at her. Or at least that’s what it felt like for Diana. However, after a rather sexy song (let’s be real most of them are) he kissed one of his male bandmates on the mouth. Now Diana is not one to judge people on who they love. She reasons that everyone should love who they want to love and receive love because of it. It wasn’t that she hated it, it kind of turned her on, but she was very confused. Had she read the signs wrong? Were there even any signs to begin with? At times like these she wanted to ask Tami for help yet she was afraid that if Tami came and tried to help her that somehow Tami’s charm would work on Damiano and Diana would still end up with nothing. No, she had to do this on her own, she decided.

After the battle of the bands was over, a few stayed behind to talk with record labels about future arrangements. Diana started cleaning up, and washing and drying a few glasses, secretly listening in on a few conversations.

 “I liked what I saw out there. Let your agent call me and we will discuss your expansion in the United States.” Well, that sounded very good. Diana turned around to see who the band was that this man was talking to, but when she turned around she looked right into Damiano’s eyes.

 “I have been trying to get your attention all night”, he says shyly.  “Really? I thought so but I wasn’t sure”, Diana responds. Damiano raises his hand and scratches behind his head.  “I was wondering, you know. If maybe- ugh. Perchè è cosi difficile?” He mutters, not looking Diana in the eyes.  “Provalo in Italiano?” she suggests and Damiano’s eyes shoot up to meet hers.  “Cazzo. Parli Italiano?” He looks even more nervous now.  “Si, parlo Italiano.” He laughs at her answer.  “Vuoi uscire domani sera?” Diana nods her head, she honestly cannot stop smiling.  “I’d love to go out with you. Do you want me to pick you up at the hotel? That would be easier than you trying to find my house.”  “Yeah, sure. We’re staying at the Millwood Motel, it’s not too far from the airport.”  “Ah yes, I know that place. I’ll see you tomorrow then.” He leans over and kisses her cheek before leaving her to finish her work.

That night Diana barely slept. Did Damiano know any places here to take her to? Did she have to come up with a place? What if he was some weird guy? What if he was a murderer?! She sure was happy now that she didn’t give him her address. The following day she woke up around noon. She went to the kitchen and grabbed her Cona coffee maker, if she was to get through the day, she was going to need a big cup of coffee. She put water and coffee ground on the lower half of the pot and put it on the stove. She hated having to watch the coffee boil and couldn’t wait for better times when you would just have to push a button to get your coffee.

Seeing that she woke up around noon, it didn’t take long before Diana met up with Damiano. She asked him if he had anything specific in mind. Surprisingly, he did. He explained that he and his bandmates did a little sightseeing and they walked past a roller skating rink. Damiano always wanted to try that and he thought this would be perfect for their little date. Diana absolutely loved the idea and couldn’t wait till they got there.

Both of them were sad that the night had ended so quickly or so they thought. It was in fact 1 a.m. and they had already spend ten hours together. Diana brought Damiano back to the motel with her car and of course he couldn’t leave without planting a kiss on her lips. They kissed for a while before finally letting each other go.  “We’ll be leaving soon”, Damiano said and looked at their intertwined hands in his lap.  “Already? You just got here two days ago”, Diana complained. She just met him and now he is leaving already? She wasn’t prepared for that. She knew he was leaving at some point, he had to he didn’t live in the US, but still she had hoped for a little more time together.  “Maybe we’ll come back soon. We have a meeting with our agent and that record label guy tomorrow.”  “Could we meet up after? We should catch dinner together, I have another day off”, she suggested. Damiano agreed, kissed her one more time before leaving her car and making his way to his motel room.

The next day

Diana waited for Damiano in front of a large building. She was enjoying the sun on her face when she felt two arms coming from behind and hugging her on her stomach.  “Ciao, amore mio. Sei adorabile oggi”, Damiano said into her ear before kissing the side of her face.  “Ciao, you don’t look to bad yourself”, she said as she turned around. She grabbed his face in her hands and kissed him on his lips, his mates cheering them on in the background. “How did it go in there?” With that question Damiano’s face broke out in a wide grin. “What?”  “Amore, we’re staying here in the US. We got a record deal, we will be here for the entire year!” he shouts and all five of them jump in celebration. “I was going to tell you at dinner, but I just couldn’t wait anymore. We can be together, amore.” Diana broke out in tears, nodding her head, for she had never met a man who she loved more than Damiano. Her Italian lover boy.

[superfanficnatural]

Reunion

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Male!Reader

Summary: This is a request from @aflamboyanceofgays​, “Virginity loss, cut off by John, meet up many years later at a bar, reader thinks Dean is just straight and before was just a “phase” so he accepts the invite to the bunker but doesn’t make a move on him, Dean’s feelings come back stronger and stronger and after a few nights at the bunker, he “goes in for the kill” as I would like to say it.” I hope I wrote this to your likings! 

A/N: I actually really enjoyed writing this, there is a lot of cuteness in this but also some good ol’ smut. As always, I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 7.5K

Warnings: Angst, Heavy Fluff, Smut, NSFW 18+, Fingering, Oral Receiving (Male), Anal Sex, Cute Sex, Rough Sex, Swallowing, Rimming, Marking, again, some others that I can’t think of.

Italics are thoughts

Gif isn’t mine

Dean Winchester, the boy who had stolen your heart the moment you laid eyes on him. Spiky brown hair, a goofy yet perfect smile, green eyes that you lost yourself in every single time you looked into them. You were only about 15 when you had initially met, Dean being 16. Your parents had died during a hunt and John took you under his wing, nurturing you as a father, but if you were honest, he was more like a drill sergeant. You knew that you liked Dean, more than a friendly way; but you didn’t know if he liked boys, so you kept it quiet, admiring and daydreaming about him from a distance. 

Two Years Later

“Come on, Y/N! What’s the worst that could happen?” Dean asked, reaching out his hand, silently asking you to take it and go with him. John had been out for a hunt for the past few days and Sammy had just fallen asleep. He wanted to go out and get some drinks, then get drunk together.

“Dean, we don’t know when John is gonna be back, plus, we aren’t even old enough to buy alcohol yet!” you exclaimed, nervous.

“It’s fine, he’s not going to be back until at least tomorrow, and about that,” he reached into his pocket, flashing an ID, “Got myself a fake ID, says I’m 21.”

You laughed and shook your head, “Oh my god, Dean, you didn’t.”

“Indeed, I did. Now come on, don’t you want to have some fun and spend some time with me?” he asked with a soft and pleading look.

You could never say no to him, “Fine, let’s get going then.”

You grabbed his extended hand and felt electricity course through your veins. The smile you returned made his grow bigger, pulling you out of the hotel room and bringing you along to the drug store a block away.

“Alright, just wait out here, I’ll get us the good stuff,” he promised, letting go of your hand and entering the store. You had already begun to miss the warmth his hand provided. After a few minutes, he came back out with a black bag and what seemed like a really big bottle of alcohol inside.

He flashed you a cheeky grin, “Got us some whiskey.”

You smiled and asked, “Where are we going to drink it?”

“Back in the hotel room, duh,” he replied, making a silly face.

You chuckled and walked side by side with him back to the motel room. Opening the door and walking inside, you noticed Sammy still sleeping peacefully on his bed in the far end of the room, bringing a smile to your face. That kid was always such a heavy sleeper, not used to the hunter sleeping schedule just yet. Sitting down at the table next to the door with Dean, he tossed the bag aside and pulled out the bottle, getting up and moving over to John’s extra duffel he left behind, pulling out two glasses for the both of you.

“You really came prepared, didn’t you?” you asked, amused.

He shrugged with a smile, “Saw them sitting there yesterday, gave me the idea.”

He sat back down and poured the both of you a drink, clinking your glasses together you took a sip.

“Jesus, this ain’t too bad,” you said with a slight grimace on your face.

Dean recoiled, “Holy hell this shit is strong!” with a huge cringe, coaxing a laugh out of you. 

“How the hell can you drink it so easily?” he asked, exasperated.

You shrugged, “I don’t know, it’s pretty strong but I guess I can just handle it easier.”

He looked a bit jealous and you chuckled, “Aw, is little Bean mad that I’m better than him at something?” 

“Shut up,” he grumbled, a slight smile on his face from the nickname you gave him.

The both of you continued drinking, reaching the end of your second glass, you were very close to being very drunk, while Dean had finished his as well with a slight sway to his head. 

“You doing alright over there?” you asked, trying to hold back your laughter.

“I’m doing perfectly fine,” he slurred, “Let’s play a game, truth or dare.”

You smirked, “Why not? Who starts?”

“I’ll go first, truth or dare?”

You thought for a second, “Dare.”

He smiled, “I dare you to take another sip of the whiskey.”

Chuckling, “That’s it? You suck at this game Winchester.”

“Just shut up and do it,” he replied, face falling slightly.

You grabbed the whiskey by the bottle and took a nice long sip, the burn in your throat providing warmth to the rest of your body.

“Alright my turn, truth or dare?”

“Hmm, no, you said it yourself, that dare sucked, so I’m asking again.”

“Fine, truth this time,” you replied, amused.

“Do you have a crush on anyone?” he asked, a slightly hopeful look on his face.

Your face went pale and your breathing ceased, staring at him like a deer in headlights. He seemed like he was about to say something but you cut him off before he could utter a word.

“Um, I- its- I don’t-” you were a stuttering mess.

“Y/N, it’s ok, you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” he replied, his face soft and full of concern.

“No, you asked, so I gotta answer,” you took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, meeting his gaze. This was it, now or never. “My crush is...you, Dean.”

His eyes impossibly widened, “W-what? Stop messing around, Y/N.”

“I’m not... I’m not kidding,” you were reluctant to admit, breaking your gaze and looking anywhere but at him, a huge blush on your face.

“Ask me.”

“W-what do you mean?” you questioned, still looking at the floor.

“Truth or dare, ask me,” he replied shakily.

“T-truth or d-dare.”

“Dare.”

“I...” you started, wondering if you should really do what your heart wanted. Ultimately your curiosity, along with the help of the alcohol gave you the push you needed., “I dare you to... to kiss me.”

You couldn’t see his reaction, your eyes still focusing on the glass in front of you but you knew he probably had disgust written all over his face. However, before you could take it back, you saw him get up and slowly walk over to you. You picked up your gaze to see that he had a nervous look, repulsion nowhere to be found. He placed his hands on each armrest, leaning down to level his face with yours. You were holding your breath in anticipation as to what he would do. You took the opportunity of your close proximity to admire his facial features, freckles dusted across his cheeks, his green eyes shining as bright as ever. Glancing down at his lips, he did the same and you saw him lick his perfect plump ones, a shot of arousal flowing through you. He started to slowly lean in, millimeters away from your face. Pausing with nothing but a hair between the two of you, he pushed in the remaining space and connected your lips. 

It was like nothing you had ever felt before, you felt exhilarated yet relaxed, giddy yet comfortable, shocked yet contempt. The suction between your lips was so perfect that you felt like they fit together perfectly, like pieces to a puzzle. So many thoughts were running through your mind, but the feel of his lips pushing against yours effectively wiped them all away, your mind blank and only able to focus on him. You reached your hands up to cup the sides of his face, gently stroking his cheeks with your thumbs. He smiled into the kiss, prompting you to do the same. He pulled away after a few minutes to catch his breath, while you were panting like a madman, the excitement and adrenaline from the kiss increasing your heart rate. 

“That was...”

“Freaking awesome,” he finished, a bright smile on his face.

You were still just barely separated, but you pulled him back to you, desperate to feel his lips again. What started off as a hesitant and small kiss, turned into a heated and passionate one, moaning into his mouth, he slipped his tongue in between your parted lips, licking into your mouth and groaning at your taste. He pulled away and lifted you from the seat, ripping your shirt off and letting out a low grumble from deep in his throat, reaching down and sucking on your nipple greedily. You let out an audible gasp, the pleasure foreign yet much appreciated. You were starting to get impatient, reaching down and tugging at his shirt up, trying to get it off. He pulled away from your nipple with a ‘pop’ sound and smirked, slowly taking off his shirt so you could see his muscles rippling with the action. You moaned appreciatively, his abs and chest the sexiest thing you had ever laid eyes on. He reached back out to you and grabbed you by the hips, roughly pulling you into him, your hands falling on his strong chest. He started sucking hickeys on your neck while unbuckling your belt. Throwing your head back, you let yourself get lost in the pleasure that he was providing with his lips. He sucked hard, attacking your skin with his tongue and teeth, coaxing small moans to escape your throat.

“Don’t be too loud, Sammy is asleep,” he whispered in your ear, biting the lobe.

You nodded, unable to open your mouth for if you did, you definitely would have made a noise loud enough to wake him up. He unbuckled your belt and unzipped your jeans, pulling them along with your briefs off, dropping to the floor. He ceased his actions and lowered his gaze to your throbbing member, poking him in the thigh. 

“Fuck you are so hot, Y/N,” he breathed.

You reached out and unbuckled his belt as well, wanting to mark him just as much as he marked you, forcing blissful moans to escape him, spurring you on. Releasing him from the confines of his jeans, you pulled them down to see that he was going commando. Normally, you would have made fun of him for it, but right now all it did was serve to arouse you even further. His cock stood proudly, taunting you to play with it. 

You licked your lips and began to get on your knees but was stopped by Dean, “No, Y/N. I want to be inside you, we have time for that later.”

You nodded and followed him to the bed sitting down on top of it with his figure standing in between your legs. His cock was just in front of you and you couldn’t help yourself, reaching out to grasp it with your hand, you wrapped your mouth around it and started bobbing your head.

“Ngh, fuck, Y/N,” he moaned, hunching over slightly and balancing himself by gripping your hair.

He tasted incredible, his thick cock feeling perfect inside of your mouth. You went faster and faster, taking him all the way which surprised the both of you. He abruptly pulled back, “If you keep doing that then I’m gonna cum.”

“That’s kind of the whole point,” you replied, a smirk on your face.

“Another time,” he dismissed with a smile, pushing you back up the bed and towering over you. He leaned down and connected your lips once again, reaching down with his finger to tease at your rim. You slightly jumped and Dean smiled into the kiss, continuing to please you with his fingers. He attempted to insert a finger, your tight hole offering heavy resistance.

“Wait, here,” you said, grabbing his hand and pulling it up to your mouth, sticking in his fingers and swirling your tongue around them, looking directly into his green orbs. His eyes darkened and he pulled his fingers away, returning to kiss you while once again teasing your hole. The second he breached you, you tensed up and let out a moan. 

Dean muffled it with the kiss, “Shhhhh, relax, I’m gonna take care of you.”

You felt your body go lax at his words, instantly complying: you trusted him with your life. He slowly continued with his finger while kissing at your neck, whispering loving words in your ear, praising you on how well you were doing. After you got used to the single digit, you bucked into his hand, the intrusion feeling like heaven. He chuckled and added a second finger, scissoring them to open up your hole. You tried to hold in your moan, a small squeak coming out instead.

“Please, Dean, fuck me,” you begged, impatient.

“I don’t want to hurt you baby, I’m not exactly small,” he admitted.

After a few more moments of fingering you, he couldn’t wait much longer so deciding that you were ready, he lined up his cock with your entrance and began to push in. At first you started to tense up once again, feeling the humongous head prodding at your entrance. 

“It’s ok, I’ll be gentle,” he soothed.

You forced yourself to relax and let him in. He was moving painfully slow, his thick member stretching your walls deliciously. Slowly, he started pumping his hips, gradually inching further and further in with each stroke until he bottomed out and the both of you let out low moans. He was pressing right up against your prostate and it was driving you insane.

“Please move, please fuck me, Dean,” you breathed, ragged and huskily.

He lost all control and started thrusting into you, still being careful to not go too fast to hurt you. It felt so good, his constant stimulation of your prostate already having you seconds away from your orgasm, not even touching your cock. As he was thrusting, you wrapped your legs around his waist, silently begging him to go deeper, faster. He responded by picking up the pace slightly, your hips rising to meet his thrusts. You were biting your fist and desperately trying not to be too loud, moans spilling from your throat involuntarily. He reached down and started to stroke your painfully throbbing cock, going the same speed as his hips. 

“Fuck, Y/N. Your ass is so goddamn tight, feels so good around my cock, so warm,” he growled, rutting his hips a few times, accurately hitting against your prostate. You couldn’t help yourself and let out a loud moan, instantly looking over to Sammy to see if he woke up. Dean didn’t care at this point, still thrusting into you and stroking your cock. Making sure he was still asleep, you turned back to Dean to see sweat rolling off of his forehead, his hair stuck to it, eyes dark and breathing heavy. The intense look of desire and want in his eyes was what nearly sent you over the edge. He reached out with his free hand and started pinching your nipple, alternating between the two of them. 

The slight pain was the boost that you needed, “Fuck, Dean. I’m gonna fucking cum,” you whined.

“Cum for me, Y/N. You can do it,” he emphasized the last statement by thrusting in harder than before, his cock slamming against your sweet spot. Your breathing cut off and your body went still as your release squirted out of your cock all over his fingers and your stomach. Clenching the muscles in your ass with your release, it triggered Dean’s orgasm as well. Groaning a little too loud, he spilled into you, biting your neck to keep himself from making more noise. You felt rope after rope of warm cum coat your insides, the feeling of it comfortable. He slowly pulled out and gave you another lingering kiss. Grabbing a towel from the bathroom, he came over and wiped the cum leaking from your hole affectionately, along with the remainder from his fingers and cock. He dropped the towel before cleaning your stomach, confusing you, but he got on top of you and licked up all the cum, kissing you. You shared the cum between the two of you and you felt your dick twitch at the flavor, your own cum mixing with Dean’s natural taste on a whole different level. He pulled away with a blissed out and completely happy smile that made your heart swell. He climbed into bed with you and just as he was about to turn off the light, John walked in. 

Your heart dropped, and you knew this was it. 

“What the fuck?” he barked, seeing the two of you naked in the same bed.

“Dad, it's not-” Dean started.

“Not what it looks like? Don’t feed me bullshit kid,” he cut him off, “Y/N! Get your fucking clothes on and meet me in the car,” he silently seethed, careful not to wake up Sam as he left the room, closing the door behind him. Slowly, with tears escaping your eyes, you got up and started to get dressed. 

“Y/N, please don’t cry,” Dean came up to you and hugged you.

You wanted to revel in the comfort and safety his arms brought you but you knew you had to leave, Dean’s relationship with his father being one of the most important things. Sniffling, you pulled yourself away from his arms, looking into his face and almost breaking at the broken and vulnerable look on it.

“I have to go Dean, I can’t ruin what you have with your dad,” you admitted, making your way to the front door.

Being stopped once again with Dean’s hand on your forearm, “Please, we can figure this out,” he begged, his eyes tearing up.

It was the hardest thing you had ever done in your life but you took his hand off of your arm and gave him one last lingering kiss, forcing yourself to pull away and open the door. Before you closed the door on the love of your life, you turned and took one last look, “I love you, Dean.” You could hear the sound of anguish tear from his throat on the other side of the door and clenched your fists, forcing your feet to walk over to the impala. Getting in the passenger seat, you could feel John’s anger next to you. Not uttering a word, you looked out the window while he put the car in reverse and backed out of the lot, driving away from the motel. You looked back for as long as you could until eventually you couldn’t see it anymore, a few tears silently falling from your face. The entire car ride could not have been more uncomfortable, no sounds, the radio off, and it wasn’t like you were about to strike up a conversation. You found yourself looking out the passenger side window, reminiscing about your memories with Dean. The time that you guys had a prank war between you, him, and Sammy. It was one of the happiest moments of your life, constantly laughing with each other at the ridiculousness of each prank and the reactions of the victims. Your mind then wandered to when you and Dean managed to convince John to let you guys go to a high school party, minus a few details of course. You remember the two of you having the night of your lives, the both of you already fairly popular in the school. After a few hours of some more driving, John eventually pulled into a junkyard, a house in the middle of it all, you recognized it as Bobby’s house; another father figure to you. 

Parking the car, John reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash, “Here, this should keep you going for a bit till Bobby helps you out,” offering it to you. 

You scoffed and opened the door to get out, “I don’t need anything from you,” you spat, slamming the door and marching over to Bobby’s front door, him opening it as you reached the porch. You walked right past him, a clear indication that you were enraged, and made your way upstairs to the guest bedroom you knew he had. You could faintly hear arguing from your room, a door slamming and the skidding of tires on the gravel floor, indicating that John had left.

I hope that Dean can still find happiness, though, I know that I never will.

Twenty Years Later

You were sitting at a bar, nursing a whiskey, on the rocks. After Bobby had died, you left the junkyard, too many memories of him everywhere, so you lived on the road. Motel by motel you barely managed to scrape by in life, working as a solo hunter. Occasionally, your mind would wander to the green eyed boy who had stolen your heart all those years ago and still has yet to give it back; but you tried to wipe those thoughts from your mind before they spiraled you into depravity. You heard the bar door swing open, not paying too much attention to it, you stared down in your drink, debating whether you should have another or leave.

“What would you like, handsome?” the busty bartender asked the man who had sat down next to you. You didn’t spare him a look, not in the mood to start a conversation with anyone.

“I’ll take a whiskey, and the time you get off of work,” you could practically hear the smirk in his voice and you had to stop yourself from gagging, though you had to admit, that voice did something to you. Curiosity took over and you glanced to your left where the man was.

“Holy shit...” you couldn’t believe your eyes, “D-dean?” you questioned warily. He glanced over to you and that’s when you saw his eyes and you knew, those perfect green eyes only belonged to one man. 

His eyes went wide and you could hear his breath get caught in his throat, “Oh my... Y-Y/N? Is that really you?” you could feel tears swelling in your eyes, giving him a nod. 

He let out a gasp and got up out of his seat to envelop you in a hug. You reciprocated, basking in the old feeling of comfort and safety that you always felt in his arms. You could hear him let out a choked breath, squeezing you harder. You smiled and a tear dropped down your face, your happiness at seeing him once again too great for words to describe. After a few moments the two of you pulled away and you let yourself get lost in his green eyes once again, just like you used to, seeing a much harder exterior from before, a pain in his eyes that could only come from years of loss. However, the thing that was extruding the most and was written all over his face was utter happiness. You gave him a once over, damn, age has done a fucking wonder on him. 

“So, Winchester, how the hell have you been?” 

The both of you fell into an easy conversation, it felt like you guys had never separated in the first place. You talked about everything that had happened after you left, leaving that part out, for neither of you wanted to revisit that event. It was around three hours later that your conversation died out, your face hurting from the smile stretching your lips.

“Hey, so uh, me and Sammy found a place, we call it the Bunker, it’s our home now. Do you wanna... come stay with us?” he asked hesitantly.

After hearing that John had died many years before, you looked into his eyes to see desperation written in them, just like you remembered, you could never say no to this man. “I would love to, Dean,” you smiled.

His face lit up like the Fourth of July, “Awesome! I mean... great! Well, let’s get out of here.”

You paid for your drinks and exited the bar, “Seems you still got that damn car though,” you chuckled, looking towards the sleek black Chevy Impala.

“Of course I do! Baby is irreplaceable.”

“That action figure still stuck in the ashtray?” he nodded, “The legos in the vent?” he nodded once more. You chuckled, “I’ll follow behind you.”

You both got into your cars and you followed closely behind Dean. You couldn’t stop your mind from wandering back to the old memories you had with him, and seeing him now, talking to him, only solidified your thought of him still holding your heart. You still loved him just as much as you did when you were teenagers, if not, even more so now. The only setback was that he’s straight. If it wasn’t obvious from his advancements on the bartender, you thought you had a pretty decent gaydar, and it screamed that he was straight. As heartbreaking as it was to know that you were just a phase in his life, you were still extremely good friends and you missed him, so you would take what you could get.

Arriving there about a half hour later, you got out of your car with your duffel to see a large iron door, “Wow, this place just screams ‘cozy’,” you joked, looking at him with a jokingly bitch face. 

“Don’t judge a book by it’s cover, Y/N,” he smirked, making you second guess your initial thought about the place.

You followed him to the door, him pulling out some sort of key and unlocking it, beckoning you over to enter before him. Walking past him through the doorway, you noticed an iron spiraling staircase that led to a living room sort of area. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, you dropped your bag and took a moment to take in everything around you, a table in the center of the room with maps and other papers on top, chairs on every side of the round table. A library, stacked with so many books you counted around a few hundred off the top of your head. Two other exits that looked like long hallways leading to other areas of the Bunker.

“Damn, I really did judge too soon, this place is pretty awesome,” you breathed, spinning around to take in everything in the room like a child.

Dean laughed at your actions, “Told ya, come on, there’s someone that you probably wanna see.” He led you down the hallway and you walked past several doors with numbers in gold tint written on them, eventually stopping in front of one, Dean knocked on the door. You registered a voice call out, “Come in!” from the other side. He opened the door and you were met with a face you never thought you would have seen again.

“Oh my god, Sammy is that you? What the fuck? You’re huge!” you exclaimed, overjoyed that you could see the man you called a brother once again, but also surprised by his humongous figure.

“Y/N? How-Where-” he was struggling to pick which question to ask first so you took the initiative and ran up to him, wrapping your arms around his waist, for he really was freakishly tall. You could feel his chest rack with a few sobs and felt his arms wrap around your shoulders, squeezing so tight like if he let go, you would disappear. 

“Holy shit, I’ve missed you so much, Y/N,” he choked. Your heart broke, for you had left without as much as a goodbye to Sammy, but also filled with happiness that after all these years, he still missed you.

He pulled away and looked you in your eyes, “I know why dad made you leave, and I understand that there was nothing to be done. I’m not mad at you for not saying goodbye, I’m just so glad that I can see you again,” he breathed. Even as a kid he could read me like a book, guess nothing has changed. You gave him an apologetic and grateful smile, turning to see Dean try and hold back his tears.

“Oh my god, Dean. Are you crying?” Sam asked, amusement lacing his tone.

“Shut up Sammy, dust got in my eyes,” he replied, slightly sniffling, leading to you and Sam laughing together.

“Come on, I’ll show you to your room,” Dean motioned to the door, walking you out, but before you could leave, “Hey, Y/N? Do you maybe wanna... watch a movie? Us three? Like the old days?” Sam asked, flailing his arms around, trying to gesture what he was saying. A genuine smile lit up on your face, remembering when the three of you would sit down at the motel and watch movies together. 

“I would love to,” you replied honestly.

He smiled and waved you out of the room, returning to whatever he was previously doing beforehand. 

“This is your room.”

Walking through the door Dean had kindly opened for you, you took in the decently sized room, a joint bathroom with a shower attached, and dropped your bag on the bed. Walking up to Dean, you gave him a hug, “Thank you,” you muttered into his chest, finally having a place you could call home.

He chuckled, “Anything for you, Y/N,” he breathed, hugging you back. His admission had your heart beating a little faster but you pushed it down, knowing he only meant it in a familial way. 

You pulled back, “Fuck unpacking, that can wait, let’s watch a movie.”

He grinned and nodded, walking back to Sammy’s room to get him. The youngest Winchester’s eyes lit up once again when he saw you, a smile spreading on his lips. As they walked past, you followed, shoulder to shoulder with Sam with Dean in the front of you guys.

“Damn, Sammy, I’m never going to get used to seeing how big you are,” you poked.

“I’m still never going to get used to seeing you again after all these years,” he breathed, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. 

Dean turned and walked backwards, “How come he can call you Sammy but I can’t?” he questioned, an adorably confused look written on his features.

“Because, Y/N is my favorite,” he stated, looking down at you and kissing the top of your head.

“As adorable as that is, and as happy as that makes me, I’m still older than you Sammy. I kiss YOU on the head, not the other way around,” you mused. 

The three of you chuckled and walked into a large room with several couches and a large TV in the center of the wall, all of the couches angled towards it. Sitting down on one of the couches, Dean and Sam fought over who could sit next to you, for it was a two seater. You began laughing at their ridiculous behaviour, but it still warmed your heart like no other. Eventually Dean pulled a fast one on Sammy and sat down while he was recovering from a shove, he huffed and puffed and reluctantly plopped himself on the couch next to the two of you. 

You laughed once again, “Next time, Sammy.”

Dean cheered in success, throwing his arm around your shoulder and bringing you into his side, “I win! You’re all mine tonight, hate to break it to ya,” he cheered with a cheeky grin. Even before you and Dean had admitted your feelings to one another, you were super close, hugs and cuddles were completely normal for the two of you. 

You smiled, “Eh, I guess I can deal with it for a few hours,” looking up at him, your happiness evident in your face for his lighted up as well. 

Opening up Netflix on the TV, “Y/N, you choose, you always had the best taste,” Sammy piped in from his seat. Dean reluctantly handed the remote over to you, having just found a western movie he wanted to watch.

“Sorry Bean, looks like I’m picking,” the old nickname fell from your lips before you could even think about it. The look of adoration in his eyes and his pleased smile telling you that he liked you calling him that as much as you did. You scrolled for a few moments before deciding to put on “Extraction” a new movie with the main star Chris Hemsworth.

“God he is so fucking hot,” you breathed, seeing his face on the cover photo. You heard Sam chuckle and expected Dean to do the same, instead finding his body go stiff and felt his heavy sigh on your head. You were about to ask if something was wrong but decided against it feeling his body relax seconds later, his arm giving you a light squeeze.

Throughout the movie, you found yourself unable to focus, being so close to Dean was distracting you more than you thought it would. His scent was intoxicating, leather, whiskey, and another underlying scent that you couldn’t quite put your finger on, but it smelled like home. His warm and muscular body touching up on you, making your mind go delirious and your pants to tighten. After what felt like forever, the movie ended and everyone started to get up.

“That was a pretty good movie,” Sam said.

“Yeah, the action actually wasn’t too bad,” Dean admitted.

“I had trouble focusing on anything but Chris’ face to be honest,” coaxing another laugh from Sam, but when you looked over to Dean you noticed his jaw clenched and his eyes darkened. 

Confused, you asked, “Dean, is there something wrong?” 

He smiled once more, but you knew him well enough to tell that it was completely fake, “Yeah I’m good, just a bit tired, let’s head off to bed.”

You reluctantly followed him, suspicious as to why he was acting so strange. Dean walked you to your door as you waved goodnight to Sammy.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?” his hand coming up to scratch at the back of his neck.

“Yeah, I’ll still be here,” you replied, his awkwardness shocking you, for he had always been confident in everything that he did.

“Great! Good, I mean. See ya tomorrow,” he rushed, walking away to his bedroom. You shook your head with a laugh, Dean acting completely out of character. Turning off the lights and getting into your bed after placing the duffel on the floor, you laid back with your face to the ceiling. This has probably been the best day in my life in the past twenty years. After tossing and turning from excitement for tomorrow, you eventually drifted off into sleep, your dreams filled with you and Dean together.

For the next few days, the boys decided to take a break from hunting, wanting to spend time with you and re-establish your relationship, not that it wasn’t already strong. Day after day, Dean seemed to be even more attentive with you, while you weren’t complaining it was somewhat strange, it was like he was slowly becoming the same boy that night you last saw him. Reprimanding yourself for assuming Dean was actually still into guys, you shook it off and instead focused on spending some quality time with the boys. After around four days, one night when you were preparing to go to bed, there was a knock at your door. 

“Hey, Dean. What’s up?” you asked, a small smile on your lips.

“Can I come in?”

You stepped aside and let him enter, closing the door behind him. He turned back to you and it seemed like he was struggling with saying something, opening and closing his mouth a few times like a fish out of water. After a few moments, you heard him mutter, “Fuck it.” 

The next thing you knew, you were pushed against the door and his lips were on yours. At first you were surprised, eyes wide and lips still before you let yourself fall into it, wrapping your arms around his neck. The kiss feeling just like it did back when you were teens, but so much better. He had more experience, as did you, and it seemed like he poured all of it into the kiss, desperately trying to impress you. He pushed up the rest of his body on yours, rubbing his prominent erection against your thigh, prompting your own member to begin to harden. You moaned into the kiss and he took control of it, sliding his tongue into your mouth.

“Fuck, you taste just as perfect as you did all those years ago,” he moaned, returning to the kiss.

The similarity to the first time you had made love to each other threatening to burst your heart with nostalgia and happiness. You roughly pushed him off of you, earning a dark glare and a rumble to come from deep in his chest. You smirked and took off your shirt, playing with your waistband, slowly lowering them just above your pelvis, pulling it back up just before he could see anything then repeating the action. He was glued to the spot, eyes intently watching you like a hawk, his eyes told you that he liked what you were doing. Becoming impatient, you took off your pants, but left your underwear on, reaching out to tug on his waistband, pulling him towards you. You sucked on his neck and nibbled on the small space underneath his ear, gaining a low moan from Dean. Rubbing him through his pants, you continued your assault on his neck, making sure to leave marks that were clearly visible, wanting everyone to know that he was yours. He grunted and grabbed your bruisingly by the hips backing you up until your legs hit the bed and you fell, sitting down. He took off his shirt and you took your sweet time appreciating his body, toned arms, chest so large, it looked like the comfiest pillow you could ever have. He smirked at your reaction and slowly peeled off his pants along with his undergarments, his cock bouncing out of its confines, inches away from your face. Once again, the scene around you flashed to the exact moment that Dean stood in front of you like this all of those years ago. However, he was sexier now, more rugged, muscular, cock about another inch and a half longer than what it already was, making your mouth water. You bit your lip and reached out with your hand, tugging him closer to you with his large member as the anchor. 

“Last time this happened, I told you to suck my cock another time, well now is the time,” he graveled, reaching out to grip at your hair and using his other hand to guide his dick into your mouth. This time, you had no intention of teasing, all the years of waiting for this exact moment fueling your want and desire for him. Wrapping your lips around the tip of his head, you instantly pushed down, going as far as you could before popping off with a gasp of air. You wanted to please him so you pushed your limits, relaxing your throat and pushing all the way down until his pubic hair was pushing up against your nose. 

“Ohhhh fuckkk, Y/N. Nobody ever managed to suck this cock as good as you, always the best at everything,” he moaned.

His praise gave you the confidence boost to continue, bobbing your head forwards and backwards, forcing small moans and whimpers to fall from his lips. 

“Fuck, I’m close, I’m gonna cum,” he whined.

You pulled away for a second, “Cum, Dean. Let me taste you,” returning to your task, you gave it everything you had, using your other hand to massage the area between his hole and his sack, making his legs start to quiver and his breathing to pick up.

“Oh shit, just like that,” he started pumping his hips into your mouth, chasing his own release. After a few more pumps, his hold on your hair tightened and he thrusted one last time, “FUCK Y/N!” he called out, pouring what felt like a gallon of cum into your mouth and down your throat. He released your hair and took a step back, his softening dick falling out of your mouth as you swallowed the last of his load down, palming yourself through your boxers to relieve the tension, his taste extremely arousing. 

“Holy shit, that was amazing,” he breathed, chest heaving with the deep breaths he was taking. 

He reached into his sweatpants on the floor and pulled out a tube of lube, “Did you seriously come in here thinking I was gonna fuck you?” you asked, a slightly annoyed look on your face.

He gave you a toothy grin, “Well, I was right wasn’t I?” Your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head. He placed the lube on the side of the bed and roughly grabbed your legs, manhandling you onto your stomach, the pressure from his fingers leaving marks behind in their wake. Tearing off your underwear, he wasted no time in shoving his face into your ass, tongue fucking into it, spreading your cheeks with his hands.

“Oh fuck Dean! Shit, that’s so good,” you whined, gripping the bed sheets so hard your knuckles turned white. He was relentless in his assault, stretching a few fingers from his hand on your ass to tease your rim, rubbing circles around it.

“Dean, please,” you begged, voice faint and weak.

“I’m going to take care of you, Y/N. I got you.”

He grabbed the lube bottle and squeezed some on your ass and his fingers, the cool liquid making you jump slightly. He chuckled and resumed his task, slowly inching in two fingers into your tight opening. 

“Fuck, Y/N, you’re still so damn tight,” he groaned, pushing his fingers in until the knuckle and fucking into you.

“Shit! That feels so good Dean!” you moaned, squeezing your eyes shut and scrunching your eyebrows in pleasure. After a few more minutes of fingering you, he pulled out and you heard the bottle of the lube open up, turning back to see him pour a generous amount over his cock and lathering it, already just as hard as it previously was. 

“I’m gonna fuck you, hard,” he growled, grabbing your cheeks and roughly squeezing them, forcing them open so his monstrous cock could fit inside. He started slow, pushing in with the head, stretching you so incredibly, giving you a sense of fullness. After the head was fully seated inside, you thought he would continue the slow pace, but instead he shoved the rest of his cock in one sharp thrust.

“FUCK!” you screamed, the sudden intrusion splitting your ass into two. He chuckled darkly before pulling out where just the tip remained and repeated the motion, another loud moan ripping out from your throat. Continuing, he began to pound into you relentlessly, the bed creaking, threatening to break from the sheer strength of his thrusts. His hands were placed on your hips, guiding them back and forth onto his cock as he rotated his hips and pushing into you. At first, it was mostly pain, but your walls eventually widened to accommodate his large size and you began to call out in ecstasy rather than pain, his cock reaching what felt like your stomach. 

“Take my fucking cock, that’s it, such a perfect hole, mine, and mine only,” he growled, accentuating each word with a thrust. He was filling you up delightfully, moans of pleasure and need falling from your lips. He snaked an arm around your chest and pulled you up level to him, the new angle hitting your g-spot delectably.

He bit your ear, “Who do you belong to,” he grounded out.

“You! I belong to you, Dean. I’m yours!” you whined.

“That’s fucking right, mine,” he growled possessively, pushing your head back down into the bedsheets, your ass still elevated, providing an even better angle for him to push into you. 

Your moans were muffled by the bedsheets, “Fuck, Dean, I’m gonna cum,” you moaned.

“Cum without touching yourself, cum on my cock,” he commanded, grabbing your wrists with his free hand and holding them together on your back. You felt the string snap at his words, cumming into the bedsheets with a loud grunt. After a few more pumps, you felt him still, spilling his seed into you, filling you up with the amount of cum streaming from his cock. He pumped a few more times, sharp ruts that had you whine from the impact on your prostate. Pulling out, he used his discarded t-shirt on the floor to clean up the mess, tossing it aside and turning you onto your back. Reaching down, he kissed you softly and pulled away with a loving look on his face.

“When you left all those years ago, you said something to me,” you felt your cheeks redden, “Dean, you don’t-”

“You told me that you loved me, but what you didn’t let me do was respond,” he breathed, vulnerability shining in his mossy eyes.

“I love you too, Y/N.”

Forever Tags List: @magssteenkamp​ @shadowsinger11​ @donnaintx​

Dean/Jensen Forever Tags List: @akshi8278​

Male Reader Tags: @beka-dreamer​ @brymalibu​

[blueaura]

Lost and Found Ch. 2

A/N: Hey guys, just trying my hand out at this fanfic thing. I love reading everyone’s stuff and decided to write something myself. I’m fairly new to Tumblr so any tips or suggestions are highly appreciated. Let me know if y’all like it and would like me to continue. Feedback would be amazing. Thank you and happy reading.

Summary: Sam and Dean meet a young hunter who is a little rough around the edges and they reluctantly take her under their wing. But she might be a little more connected to them that any of them realise.

Word Count: 1.6k

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Dean’s first priority after going back to the motel was getting Sam patched up. Y/N went to her own room and got into the shower to get the dingy warehouse stink off of her. The water pressure was abysmal but it got the job done.

She went back to the boys’ room and knocked on the door. Without waiting for a reply, she pushed the door open to see Dean wrapping Sam’s ribs. The younger Winchester clearly thought it was unnecessary if his facial expression was anything to go by, but he let Dean do it anyway. Sam knew better to argue with Dean in his ‘mother-hen’ mode.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine.” Sam could see the guilt in her eyes. If only she had followed orders, Sam wouldn’t have bruised ribs.

“Really, I’m good. I’ve had worse. It’s part of the job. We screw up and we learn. Don’t be too hard on yourself. Now you know better for next time.”

It surprised her that Sam could read her so well after just three days. She remembered their first interaction. She had stopped for a quick bite at a diner when they walked in and sat beside her on the breakfast bar. At first, she had ignored them, going back to studying the case she was in town for. That didn’t last long though, as pieces of their conversation caught her attention quite quickly.

“Do you guys always talk about cases this loudly in the middle of a diner where anyone could easily overhear you?” she had asked them, still looking through her notes, “cause that does not seem like a smart thing to do.”

She had finally looked up and saw them staring at her in disbelief.

“Excuse me?” The shorter one, which she would later learn was Dean, had said.

“You are hunters. Discussing a case as weird as this one out in public. Loudly. I wasn’t even trying to eavesdrop. Like I said – not smart.”

“You’re a hunter? You’re like 12!” Dean had exclaimed. He had obviously been exaggerating. For one, she was 15, not 12; and two, Dean was still under the impression that she was over 17 at least. She couldn’t blame him. She didn’t look like an average 15-year-old and she had never bothered to correct him anyway.

They had gone on to argue over who would work on the case, and when neither party backed down, Sam had suggested they just all work together. The rest had been history.

She was jerked out of her thoughts when she registered what Sam had said.

“Wait, next time?”

Not happening. She liked the Winchesters and yes, they were not bad as far as hunting partners went. But there was a reason she hunted alone. She didn’t like people in her space. She knew that as soon as they figured out that she was a 15-year-old orphan, they would ship her off somewhere, ‘for her own good’. It had happened way too many times before for her to trust anyone, no matter how nice they seemed. She had been put into foster care three times on the behest of ‘concerned adults’ before. The homes were so bad that she preferred the streets and ran away the first chance she got. She had been on her own since she was 11 and had practically raised herself even before that. She didn’t need anyone to tell her what was best for her.

“Sorry boys, I prefer to hunt alone. Don’t get your hopes up for another team-up anytime soon,” she said before Sam could open his mouth again.

Dean’s jaw ticked but she could see him forcing the tension out, in hopes of reasoning with her. He knew that telling her what to do wouldn’t work, he had noticed that she had problems with authority.

“Look, we have this friend. She’s a sheriff and she’s got two other girls living with her who are either hunters or aware of the life. If you want –”

Dean knew that they had messed up. Y/N’s face grew hard as she listened to Sam talk about Jody and the girls. Yes, they had called her and asked her if she would be willing to take in another stray but Jody had warned them that Y/N didn’t sound like someone who wanted a normal life. Claire had wanted to hunt but she had also wanted a family. Alex had wanted to get out of the life. Both of them had wanted to be there.

He could see that they were losing her. He didn’t understand why he felt so strongly about helping her, but he panicked at the thought of her hunting alone out there. So, he blurted out the first thing that came to his mind – “You could hunt with us!”

Sam paused mid-sentence, looking at his brother incredulously. That was not what they had agreed on. While his brother clearly felt more strongly about helping her, Sam himself had grown quite fond of Y/N and wanted her to be safe. But he also knew that they had too much on their plate to add her into the mix. She’s just be in more danger anyway. They were in the middle of dealing with the darkness – there was no way bringing Y/N into their life would end well. After the way they lost Charlie, Dean should have been the first one to realize that.

Y/N’s face dropped the hard stare it was featuring only to be replaced by a look of surprise. Hunting with the Winchesters was something aspiring hunters dreamed off. They were the big leagues, where the real action was. She’d heard rumors about their dalliances with angels and prophets and monsters from purgatory. So, of course she was surprised when they offered her a chance to play with the big boys. But she knew she couldn’t take them up on it. Specially since Sam didn’t seem too enthusiastic about it either. Which stung – but she understood.

“As tempting as that sounds, I’m good. You guys probably have a lot to deal with anyway if Sam’s face is any indication. I don’t want to be a problem. I’ll get out of your hair and maybe we can team up again if you happen to be on the same case as me.” Y/N didn’t want to get close to people. They just ended up abandoning you sooner or later.

Sam backtracked guiltily, assuring her that they wanted her with them. He didn’t want her in danger but he didn’t want her to feel unwanted either. There was just something about her that made both brothers want to protect her.

“You won’t be,” Dean said firmly. “You’re clearly a good hunter. You figured out the case before us and you were right. You could use some tactical training and work on your combat a little bit. From where I’m standing, you don’t have anyone to teach you either. We can help –”

“You’re telling me you have time to take in a rookie hunter in the middle of dealing with your apocalypse of the year?” she scoffed, raising an eyebrow at Dean.

Sam remained silent, a spectator to the back and forth between his brother and Y/N. He wanted her to come with them. He just didn’t want her to end up dead like every other person they cared about.

Dean switched tactics when enticing her with training didn’t work.

“What about living arrangements? We have a pretty sweet set up in Kansas. It’s like a bat cave. You’d like it there.”

“I manage just fine in motels,” she fibbed just a little bit. Even with fake IDs and fake credit cards, she sometimes had a hard time convincing motels to give her a room. She’d spent more nights in the cold streets than she cared to admit, but it was all just a part of being a hunter and she accepted that. Even the rooms she did get were dingy at best, but she didn’t want their charity.

“Look kid, I know how it works. You can’t lie to me.” She looked away at that.

“What about family? You have anyone we can at-least get you back to?” Dean had just about admitted defeat at this point. Even Sam looked dejected and he hadn’t even exactly wanted her with them in the first place.

At his statement, she jerked, her whole body flinching at the mention of family. The reaction didn’t go unnoticed by either brother.

“Y/N? You alright?” Sam asked when she didn’t say anything for a minute.

“No. No family,” she ignored Sam. “I never knew my father, all my mother said about him was that he was a hunter too. I always assumed he died on the job.”

She was fidgeting with her rings. She did that when she was nervous or uncomfortable, they’d learned.

“What about your mother?” Sam dared to ask softly.

“Dead.” Y/N’s voice was hard which surprised Sam. In the time they’d spent together, she had never seemed cold, but she did right now.

“Killed by a werewolf when I was 11,” she continued in that same emotionless voice, “I’ve been on my own ever since.”

She didn’t ever share anything about her life with other hunters and the fact that she told them this perplexed her, but she couldn’t ignore Sam’s puppy dog eyes.

“I’m sorry kiddo,” Sam said, empathy practically oozing from his voice, “We know what it’s like losing a mother young. It doesn’t get easier.”

“What was her name?” Sam said after a brief pause.

She was silent for a long time. She hadn’t said her name out loud in almost 5 years.

“Sandra,” She finally said softly, the tiniest hint of emotion in her voice. “Sandra L/N.”

Dean froze.

He knew that name.

Chapter 3

TAGS:  @vicmc624​ @buttercookiemachoman​ @link--in--bio

If anyone else wants to be tagged, please send me an ask (: Thanks for reading!

[piracytheorist]

A Kiss for Good Luck (5/15)

Summary: So this is the story of one born lucky, and one born unlucky. Fate will keep making them cross paths, but is it to bring them together, or to test them? Captain Swan AU.

A/N: Total chapter count went up cause I decided to split the last chapter into two parts. From now on updates will come every Tuesday and Friday.

Rating: T (make sure you’re okay with the warnings on AO3)

Word count for this chapter: 2.1k (48k in total) AO3

Read from the beginning: Tumblr | AO3

~

Chapter 5: Emma Swan, October 31st 2000 – October 19th 2011

Emma pulls back at the sound of a whistle next to her.

"Nice catch, Captain," a girl dressed like Cruella de Vil says to the boy, but he just shakes his head, annoyed at her.

"Ignore her," he tells Emma. "She's just pissed that there's too many adults around," he says as he gives the girl a pointed glare.

The girl just shrugs and walks away.

Emma keeps her arms around the boy's neck and they keep rocking to the rhythm of the next song. Just as she's about to ask him for his name, she sees Sarah and the owner of the two villas run to the front door.

"Excuse me," she tells the boy and lets go. "I'll be right back."

She follows the two women outside and gasps when she sees the bright, wild flames burning inside their rented villa. She tries to step forward towards Sarah, but she trips and falls, scraping her arm on a sharp rock on the ground.

She's not bleeding much; she keeps her arm hidden, feeling lucky she has her zombie makeup, as she stands awkwardly by while the villa's owner is venting out her anger over her destroyed property at Sarah. Emma is too tired and too shocked to understand whose fault it is and who will have to pay for the damages.

Everything they'd brought with them was burned in the fire, including Emma's passport. Sarah says they were lucky enough that her own wallet and papers were in her purse. Early the next morning, one Emma dressed as a way too messy zombie princess and one Sarah dressed as a very tired witch with a broken hat check into a hotel, waiting for the embassy to open so they can arrange for Emma's new travel documents.

They're flying back two days later, and after a long, seemingly endless to Emma trip, she looks at the queue at passport control as if it's the final obstacle to a good night's sleep.

Sarah lets her go first, and though the security guard takes a little more time checking her passport than Emma feels comfortable with, he eventually allows her to pass. Emma picks up her rucksack, still slightly mourning the clothes and the other stuff she lost in the fire, crosses over and turns to look at Sarah.

Sarah walks to the checkpoint. After checking her passport, the security guard picks up a walkie-talkie and says something to it while staring at Sarah.

Sarah turns to look at her, worried, and Emma feels a shiver run down her spine.

Two other guards appear and walk up to Sarah, while another one walks to Emma.

Emma freezes; she watches as the two guards lead Sarah away, while she's turning her head back to look at Emma before they urge her through a door. She seems to be calling Emma's name.

“What's happening?” Emma says, still staring at the closed door. They didn't even let her cross. “Where are you taking her?”

“Just follow me. It's a matter of security.”

“You have to tell me! What happened?!”

The guard stays silent and simply walks forward. He leads Emma into an office, offering her water and a sandwich. Emma takes a few gulps of water – her mouth feels dry as sand already – but her stomach is too tight for her to manage even one bite.

Many long, tiring hours later, a woman dressed in a suit approaches Emma. The badge on her chest has that damn seal that Emma had hoped she'd never see again.

They tell her that Sarah's real name is Ingrid, that she'd migrated illegally from Norway eighteen years ago, that she never had the right to adopt Emma, that all her belongings are now part of the state...

Emma is taken away by the social worker before she has any chance to talk to Sarah – or Ingrid, whatever her real name is.

Still processing the unbelievable secrets revealed to her, she's in such a shock when she picks up a few essentials from the place she called home that she doesn't even think to call a friend. She doesn't need her phone book to remember Lily's phone number, but for the few days she stays in a foster home on the other side of Boston, she trembles at the thought of calling her after the news of her adoptive mother being a criminal have hit the neighborhood.

And Lily had sounded so excited to hear all about Emma's first crush. She wouldn't be ready to deal with such heavy news. She wouldn't be able to understand.

It's not long before Emma runs away. Sar-Ingrid has been deported, there's no good at searching for her, and no-one will take care of Emma like she did, despite the secrets she'd kept.

Part of Emma wants to believe Ingrid had a good reason. But it still lead to this, to Emma running away, breaking into and stealing a yellow Bug to sleep in and probably escape with to... somewhere. Anywhere.

Only Emma had never imagined she'd get a partner in all of this, sneakily sleeping in the backseats, all courtesy of stealing an already stolen car.

Neal is okay. Only two years older than her, he's quickly interested in her, but when she tells him no he keeps their relationship strictly platonic – and professional. It's always easier to pickpocket and shoplift when one of them plays the role of distraction.

At first, Emma keeps remembering that boy, dressed as a pirate, who looked at her in a way she hadn't been looked at before. But when the way Neal looks at her slowly starts resembling that, she thinks that maybe there was something about the romance novels Ingrid liked so much. Maybe there's no love at first sight, but there may be love at first shoplift, first trespassing, first sharing of stolen goods...

And when he promises her a home in Tallahassee, she realizes that just a look means nothing. When his lips stay on hers, and kiss them again and again. When she pulls him to the backseat of the car and what does she know, that scene in Titanic was actually realistic. When he nuzzles closer to her after he's fallen asleep.

Tallahassee is a bit of a long way, but she dares to have hope. Maybe Ingrid wouldn't be too mad. She'd committed a crime, too, anyway.

Neal convinces her to pick up some watches he'd stolen and stored in a locker. Fencing them would give them big money. Neal wants to make fake IDs for them and run off, but after seeing Ingrid's drama, Emma simply wants to give up stealing and make their life in Tallahassee. He puts one of the watches on her wrist as a promise.

As Emma waits for Neal to come back from meeting the fence, her imagination goes wild. They'll have a home for themselves. They won't have to hide, to run, to fear anything anymore. Not that she gives one damn about the law – she's just tired of running. She spins her wrist, touching the watch and thinking of Neal's promise.

But again, it's not the first promise made to her that's broken. Though admittedly, getting sent to jail for Neal's crime was way worse than any other.

He left her the car. She holds the swan keychain with its keys in her hand, then looks at the bars outside her cell's window and wishes with all her might that she could find Neal and run him over with the car he was oh so generous to give her.

Even though she's just seventeen years old, she's already heard that prison makes one tougher. Maybe Emma's exterior does get that way after eleven months in there, but she knows that inside she's still a mess. It's not just that the Bug is the only place she's got to sleep. It's not just that she sometimes still resorts to shoplifting to eat. It's also that now the pirate boy's look becomes nothing. Ingrid's promises and comforting words become dust.

People look at her and through their harsh looks she sees anger, hate, disapproval.

So be it. It's better that way. It will discourage her from trusting anyone again.

Finding a messy, exhausting job as a janitor is the luckiest she's been since Neal gave her away to the police, putting the blame for his crime on her. It's tough, and she hates it, but it pays just enough to rent an old studio that's at least got a bathroom and a kitchen.

Tallahassee is a lost dream by now. Not that she dares to dream much anymore.

Sometimes, from far away, she spots old friends and acquaintances and she makes sure to avoid them and pretend she doesn't see them. They never call her, and she's glad. What is she going to say anyway? Those people still have their homes, their families, their sparkly clean criminal records. She's not the Emma they knew, and surely not the Emma they're ready to accept.

The years go by and she feels emptier. Her jobs get a little bit better, her studio apartments a little bit warmer, but her heart never feels lighter.

She's satisfying some needs. One-night-stands are as far as she goes, though. Sometimes she allows herself to spend the whole night with her partners, but there are times that she remembers that pirate boy and she nearly feels disgusted by her life. She's stopped wanting more, she's stopped wanting something deeper. She's stopped simply wanting.

She hates herself for still thinking about Tallahassee from time to time. Even if she decided to visit, only to prove to herself that there's nothing there for her, she can never spare enough money for a simple trip there. Something always comes up; her apartment flooding, her car breaking down and needing fixing; she gives up when in the span of one year burglars break into her apartment twice and empty it from the few items of value she has.

Even ten years after Neal's fake promise, the damn thought about Tallahassee won't go away.

She wonders if it's because it's the last promise she was given. She spent the first years of her life used to nothing being permanent and secure; then Ingrid pretty much spoiled her, gave her unrealistic expectations about the world. But Emma can't find it in herself to blame her. For all her faults – and crimes – Ingrid had given Emma her love. And it's something she'd go to jail ten times for.

Boston is a big city, but it's choke-full of negative memories for Emma, and just for once she wishes she can spend her birthday somewhere and just do something.

Her boss can only give her two days off the week before her birthday. Just her luck.

Still she's got just enough savings to visit New York City. Truly, she just wants some time away from Boston – she hasn't left since she was released ten years ago. She just wants a place where she doesn't have to avoid old acquaintances, she wants something loud, and drinks, and dance. Lots, lots of dance.

The club in New York isn't half bad. Someone's cigarette burns half a lock of her hair, she spills her drink on her dress, and her shoes are killing her – she learned long ago to not trust heels with her luck, and still her flats are uncomfortable – but she manages to have a decent time.

Or maybe it's the drink that's muddling her thoughts. Maybe she's too drunk to stay on one thought for long, if the realization that her bladder has given her its sixth warning is anything to go by.

Of course there's a queue outside the of course only bathroom. She sits down next to a guy who looks as plastered as her. And she swears it's not the drink that makes all but one person disappear from the queue. And then it will be the guy's turn, and then hers... sweet, finally.

However, when the last person comes out, the guy next to her gestures with his hand.

"Go ahead," he says slowly. His eyes are drooping closed.

"No, it's okay," she says, also slowly. "I can wait."

"Go, please. I'm not one to leave a lady waiting."

"Oh, how a gentleman... what gentleman..." Shit, she's very drunk. Shit? Is that what he... is that why he wants her to go first?

He is a gentleman. And with an accent, to boot.

"Can I kiss you?" she says.

The man just shrugs.

As he sits against the wall, she touches his cheek and kisses him deeply.

[goldenraeofsun]

the best day with you

Part of this verse!

Dean taps Claire on the shoulder. “You got plans for this weekend?”

Claire twists on their couch to see him and sets aside her laptop. With narrowed eyes full of suspicion, she grabs the remote and mutes Dr. Sexy. “Why?”

“Because.”

“Because why?”

Dean rolls his eyes. This is why he became a teacher. To help teenagers. Not to strangle them for sassing him to his face. Sure, Claire might be a sophomore in college now, and she’s not really a teenager anymore, but Dean’s never going to see her as anything but an angsty junior in high school. Especially if she keeps up the this attitude. Dean says, as evenly as he can, “Because I want to do something with you.”

Claire grimaces. “Really? Don’t you have other boring old man friends to do things with? Like, for instance, your boyfriend?”

“No,” Dean says. “Cas is going to visit Gabriel in LA this week.”

“And you chose to stay behind with me instead?” Claire says, her eyebrows rising to her hairline.

“Yes.”

“Are you dying?” 

“What?” Dean gapes. “No!”

Claire squints at him. “Are you hoping I can score drugs for you?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “I can get my own drugs, thanks. It’s one of the perks of being a real live adult.”

“Do you need money?”

“If I did,” Dean starts incredulously, “why would I ask a broke college student?”

“I don’t know,” Claire says with a shrug. “Dementia? That kicks in about now for you, right?”

Dean’s mouth falls open. “I’m barely thirty-four!”

Claire shrugs. “Alzheimers?”

“That’s a kind of dementia,” Dean tells her flatly. He runs a hand down his face. “Look, are you free or not, kid?”

Dean is pretty sure she doesn’t have plans, judging by the way she’s religiously camped out on their couch for the past two weeks straight. She's abandoned her spot only to go to the bathroom, eat meals, and, on one memorable occasion, visit her parents for Sunday dinner. The living room her space now - which is fine with him, Dean’s been doing his summer school grading at the kitchen table. Along with her computer, Claire’s got the coding handbook Charlie Frankenstien-ed for her out of a bunch of different documents, probably all downloaded and printed illegally. On the television, she cycles through daytime soaps and CW evening dramas.

Claire grins. “On Saturday or something? Yeah.”

He rolls his eyes. “Was that so hard?”

“No, but it was fun.”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re a handful?” Dean says as he turns to head back into the kitchen. Lunch wasn’t going to make itself, and Cas was due back any minute from his errands.

“Just my parents, every day from age thirteen to eighteen,” Claire says casually as she reaches for the remote to resume Dr. Sexy.

Dean freezes. “Hey,” he starts, not really sure where he’s going with this.

“What?” Claire snaps as if annoyed, but her face is guarded. 

“Your parents were asshats, you know that?” Dean says. “They shouldn’t have done that to you.”

“Yeah, well, you know what they say about family,” Claire mutters as she turns up Dr. Sexy.

In the middle of her junior year of high school, Claire moved in with Cas for about six months.

Early in the year, she had an explosive argument with her parents about transferring from their preferred private school to Edlund High. She also came out to them.

Dean has the sneaking suspicion Claire doesn’t think she had it that bad. Her parents didn’t hit her. They didn’t kick her out. They didn’t even stop giving her her allowance.  But they didn’t talk to her for days on end. They ignored her until she needed something from them, or the other way around. By Christmas, Claire had had enough. She left.

Back then, Dean told Claire her parents were in the wrong as many times as she would let him - which wasn’t many.

Cas took the lead with her, instead. She was his family. He found her a therapist and encouraged her to make friends at Edlund. Dean didn’t really feel like it was his place. She was Cas’s niece, and Dean was the guy who stayed over a couple times a week when she was crashing there too. And then he became her teacher when the transfer to Edlund became official. Still, she wouldn’t consider him family.

“My uncle always said, ‘family don’t end in blood,’” Dean tells her seriously.

Claire slumps back on the couch. “Right,” she says dully.

Dean takes a step back, rubbing his neck as he swallows down his next few words. He’s not about to give a heartfelt lecture on family and healthy boundaries to someone who’s going to grumble and groan through it. He jerks his head towards the kitchen. “I’ll get started on-”

Claire interrupts, “But that’s not grammatically correct. Aren’t you an English teacher? Who gave you a license to teach?”

Dean snorts. “Just think about it, will you?”

“Uh huh,” Claire waves him off. “If you’re going to the kitchen, can you make me a sandwich?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Yes, Your Majesty. Cas finished off the strawberry jelly while he was grading essays last night, so you’re gonna have to settle for grape.”

Claire makes a face but nods. Dean’s almost at the kitchen door when she asks, “Your uncle, was he really your uncle?”

Dean shakes his head. “Not by blood. He was a good friend of my dad’s. But he was as good as family - better than, sometimes.” He swallows. Bobby’s been gone two years now. Dean had thought the grief when his dad passed was bad, but it was a whole other beast with Bobby.

Claire squints at him, looking so much like Cas Dean can’t help the warm feeling in his chest. “This is your show, right?” she asks out of the blue, gesturing to the television.

Dean blinks. “Yeah?”

And that’s how Cas finds them ten minutes later, eating PB&Js on the couch, watching Dr. Sexy - with Claire skewering every characterization and costume choice, and Dean defending Dr. Sexy’s cowboy boots with his life.

* * *

“Minigolf, really?” Claire asks as they pull into the parking lot on a bright Saturday afternoon. The early-summer temperatures are already high enough to make Dean sweat in the Impala, and Claire’s shorts could double as bikini bottoms, they’re so small.

She adds, “You realize I have a fake ID and we could probably go to a bar or something.”

“One,” Dean says as he slams the car door shut, “minigolf is a classic American pastime. Much better for your liver than drinking. And B, don’t ever tell Cas about that fake.”

 Claire clambers out of the car. “I’m not an idiot.”

“Just making sure,” Dean says airily as he starts walking. He holds out his hand as she jobs to catch up to him. “Lemme see it.”

“Why?” she asks suspiciously as she digs for her wallet in her purse and fishes the ID out.

“Nice job,” Dean says as he holds it up to the sunlight shining overhead. “Ash?”

Claire stops short, surprised. “What?”

“Did Ash do this one?” Dean asks. “Come on,” he tells her as he nudges her shoulder to keep her moving out of the middle of the parking lot. “Nobody else does ‘em this good.”

“How do you know that?” Claire demands.

Dean laughs. “I told you I can get my own drugs.”

“Ash deals too?” Claire asks, looking hopeful.

Dean leans over to ruffle her hair. “His dope is a little out of your price range, squirt.”

“Hey!” Claire squawks as she tries to smooth everything back into place. “And nobody calls it ‘dope’ any more, you doof.”

Dean grins. “Yeah, I know.”

They enter the main building and get in line to rent the putters. It smells strongly of sunblock and worn down parental patience. A few parents wait ahead of them, all older than Dean with kids younger than Claire. A group of high schoolers are inspecting a row of putters on display on the far wall. Through the windows to the back, Dean can see a splendid display of mostly-intact astroturf and course obstacles with sun-faded paint.

The guy behind the counter is wearing an obnoxiously bright shirt and smile. “Hiya,” he says cheerily as they step up to the counter, “I’m Garth, welcome!”

“Two adults please,” Claire says quickly, like she knows Dean was going to ask for a kid’s ticket to mess with her.

“You got it,” Garth says as he bends down to grab two putters. “The bathrooms are by Hole 7, and if you want to grab lunch across the way at Fenris’s Diner, show them your receipt and you’ll get 15% off.”

Dean steps forward with his wallet. “Do you know if they have pie?”

Garth smiles wider, showing even more teeth, which Dean didn’t think was possible. “You bet! The best darn cherry pie I’ve ever tasted.”

“Awesome,” he says. “Thanks, man.”

“Thank you!” Garth says as he rings them up. “And good luck on the course!”

* * *

Dean is uncomfortably sweaty by Hole 2, and Claire piles her hair on top of her head in a messy bun to cool off her neck halfway through Hole 4.

“Swing batter, batter, swing!” Dean shouts from right behind her as she hits the ball at Hole 6.

Claire glares at him as her ball knocks against the windmill blade and skips off to the side. “That’s for baseball, idiot.”

“But you still missed,” Dean points out as he sidles up to tee. “So does it really matter? Hey!” She kicks him in the ankle as he strikes at the ball. “You cheater,” he gasps dramatically.

“So what?” Claire asks, putter swinging ominously at her side, “You gonna tell on me?”

Dean frowns. “No, but I won't buy you any pie when this is all over.” He keeps his eyes peeled for an opportunity to mess with her as she takes another stab at the windmill.

“Fine with me. I like cake better.”

Dean raises his head to gape at her. “Seriously?”

Claire throws him a funny look. “Does it matter?”

Dean’s mouth works furiously. “You ate the last slice of pumpkin pie at Thanksgiving two years ago.”

Claire’s eyebrows climb to her hairline as she leans against the windmill and watches him take another stab at it. “You remember that?”

Dean hardly watches where his ball goes. “Of course I do.”

Jimmy and Amelia had elected to have Thanksgiving at Cas’s mother’s place. Cas, whose frosty relationship with his mother wasn’t helped by her dismissive attitude towards Claire, hosted a separate Thanksgiving at the (then) new house he shared with Dean. Sam and Jess flew in from California, and Claire was, of course, invited too. They were having a fucking blast, until Claire stole the last slice of pie right out from under Dean’s nose.

Claire snickers under her breath. “You’re so weird.”

Dean glares. “I called dibs.”

“I seriously have no idea what you’re talking about, McMurphy,” Claire says, the liar. She crouches to get a better look at the windmill. 

Dean tries to suppress his smile. “Was that a One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest reference?”

Claire rolls her eyes. “I paid attention in your class, you know. Even if you gave me an A-minus.”

Dean grins. “But you got a 5 on the AP Exam.”

Claire does a little jig as her ball falls into the hole. 

* * *

“What the fuck?” Dean howls as his ball stops just short of Hole 9. Parents chaperoning a group of five kids at Hole 10 glare daggers at him.

Claire laughs uproariously. “Sucks to suck, old man.”

“Hey!” Dean glowers as she sinks a hole in one. 

“What’s that?” Claire holds her putter up in victory. “Did you see that? Did that go in the hole? I wasn’t watching. Did the ball go in the hole?”

“Shut up, kid,” Dean grumbles as Claire smirks. “It wasn’t funny the first time.” He concentrates on his next shot. God help him if he fucks up with his ball barely half a foot from the hole.

One of the toddlers at Hole 10 lets out an ear-splitting shriek, and Dean’s ball skips off in the direction of Hole 13.

Claire doubles over laughing.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean grumbles as he sidesteps her to go fetch it, “Like you would’ve done any better.”

“I just did. Or did you miss my hole in one?” Claire asks from right behind him.

“I’m hungry,” Dean declares.

“Okay…?” Claire squints at him.

Dean nods to a hotdog stand by Hole 14. “Whaddya say to a dog?”

“Mystery meat at a roadside attraction that hasn’t been renovated since ‘97? Sign me up,” Claire says sarcastically.

Dean claps her on the back, just a shade too hard. “That’s the spirit.”

She stumbles but doesn't fall - exactly Dean’s plan - and glares at him. “If I get E. coli, it’s your fault.”

Once hotdogs are in hand, they sit and eat on a worn bench that’s more chipped paint than bench, facing a dinky little fountain. A few pennies glint dully from at bottom, almost obscured by the bright midday sunlight reflecting off the surface of the water.

“So,” Claire says after she takes her first bite. “You wanna tell me what this is all about?”

“What?”

“This whole distant dad trying to reconnect with his kid routine,” Claire says.

“I - I’m not your dad,” Dean stutters, face heating. 

“Duh. Dad was more of Church retreat guy.” She leans back on the bench, stretching out her legs, and tilts her face up to catch more sun. “I would’ve had a better time if there was no singing and 100% more hitting things.”

Dean asks haltingly, “So you don’t think this is weird?”

“What hanging out with you?” Claire asks, her smile guileless. “I heard elder enrichment is important to prevent cognitive decline, so I’m just doing my duty.” She laughs at his disappointed frown. “Relax. This has been… great.”

“Really?”

Claire finishes off her hotdog and balls up the aluminum foil wrapper. “Yeah. Don’t let it go to your head.”

Dean gets up to put her trash and his in the garbage and manages to stow his broad smile before he gets back.

* * *

“Hole in one!” Dean crows at Hole 15.

“Do you want a gold star?” Claire snarks as she tees up.

“Shut up.”

Claire swings, and they both watch as her ball deftly navigates around the bumps and turns to sink neatly into the hole.

Dean’s smile falls off his face as Claire jumps around in victory. “Lucky shot,” he tells her as they troop to Hole 16.

“Uh huh,” Claire says. “And that makes, what seven lucky shots for me? And how many holes in one have you had?”

At the next hole, they have to wait for the large family ahead of them to finish up.

“Oh my god,” Claire mutters as one of the parents demonstrates how to properly swing the putter for the youngest child, “it’s minigolf. Not the Olympics.”

“I know, right?” Dean says in an undertone. “Who cares how she hits the ball? If she wants to bowl it down the course, let her.”

“Seriously, who gives a fuck?”

“I bet she’s gonna scream before they’re done with the lesson.”

“What?”

“Water works in 5… 4… 3…”

They wait with bated breath as, sure enough, the child sits down in the middle of the course and wails. She refuses to even touch the putter.

“How did you know that was gonna happen?” Claire asks as the family moves on. She eyes him critically. “High schoolers aren’t the tantrum type.”

“Shows what you know,” Dean snorts. No matter the point of spending today with Claire, he wasn’t about to tell her how he became an expert in toddler care. Christ, he can still remember the sticky feeling of Sammy’s vomit all over his front when he cried so hard he puked. Dean’s crime? Telling Sammy his favorite blanket needed to be washed. Dean hadn’t even taken it away yet. 

Dean tells Claire instead, “I’ve seen more meltdowns over bad essay grades than I’d like. And it’s not like I can say, well, you should have read the damn book, Ava.”

“You wouldn’t say something like that,” Claire says as she bends down to set up her ball.

“Of course not,” Dean rolls his eyes, “that makes it worse.”

Claire straightens. “No, I’m saying, you would probably ask her why she didn’t have the time to read the book; if she’s tried the audiobook instead; if you should talk to Mr. Lafitte for her since she spent too long on Algebra and didn’t get to your homework.” She shrugs, meeting his eyes briefly. “You would do something like that.”

Dean blinks because she’s got him exactly right. He’s a firm believer that there’s no such thing as a lazy student. There are unmotivated students; there are students with undiagnosed ADHD or dyslexia; and there are anxious and/or depressed students. Hell, there are students with side-jobs, bills to pay, and little brothers to look after.

“Yeah,” he agrees, discomfited. Claire was his student for one year, but her presence in class was kind of eclipsed by her rocky home life. In senior year, she was back with her parents, but she also caught up regularly with Cas. In class, she faded into the background - Kaia’s blonde shadow. Cas’s stories provided Dean with more insight than any discussion on The Plot Against America ever did.

“All the seniors loved you,” Claire says. “Max Banes would’ve slept with you if he could.”

Dean hits his ball right into the mini sand pit. “What?”

Claire smirks. “You didn’t know?”

“No!”

“Uncle Cas was right, you are oblivious,” Claire says as she whacks her ball straight into the hole.

“Hey,” Dean says, but the protest is weak. “Cas wasn’t much better.”

Claire grins. “No one’s arguing that.” She waits until Dean’s mid-swing to say, “Max would’ve slept with Uncle Cas too - which, gross.”

“Dammit, Claire!”

* * *

“Okay,” Claire says as they walk away from Hole 18. “I’m gonna need to sit in AC for at least forty-five minutes.”

They’ve been out in the sun for nearly two hours now. Dean pulls his damp shirt away from his stomach with a grimace. “You down for pie?”

“Sure,” Claire says gratefully as they leave minigolf behind them.

In the diner, the air conditioning hits them like a bucket of cold water to the face. Claire throws herself into the first both they see as Dean troops off to relieve himself in the bathroom. He checks his phone - one grumpy text from Cas about Gabriel’s inappropriate choice of swimwear for a hotel pool - and exits with a smile on his face.

Back at the booth, Claire is twirling a lock of blonde hair around her finger, smiling coyly up at the waitress from lowered lashes. But Claire's inviting expression flips off like a switch as Dean drops down into the opposite seat.

The waitress’ own sunny smile takes on a distinctly plastic sheen at his arrival. “Hello!” she chirps as Dean picks up the menu. “Is there anything I can get you besides water?”

“Can I get a coke?” Dean asks the waitress - Maggie, according to her nametag. She’s tall, probably taller than Claire, and dark-haired. She seems around Claire's own age, so Dean would bet she’s only working here as a summer job.

Claire is still glaring daggers at him, so Dean asks, partly to be a dick, “And what’re you getting, Claire?”

“Water,” she says through gritted teeth.

“A coke and a water, please,” Dean says cheerfully to Maggie. 

She bobs a nod and casts a lingering look at Claire. “I’ll be right back to take your order.”

Claire kicks him under the table as she disappears into the kitchen. “You couldn’t have waited another five minutes?” she hisses “I was just about to get her number.”

Dean grins. “My bad.” 

“Now she thinks I’m here with my dad or something.” Claire crosses her arms across her chest.

Dean rolls his eyes. “You call me an old man, but I’m, what, twelve years older than you? We’re more likely to be on a date.”

Claire’s flat-out horrified face is enough to make Dean’s week. He’s still laughing as Maggie makes a return, one water and one Coca Cola in tow. 

“So what can I get you both?” Maggie asks as she reaches for her pad and pen.

“One slice of cherry pie, thanks,” Dean says brightly.

“Nothing for me,” Claire mumbles.

Maggie looks from Claire to Dean and back again. “One cherry pie,” she confirms slowly. “Should I bring out two forks?”

Over Dean’s fresh bout of laughter, Claire says loudly, “We’re not together!”

Maggie blinks a few times, and Dean can’t tell if she’s more shocked by his reaction or Claire’s. “Okay.”

As she leaves, Claire buries her head in her hands. Her voice is muffled by her hands and hair, but Dean can make out, “This is all your fault.”

“How?” Dean asks as he sucks on his straw. “It’s not my fault if you’ve got no game, kid.”

Claire slumps onto the table. “I used to.”

“Stalking doesn't count as ‘game’ or else Cas and me would have gotten together way before we did,” Dean says sagely.

Still face-down on the table, Claire flips him the bird.

“Have you spoken to Kaia lately?”

Claire doesn’t move for a long moment. When she finally raises her head, her expression is pinched. “Not since Spring Break last year. She was doing good, I guess.”

Awkwardly, Dean says, “It’s okay if you’re still hung up on her.”

Claire waves his assurances away. “It’s been a whole fucking year."

Dean sighs. “These things can take time. You were with her while a lot was going on in your life, and she was there for you through all of it. Just ’cause you're young doesn’t mean it meant less. But if you want to move on, sometimes you don’t have to wait until you’re 100% ready.”

“Thanks, Senpai.”

Maggie approaches carrying a large slice of cherry pie.

“Here you go,” Maggie says as she sets the plate down. “Anything else I can get you?”

“Nothing for me,” Dean butts in before Claire can get a word in edgewise, “But Claire, here, would like your number.”

Maggie goes bright red.

“Dean,” Claire hisses, completely mortified. “What the fuck?” She turns to Maggie. “Forget what he said. He’s a moron who doesn't know what he’s talking about.”

Maggie glances to Dean before settling back on Claire. “So… you don’t want it?”

Claire splutters, “I - no - yes, but not if-” She takes a breath, clearly trying to compose herself. “Yes, I would like your number. But not because he said so.”

“You don’t have to decide now.” Dean fishes out his wallet and takes out a five. “It won’t affect your tip,” he says with a wink as he shoves the bill under the napkin dispenser.

Maggie bites her lip. “I’ll think about it.”

Once Maggie’s left, Claire leans over the table and punches Dean, hard, in the arm. “Oh my god, are you actually braindead?”

“Hey, watch the pie!” Dean yanks his plate closer, out of Claire’s line of fire.

“What on earth possessed you to do that?” Claire demands.

Dean eyes his pie, planning his perfect plan of attack. “You needed a push in the right direction.”

Claire’s eyes flash. “I don’t need your help.”

“Tough luck, because you got it anyway,” Dean says with a shrug as portions off his first bite. “You’re only here for the summer. You don’t have the time to pine from across the softball field for a whole season.”

Claire frowns, saying warily, “I know Maggie isn’t Kaia.”

Dean points his fork, dripping with pie filling at her face. “So you gotta try a new strategy.”

“How?”

“Well, get yourself a capable wingman, for starters,” Dean says around his next bite of pie.

“Who? You?” Claire asks incredulously.

“Probably not,” Dean says, shuddering at the thought. He’d intervened with Maggie because was fucking funny as hell to see Claire get Cas-levels of awkward, but scoping out any more romantic prospects for Claire makes him feel sleazy. “I’m more of a pinch hitter.”

“What?”

“You really didn’t pay attention to a single softball game, did you?” Dean says, almost impressed.

Claire glares.

“They’re the guys called in last minute to fill in for a batter,” Dean says. He shovels the last bit of pie into his mouth, saying, “Did you keep in touch with Krissy?”

Claire shakes her head. “They were all Kaia’s friends first, so…”

“She got them in the divorce?” Dean says sympathetically.

Claire nods, her expression darkening.

“I know she’s back home for the summer too, taking care of her dad,” Dean says. “I bet she could use someone to hang with - if you ever get bored coding from our couch. Data entry for Charlie can’t be that exciting. Don’t tell her I said that.”

Claire rolls her eyes. “You don’t need to set up playdates for me, Dean.”

Dean shrugs. “Suit yourself. But none of Krissy’s other friends are back home - Josephine’s abroad, and the rest of ‘em are staying in their college towns.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Dean nods. That’s probably as good as he’ll ever get with Claire - she’s not the type to gratefully accept help. She’s more likely to complain to his face while going behind his back and doing it anyway. Which, fine, if it gets Claire out of their apartment and out of her funk.

On their way out, Maggie leaves her number on their receipt.

* * *

Claire slams the Impala door shut and relaxes in the passenger seat. “Well that was fun,” she says sarcastically as Dean twists around to pull out of the parking lot without mowing down an unfortunate 1999 Toyota Camry. “Let’s do that again soon.”

“Really?” Dean asks. At her blank stare, he adds, “I never know with you. Did you really have a good time?”

She fiddles with her seatbelt, biting her lip. “I won’t say this again, so cherish this moment: today was not the worst day I’ve ever had.” She huffs out a long breath. “It was almost fun, if you forget that shit in the diner.”

Dean laughs. “I’ll take it, I guess.” He taps his fingers against the wheel as he waits for an opening in traffic to merge onto the highway. “I’m glad.”

“Me too,” Claire mutters, so low he can barely hear her.

Dean lets the noise of the road take over for a few minutes: the reassuring rattling of the toy soldiers in the back air vent; his baby’s engine purring like a dream; the low ambient hum of her tires carrying them across miles of pavement.

Once he’s as calm as he’s gonna get, he says, “I have a question for you.”

Claire shoots him a look. “It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”

Dean shouldn’t have bothered asking. She really is incapable of being anything other than a teenager. 

“I’m thinking of asking Cas to marry me,” Dean says quickly. As Claire absorbs his words, his heart kicks up to double-time, hammering away in his chest. “Would you be okay with that?” 

“Why are you asking me?” Her eyebrows are drawn together in that same furrow that Cas always has whenever a student stumps him with a question. 

“Because you’re his family.” He’s honestly surprised he has to say this part out loud.

“Shouldn’t you be asking Grandmother instead?” Claire asks.

Dean shakes his head. “Cas doesn’t care about her opinion - or Jimmy’s.”

Claire takes another long moment to think that over. “So… are you, what, asking my permission?”

“Yep.”

“To marry my uncle.”

Dean shoots her a look. “I really don’t think the concept is that hard to understand.” Claire’s a smart kid. She’s probably drawing it out on purpose.

“Yeah, but -” Claire breaks off, “It’s weird, though.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “You literally called me a weird old man yesterday.”

“But… not this weird.”

“It’s a yes or no question, Claire,” Dean reminds her testily.

Claire waves him off. “I mean, yes, obviously, but what the hell?” Her eyes narrow, accusatory. “Is this why you made me do this weird bonding thing with you today?”

“I -” Dean stutters. “I didn’t make you-”

“It is!” Claire crows. “Were you thinking about it for all 18 holes?”

“No,” Dean says shortly.

“I don’t believe you.” Claire grins. “Were you nervous?”

“No.”

“Yeah, I’m calling BS again. You gotta work on that poker face.” She sits back in her seat, her smugness practically radiating off her in waves. 

Dean has the strangest urge to hug her.

Claire lets her hair fall over her face as she picks at her nails. “Just so you know,” she starts in an undertone, “I know it was you who convinced Uncle Cas to take me in. Back in high school.”

“Cas wanted to be there for you,” Dean says quickly, “He just didn’t know how. Honestly,” he says with a laugh, “Cas was scared he’d piss you off more, and then where would you go?”

“Really?” Claire asks, surprised.

Dean nods. “The guy is a great teacher, but he’s not great with kids if there isn’t a desk between them, you know? He's been working on it, though. Having you around taught him a lot.”

“That makes sense,” Claire says, almost to herself. “Anyway, I’ve only really known Uncle Cas while you were together. It’d be more weird if you didn’t get married.”

Dean doesn’t bother turning on the turn signal as he pulls over to the side of the road.

“What the-?” Claire starts, twisting in her seat to look out the window. “Why’d you - oof.”

Dean wraps his arms around her, squeezing tightly.

“Ugh,” she groans, “You smell.” But she hugs him back anyway.

[lauraperfectinsanity]

1) Different First Meeting: Carlos, while patrolling, gets into a car accident. He isn’t seriously injured, but he’s stuck in his car and concussed. He gets rescued by TK and the newly re-formed Station 126. Concussed Carlos flirts non-stop with the gorgeous firefighter but when he wakes up in the hospital, he thinks he hallucinated the guy to his rescue.  ------> “You and I, Collide” by @bellakitse

2) TK is obviously seeing someone. Everyone at 126 can see that, but they don’t know who the mystery guy is (they tried to pry the information from TK, but he’s tight-lipped). One night, while the team is out at the bar with the paramedic team and Carlos, Paul’s attention is caught by TK’s hand on Carlos’ hip while passing him by. He does his “thing” and observes them: the subtle smiles and looks, the subtle flirting and touching, a longing look while the other walks away and a little jealousy when someone approaches the other. They aren’t obvious, but Paul puts together the pieces and ends up blurting out “YOU’RE THE MYSTERY GUY!”. ------> “Secret Smiles” by @brillliantbanshee​

3) Different First Meeting: In the first weeks in Austin, the station 126 is still under renovation, and TK, used to take advantage of his station’s gym equipments, needs to find himself a gym to go to. The one he chooses, happens to be the favorite of a certain APD’s officer.  ------> “One for the Pro Column” by @bellakitse​

4) Michelle has been trying for years to find a boyfriend for her best friend Carlos. Everytime she tried to introduce him someone, though, it ends up a failure. When Michelle meets the new firefighting crew of the Station 126 and meets TK Strand, she’s sure she has found the perfect fit for Carlos. Carlos is very skeptical, despite Michelle’s descriptions and praises of the guy (he has experience with her terrible matchmaking skills), but he still agrees to stop by the station.  ------> “The Last of the Romantics” by @bellakitse

5) A couple of Carlos’ sisters are out one night. When they spot their brother, they’re about to say hi, when they notice he’s not alone. It looks like their brother is picking up takeout food with a gorgeous guy and it looks like they aren’t just friends. The two scheme on how to bring up the topic with their brother, and they decide to do it at family dinner, in front of everyone.

6) The 126 tries to guess TK’s full name for years, but the mystery remains unsolved. The mystery is solved when Carlos proposes to him, calling him “Tyler Kennedy Strand”. ------> “The Name of the Game” by Gwenders

7) Carlos and TK have the same phone’s model. One morning, while in a hurry, TK grabs accidentally Carlos’ phone. He’s waiting for a call so, when the phone rings, he doesn’t even look at the caller ID and answers. He doesn’t expect it to be someone looking for Carlos, his mother. ------> “Crossed Connections” by Aklusmos 

8) The 126 firefighting crew, the paramedics team and Carlos are out at their favorite bar for the night. Carlos needs to unwind a bit after a difficult week and he’s slightly drunk, but also really cute, clingy with his boyfriend and filterless. ------> “Cuervo Confessions” by @bellakitse 

9) The 126 answers a call about an unconscious vlogger who passed out during a live video. TK brings down the door, they enter the apartment and set to help the unconscious patient, unknowingly, in front of the live camera. Despite Marjan, Paul and Mateo’s ongoing competition for social media fame, it’s TK who steals the show and goes viral, becoming, unwillingly, an internet sensation. (NOT SPECIFICALLY A TARLOS PROMPT, BUT STILL COULD BE ONE)

10) It’s Carlos’ birthday and his family is planning a surprise party for him at his own apartment, for when he gets home after his shift. They turn off the lights and wait for him to come home. But it’s actually Carlos that surprises them all when he shows up while passionately kissing, making out and undressing with a unknown guy (like in 1x02).  ------> “Birthday Surprises” by Aklusmos

11) The 126 answers a call about a car accident. In one of the cars there’s a woman, not too badly hurt but stuck in the car. TK crawls in the car wreck to check on her while the others work on how to free her. The woman says something about him being charming and probably being a ladies’ man, but he tells her he plays for the other team (like with Owen’s chemo friend in 1x05). The woman is even happier and she tells him she has a very handsome and single gay son, but TK, even if endeared, tells her his boyfriend wouldn’t approve. But TK is shocked when a frantic Carlos shows up, cause the woman in the car is actually his mother (and yes, she doesn’t know her son has a boyfriend). ------> “Collisions” by Aklusmos

12) TK and Carlos have been chosen to go to their district’s high school for Career Week representing, respectively, the Fire and Police Departments, to have someone closer to the students’ age. The students expect the usual middle aged guys when the two come in. ------> “Somebody Call 9-1-1″ by Aklusmos

13) Owen comes back home a day early from a short trip. The last thing he’s expecting is to find his son with a naked man in his bed (Is that Officer Reyes??). TK insists it’s a casual thing with no labels and little feelings, but the leftovers of a romantic dinner and the way the two behave and kiss each other goodbye, tell Owen otherwise. 

14) When his sister asks Carlos to quickly borrow his phone to make a call, he doesn’t think twice about lending it to her. What she finds is a photo of her brother with a hot guy as the home and lock screen. ------> “Shout it to the World” by @brillliantbanshee​

15) When TK and Carlos hooked up, it was always a rush thing, never even reaching the bedroom, and always ending with TK leaving before even getting to catch his breath. TK tried not to get too attached, even though he’s actually a really cuddly person, especially after sex. With the time passing and them getting to know each other, Carlos starts to see glimpses of this side of his non-boyfriend. When they officially get together, TK has no reasons to hide his cuddly side from Carlos.

16) TK is at the mall looking for a present, when he meets a little kid who lost their mom and uncle in the mall. TK is pretty good with kids and is still in uniform, so the kid trusts him and goes with him to the information desk to call for their mom. TK certainly doesn’t expect for his brand new boyfriend Carlos to show up with his sister, the kid’s mother. ------> “Let’s Go to the Mall” by @bellakitse

17) Mateo is out with some friends one night, when he spots TK. He’s about to call out to him to say hi and maybe invite him to join them, when he notices TK isn’t alone, he’s with officer Reyes and yep, they’re kissing. He doesn’t know what to do with that information and decides to keep it to himself, until one day he accidentally blurts it out to everybody.

18) One morning, Carlos shows up at the 126. Owen thinks officer Reyes is there to give him, the Fire Captain, some documents, or he’s there to meet with Michelle, since he knows they’re good friends. Instead, Carlos surprises him by being there to bring TK the phone he left at his apartment that morning.

19) TK has to go back to NYC for an old friend’s wedding and he brings Carlos as his date, even if they’re dating for only a few months. At the reception, they meet Alex, who thought he would meet an heartbroken and lonely TK, begging to be taken back (THIS IS AN ALTERNATE VERSION OF THE PROMPT #20).  ------> “A Puzzle I Love to Solve” by @brillliantbanshee​

20) TK has to go back to NYC for an old friend's wedding. At the reception, among the guests there's Alex who's hoping to meet his old boyfriend TK to reconnect and maybe give their story a new chance. All his hopes are gone, when TK shows up with a husband and their kid (THIS IS AN ALTERNATE VERSION OF THE PROMPT #19).

21) TK and Carlos are casually seeing each other without putting labels on it and without the others knowing. TK spent the night at Carlos’ apartment, but he wakes up very late, he doesn’t have a car and waiting for a uber is a further waste of time. It’s Carlos’ day off and he offers him to take his car. TK then shows up at the 126 with a gorgeous blue Camaro, among everyone’s surprise.

22) TK and Carlos are casually seeing each other, without putting labels on it and without TK’s team and dad knowing. One night, TK bails on a team outing with an excuse, to see Carlos, when they accidentally end up at the same place as the 126.  ------> “Wanna Dance With Somebody” by Aklusmos

23) In the middle of the night, while on shift, Marjan wakes up to grab a glass of water, and finds an unusually soft TK talking to someone over the phone. It’s obvious it’s someone important to TK and Marjan is so very curious (TK and Marjan’s friendship). ------> “Midnight Talk About Boys” by @bellakitse

24) During a call, a guy shamelessly flirts with TK while he works, and Carlos shamelessly glares at the guy while trying not to arrest him.

25) TK and Carlos are seeing each other, without labels and without TK’s team and dad knowing. One night, the two accidentally fall asleep at TK’s house, and, in the morning, Carlos is a little late sneaking out and ends up reaching for the door in the exact moment Owen comes back home from the night shift.

26) One morning, TK is still asleep at Carlos’ house, while the latter is already at work. TK wakes up hearing sounds in the house and is getting ready to face a possible intruder, when he finds a middle aged woman in the kitchen re-stocking the fridge. It sure isn’t how TK thought he’d meet his boyfriend’s mother.

27) One of Carlos’ siblings is getting married and Carlos asks TK to go to the wedding with him as his date, and to introduce him to his family.

28) Carlos is injured on the job, nothing serious, but he’s in a hospital room with his entire family fretting over him, when a frantic TK, in uniform, shows up. Time to meet the family that didn’t know you existed!

29) Carlos is bringing his brand new boyfriend to a family BBQ to introduce him to his family. During the party, though, one of Carlos’ cousin, who’s pregnant, is starting to go into labor there, in the house backyard. Luckily, there’s a very calm and professional TK, who has experience in helping pregnant women and delivering babies.

[s-aned]

Dark Paradise - Chapter 1 - “I killed her”

“I killed her”

Her voice whips through the air. The older man turns his head towards the young woman, a frown twisting his face. Did he understood what she meant?

It’s been a few minutes since he arrived on the back porch. The lights were out, but she was there, sitting with her gaze fixed on the mountains or in the void, softly humming to herself a tune he didn't know.

“It’s 2 a.m., why aren’t you sleeping?

- What about you?”

Fair enough. He let out a small sigh before sitting down next to the young woman. He rubbed the back of his neck, his body still tense after a long day of work. Silence had settled in. Not a tense or embarrassed one. If she could be talkative and teasing, she also knew how to savor the comfort of a shared silence. That’s one thing he surely appreciated.

It had been a few weeks since she moved into his home, about one year after he settled in Jackson. At first glance, she seemed like a strange roommate for this fifty-year-old man, as she must have barely left her twenties. But she couldn't stay with Tommy and Maria forever and he had a spare room. Everyone seemed satisfied with the arrangement.

Joel was beginning to enjoy this company, and the good meals that accompanied it. He found it amazing how someone who struggles to eat anything other than soup can enjoy cooking so much. Gradually, a relationship of trust began to take hold. That's why he doesn’t hesitate long before breaking the silence.

“I heard what you said earlier to the girls. Your mom. Tommy and I… We also lost our mom to sickness. She... She got cancer. Before the outbreak. Nasty business.”

She nods but doesn’t add anything. She knows that the man isn’t one to spill about his past. She knows about Sarah, and some bits of his past in Boston QZ. Oh, she doesn’t know much, but enough to understand that he had seen and done things that morality could disapprove of.

And yet, she doesn’t dare to tell him what is on her heart. She’s afraid of his reaction. She’s trying to resist but the words are making their way to her mouth and she’s unable to hold them back, like a sour, uncontrollable bile. It’s too late. It must come out, regardless of his reaction.

“I killed her.”

She hears a rustle, and feel his incomprehension’s look on her. She resumes, turning her head towards him without daring to meet his gaze.

“My… My mom. I killed her.”

She bits her lip, wanting to prevent the tears from falling. She has started now, there is no going back. Might as well tell him everything.

“She… She was sick, real sick. But she kept dying. Most of the time when she was awake, she wasn’t even conscious, her open eyes and her mouth only let out a few inconsistent messages. And she was in pain, she was in excruciating pain. Day and night, she moaned. It was just the two of us. The neighbors would drop me food sometimes. But most of the time, I was alone with her suffering. I would stay day and night by her side, with no more hope of seeing her emerge. But her body was refusing to give up.”

She pauses for a moment, taking a breath before starting again.

“One night, she was finally sleeping. I wasn’t. She seemed so peaceful, so quiet. I thought, this is it. This is how she should be. Just in peace. No more pain. It was dark in the room, there was no moon that night. So I gave her a kiss before taking a pillow and… I put it on her head. As strong as I could. She didn’t react. I stayed like that for minutes but it felt like hours. I stayed until I felt it… Her last breath.”

Tears are now streaming down her cheeks. She stares into void, pursed lips adding nothing more. She doesn’t know why she told him about it. What would he think of her now?

“How old were you?

-14.”

He lets out an overwhelmed sigh. He already knew she had been through hard times. Heck, who hasn’t in this crazy world? But putting her own mother out of pain, that was something else. He tries to find something to say to ease her.

“You relieved her. QZ life wasn’t easy, she might have suffered for weeks, months even, if you hadn’t done that. You did that out of love. You’re brave.

-No, I’m not. After I did it, I just grabbed my stuff and left. I abandoned her there. God knows how much time it took before someone noticed. It’s probably the smell that alerted the neighbors. I didn’t give her a decent burial, and we both know that FEDRA probably tossed her bodies with all the others, infected or not.

-Why did you leave?”

She doesn’t answer right away. She knows that she will have to tell the full story if she keeps going. But now looks as bad as any other time. The night offers some protection. She lets it go.

“Hmm, I was an orphan. They would have put me in one of those FEDRA institutions. I heard what happened there. All this stories about girls being abused by soldiers or other boarders. I thought I was better to try it on my own.

-How did you survive without being caught?

-My dad. He had a sister in that QZ. We barely knew her, she had fallen out with him and when he died, we cut ties completely. I showed up at her place, and she was kind enough to take me. Oh sure, she treated me like a dog, making me do all the thankless jobs. But at least I had a roof over my head. After a few months she started dating this guy, scumbag but it kept her from being alone, I guess. There was only one room, so most of the time I had to stay in the hallway. But slowly, he started to look at me. Once, she was gone god knows where, he cornered me and told me a whole bunch of stuff a 15-year-old shouldn't hear from a grown-up man. My aunt walked in as he began to slide his hand under my shirt, and of course she got it on me. She beat the crap out of me, before tossing me out of her place. Obviously, she kept all my stuff, ID included. Probably sold it to black market, the bitch. I was left with only the clothes on my back."

She finally looks up at the man, unable to read the expression on his face. Sadness, anger, pity? She had only seen this face once. The day Tommy and he found her, after she killed her captors. It was Joel, she believes, who put a bullet in the head of the last of them. The one who had caught her and was standing over her, his knife stuck in her lower abdomen.

Joel had the same expression than today when, in Jackson's infirmary, she told them that she had been sold to these men, after being forcibly prostituted for months, years maybe, in her previous QZ. She didn't know where they were taking her, but she knew full well that her function would remain the same.

“Is that when?” He leaves his question hanging, but she understands what he means. She shakes her head.

“No. There was this guy I saw from time to time, we flirted with each other. He had managed to set up a junk studio in a building in the slum quarters of the QZ. He let me settle there. Of course, he didn’t ask for a kiss on the cheek in return. I won’t teach you how a 16-year-old boy is like.” She says sarcastically, a slight smirk appearing on her lips. Joel chuckles lightly. Touched. It’s around that age he got his girlfriend pregnant, and with that, got in adulthood prematurely. She goes back to her story.

“He got tired of me eventually, and I felt that soon I would find myself again in the cold streets, at the mercy of the first predator lurking around. But Heaven proved merciful, and I met Talia. She was in her fifties and had quite a temper. She saw me hanging out on the street in the rain and pulled me into a building that looked completely abandoned. She asked me questions, listened to my story without commenting, before opening another door. I discovered that there was a whole other life in this city. Rare alcohol, red armchairs and above all, a stage in the middle of which sat a bar.”

She grins at the surprised look of man.

“Yep Joel. There was a strip club in my QZ. She made me sit, gave me a towel to dry myself and began to explain what was happening there. There was no resistance group like your fireflies in my area. There were small local gang, who greased the military tab to do their little business.

At first, she didn't even want me in the room when the club was open. I was way too young for her liking, she couldn't tolerate me being exposed to men. So I did the housework, some services for the girls, all the little chores behind the scenes. From there I watched them dance and drive all the spectators crazy. Soldiers, small strikes, or average guy, they all drooled and get rid of everything they owned for a look, a caress.

After a year, I was entitled to serve at the bar. But just at the bar, I was forbidden to pass in the aisles. It was the girls' work. Talia was tough but she took good care of all of us. We were like family. When the club was closed, we laughed a lot. It was a good time.”

She ends her story with a sigh, before taking a sip of her infusion, now cold. She grimaces. She would have liked it to be whiskey. She still has plenty to talk about, but she's not sure she has the strength for it. The older man must feel it, because he doesn't ask any more questions.

She's already released a big chunk tonight. And what is yet to come is not the happiest. Above all, she is afraid of his reaction. For the moment, he believes she was an innocent victim, captured by ill-intentioned men. But she's not quite sure. She often wondered if she hadn't been responsible for all of this. So she keeps quiet and lets the silence of the night engulf her.

There is nothing more to say, and yet none of them moves. It’s only when a gust of wind makes her shiver that Joel straightens up and speaks in a firm but gentle tone she now knows by heart.

“Let’s go inside. You have to try to sleep.”

-------

Chapter 2

[frasier-crane-style]

oKAY, I got a few Redbox rental for my birthday, so I decided to pick up Spider-Man: Far From Home, skip all the Disney Channel Original Movie stuff, and see how it stacks up as a pure Spider-Man movie. Which is not easy, because they’re in full Marvel movie mode, and every two minutes there’s a wacky aside or a sight gag or something. It’s not even Peter making jokes, which would be in-character. It’s just banter about Happy’s password being Password and stuff. There’s not one wholly dramatic scene in this movie, it has this Epic Movie sense of humor where something ‘hilarious’ is always defusing the tension. Like, all that’s missing is Leslie Nielsen being the tour guide.

1. Mexico. Mysterio has used ‘Sandman’ (confusingly referred to as a ‘cyclone with a face’--and then Spider-Man never even fights him) to destroy a town. I gotta say--if Mysterio has the ability to pull off no-bullshit terror attacks... yeah, the Sandman is fake, but the damage is real... why not just do that? It seems like there are a ton of evil organizations who would pay him loads of money.

2. Also, Mysterio is really not shy about lowering the dome and showing his face. Wouldn’t a quick facial recognition scan, of the kind that you’d think Nick Fury would run all the time, ID him as Quentin Beck? And even if he’s going “hey, that’s my double, I’m from an alternate universe,” shouldn’t Nick Fury be a bit suspicious that the double of this mysterious new superhero is a disgruntled and unstable Stark employee?

3. By the way, I know the twist is that Nick Fury is really a Skrull and that’s why he’s so incompetent--telling Peter to take his mask off in front of fucking Mysterio--but Nick Fury left a Skrull playing him, so... who’s that on? You’d think any given Agent of SHIELD would do better.

4. First action scene. Hydroman attacks Venice and is defeated by Mysterio, with Spider-Man slightly assisting. He’s left his costume back at the hotel, so he does this while using a Venetian mask to disguise himself. Hilariously, he quickly takes this off to, yes, show us his face. (Also, I guess no one notices that Not!Spider-Man is wearing the exact same clothes and has the exact same body type as Peter.) He also doesn’t make any quips besides referring to himself as “really strong and sticky.” Being awkward is not a one-liner, movie. 

5. Also, others have pointed out that this Spider-Man seems more concerned about saving property than saving lives, and it must be said that for much of this fight, Peter is trying to stop a belltower from collapsing, with no sign that he’s buying time for people to evacuate it or anything. Sure, it’s a worthy goal and all, but I have to ask how much good patching a belltower up with webbing is going to do? It’ll dissolve in an hour and then where are you? Does he really think the authorities will be able to fix it up before then? Seems like he would be better served letting it collapse and attacking Hydroman to keep him from doing more damage.

6. You ever notice how movie characters always refer to sleeping pills and such as ‘a mild sedative’? Naut Fury shoots Ned/Ganke with a dart that instantly knocks him out, then calls it “a mild tranquilizer.” Christ, what would a strong tranquilizer do, put him in a coma for ten years?

7. Man, it’s weird how inconsistent this movie is with basic characterization. Peter turns down saving the world because Spider-Man being seen in Europe might give away his identity, but he’s also blase about taking off his mask in front of Nick Fury and co. And Tom Holland walking around unmasked really makes it obvious that his suit is a CGI effect that his head is awkwardly hovering on top of. I guess just putting someone in a costume is a lost art.

And I’m not even watching this on Blu-Ray. This is a DVD, because Redbox is shit and, even though their e-mail said the promo code was good for a Blu-Ray, apparently I can only use it for a DVD. Thanks, thanks for ruining my special day. Prats.

8. I know the whole EDITH thing has been meta’d elsewhere, but I just want to point out that Stark Enterprises has a ‘global defense network’. With drones and backdoors into every telecommunications company. Imagine if Microsoft announced that, oh, hey, we have a Panzer division. I guess Stark Enterprises is a PMC now? I thought they went into clean energy. Apparently they still make weapons, but now they... hoard them to use for their own purposes? Not creepy at all. Like, Marvel does realize they are writing an evil megacorporation here, right?

9. Oh, now we’re just getting aggressively stupid. Peter is met by a SHIELD agent who insists that he strip to change into an alternate, non-Spider-Man suit (so I guess, after an action scene where he’s in civilian clothes, now we’re going to get one where he’s in this spy costume. Yeah, I hate seeing Spider-Man in a Spider-Man movie.) I’m not sure why he has to do this now instead of simply putting the suit in his backpack. I’m also not sure why he has to strip in front of her. He doesn’t even try to go somewhere private to change and she doesn’t say anything like “Why are you taking off your clothes in front of me like a retard? Go around the corner or something, fuckwit.” It’s all to set up a scene where Peter gets seen by his (sigh) rival for MJ’s heart, who takes a cell phone picture, leading us to... well, leading me to wonder why they couldn’t have put a little more thought into staging this scene so it was slightly believable? Like he could have trouble putting it on in private, the female agent could go to check on him, and Random Non-canon Character could stumble in on them that way. But anyway.

10. With literally insane ease, Peter designates Brad a target and EDITH launches a drone strike on him. For various ridiculous reasons, Peter can’t just say abort, so he eventually distracts EVERYONE by saying there are baby mountain goats, webs the drone while no one is looking, and--that works. No one notices.

Man, that’s some fucking weaksauce.

11. I’m fast-forwarding a bunch, but we seem to spend a lot of time on Peter trying to get his friends out of harm’s way for the upcoming fight scene in Prague, only for them to end up in harm’s way. For the second action sequence in a row. It seems like he could’ve succeeded and then just been trying to rescue normal civilians instead of people he knows personally, but then I guess we couldn’t have Ned and Betty/Gwen providing odious comic relief every other moment. Like, shit, Marvel, if you like dumb jokes so much, why don’t you just get Mike and the Bots to riff your movie? That’s pretty much what you’re doing anyway.

12. Peter’s new costume has no fingers on the gloves, so he’s leaving his prints everywhere. And then after the fight is over, the first thing he does is unmask and go out to get a drink with an also unmasked Mysterio in a crowded bar (hilariously, it literally turns out to be full of enemies who mean him harm). Jesus, movie, does he care about his secret identity or not? 

13. Also, again, no quips from Spider-Man. And I thought the watchword for this corner of the MCU was that he was a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. Now he’s fighting giant monsters? Yeah, even if it’s a con job, it’s a con job that could potentially kill millions of people. Doesn’t that seem like absurdly high stakes, considering? Remember the first Spider-Man movie, when the only stakes at the climax were Peter saving a bus full of kids and MJ? Would that really have been better if there’d been another five million buses the Green Goblin was threatening to drop?

14. We’re doing the whole “does Peter want to be Spider-Man or not?” story again. It’s weird how markedly inferior this take on that is to Spider-Man 2. This Spider-Man has a whole spy network and AI satellites backing him up (which doesn’t stop him from remarking that Mysterio is “the only one he can talk to about superhero stuff,” as if fifty people don’t know who he is). Maguire’s Spider-Man’s life was genuinely shitty because of his superheroing; he couldn’t be with the woman he loved! This Spider-Man... can’t mack on the girl that he inexplicably has a crush on out of nowhere. Not exactly the stuff of great drama.

15. Pause to point out what a naked plot device Tony giving Peter EDITH is. He couldn’t give it to Pepper? Rhodey? Steve? Like... anyone who’s more emotionally mature and experienced? It’s just a ridiculous conceit. Supervillains literally target Peter specifically because he possesses EDITH. Way to put the crosshairs on a sixteen-year-old boy, Tony ‘Depraved Indifference’ Stark.

16. “To my very wealthy crew!” Okay, so I guess Beck isn’t just doing this for the satisfaction of being a fake superhero, he sees this as enriching him and his henchmen somehow? How? It’s not like Captain America or Scarlet Witch are fabulously wealthy. I could see Stark as paying for their room and board and giving them an expense account, but that doesn’t seem worth going to the trouble of this whole Mysterio business for. Like I said, once you have the power to pull off fake/not-fake terror attacks, that’s a golden ticket already. Why couldn’t he do shit like Le Chiffre was doing in Casino Royale, playing the stock market with his fake catastrophes? 

16a. And okay, so you say the whole Mysterio thing was just to con EDITH off of Peter. If they’re already able to pull off these terror attacks, how much more can EDITH do for them? It’s like, you already have essentially unlimited resources as far as the story’s concerned--why do you need EVEN MORE unlimited resources?

16b. And is Mysterio going to be a real superhero or fake? Like, is he potentially going to fight Thanos or someone? Because if he is, the whole Elemental thing seems like an unnecessary risk. Just find some HYDRA guys, go to town on them, bang, you’re a superhero. And if you’re going to be a fake Avenger--well, what do you do when Thanos shows up? Call in sick?

17. So in his new, definitely Miles Morales suit, Peter has the ability to send out a destructive electric charge. A venom blast. He has a venom blast. Man, they’re not even trying to hide that this is white Miles Morales, are they? 

18. To damn with faint praise, I thought the drone swarm was a good ‘real-world’ explanation of Mysterio’s power set and the ‘nightmare’ sequence was a good use of them, although it’s just the usual hallucinatory imagery you’d expect from someone with an illusion gimmick, not something as groundbreaking as the Raimi movies offered. Coincidentally, this is also the one action sequence in the movie where Peter’s in his classic costume, and that’s only an illusion Mysterio puts over his dumb Night Monkey suit. 

I also think Peter being able to survive being hit by a train more or less uninjured--he just needs a few stitches!--is a bit much, but then, that happened in Spider-Man 2.5 as well. And there they made a big deal of Peter and Ock trying to avoid getting hit by trains, so arguably that was more egregious. 

And it’s weird to have such a self-aware, genre-savvy villain just assume Peter is dead. It seems like he could’ve at least sent someone to the next station to confirm his death, or even had someone waiting there, if his plan all along was to hit Peter with a train. (Also, I’m pretty sure train conductors stop the train when they hit someone, but maybe that’s only an American thing.)

19. By the end, Mysterio decides to drop the whole illusion thing to frame Spider-Man for the drones (Peter’s friends are also put in danger yet again. Three times in one movie! That’s basically every action sequence that really happens!). I’d think disorienting people with invisible drones would be an advantage you wouldn’t want to just get rid of, but he’s the supervillain, not me. Noticeably, this plan hinges on him dying and posthumously ruining Spider-Man’s life, so...

20. Also, I complained about this with Captain Marvel, but if you’re doing a two-hour movie with a supposed character arc for Peter, shouldn’t that have something to do with him winning? He pretty much only wins because the power of spider-sense which he arbitrarily received arbitrarily works for him after arbitrarily not working for a while... and if this is some kind of confidence-powered superpowers, I should note that Spider-Man 2 already did Peter losing his powers because of losing confidence and it depicted him getting them back much more effectively. This Peter I guess only needs a pep talk from Happy Hogan.

21. I mean, couldn’t they bullshit something about hacking EDITH--you know, Peter using his wits since that’s what supposedly makes him ‘the next Iron Man’--maybe turning the tables on Mysterio with a con job of his own, instead of just winning because he happens to have an illusion-proof superpower on top of a billion-dollar supersuit and a literal global defense network? Spider-Man has a global defense network, y’all. How can you lambaste Man of Steel for making Superman dark and broody and then think Iron Man Peter Parker is a good take on the character? Geez.

[stevecoleridge-posts]

Day 6 ..Friday          Struggling .. which is why i did nt see the news or spend time on Social Media yesterday..          I thought it would be a breeze and after a little concentration id have it down .. but no , even the first part…known as lumpedy lump was proving tough , because of the triplet  walk up from the V to the 1.. and i think thats the part Jimmy Reed himself is playing…   If you ve read previous episodes you will know i refer to Honest I Do….the song.   Im learning it on a You Tube lesson , now a lot of people who think of themselves as pros , seem to think there s some sort  of stigma ro learning stuff on You Tube, but i know a French guy , of Spanish descent , who is a really hot Flamenco guitarist who has mastered nearly all the Palos , and all on You Tube  They are right, if you dedicate yourself to different songs at the same time, but it s like working form home…you need time and discipline ..and take the lessons very slowly and don’t move on till you can play it 20 times with your eyes shut..preferably standing up .. then move on up. Yesterday  was the first time i managed to do this.   There is a different tone on Social media today .. angrier , more prone to blame others, more censorious…and on one group forum i saw they were going to ban Humour..well , i don’t personally know the Group leader.. but it does nt take much imagination to know she s not someone you d want to be quarantined with.    The only thing to fear is fear itself.. well i certainly don’t think that applies in this situation, quite the reverse, the more frightened we are the less we will venture forth on errands that are not strictly necessary..i was on my way out the door , literally, when my mobile rang…it was the charming woman from the bank.. she d got my message .. id gone way over my limit.. which was why i could nt withdraw funds…She , and i won’t name her, is working from Home and sorted it all out on her laptop..no need for me to go to town..      Is nt that great?..well , I thought it was..and a good thing too,as she has not been provided with any masks..and we are talking about a Bank..if they cant get basic stuff like that no wonder the Government  are nt testing people .. they don’t have the wherewithal…it is nt as though this has nt been on the News everyday since December the something.    .I remember listening to Radio Four as i was driving through Slough, in December,… don’t ask … the M4 was closed..and i was listening to a woman in Wuhan describing how her parents were dying in the Street.. that really got my attention.   It did nt seem to get the attention of the people in charge here however, as when the inevitable arrived nearly three months later , they had done nothing to prepare for it.   The Spanish Disease is politics, it creeps into every corner of life and spreads its poison , a bit like you know what,..and in the past when people got fed up with their venal politicians there was a Military Coup , and then they realised maybe life was better before with democracy … and the cycle starts again. This model has been exported successfully to Latin America.. with the possible  exception of Mexico. and Costa Rica   Its all very well for us stodgy Northerners with our bad weather , to criticise, but Sun affects people,and when things are good they seem so much better  in the Sunshine..but something about Sunny weather produces Volatility, and an @ i won’t fix the roof as its not raining @ World View… and Italys  colossal death rate is the price to be paid .. not that it is nt sunny in China..or South Korea..but they do a lot more than just fix the roof..and to put  it down to Confucianism .. well  maybe best not to start on that.   Australia will be interesting, they have lots of sun , but its a pretty organised place ..and i don’t see them making this sort of Balls up.. also they have the experience of natural disasters,,and pulling together, and will not let Politics interfere…any country that had leaders with  names  like Abbott and Costello doesn’t waste too energy on petty politics.  The Current Classic example of petty minded, spiteful, pointless,  negative ,oppurtunism , is the  attempt on social media and what sup groups to denigrate the Royal Family organising people to rattle saucepans at a given time, because apparently the current King s father had a rather large amount of money in a Swiss Account..well, it was Saudi Money , not money stolen from the Spanish taxpayer, unlike the billions stolen by the previous administration , the PP .The idea for this stupidity was inspired by the Custom of applauding the Medical profession every night at eight o clock.. an excellent morale boosting , bringing everyone together kind of gesture..well everything has its opposite and this is an excellent way to breed more discontent and fracture an all ready pretty fractured society.. it beggars belief and you really have to have lived here to see these Barca Madrid  idiocies at first hand.   Barca Madrid is a term used to describe the divide and conquer ,us and them , attitudes that have stopped Spains progress since the collapse of their Empire, culminating in the most vicious Civil War in recent European History, and one would have hoped  that after 40 plus years of Democracy it would have disappeared , but sadly, like in the USA and a lot of other democracies , it seems to be on the increase.The anger on Social Media which results from the claustrophobic frustration of a lockdown will hopefully not boil over into something with unpleasant political consequences, which would be very sad , as after Francos death and the adoption of constitution that is the envy of many countries, Spain was a beacon of hope in the last quarter of the 20 th century… how the mighty are fallen .. one hopes not.. SPANISH LOCKDOWN DAY  7   Slept really well , but then  I remember reading that people on Death row sleep 16 hours a day so possibly not a good sign.   Last Night i watched the Spanish news ,on the main channel and things are looking up , relatively speaking, in the sense that testing has arrived ..someone, or some country, has sent several thousand, or may be half a million test kits.. which is obviously excellent news , and testing in  Galicia is going full steam ahead. There was the obligatory item about a vaccine..which I think one can take with a pinch of salt. .Military erecting field hospitals next to various main hospitals…the eight o clock applause of medical staff…all in all well put together not too desperately pessimistic, and generally not as disheartening as Facebook.. afterwards i felt like some light relief so we watched eleven episodes of 2 and half men,  in Spanish ,to cheer ourselves up before going to bed.   ..   Today i decided to live a normal day .. if such a thing were possible , so , after taking Tina for a walk i got the Old TV and DVD working and put on Marty Schwarz s Intermediate Blues Guitar Course part one…and it started raining .. so that was encouraging as it took away any temptation to venture outside.. except for firewood that is.   I worked through the course without rushing , but also without too much pausing , as i d done those lessons before, and all that repetition of Honest I do  is paying off..   On going outside for firewood i could not ignore the noise of the generator that kicked in yesterday evening, as we ve had not Sun for several days, so i decided to fill it up with diesel, and see how much 15 hours constant running had used,only half the 20 litre can to fill  up the tank…but was it full to begin with?..anyway it s very rare to have 4 days without sun , so even if it did use  13 euros of diesel  Im not going to freak out as that was expensive diesel.. and I’m entitled to use the cheaper stuff .Of cause i spilled Diesel over my hands , and shoes , and when i spent a good 5 minutes trying to wash the smell out i realised this was the ultimate anti virus test.. so i will leave a bowl of Diesel outside every time i go to town and use that as first part of the disinfection process , yet another excuse not to go to town.    My neighbour M.  rang and suggested i look at his scheme on Facebook to institute Food Deliveries , so one does nt have to go to the Supermarket in person  and infect and be infected… a good idea of course , but like so many , i don’t see it happening…I pointed out several objections , lack of drivers, expense, one would need a sort of Uber program which will probably not be ready for a year .. etc..and the Supermarkets are making so much money i doubt they need this sort of input.I promised to look at it later , which I will , as Lunch was ready.   We ve run out of  Bread ,Oranges and Chocolate, Aurora has broken a nail and the nail bars are closed till further notice…but otherwise  we can probably get through till Monday without suffering too much ..on the other hand Monday is probably the worst day to go shopping..Im toying with the idea of going to the small Supermarket, at 8 am Sunday morning, and hopefully having it to myself , as i cant face the idea of a queue. I know English people are supposed to love queueing but i must be an exception, and queuing nowadays is a High Risk Activity.    The Sun is out and i did one of the jobs from a month old to do list… pumping the water out the flooded pump room , it all went very well , and i felt  very worthy , and now , with the Sunshine it s time for a walk , with Tina , of course.   I return , feeling optimistic .. and the phone rings, i assume it s my neighbour asking if I’ve read his article.it isn’t , it s C another near neighbour, with some very bad news .  The police are in Quarantine…and the Army will soon be here. No Tobacco..as they will close the Tobacconist.  A completely different ball game  I rang M, and gave him the news…I f he d had  a kalashnikov  he d have been checking the magazine  I rang another neighbour  F, whose office is next to the Police Station , to warn him. .When the Rumour , comes to your Town , It Grows and Grows, Where it Started No-one Knows…*Robbie Robertson   I rang my source in the Town Hall G…no , it s only one cop , and he has nt got the results yet..   I rang M  again…he had spoken to his friend who is a Guardia Civil .no , it was nt a Cop it was a Guardia Civil..he also told me the Cuban woman who cleans houses had been stopped, by the Police and they checked the receipt for her shopping    I rang the first neighbour and corrected the original story        I opened Facebook .. and there was the original story , which had started a firestorm of comments along the likes of whats your source? etc as though we were in the Watergate hearings, not only that,  the people reading the story imagined it referred to Mojacar , not Carboneras , and were all frantically ringing the Police Staion , The Town Hall and each other to see if it were true.    The tones of the respective comments went from shrill outrage that anyone should suggest such a story without due documentation , to fear , to I knew this would happen, all these irresponsible idiots .. blah blah   It began to increasingly resemble an episode of Dads Army with a false alarm about a German Landing.., which Facebook does anyway    There is the Captain Mainwaring..@While i was out today making sure everyone was behaving themselves i saw these irresponsible panic shoppers,  and these people walking around without a good reason @     The Fraser .. We Re Doomed     The Air raid Warden…Its all the fault of the Ruling Class, and rules are rules etc     Jones ..Dont Panic... in a tone of complete hysteria    Pikes mother…Be sure to wear your gloves , motorcycle helmet , hazchem suit, mask..galoshes, .Do you have your hand sanitiser , all clothes must be burnt on reentry etc     By this time Auroras original alarm had been replaced by hilarity, as she was sitting by the fire hearing one side of these conversations..     I went out for some more wood and we relaxed by watching a Documentary about the Boeing 737 MAX..complete with simulation in the Pilots cockpit    The best part was the CEO of Boeing trying to justify his 30 million Dollar salary at a Congressional hearing..…i wondered what the Shareholders thought about that , i know what the victims families thought , as they were being interviewed and did nt sound too impressed

[akitohru]

I know literally nothing about kdramas, what are some good starter shows?

well, what kind of shows do you like? romantic comedies, melodramas, crime, horror, fantasy, historical, slice of life, action? for now, i’ll recommend some shows that i like across genres! :)

her private life: a cute romcom about a chief curator of an art museum who secretly has a fansite for an idol (fansite managers go to a lot of events and take pictures of their favorite idol, posting them on twitter/their personal websites for other fans and organize fan events for said idol.) she ends up having to fake date the art museum director after certain rumors come out! a very fluffy and mostly simple show. 

oh my ghost/oh my ghostess: a fantasy romcom with thriller elements. a woman who can see ghosts ends up getting possessed by a ghost who wishes to resolve her grudge of never getting to sleep with anyone. she goes after the mc's boss, a famous chef who the mc has a crush on. as time goes on, the ghost begins to discover that her grudge isn't as simple as it seems, having more to do with her untimely death than she thought.

signal: a fantasy crime thriller. a criminal profiler finds a walkie-talkie that transcends time, letting him communicate with a detective from 1989. together, they help each other solve cold cases and prevent some crimes from taking place in the first place. there is one strange thing though, the detective from 1986 has been missing for 15 years and the detective the mc works under has been searching for him ever since. what happened to him?

healer: an action romance. the male lead works as an illegal night courier who works under the alias healer. he is known to be the best in his field, having many people wanting to catch him and put him behind bars one day. the female lead is a reporter from a second-rate tabloid news website who is interested in healer and ends up being targeted by him on the order of a client who wishes to get information on her birth parents. the client, a famous journalist at a major broadcast station, seeks to uncover the truth concerning a decades-old incident involving five friends who ran an illegal pro-democracy broadcasting station. this is my favorite drama!

crash landing on you: a romcom with melodrama and action elements. it's a recent drama that has attracted a lot of attention and has gotten many people into kdramas. i personally liked it, but the subject matter is a bit controversial. due to a storm that occurs while she is paragliding, a south korean heiress accidentally crash lands in north korea. there, she comes across a north korean solider who helps her hide and tries to get her back home. the romance is sweet and the story keeps you interested, but some of plot points are far-fetched (as you can tell by the premise lol) and there are plot holes too. my advice is just don't take it too seriously. there is a reason it's so popular.

just between lovers: a romance melodrama about two people who were in the same shopping mall collapse when they were younger and are both traumatized by the incident. in the present, the female leads works as someone who makes architecture models and the male lead works different manual labor jobs. one day, it is announced that there will be a new construction project taking place at the accident site. the two end up involved with the construction project and get to know each other. as time goes on, they slowly begin to come together and heal. a very sweet, sad, and real drama. probably my favorite drama after healer.

the reply/answer me series: in this series, there are three shows: reply 1997, reply 1994, and reply 1988. you can watch them in any order and don’t have to watch all of them to get the full story. sometimes, characters from the other ones will make cameos, but they aren’t important to the story. they are all coming of age romcoms. reply 1997 is about a group of friends in high school, reply 1994 is about a group of people who become friends in college after living in the same share house, and reply 1988 is about another group of friends in high school that live in the same neighborhood and have all known each other from a young age. they are generally funny shows, but they all also discuss the topic of growing up and have some other pretty relatable, tear-jerking topics. the characters and the relationships between them are mostly really well-written and developed. my personal favorite is reply 1988. i love reply 1997, but i don't have any real strong feelings for 1994. it isn't bad, but, when compared to the other two, it's not very outstanding.

age of youth/hello my twenties: a slice of life with mystery elements. it’s about a group of college-aged girls who live in the same share house. the show discusses many relatable topics and also has mysteries that keep you hooked. one of my top favorites!

welcome to waikiki: a comedy drama with romance elements. it is about a group of friends who live in the same guesthouse whose lives change when a single mother and her baby end up living with them. a very fun and sometimes sweet show!

come and hug me: a romance melodrama that is also a crime thriller. the female lead's parents were brutally murdered by a serial killer who is the father of the male lead. they were each other's first loves and were ripped apart due to this incident. later on, they reunite, the female lead a rookie actress and the male lead a detective. they are both still very much in love with each other but also still suffering from the incident. this show discusses the topics of: is evilness inherited or a choice and do children deserve to suffer for their parents' mistakes? it is a very sweet, sad, healing, and thrilling drama.

my id is gangnam beauty: a coming of age romance. the female lead undergoes plastic surgery after years of ridicule and bullying. now in college, she's still self-conscious but is generally treated well. though, there are still some people who ridicule her for obviously having had plastic surgery done. there, she meets the male lead who she knew back in middle school. he is popular but uninterested in his popularity. they slowly get to know each other and develop feelings for each other. although the premise of the show may seem shallow, it is not. it discusses beauty standards in depth and is very tasteful about it. the male lead is respectful and very sweet despite his stoic nature.

i didn't mention where to watch these because where you can watch them depends on your region, but you can find kdramas on these websites/streaming platforms: netflix, viki, hulu, (us hulu doesn't have many though.) viu, kocowa, dramacool, dramanice, myasiantv. (watch out for viruses and pop-ups on the last three though. i recommend getting a pop-up blocker and adblock.)

[shirtlesssammy]

7x08: Season Seven, Time for a Wedding!

Then:

Sam Winchester deserves better

Now:

Las Vegas, Nevada

Dean’s enjoying the company of a grad student just trying to pay her bills. (Dean, what are you, 10 years her senior? Plz stop, your wrinkles are showing.) (And you’re a big fucking liar. You more than likely dropped out of school because it was too boring for your smart brain and your dad made you skip school for hunting trips so it became a two fold problem of you not keeping up with the school work load and you not seeing a reason to care to keep up with the school work load --only!! You got your GED so you must care on some level. Please enlighten us, Dean. #endrant) Dean unloads a ton of Winchester angst on the woman and then gets a text from Sam. He’s four blocks away and he wants Dean to meet him wearing his fed suit.

Dean heads to the Little White Chapel (it has a “24 hour drive up wedding window!” lol) Dean’s suspicious enough of the place to pull his gun. He finds Sam. Yay! Sam’s in LOVE y’all and he’s getting MARRIED! (Listen, we know the problems with this episode, but I’m going to lean real hard into the absurdity of the whole thing. My personal belief is to read this episode just like Red Meat. BECKY IS PROBLEMATIC AND WE’RE SUPPOSED TO SEE HER THAT WAY. It’s kinda curious that we’ve never seen her again...kinda like this episode closed the door on how this show views those types of fans. Ahem.)

Just then Sam’s bride starts walking down the aisle. It’s Becky!

Dean is VERKLEMPT. He wants to know how this happened. “We met, we ate and then talked and fell in love.” Dean points out to Sam that it’s no coincidence that Becky showed up during their annual Vegas week. (Sidenote: Where are all the fics on Dean and Sam’s Las Vegas week? You know, the one where Dean meets a fellow craps player and there’s a friendly competition and a warm banter and somehow they end up back at Dean’s hotel room and maybe there’s a real marriage that they both forgot about and they go their separate ways and 5 years later Dean’s gonna marry his good friend Lisa to help her out for something and discovers he’s already married so he has to track down this mysterious guy Cas and whoops, they’ve got so much in common and well ---I mean, the story just writes itself.) She’s read all the books. She knows them inside and out. Sam tells Dean to take a moment to realize that this is real. They’re heading back to Becky’s place in Delaware.

Dean alerts Bobby to the situation as he’s heading out of town.

Becky and her new (and very attractive hubby) arrive at the Montgomery High School 10 year Class Reunion. Becky runs inside to buy tickets for the event. Also, she’s live tweeting her revenge plan it seems. She runs into Aaron Burr Guy (I mean, I’m not going to just breeze right past the fact that pre-Hamilton Leslie Odom Jr. was on Supernatural. WTF???). Becky introduces her good friend to her new husband (and Jared Padalecki is SO tall). He takes off to go inside and she runs to give him a hug and they exchange a mysterious vial.

Away from Sam, she reveals that he’s a witch.

Dean rolls up to the reunion just as Sam and Becky are pulling away. He heads to a bar. He sees a paper with the headline “Truck Kills Pedestrian in Freak Accident”.

At Becky’s place, Sam starts to break out of the trance she has him in, so Becky adds more mysterious juice to his champagne and forces him to drink. All is CRaZy iN BeCKy LAnD.

Cut to a baseball diamond where a dude is practicing hitting the ball. Another dude (that I KNOW has been in another episode of SPN) makes the ball machine go faster and then moves the ball machine over to hit the other guy in the head, breaking the fourth wall with blood. Lovely. #sportsball.

Dean brings his newly married brother a waffle iron (#bestgiftever).

Dean’s got a case. It seems the baseball guy is part of it. Turns out, Sam and Becky are already working the case. Dean points out that people are having their dreams come true in this town, and then he looks to Becky. Dean can’t get through to his brother so he leaves.

Cut to Dean wanting to work with Bobby, but Bobby has other plans.

Cut to Becky Rosen being a 28 year old teenager creeper. Ugh. Sam’s made them fake ID’s (twu luv) and says “check this out” to her. UGH. He points out another potential victim. He also notices her notebook of hearts and weirdness. But he likes it! Yay!

Dean heads to meet the hunter Bobby assigned to help him. No spoilers or anything, but IT’S GARTH!

Dean points out the case in the paper, but Garth needs to read Marmaduke first. OH GARTH.

They head to interview someone that just got a big promotion. Becky and Sam beat them to it. Becky and Dean exchange scowls. Sam and Garth exchange confused looks. Once in the interview, the guy doesn’t reveal much to Dean. Garth cuts right to the chase and asks if the guy made it to the top through “black magic or hoodoo.” Dean’s fake laugh GIVES ME LIFE. The guy admits that this isn’t his dream. Enter his wife: Hmmm. Dean and Garth catch up to the wife and Dean threatens her. “Why do people keep thinking I’m threatening them?” Oh, Dean Bean. The woman denies everything and takes off.

Back at Becky’s place (their place now?) Sam mulls over the evidence. Becky delightedly plots a romantic getaway when Sam suddenly crumples. Oops, better put that lovey-dovey vacation on hold until you can drug your husband again! She’s dismayed to see that she can’t give him a fix because the potion has leaked out into her purse lining. Wherps.

Dean saves the CEO’s wife from getting crushed by a falling light fixture at the company headquarters. Garth and Dean interrogate her and learn that she bargained with someone for her soul but lololol there’s no such thing as a soul so she got a great deal. Right? RIGHT?!! Garth makes plans to move her into witness protection - Garth style.

Sam’s doing increasingly poorly and Becky, desperate, beans him over the head with the waffle iron. Thanks for the gift, Dean! They used it already.

He wakes up in a Misery situation, bound to the bed. (note to self: watch/read Misery someday instead of just casually referencing it.) (Boris: Uh, yeah!) Becky fawns over him while simultaneously not freeing him. She then flits off to chat with Guy, panicking about the potion. “This isn’t the honeymoon I had in mind,” she says before amending, “Well, some of it is.” UGH. She frets about them not consummating their marriage yet and...at least there’s that.

Becky heads in to talk to Sam, once again cloaked in denial. Sam tells her that she roofied him (no I didn’t) and that her witch friend is the one killing all their victims (no, he’s just a wiccan). She insists that the killer is something or someone else. Becky PLEASE.

Sam tells her to wake up. “It's never something else. When are there ever two crazy things in town at the same time? Guy's the creep, and you're on his list.” Guy also fed her the line that the potion only works if Sam loves her “deep down,” to which Sam is incredulous. He tells her to untie him then, and in response she shoves a rag into his mouth. Yeah.

At the reunion restaurant, Becky meets up with Guy who starts to hand over the potion.

Guy pulls the potion back at the last minute. “Let’s talk price.” Becky learns that they are NOT in fact, besties. Guy’s price for Sam’s devotion is her soul. She recognizes him as a crossroads demon and, inoculated by her fan consumption of Supernatural, Becky sits tight and listens even after his eyes flash red. Guy LOVES reunions. They’re perfect for trapping people who are desperate to impress their old classmates or improve their lives. Speaking of desperate, Guy gives Becky a special bargain: 25 years before her soul’s collected if she promises to never breathe a word to the Winchesters about her bargain.

Dean and Garth bust into Becky’s apartment. It’s empty, but Garth finds a webpage open to Twitter on her laptop, and her feed indicates that she’s going on a trip with her “hubster.” Dean finds a picture of Becky holding a fish in front of a cabin, Garth makes a nonsequitur on the creepy nature of fish eyes (I love you, Garth), and they’re ready to track them to the cabin.

Becky returns to find Sam still tied to the bed. (Damn girl, who taught you how to tie a knot?) Becky mournfully reflects on her situation. She really wanted to prance Sam Winchester around to her ex-classmates. She calls herself a loser. Sure, Becky. That’s spelled F E L O N. She loved the message board communities and dating Chuck....life was good as a fan. She just wants love! Sam mumbles something at her through the handkerchief and she pulls it out. “If you want somebody to love you for you, maybe don’t drug them.” Decent Human 101, right? She pulls out the vial of potion and contemplates using it, to Sam’s horror.

Later, Becky nurses a drink at the reunion restaurant when Guy walks in. Becky missed the party, but she’s there to talk to Guy. She tells him she’ll agree to the bargain. Guy approaches for a kiss to seal the deal when Becky flicks a lighter and drops it to the floor. A flare shoots up and burns a quick devil’s trap on the floor, trapping Guy.

Becky tries to celebrate with Sam. Becky just….NO.

Dean confronts Guy, asking him how he’s managing to kill off all his soul acquisitions before their 10 years are up. Guy laughs and tells them that accidents happen - HE doesn’t kill them. His demon intern does. Cue the intern - the scraggly, hairy guy from earlier. Intern blasts them all across the room. The demon knife gets knocked aside but before Dean can grab it, Guy’s out of the trap. It’s looking bad for our heroes when Becky grabs the demon-killing knife and stabs Intern in the back. She passes it to Dean who holds the knife to Guy’s throat and tells him to release his last 15 deals.

“Oh crap,” Guy says, but it’s not because of Dean.

“Hello, boys,” Crowley says from behind them. Dean and Sam look worried but Becky practically has hearts and stars in her eyes. It turns out that Guy’s intern couldn’t keep his mouth shut and bragged about the scheme to Crowley. Crowley tears into Guy. “This isn’t Wall Street, this is Hell!” In Hell, they have INTEGRITY, and need to uphold their bargains or nobody will sell their souls to them anymore.

The Winchesters and Crowley size each other up. Crowley has nothing but the BEST intentions for the Winchesters. They haven’t encountered a demon in months, right? It turns out that it’s because Crowley’s been keeping them on a tight leash. Crowley is pro-Winchester when it comes to killing leviathans. “I hate the bastards. Squash ‘em all, please.” Dean tells Crowley to rip up Guy’s remaining contracts, and when he does so, Dean shoves Guy at Crowley. They zap out.

In Becky’s apartment, Sam signs the annulment paperwork and tells Becky that he won’t see her again. Sam’s a nice guy, though, so he tells Becky that she’s a “good person” and that someday she’ll find the right guy. I mean...I wouldn’t go THAT far but okay. We’re striving for rehabilitation here. Garth lights up and starts to smooth his hair. “No,” Dean tells him while I am yelling NO GARTH BBY DON’T.

Outside, the Winchesters say goodbye to Garth. “You don’t suck,” Dean tells him. Dean. Bean. He gets a HUGE hug for it and then Garth takes off.

Sam tells Dean that he didn’t mean what he said when he was roofied - he does need Dean to watch his back. Dean accepts the sentiment with grace. “For a whack job you really pulled it together.” Dean. BEAN.

Sam also tells Dean that since he doesn’t have to watch out for him, Dean can start looking out for himself for the first time in his life. Dean is THRILLED at this revelation and by thrilled, I mean sent into a self-pitying tailspin. Sigh.

_____________________________________________

These Quotes have been Garthed:

We all need to face ourselves sometime.

Shouldn’t she ask for my permission or something?

I’m gonna be sick.

Oh, Marmaduke, you’re crazy!

Why do people keep thinking I'm threatening them?

You're so pathetic, it actually loops back around again to cute.

Blueberry vodka. The answer to all of life's problems.

_______________________________________

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[exceedinghappiness]

This past weekend (Thursday-Sunday) I took my very first solo trip across the country to the beautiful San Diego, California! It wasn’t just my first trip to California ever, but it was also my first flight ever! I’m from Michigan and I've lived here my whole life. I just turned 23 (Aug 21) and I’ve only ever made it to very little states near me... (Ohio, Kentucky, Chicago). All my life, all I’ve ever wanted to do was travel and visit new places and see and experience new things. My family in general are not much big travelers, so they didn’t know much about it, or have any desire to push me past the things that scared me. Well, California has always been a dream state for me to visit. I’ve always wanted to see the beautiful ocean, the palm trees, the perfect weather all year round, etc! Well after talking about “I will make it there one day” to my family about 100x a day, about two months ago, I finally decided that as a 23rd birthday gift to myself- kinda as a new start to a new year in my life, I decided to plan that trip! I don’t have many close friends in general- let alone one that would travel to Cali with me in a short amount of time. I also don’t have family who would do the same! The one fear of mine was flying there. I had never been on a plane before, and all my life that and heights have always been my biggest fear. But I thought about the fact that as the years had went on, my fear of heights weren’t as bad, and I’ve done many things that I enjoyed that I didn’t think I’d ever do. I first booked my flight and started doing LOTS of research about the best way to plan this, considering I’ll be all alone, in a new state I’ve never seen before. I knew no one there, and only had some places and things listed that I knew I wanted to see. I do have a friend who lived in San Diego for two years, before moving back to Michigan. I asked her some of her favorite places and what not to see. I managed to find a cheap hotel in the middle of The Gaslamp District, which personally was an excellent location for me to stay. It was in the perfect location to walk to many restaurants, shops, Balboa Park, Petco Park, etc. It was only a 15 minute ride to Sunset Cliffs and Ocean Beach, and the airport! I ended up Lyfting to the beach and airport each time, since it was a little more difficult to walk, but it only cost about $10-$15 each way if you chose shared ride, which personally made me feel a little more safe and comfortable. Plus if you left to one of the locations in the morning, and planned to spend the day there and come back at night, then it was cheaper than taking a few trips there and back each day. I then spent all the rest of my time walking everywhere using google maps, and yelping places nearby! Let me tell ya, after figuring all those details out, it was all so smooth and wonderful! I had an amazing time just taking as much or as little bit of time the places I wanted to go, and things I wanted to see. I made the choices for everything and didn’t have to worry about feeling like I missed out on things because someone I was with didn’t want to “go there” or “see that.” I felt like I gained an extra bit of independence and learned a whole lot. The one thing that was probably the hardest about traveling alone, was when you’d want to get a Instagram worthy picture in front of somewhere, and you had no one to take it. I learned if you look around you and look for a friendly face. Usually I’d go for young teenage like girls who are most likely very into social media, or young mom’s who are already taking the time to stop and take millions of pictures of their children. They are usually sooo nice and will say yes to taking 1 or 100 photos for you (I did so happen to find a young photographer at Ocean Beach who took over 100 pictures of me, with different angles- so that was cool: see first photo). 

Now on my last full day in Cali (I had a 9am flight Sunday morning) I didn’t have a whole lot of money left so didn’t want to spend it all getting a lyft to and from the beach again, as much as I wanted to. I just wanted to see something new! Well, Friday afternoon- I was walking back from Balboa Park to my hotel in Gaslamp which was about 45 minute walk. There came a point where I ran across a street before the light turned green and then got stopped at the next crosswalk. Suddenly there was a young, attractive gentleman stopping at the crosswalk as well. He had a paramedic uniform on and a very friendly smile on his face. He then turned and asked me what I was running from. I was pretty confused by his question, where he then proceeded to explain I must not be from around there because no one runs across the street unless they’re running from something. I then explained everything. Obviously not telling too much detail or anything because I’m by myself, in a different state, and with some guy I’ve never met before. He was super nice though, and explained how he accidently got on the wrong trolley home from work (which he’s never done before) and was walking to the trolley station, just a couple blocks before Gaslamp. Then he seen me running across the street, was concerned and also knew we’d be walking awkwardly at the same pace a few blocks so thought it’d be less awkward to introduce himself instead of complete silence. We then talked for a bit. He’s very open and very funny! He was very easy to talk to, which is unusual for me who is super introverted. He then asked if he could walk with me until he gets to his destination, because it would be safer than just by ourselves. We ended up walking the 30 minutes to Gaslamp. We were so into our conversations that we both forgot about his street and we didn’t even mind it. He then asked for my Instagram and told me how happy he was he took the wrong trolley that day. I walked the rest of the way to my hotel and he left to go back to the trolley station. Now... Saturday comes and I’m standing in line at Dunkin’ Donuts, it’s not even noon yet and he messages me on Instagram, asking my plans for the day. I didn’t have any so I just told him id probably just walk around and see where it takes me. he knew that was my last day there and told me it was his only day off that week. He asked if I’d want to hangout for a bit. I was a little unsure considering I didn’t actually know him, and all my family told me not to talk or go with strangers. I decided to take the chance but still be safe with it. He ended up meeting me at the Starbucks just a four minute walk from my hotel. He met me there at 1, but was actually early. He was dressed very nice and had a huge smile when I walked up to him. He told me he had a whole day planned for us and some back-up plans if I didn’t like some of his ideas. His first was to take a trolley ride to Old Town San Diego, which I had yet to see plus I had never been on a Trolley before. I loved that Idea and we then ventured off and talked about sooo much along the way, He showed me a bunch of his favorite music, and told me about his life growing up, etc. I enjoyed every single moment of it- even the overly crowded trolley. We then arrived to Old Town, which was totally awesome! He knows so many facts about so many things, and made the history of things so entertaining! He was so comfortable to joke around with and be myself around, it was so wonderful. He also took a few pictures of me in certain spots because he knew i’d want it for Instagram later. I didn’t even have to ask him. I do regret not getting a single picture of him or with him the whole time, only because in the beginning I felt a little weird to ask him because I wasn’t sure how he felt about pictures. He bought me my very first Churro, which was delicious! We just had an amazing time together. Then around 7, we planned to go to one of his Rugby teammates party, but we chilled in the parking lot outside of Old Town to wait for the details of this party. We then had a moment of silence after laughing about something we were talking about, and kinda just stared at eachother smiling. He then kissed me, and it was almost like a “too good to be true” kinda kiss. Eventually we decided to go to his home town and the town he lives called Chula Vista. We took a couple trolleys there and made it there at 7. We walked around his city, talking about the different places and the memories he’s had there growing up. I met his best friend’s mom, who was a total sweetheart and loved me, and told me she better be seeing me again soon. I met his cousin and their roommates, and some of his dad’s co-workers at the fire station. We then made our way to downtown Chula Vista which had a bunch of taco trucks, bars, and shops. It was so cute and everyone was so nice. We stopped in his favorite bar, and he bought us both a Corona then we headed out back to the outside. We spent the last couple hours out there just talking, laughing, showing eachother music, etc. It was then midnight and I had to get back to the hotel to get ready to go to sleep for my early flight in the morning. We ended up stopping at his and his roommates house just a couple blocks down (I know that doesn’t sound safe, but I sent my aunt the address just in case) We all ended up playing video games, eating some homemade tortillas his cousin made, and just listening to music and goofing around. I honestly didn't check my phone or anything just about the whole day, because the whole day was just too amazing and fun. He then drove me back to Gaslamp around 2am (I still didn’t feel comfortable telling him my hotel so I just walked two blocks to my hotel after) but we sat in his car for a bit and just talked about how this whole meeting eachother has felt like a movie. We laughed about it, then explained how terribly sad we are to have to say goodbye already. We both teared up a little and just enjoyed our last few moments together (hopefully not for long though). I then left and so did he. We texted all night til I fell asleep. Now here I am now, writing this Monday night. I’m home now and still felling extremely sad to have left. I’m so happy I went and had the most amazing experience I’ve ever had. We have both been texting and Snapchatting all day, since. I miss him a lot, and it’s crazy saying that considering I’ve only known him a day. But there’s definitely something special about him and I definitely believe there’s something special about the way we met. I believe everything happens for a reason, and his taking the wrong trolley and getting off on that stop that day, and me running across that same street and catching his attention, was all meant to happen. That’s why I believe there’s a special reason he was put into my life, whether or not it ends up romantically, He definitely gave me the most amazing memory I’ll ever have so far. I appreciate him and his kindness, and for just being there. I find new parts of me, I never knew existed. I’ve learned new things. I know so much I want to do now. I’ve made a new friend. Plus sooo much more. California will always hold a very special place in my heart. I definitely plan to visit San Diego again very very soon! Until then... Time to save money and just reminisce through photos and memories in my head. 

[kendrixtermina]

Disclaimer For Potential Partners (f/m/x)

Writing this down as much to gather my thoughts and go into this with clear priorities as for possible future reference. 

My mother always told me that if you wanted everyone to like you, you’d have to be a 50 dollar bill. I have come to accept that I’m more like licorice. Some people aren’t gonna like me but that doesn’t mean that there aren’t others who would appreciate me. 

I’d rather you run away screaming NOW than in three years when we’re both invested so Let’s get all this out of the way:

I’m bisexual. Yes, I’ve dated dudes in the past. I’ve had a brief online flirt with an agender person and do think androgynous ppl are hot which I suppose would make me pan in some ppl’s books, at this point the choice in label is purely aesthetic. I’m looking for a female partner right now because I’ve always had a slight preference for girls anyways but a sufficiently compatible non-female would not be refused. 

Because ppl have gotten this wrong in the past: Preference is about how likely you are to notice that someone is hot in the first place like in the early stages. It doesn’t mean my attachment to those dudes was any less “real” (or the other way around!) I just flat out don’t care whats in your pants there are other things to be picky about

From since I was young, the message I got from music, books etc is that it’s pretty bad to say “I love you” unless you truly mean it. So I don’t say “I love you” until I’m 100% sure I can do that it good conscience. It seems that it takes me a bit longer to be sure than most people, but it’s not like I’ve conducted statistics on this

I’m not vegan/vegetarian and I’m never going to be vegan/vegetarian

I’m not a pet person 

I’m not a sporty person and I’m never going to be a sporty person

Go through my stuff, spy on me in any way or ask me to tell you where I am at all times and its over

I’m an antiprohibitionist and don’t think there’s anything morally wrong with taking recreational substances. Conversely, I’m not interested in that sort of thing as a full-on lifestyle either. 

I try to keep an open mind and try everything once but im probably not gonna reorganize my life around new age woo-woo. 

So far my folks have liked most my partners, but if our social circles don’t get along I’m comfortable with leaving them separate. 

I believe in judging people as individuals first. I don’t wanna hear no paranoid shit about “the muslims” or other stereotypical carricatures but if you’re gonna be “europeans that europeans this” as if im not in the room its not gonna work. 

Don’t be fooled by the foreign-sounding surname im a potato through and through. No exotic fanservice to be had here. 

Barring unforseen dictatorships, I don’t want to move out of Europe. I like it here. Its full of frustrating dumbasses but so is the rest of the world.  Yay for cheese and consumer protection laws! I would consider moving closer to the shore though. 

It’s fine if you don’t speak German but you should not hate or dislike it.  English is a plus because me, my friends and my family are into internet culture

I haven’t spoken to my father in five years. No, you’re not going to patch this up. You don’t have to ignore him too if you’re not comfortable but you’ll have to respect my choice instead of playing family therapist or throwing platitudes about forgiveness at me. 

Im not counting and it depends on your definition but Ive fucked at least 15-20 people, which according to statistics is above average? Always used rubber unless it was long-term and exclusive tho. That might bother some ppl. 

That said it has been my conclusion that fucking does nothing that a beer can’t do and that the real quality stuff is what you could already do as a grade schooler when you still thought of all the grownup stuff as mystical. Having ice cream together, exploring new places, having contemplative conversations in the rain, telling each other your fantasies? That’s The Stuff. 

Hence while I wouldn’t turn down some fuckage along the way what im looking for at this point is someone to share life and grow old with, like there doesn’t need to be the expectation of further strings but the end goal RN is to find One That Sparks Joy(TM) that will get precedence

I’m not big on material gifts or the ritual part of dating if thats important to you I might not be the ideal candidate, but if its not thats probably good for your wallet

I’m a strong introvert. Sometimes I go weeks without talking to anyone other than my boss or maybe texting my relatives. If you’re very introverted or work alot this might be an advantage. Of course if I love you I will try my best to match up to your attention needs but if you need your partner to text you 15 times every day to feel good I might just not be your cup of tea

That doesn’t mean im not interested in going on or doing new experiences. I very much hope to do that together with you just not 5 days a week - if you can’t give new things wholehearted tries things might get uncomfortable

I like spicy food and all sort of asian cousine, but if you can’t stand the sight of cheese, asparagus and sausage it’s not gonna work either. I can obviously put less chili in your portion. 

I tend to talk fast and I find it hard to stop it even if I try, if that bothers you look elsewhere

I cannot stand forced optimism OR over-the top misanthropy or snobbishness. I will gush about things, but I like my dark edgy content and I stand by it. It is an advantage if you like talking about art. If you don’t like morbid humor that might be a problem

No diet talk

No perfectionism

No passive aggressive ppl or ppl that are uncomfortable with direct confrontation. That won’t work, we’d just set each other off even without meaning to and it would just be sad. If Im doing something wrong don’t expect me to notice by magic, tell me to my face so I can fix it. Don’t be hostile out of nowhere and don’t beat around the bush. 

im not religious or spiritual. I don’t mind if you are but if you want to have kids and bring them up strongly-immersed in some Abrahamic faith im not sure if this is the right adress

No anti-intellectualism (no snobbery, elitism or smartassery either - as a wise pig once said, “Knowledge is a horizon to strive for, not a prize to hold in your hand” It begins with realizing what you don’t know)

Indifferent about monogamy, but I wouldn’t say that I’m the sort of person who needs non-monogamy either.  If you want to we can do it (write me out some list of where you draw the lines so there’s no misunderstandings) but if you don’t it’s no biggie. I don’t care if you fuck 10 other people - for me, respect, honor and loyalty are to do with other things, like, don’t make fun of me and don’t expect me to change because one (1) person said I’m weird or whatever.

Don’t give me diseases tho. I’ll take precautions to extend the same courtesy to you.  

Potential character flaws: I can be a tad sensitive, disorganized and defensive sometimes, not gonna sugarcoat it. I have no filter and curse like a sailor. Also I have zero social skills and sometimes I come across as either angry or unemotional when its really the opposite. I find that just as confusing and contradictory as that sounds, I have like zero sense of how I come off. I try to be aware of all of these and do right to everyone to the best of my ability but if you’re sensitive about any of these point someone else might be a better fit 

2 kids max. I’m not sure I’ll have ANY at this point, and most certainly not in the next 5 years. IF we decide to have some later I volunteer to carry them though, I probably have good genes, my mom popped out 4 babies in 6 years with nary a complication. Besides I’d rather it was me dealing with the gross pregnancy stuff than someone I love

My favorite bedroom stuff is fingers-in-front-cavity and butt stuff. Mild sleepsex fetish but nothing super pronounced. What I don’t like or just am not very good at is top/bottom play. 

So far most my partners have had somewhat stronger sex drive than me but Id argue that I very much have one and ive never refused unless I was in physical pain, severely sleep-deprived or working on some important work-related thing that was due the next day. 

It’s important - and science backs me up on this - that you can freely talk to each other in n open, natural and relaxed manner

If you think im weird just do us both the favor and stay away don’t come at me with the attitude that you’re gonna mold me to your desires - even just writing this comes off kinda touchy but im saying this because some people out there really don’t get it. Like my natural tendency is to be open, courious and realistic,  but some people see that as free real estate and then it falls to me to be the reasonable one and End The Madness and im tired of that.

Like I want to be able to give love and pour out all my inner romantic shit without having to be afraid of being fucked over I want to be able to trust you with my inner harley quinn as well as my inner phantom of the opera 

UGH that sounded a bit tryhard didn’t it? But its the best description i could come up with

Must remember to translate this into mordor speak later

[bloojayoolie]

Being Alone, Andrew Bogut, and Cats: Chihuahua LOVERS, little Cappuccino is desperately wishing for YOU to APPLY with rescues NOW to Save his Life!!! FOR A New Family to Know: Cappuccino is an AFFECTIONATE, PLAYFUL MELLOW, & sometimes anxious dog. your typical Chihuahua. He is an indoor pup, housebroken, uses wee-pad, well-behaved & walks wonderfully on leash. Little Cap also suffers from seizures which need to be controlled with inexpensive medications. The Chihuahua he is, he is very nervous at the shelter & therefore ended up ON THE NYC KILL LIST!!! PLEASE, PLEASE, give this little man a chance, APPLY NOW to save his life. Adorable Cap DIES at the Manhattan, NY ACC UNLESS RESERVED, FOSTERED, ADOPTED?RESCUED, RIGHT NOW!!! Just DO IT! Cappucino 31285 PLAYFUL AfFECTIONATE ON the YC ill List is 5 yrs young Please, don's let them kill me !!! Pleeeease, APPLY NOW to Save my Life!!! ***** To Be KILLED 6/18/2018 in NYC ***** Chihuahua LOVERS, TINY 5 lb, YOUNG little Cappuccino is desperately wishing for YOU to APPLY with rescues NOW to Save his Life!!! FOR A New Family to Know: Cappuccino is an AFFECTIONATE, PLAYFUL, MELLOW, INDEPENDENT & sometimes anxious dog, your typical Chihuahua. He is an indoor pup, housebroken, uses wee-pad, well-behaved & walks wonderfully on leash. Little Cap also suffers from seizures which need to be controlled with inexpensive medications. The Chihuahua he is, he is very nervous at the shelter & therefore ended up ON THE NYC KILL LIST!!! PLEASE, PLEASE, give this little man a chance, APPLY NOW to save his life. Adorable Cap DIES at the Manhattan, NY ACC UNLESS ✔RESERVED✔FOSTERED✔ADOPTED✔RESCUED✔RIGHT NOW!!! Just DO IT!!! VOLUNTEER Georgia Richmond WRITES: I briefly met Cappucino in his den last night and he was very eager to interact and seemed like a happy wee chappie but due to his reported behavior issues I didn't open the door for pics as I'd definitely have had to hold him in place to get anything or he'd have jumped for it, he was that keen to get out in the world. An experienced Chi person is what Cappie's looking for, someone who appreciates his spunk and adorable looks and will offer him the loving patience he needs to thrive. I guarantee he's got a lifetime of loyalty to give to the right person! ****************************************** To FOSTER or ADOPT nervous Cappuccino, SPEAK UP NOW & Save a Life, APPLY with rescues OR message Must Love Dogs - Saving NYC Dogs IMMEDIATELY!!!! ****************************************** The general rule is to foster you have to be within 4 hours of the NYC ACC approved New Hope partner rescues you are applying with and to adopt you will have to be in the general NE US area; NY, NJ, CT, PA, DC, MD, DE, NH, RI, MA, VT & ME (some rescues will transport to VA). ✔Pledge✔Tag✔Share✔Foster✔Adopt✔Save a life! Thank you for caring! ================================= Hello, my name is Cappucino. My animal id is #31285. I am a male tan dog at the Manhattan Animal Care Center. The shelter thinks I am about 5 years old. I weigh 5.8 lbs Upon intake, Cappuccino tried to hide behind the chairs in the lobby. Cappuccino had a tense body and his tail was tucked. Cappuccino shook and tried to break free from the owner's hold. Cappuccino remained tense and was placed in kennel by owner. Basic Information:: Cappuccino is a 5 year old male tan small mixed breed dog. Cappuccino lived with previous owner for 2 years and was given by a family friend. Cappuccino was surrendered because he doesn't like the new baby in his house. Energy level/descriptors:: Affectionate, playful, mellow, independent with a medium activity level Previously lived with:: Three adults, two children How is this dog around strangers?: Cappuccino is described as pushy with strangers. Cappuccino will bark and approach them. With any slight movement, Cappuccino will snap. (NOT SEEN WITH VOLUNTEER). How is this dog around children?: Cappuccino previously lived with a 13 year old and a newborn child. Cappuccino is friendly with the 13 year old and allows to be pet and picked up. When the newborn came home, Cappuccino was aggressive and barked and so previous owner kept the separated. How is this dog around other dogs?: Cappuccino has previously interacted with large dogs. Cappuccino will approach and sniff but then walks away. How is this dog around cats?: Cappuccino has previously interacted cats. Cappuccino will bark at them and keeps his distance. Resource guarding:: Cappuccino will growl if his food or bowl is touched while he is eating. Cappuccino is not bothered if a toy or object is taken away from him. However, he will growl if a treat is taken away. Bite history:: Cappuccino has never bitten another animal or human. Housetrained:: Yes Energy level/descriptors:: Cappuccino has a medium energy level Other Notes:: Cappuccino will bark when he hears very loud noises. Cappuccino is not bothered if he is bathed. He has never had his nails trimmed. When a unfamiliar approaches his owner, with females, Cappuccino will not approach or bark and keeps his distance. With unfamiliar males, Cappuccino becomes defensive and will bark. For a New Family to Know: Cappuccino is an affectionate, playful, mellow, independent and sometimes anxious dog when meeting new people. When at home, Cappuccino likes to follow you around and be in the same room as you. Cappuccino was kept as a mostly indoors dog and was fed dry dog food twice a day. Cappuccino is house trained and used wee-wee pads. Cappuccino never had accidents in the home. Cappuccino has never been crate trained. When on the leash, Cappuccino does not pull on the leash. He has never been walked off the leash. DVM Intake Exam Estimated age: ~5yrs. Microchip noted on Intake? scanned negative by LVT on intake. History : Surrendered by O due to behavior issues (aggressive to new baby in home) Subjective / Observed Behavior - Growling and tried to nip multiple times during restraint Evidence of Cruelty seen - none Evidence of Trauma seen - none EENT: Eyes clear, ears clean, no nasal or ocular discharge noted Oral Exam: dc 2/5; pd 2/5 PLN: No enlargements noted H/L: No murmur ausculted; CRT < 2, Lungs clear, eupnic ABD: Non painful, no masses palpated U/G: intact male MSI: Ambulatory x 4, skin free of parasites, no masses noted, healthy hair coat CNS: Mentation appropriate; actively seizing in AM on 6/16 Rectal: grossly normal. Assessment seizures r/o intracranial vs extracranial Prognosis: good w proper treatment Plan: midazolam 5mg/ml -- Gave 0.5ml IV during status epilepticus monitor in medical for seizures. repeat dosing as needed for seizing levetiracetam 20mg/kg -- 0.7ml PO q8h indefinitely CBC / chemistry rec bile acids testing once placed SURGERY: TEMPORARY waiver due to uncontrolled seizures Blood work interpretation -- mild neutrophilia r/o stress, inflammation mild ALt elevation -- r/o sampling, inflammation, dietary, hepatic disease, other 17/06/2018 Owner surrender. Seizure 6/15 PM and 6/16 AM. No reported seizures since. BAR, barking at front of kennel, lunged when approached. Eating all food well. Multiple urine spots in kennel. EENT: Eyes clear, nose clear, no ocular or nasal discharge. Neuro: Unable to perform full neuro exam due to temperament. Ambulatory x 4. Hypermetric gait in forelimbs. Assessment: 1. Seizure disorder- r/o intracranial vs extracranial 2. Hypermetria- cerrebellar disorder R/O Mass in the cerrebellum resulting in seizures and hypermetric gait vs. epilepsy causing hypermetric gait -- need advanced imaging (MRI) to differentiate Plan: Continue tx as rx and monitor BEHAVIOR DETERMINATION:: NEW HOPE ONLY Behavior Asilomar: TM - Treatable-Manageable Recommendations:: No children (under 13),Place with a New Hope partner Recommendations comments:: Place with a New Hope partner: Due to all noted concerns displayed in a home environment combined with his behavior in shelter, the behavior department recommends Cappuccino be placed with a New Hope placement partner who is able to provide an experienced adult-only foster home. A period of decompression is recommended to allow Cappuccino to acclimate comfortably to his new environment; force-free, reward based training only is advised when introducing Cappuccino to new and unfamiliar situations. Consultation with a professional trainer/behaviorist is highly recommended for guidance to safely manage/modify any behavior Cappuccino presents with outside of the care centers. No children (under 13): Due to how uncomfortable Cappuccino is currently with touch and novel stimuli, we feel that an adult-only home would be most beneficial at this time. Potential challenges: : Resource guarding,Fearful/potential for defensive aggression Potential challenges comments:: Fearful/potential for defensive aggression: Cappuccino escalates rapidly to snapping, so this is an established behavior that he offers when he feels threatened. Cappuccino needs careful behavior modification and management to prevent future bites. We recommend only force-free, reward-based training methods for Cappuccino as more aversive techniques are likely to increase fear and increase the risk of aggression. Resource guarding: Cappuccino's previous owner notes that he may growl when his food bowl or treats are approached. We recommend that Cappuccino be left alone while eating, and that food guarding behavior modification steps (available at ASPCApro.org) be utilized if this behavior is problematic in his future home. Nothing should ever be taken directly out of Cappuccino's mouth, and any time something is removed he should be rewarded with a high value treat or toy. He should be taught the "drop" cue and trade-up games. ============ Shelter address ========== - Manhattan Shelter: 326 East 110 St. New York, NY 10029 - Phone number (212) 788-4000 (automated only) Operating hours: Monday through Friday 12.00pm to 8.00pm, Saturday & Sunday: 10.00am to 6.00pm. Closed on all Holidays. == About Must Love Dogs - Saving NYC Dogs == We are a group of advocates (NOT a shelter NOR a rescue group) dedicated to finding loving homes for NYC dogs in desperate need. ALL the dogs on our site need Rescue, Fosters, or Adopters & that ASAP as they are in NYC high-kill shelters. If you cannot foster or adopt, please share them far & wide. Thank you for caring!! <3 ================================= https://newhope.shelterbuddy.com/Animal/Profile/Index/81e588d8-1ea9-4359-97d4-22c23f4707be ++++ https://www.facebook.com/ACC.OfficialAtRiskAnimals/photos/ms.c.eJw1yckNACEQA7COUEgyV~;~_NrRDs0zKbtRnuUU5g8VjZZGHXs3Gt3~_xIyNazeR6TH37gD~_o~-.bps.a.282701092271429.1073742023.228723884335817/282712548936950/?type=3&theater Michele St Laurent Wendy Frohlich Caldwell Caro Hocker Beamer Maximillian Carolin Hocker Michelle Neufeld Montak Emily Gear Lorraine Healy