#and don’t get me started on fucking bono jesus christ

[mediumtires]

oh man oh MAN i’m still not over this i will never be over this it’s been so LONG. so long. and people were doubting his abilities his skill in the car his legacy and they were all wrong :) they were all wrong because today lewis hamilton won for the first time since jeddah 21, after 945 days, at his home gp and not because of a safety car or because other drivers crashed out but because he’s quite possibly the best driver on the grid when it comes to tyre management and understanding what a race needs, what the car needs, he’s adaptable and he knows exactly how to drive this fucking track and that’s what’s won him this and he deserves it so so so so much, more than anyone else on this grid, do not tell me otherwise. lewis winning silverstone one last time with mercedes, after they went winless last year, before he leaves for ferrari, BREAKING ALL THE RECORDS is the most fucking poetic thing one could possibly conjure up in their sick mind. it was fucking beautiful and healing because this man has gone WINLESS SINCE 2021 when he lost the championship in the worst possible fucking way a driver could lose a championship, a record breaking, unprecedented title that he should have had, that should have been his, and he had to wait NINE HUNDRED AND FORTY FIVE DAYS to be back on the top step of a podium DO YOU UNDERSTAND????? i fear you don’t. this man was starting to doubt his place in the sport, his skill, his talent, his own legacy, which is unmatched, which makes him the greatest driver of all time, he was questioning all of it because he kept losing out to his teammate and literally every other driver on the grid, because he was given a car that was not worthy of fucking wins or podiums or even at times points. do you understand what this means after winning seven titles, after merc went undefeated for so long, after he was at the top of the game? to then suddenly fall to the absolute back of the grid being unable to overtake A HAAS? having alonso go “this man only knows how to start from p1”? bro ITS BEEN YEARS. this shit has taken years off his life and my life and he worked so hard to be back up there. it’s fucking insane to think where they were at the beginning of the year or last year or 2022 (nowhere). he gave everything to this team, to this sport, to his career. this is literally all he has ever wanted to do, he has committed his entire life to this and for two years he was made to feel like he was Done and Washed and people were literally moving on from him, pundits weren’t even rating him for the season anymore. don’t you tell me this was the car or the tyres or the mclaren strategy. i don’t wanna hear it because i don’t care. this was lewis back in his element for the first time since 2021. they couldn’t have taken this win from him even if they had wanted to, those last 15 laps he was Locked The Fuck In. he wanted it so bad and he deserves it more than anyone else and i have been feeling absolutely everything about this the whole entire day because it was the perfect win on the perfect weekend even though i wish he didn’t have to wait 945 days for it. but man. let’s hope things are looking up from here. let’s hope merc get their shit together for the rest of the season. let’s hope lewis has only good races from here on and can see his legacy with merc out on a high. let’s hope he can show those motherfuckers. war is over man. war is finally fucking over.

[fictionalabyss]

Hottest lawyer in the state.

Pairings : Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader, Alpha!Richard Gregory (oc) x his wife, Omega!Lacy Johnson (oc)

Word count : 2,053

Written for : @spnabobingo​

Square : Scent Marking

Warning : Possessive Sam, possessive Reader, a touch of the smut, scent marking (obvi), a little dirty talk.

Beta’d by : @iflostreturntosteverogers​

Masterlist • Patreon • Ko-fi.

SPN A/B/O Bingo Round 5 Masterlist.

Sam practically glared at the man across from him. He couldn’t stand the guy, honestly, but it was dinner with your boss, and appearances had to be kept. He especially hated how this asshole looked at you, even with his wife right next to him and Sam right there glaring daggers at him. He’d put you in his shirt for this dinner, covering you in his scent to get his damn point across that you were taken, and now he found himself with his arm over the back of your chair, fingers dancing along your shoulder and across his mark. This piece of shit wasn’t taking the fucking hint.

Sam clenched his jaw when your boss pulled his beady little eyes away from you and looked at him. The hand giving his thigh a squeeze pulled his attention, and he looked down to see you smile softly at him. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just a rough case.” he gave you a soft smile back. “Got lost in my head thinking about it for a minute, that’s all.” he promised, leaning in and giving you a gentle kiss.

“Need a distraction?” you whispered against his lips and his smile widened.

“Wouldn’t say no to one.” he whispered back. Your hand reached further, palm moving over his cock laying against his thigh, and Sam licked his lips to keep himself from groaning. You smiled at him as he throbbed under your hand and you gripped him.

“I think we better head home after this drink.” you looked back across the table.

“Already? We haven’t had desert yet.” your boss tried to convince you to stay, his wife’s starting to chime in about how amazing the deserts here were.

“It’s getting late, and you want me bright and early tomorrow for that meeting, right?”

“Right, of course.” he cleared his throat, glancing over to Sam with a smile. “I forgot about that meeting. This is why I keep you around.” he teased. “I’d forget my head if it wasn’t for you. Best damn secretary I ever had.” His wife cleared her throat, and he chuckled, taking her hand in his and kissing her knuckles. “Aside from you, dear. You were so good I married you.”

Your hand gripped Sam again, and he was quick to pick up his glass and down the contents, making you chuckle. You picked up your own glass, sipping it as Sam stood, and pulled out his wallet.

“Oh no, please, it’s on me.” Your boss held out his hand, stopping Sam. “I invited you guys out.”

Sam gave him a nod, not wanting to argue and put his wallet away. “Next one will be on us, then.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Gregory.”

“Richard, dear.”

“Good night, Dick.” Sam said before you could even open your mouth, his hand on your lower back and guiding you away.

“Good night, dear.” Your boss’s wife called out, you turned and gave her a smile and a wave.

You were tucking your blouse into your skirt when you felt Sam naked and behind you, hands gripping your hips hard as he pressed himself hard against your back. “Sam!” you giggled. “I need to get to work.”

“Not yet.” he mumbled into your skin as he nuzzled into your neck. “You're not leaving this house, not yet.”

You tried to protest, but found yourself pushed forward, bent over the bed, and Sam started to slide your panties down your thighs. You tried to straighten up, but Sam just pushed you back over. “I don’t have time, Sam, come on! You can’t keep doing this.” you chuckled.

Your panties were pooled at your feet, and Sam’s hands were on skin again, pushing your pencil skirt up and over your ass. “I’m going to fuck you.” he told you, hand gliding down over the globe of your ass until his fingers teased at your lips. “But I’m not going to knot you, not now.” he pushed two fingers in making you gasp. “Instead, I’m going to come all over your pussy, then gently put your panties back in place.”

“Sam-”

“You’re not going to clean up, you’re not going to change at any point today. You’re going to be a good little omega, and go into work smelling like your Alpha. Understood?”

“Understood, Alpha.” you looked back at him over your shoulder. “Hurry up, or I’ll be late.”

Sam smiled, fisting his cock as he lined up, then pushed home.

True to his word, rather than knot you, he pulled back, coating your pussy lips in shot after shot of come and rubbing it into your clit with the head of his cock before pulling back, reaching down for your panties and pulling them back up into place. With a firm slap on your ass, he ushered you out as he started to get ready for his own day of work. You shot him an amused glare as you pulled your skirt back down and hurried out of the bedroom.

Things were quiet at work mid afternoon. You were sitting at your desk, scrolling through social media, when you saw a post on Instagram for Sam’s firm. You smiled at the photo for a charity event that was coming up in two weeks. Sam was always pushing offering a helping hand to the local communities, be it with fund raising or offering to take on cases pro-bono. He once helped build a new house for a local family after theirs had burned down on Christmas. Dean had even come down to help. It was why Sam had hired someone to run social media accounts for the firm. He wanted people to easily be able to reach out if they need help or wanted to help those in need.

You liked the photo and clicked to go on the account profile. Curious, you clicked over to the tagged page and smiled seeing a picture of Sam with a grateful client, smiling at the camera. The caption thanking Sam for everything that he does to help people around him. It had been uploaded just before lunch, so you clicked like on it.

Another picture gave you pause, though. It was an attractive young woman, a sheer button up shirt that had several buttons open showing off ample cleavage, the camera tilted down to show it off, and a puffed out smile to make her lips look fuller. You were confused as to why the firm would be tagged in this one, so you clicked on it.

“When your boss is the hottest lawyer in the state, you gotta look good ;)”

You clenched your jaw. This was his new secretary? Hell no.

Getting up from your chair, you went around your desk and headed for your bosses office and knocked gently. “Come in.”

You pushed the door open and stepped inside. “You don’t need me anymore today, do you?” He looked up, giving you a once over. “I confirmed all your meetings for tomorrow afternoon already, and everything has been filed. Laura is also in her office today so if there is anything that comes up-”

You boss gave you a nod. “No, if you have somewhere to be, you can go.”

“Thank you, Mr. Gregory. I’ll see you tomorrow.” he gave you another nod, and you hurried back to your desk to grab your things.

You stormed your way through Sam’s firm, heels clicking harshly against the floor had people turning your way and whispering. You ignored all of them as you headed right for his office. His door was shut, but the blinds were open and what you saw had you seeing red.

Sam was focused on some papers, but the woman in there with him was focused on him. She leaned over his desk next to him, back arched pushing out her tits and ass. As she spoke, she leaned over, pointing out something that probably didn’t need pointing out, just to get her breasts closer to his face. Sam didn’t seem to notice.  But that didn’t matter to you.

You shoved open his door. “Sam.” His head shot up, and so did hers. “Outside, now.”

“Excuse me,” she cut in, not even straightening up, “But Mr. Winchester is busy, and-”

“Now, Sam.” you snapped, ignoring the minor smirk that formed on Sam’s face as he stood and moved around his desk without a word.

“Sam-”

“It’s Mr. Winchester to you.” you snapped at her, then grabbed Sam’s tie as soon as he was in reach, yanking him out of the office and shutting the door. You put your back to the wall and pulled him to you, pinning yourself between it and him. “That’s the new secretary? I don’t like her.”

Sam laughed. “Why not?” Pulling out your phone, you showed him the picture, and he frowned at it and the caption. “She tagged the firm in this? Jesus Christ..”

“You know how you make sure I smell like you before you let me leave for work?”

Sam’s eyes left your phone and met yours. “Yeah?”

“Well, now.. You’re going to smell like me.”

“Oh really.” Sam’s smile was back, full of interest.

“Mhm.” you hummed. You shifted your legs apart just enough, bunching your skirt up a little, then reached up under it and past your panties. Tugging his tie, you pulled him into a deep kiss and gasped into his mouth as you pushed two fingers into yourself, collecting your slick. You broke the kiss and removed your slick coated fingers, and before Sam even opened his eyes from the kiss, you were smearing your slick across his lips. Lust burned in his eyes when they met yours again, and his lips parted taking your fingers in and sucking them clean. “You’re mine, Sam.”

Taking your fingers from his lips, Sam growled deep in his chest and pushed harder against you, taking your lips in a searing kiss as he ground himself against you.

“Fire her.”

“I need a secretary.”

“Fire her and I’ll quit my job.” you bit his bottom lip. “I’ll be your secretary.”

Sam groaned. “Fuck. I'll never get any work done.”

“Then you better keep her in line, Sam. You’re my Alpha.”

“I’m yours. And you’re mine.” he smiled. “I think I need another taste though.” he teased. “You know, to be sure she smells you on me.” Sam moved your panties aside and you gasped then whimpered when he pushed two of his own fingers inside you, pumping them a few times before pulling out and licking them clean. “Delicious.”

“Can you leave early?” you asked hopefully.

“No. I need to finish this I’m afraid.” you pouted at that. “But how about you head home and get ready for me.” he smirked. “As soon as I’m in that fucking door, I’m devouring that delicious cunt.”

You pulled him in for one more kiss before letting him pull away. You fixed your skirt, Sam adjusted his throbbing erection, and then you both opened the door to his office. She was still standing next to his desk, waiting.

Without a word, Sam made his way back to his seat to get back to work. He sent you a smile, one that you returned before you turned your attention to her. “I suggest you start dressing and behaving more appropriately, Ms. Johnson, or you’re fired.”

“It’s Lacy.” she straightened, standing her ground. “And you don’t have the right to-”

“She does, Ms. Johnson.” Sam piped up.

“She doesn’t even work here!” she whined.

Sam looked up at you, and his eyes held so much adoration and love for you. “Doesn’t matter. She’s my Omega.”

You saw realization dawn on her. She’d fucked up. “I’ve marked my territory. Cross that line again, Ms. Johnson, and you won’t like what happens. I could get away with murder. I’ve got the ‘hottest lawyer in the state’.” You gave her a triumphant smirk as she paled. “I’ll see you at home, Alpha. You’re going to scrub the stench of her perfume off, and then you’re going to devour me as promised, and knot me.”

“I’ll be home as soon as I can.” he promised. “Love you, ‘mega.”

“Love you too, Sammy.” With that, you turned and walked out, smiling to yourself as you headed for the elevator, excited for Sam to get home.

*If you like this, please consider supporting my work*

Tagging :  Sam -  @evyiione​  @hoboal87​

SPN -  @sandlee44​  @just-another-busy-fangirl​  @mrswhozeewhatsis​   @deanandsamsbitch​  @deans-baby-momma​  @thebescht​ @67-chevy-baby​ @supraveng​   @musiclovinchic93​ @holyfuckloueh​  @ksgeekgirl​   @hobby27​ @maddiepants​  @roxyspearing​ @onethirstyunicorn​    @fandom-princess-forevermore​     @kalesrebellion​   @deanwanddamons​   @thoughts-and-funnies​

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[paint-pilot]

shit it’s been a second, guess it’s time to update again

edit: holy christ this is long, i’m gonna readmore it. tl:dr tyler has many badweird feelings but is getting through it. fun body changes, including hair growth and an unexpectedly nice voice. surgery and legal matters are Annoying. tw for menstruation

it is truly bizarre to think that i’ll have been five months on t in a little under two weeks. another month after that and it’s half a year. it’s uhh...weird. quarantine has just made this all feel weird. it’s like i fast-forwarded through this whole journey i was supposed to go on i guess? like i got randomly torn out of my life one day in march with no warning and then just as suddenly got spat out in august with a new life - new name, new face, new major, new identity - and no transitional period whatsoever. my classmates, my professors, my students, they all have only known me as tyler. and only ever will know me as tyler. and that’s great! it’s great, and i’m truly just blown away by how markedly easy it’s been and how weirdly good my timing was in transitioning. but it almost feels like i’m still a ways behind everyone else, i guess. i’ve spent so much of my life hiding, and lying through my teeth, and covering my ass every second of every day to protect myself, and i don’t have to do that anymore but the instinct is 100% still there and that honestly doesn’t feel good. of course i’m not making any of it up - i’m happier now than i’ve ever been, and i know i’m making the right choice - but it still persistently keeps feeling that way.

it’s just difficult, i think, to balance wanting to be read as male (and, to a large extent, wanting to keep my transness hidden both for safety reasons and so people don’t start treating me differently) and finding it difficult to hide this truly massive life change that, like, four people are really seeing anything of. and y’all, i guess, lol. it’s one thing to talk about all this in therapy, but it’s another entirely to just be able to share it with strangers and not worry about it being weird.

i was writing this with the intent of it being a mostly happy update but i guess there is some negativity boiling up so. gotta be honest, i guess? there’s a lot of fun trauma stuff i’ve been going through lately that i won’t get into but it’s culminated with this bullshit in this really fun way where my mom gets upset because i get kind of uncomfortable when she shows me childhood photos or tells stories about me as a little kid and then i just break down for reasons i really can’t discern. i’m going to try and articulate this, and who knows how messy it’s going to get, so i apologize if it gets kind of incoherent from here on out. as far as i can tell the root thing that she really gets upset about is that i’ve “thrown away” my whole previous identity. like, not a direct quote, but “you can’t just pretend [deadname] never existed. because she did, for a long time.” and...sure, i guess. i know this has been hard on my mom. i know she was raised in a conservative family, and while she has worked hard to adopt an accepting and open mindset she still doesn’t 100% grasp all of it and will make mistakes. i’ve made my peace with that. and yet. it’s not so much, really, that i was this other person and then became tyler, y’know? tyler did not appear suddenly two years ago where she once stood. tyler put on a mask, even before he knew he was tyler, because tyler was scared and ashamed but people seemed to like her and, for a time, she was an easy person to be. and i hated her. that is so fucking scary for me to say, and i’m not sure i’ve admitted that until literally right this second, but i did. not because she was a bad person. because she had a voice and a face and a body that i hated. because people saw her and assumed they knew me. because even she had many faces, because there was no real base or identity to her, just traits designed to paint a pretty picture and make people like her. because i knew, when i finally threw her away, people would miss her. compare me to her. expect me to be like her.

so i don’t know. i don’t have a satisfying way to wrap this up, because i honestly don’t know how to face this because i know it is absolutely not just the trans thing that created this situation. i’m kinda warring with myself, because i do kinda want to go back through this blog and delete photos of myself with long hair and whatever (because jesus, i’ve had this thing since i was like 14) but i genuinely don’t know if that’s healthy. i know i’m going back on my bullshit, fretting this way and that over whether something is “healthy” as though that’s an objective term without considering what’s going to make me happy, but honestly? i don’t know anymore. i keep sensing the mental block - the swathes of my childhood that i cannot recall, just vague, constant unease - and i don’t really know if i want to dig into all of that and learn what lies underneath because i’m sort of afraid of it. like i said, i’m happy now, happier than i’ve ever been, and i’d sort of like to just leave it like that. but i guess the length and tone of this post might argue otherwise.

anyways. anyways. enough mental health therapy, more actual hormone therapy updates since that’s what this goddamn thing is supposed to be i think? i’m finally starting to grow some noticeable hairs - my chin hair is coming back after my mom made me shave it before i left for school lol, as are a handful of mustache/lower lip/sideburn hairs. i keep feeling phantom bugs on my legs/feet and i’ve only just now recognized that that’s just leg hairs brushing against places i’m not used to. my appetite has picked up like absolute hell again, too, so i don’t know if i’m just having a metabolic spurt or what. also, i’ve started bruising more? idk what the hell that’s about - i fucking never bruise unless i’ve been hit Hard, and i kind of assumed testosterone would make you less likely to bruise, but then that’s probably just not related to the hormones at all. i was gonna put this in the tags but seeing as this post is already so long i might as well put a readmore and just put this here lol: my period is late, like, four days late, which is exceedingly unusual for me and might mean i’m finally done. or almost done. fingers crossed.

my voice has started to settle, it seems like. i popped out an e2 yesterday, which is Sick, but i’m not as focused on that anymore as i am on the actual quality of my tone. which is...good? i’m not just a baritone, i’m kind of a good one, at least it seems like. i’m really working right now on just getting familiar with my instrument - i’m second-guessing my pitch sensitivity a lot, but i think i really just need to drill and practice until everything starts feeling like second nature again. but since the musical didn’t happen for me, my coach wants to enter me in a classical solo competition next spring. so...no more retirement from competitive singing. i’m back! and thank god, because i’m starting to go crazy without being in musical work lol.

jesus fuck, i have a lot to say. i should probably split this into two posts but i don’t care. i am frustrated; i tried to get an appointment with a pro bono legal program for a name change, but it happened today and i wasn’t invited so apparently i’m on my own. and i’m frustrated. i’m trying to look at internships and shit for next summer, but i kind of can’t apply right now because my legal name and sex don’t line up with my presentation, and i don’t really know how easy it is to get away with that in this day and age and especially in my field. genuinely, if anyone has any advice, i’d appreciate it. i don’t know how long this will take, i don’t know what the requirements are, i don’t know if i’m better off just applying now and hoping they don’t eliminate me before ever getting me an interview. and, of course, i’m working on getting consultations for top surgery, but i keep catching myself procrastinating that. which seems weird, but listen. i’ve said it before but i have to emphasize, i am capital-t Terrified of getting this surgery. i know i need to, i know it will make things better for me, i know now is the time, i know i hate binding and can’t really get away with not doing so, but jesus fuck i am so frightened of anesthesia it’s not even funny. but i guess i’m mostly just calling myself out here and telling myself to quit being a big baby, schedule the thing, and give myself a few months to prepare.

anyway. that’s all i have to say. i’d apologize for ranting, but honestly...i dunno. i know at the start of all this a handful of you requested these updates, and i have to imagine it’s because at least some of you are transitioning, are thinking of doing so, or know someone who is or will be soon. and i just hope someone out there can at least relate, because there honestly just aren’t a lot of comparable life changes out there. or maybe this is just therapeutic for me, that’s fine too.

i have two midterms next week i should be studying for. i should do that.

[ill-skillsgard]

Damn Straight, Part 1 - Bill Skarsgård

Title: Damn Straight

Description: Past deceptions bring a young couple to Mirth Island, a place of natural beauty and the promise of inner healing. When one of them is introduced to a young man who lives on the island, their budding friendship threatens to destroy more than just fragile trust. Warning: 18+ sex/swearing/drug use/mentions of addiction and cheating

A/N: Here is the first part of my least popular Bill fic. I found this story particularly easy to write and it was definitely one of my favourite stories. I hope you enjoy it! There will be no author’s notes from here on out

She was doing the dishes and humming a tune that she always hummed whenever she got lost in her task at hand. I was sitting at the kitchen table with my laptop open, reading over a line of text that didn't come across to me quite right. With the kitchen sink running and her voice echoing through the kitchen, my logic and my patience got into a fist fight inside my head. I couldn't figure out what was wrong with the sentence and even if I wanted to, the house was full of distractions. I knew I could just put on my headset and listen to some calming music but I couldn't be bothered to get up from my chair. When the water stopped running I heard her footsteps padding all over the wood floor, cupboards opening and closing and the clinking of ceramic. She was putting the dry dishes away. Even that nudged my thought process further away from productivity. It wasn't her fault but I was about ready to take my work into the bedroom just to get some quiet. "So Vye, I was talking to Kat and she said she knows this amazing doctor who helped treat her mom's friend gambling addiction, pro bono. Maybe we could get her contact information and see about-" "No." I interrupted. Cici peered at me from the doorway leading into the kitchen, my coffee mug upside down in her grip. She stared at me with this haunted look of disappointment. I tried not to entertain it and kept my attention on my work. I heard the boards of the floor creak as she went back into the kitchen. It was quiet until she shrieked, her cry followed by the sound of something smashing violently against something else. I shot up from the table and ran into the kitchen to find her, a crumpled mess on the floor and shards of my favourite mug all over the ground. "Cici, what the fuck!?" I yelled. "My dad gave me that cup!" "What is your FUCKING deal!?" She cried hysterically at me, tears pouring down her flaming red cheeks. "What is YOUR fucking deal? You just broke my dad's cup! I don't have hardly a thing that belonged to him and you just fucking-" "Your dad this and your dad that! Yes, Vye, we all know your fucking dad is dead and about your daddy issues and how you're so fucked up about it but what about ME!? What about what YOU did to ME? You don't even seem to give a flying fuck about ME anymore! You don't even want to get fucking help because you don't give a shit about anything! Especially not me!" She slumped over and cried harder. I watched with wide eyes as she twisted her hands in her lap. The scars on her arms peeked out from underneath the gray cotton material of her college pullover. Her sobs filled the room and I suddenly forgot all about the cheap brown ceramic mug that I had inherited from my dad. "Cici... Jesus Christ. I'm sorry, okay?" "No, you're not." She whined, using her sleeve to wipe at her dribbling nose. "Yes, I am, goddamn it. Don't tell me how I feel. I hate it when you do that. I'm saying sorry because I am sorry." "If you were sorry you would be open to getting help. You would want to fix yourself." She said. I inhaled and exhaled deeply, feeling my heart rate start to climb down. I knelt down next to her, careful not to step on any shards of the broken cup. With my arm around her, she melted back into my chest, no doubt enjoying the feeling of closeness. It was no mystery that I felt an immeasurable amount of remorse for her and what had happened but she still liked to find ways to utilize that against me. Lately, she had been spreading it quite thin to cover her ass when she had these insane freak-outs and there was hardly a thing I could do about it. Nothing I did was right in her eyes. Nothing I did would convince her that I didn't hate her. In reality, I was suffocating in silence. I had an immense workload and Cici yapping at me like an untrained puppy for attention all the while I had a ghost looming over me that liked to whisper awful things in my ears at all hours of the day. It kept me up at night and tired me out during the day. She refused to acknowledge that I was underneath just as much, if not more stress than her. But that was the thing about Cici. She was the Queen of drama. Ever since we were young she liked to be the center of it all. If some kid got hurt on the playground and began to cry, Cici got hurt even worse and started to scream to make sure all eyes were on her and it worked the majority of the time. It was hard to ignore a screaming blond-haired blue-eyed girl. She knew how to work a crowd. The day she took it took it too far was a landmark in my world. I didn't think she had it in her to pull the ultimate distraction stunt but she did and she made me rue that day for now and forever. She liked to throw it in my face constantly like a net, making sure I was still entangled in my guilt, solidifying my never-ending debt to her. She continued to cry and I rocked her a little, shushing her and wrapping her up in my arms to help her calm down. "Okay... I'll start looking for help. I'll do some research on what support groups are available." She whipped around and looked at me, smiling through her tears. "Really?" "Yes. I will. " I replied. "Can I ask Kat about couples therapy?" "Maybe... You know I hate therapists." "Vye..." She whined again. "Okay, okay. Ask Kat. But I would really rather go to an open group or something." Cici's sadness turned into pure elation and she got up off her butt and threw her arms around me, only pulling back to plant a hard kiss on me, wetting me with her tear-stained cheeks. "Thank you Vye." Dejected, defeated once more and already regretting what I had agreed to, I hugged her back with as much enthusiasm as I could muster. ~*~ I opted to work from home on Friday. I woke up feeling weak, heavy and unwilling to get myself into the shower. I called my boss and told him that I couldn't make it in and luckily, he didn't seem to mind. I wasn't sure if it was because he felt bad for me or if he was just too busy with other things to care if I was present or not. I changed into a clean pair of underwear and socks but put on the same pajama pants and sweater that I had been wearing for the last two days. To say I didn't care about my appearance would be an understatement. Opening my laptop from the comfort of my bed, I began to work on my latest project. I figured if I could bang out six thousand words by lunch that would be a good enough accomplishment to allow myself to maybe leave the house to go get something to treat myself with. Maybe a cupcake from the cafe up the street or a sugary latte. Something to congratulate me on getting work done or just continuing to be alive in general. When I left the house I did manage to put on some publicly acceptable clothing. I was most certainly depressed but I still had a small shred of pride and I didn't want anyone I knew spotting me wearing pajamas in public. It was mostly the fear of ridicule that prompted me to do simple things like that. I ordered a double chocolate zucchini muffin and an Americano at the cafe, smiling when the male barista asked for my name. "Vye, like dye but with a V," I said to him, the spiel already a thousand times rehearsed in my head. "Cool... Vye. That's a nice name. What's that short for? Violet?" He asked as he spun a biodegradable paper cup in his massive hand. "Nope. My parents were just those people that gave their kid a one syllable name." I said with a playful shrug and a smirk. "Awesome." When I got my coffee it said 'Vie' on the side of the cup. Whatever. Nothing new there. I smiled at the guy again and took my cup to the table I had set up camp at. I pulled my hood over my head, opened my laptop, inserted some earbuds and started working away, periodically stopping to rip off a chunk of my muffin or to sip my coffee. It was nice just to be left alone and before I knew it, I had spent two hours in the cafe clicking away on my laptop like a mad woman. Satisfied with my word count, I decided that was all the work I needed to do for the day. For once, I actually felt like I had accomplished what I set out to do and that gave me more satisfaction than I had felt in a long time. My mood was elevated and when I got home Cici was already there, fluttering about like a bee, landing delicately on this thing and that, adjusting the placement of her candles, wiping the dust off the bookshelf and rearranging the throw pillows on the sofas. She was humming again and to me, it sounded like a song and not just mindless buzzing. When she saw me smiling she smiled too and tiptoed up to me to place a chaste kiss on my lips. "So I have some very good news for you. Well, it's for both of us, really." She claimed. "Oh yeah? What's that?" I prompted her. "So I talked to Kat..." I felt my heart skip a beat or two. "She said that there is this place that we can both go to, like a couples retreat." I sneered, much to Cici's admonishment. "No, no. It's not like how it sounds. It's this little resort and it's like a community of people that have these kinds of support circles on the beach." "I don't see how chanting 'Kumbaya' with a bunch of strangers would be helpful," I said, wary of what was to come next. She giggled, "Would you just listen? It's not just that. They have workshops for struggling couples, sex therapy, tantric sex practices and gurus. No doctors or anything. It's just a big open place where couples go to find healing and enlightenment." "Enlightenment? Sounds like a place with a lot of Kool-Aid." I tittered. "If you want, we can go talk to Kat to get a referral. I told her about you and us and how you don't want to lay on a couch and talk about your problems. She said this place is like a vacation and it's exclusive and beautiful and... You know, our kind of thing." "Hm... Sounds expensive." "Well, we have been saving a while for a vacation. Maybe this could be it. You do want to get better, don't you? And I want you to get better and this place sounds like a lot of fun." I bit the inside of my cheek, contemplating. "I don't know. I guess let's talk to Kat about it first." "Yay! We have a meeting with her tomorrow." I rolled my eyes. It was already beginning to sound like I had no choice in the matter anyway. When Cici took the reigns, I was forced to just sit back and allow her to run with whatever it was she had her mind set on. I didn't need another violent episode and I didn't want any more broken objects so I agreed to the meeting. Later that night while we were in bed, Cici rolled over and started to pull at me. I knew what that meant. Grimacing in the dark, I acted like I was already asleep. "Vye..." She whispered. I didn't reply so she nudged me even more. "Vye." "Hm?" She didn't say anything. She slipped her hand underneath my shirt and my body tensed up. "Cici, I am beyond tired." Pulling her hand away, she rolled over and huffed in frustration. I opened my eyes and looked over at her underneath the mounds of the blanket. Sighing, I rolled towards her and hooked my arm around her hip, pulling her little frame closer. "Sorry," I whispered, pressing a kiss to the back of her hair, inhaling the scent of her shampoo. "When will we-" "I told you that I can't. Not for a little while longer." "Fine." I held my breath in anticipation for a bigger retaliation but it didn't come. For that, I was grateful. Fighting in bed was something I dreaded the most and luckily, she was not in the mood to continue. "I can't wait to talk to Kat tomorrow," she said slowly. "Yeah..." ~*~ We sat in Kat's waiting room for a few minutes after we arrived. It was a typical waiting room, lined with chairs and end tables stacked with old issued magazines. There was a bookshelf laden with encyclopedias and granite Komainu bookends that were no doubt brought over from Japan. The whole room had a Japenese-Hindu-Buddhist-theme to it, although Kat was anything but foreign. There was a little bonsai tree on the receptionist's desk and hand-painted pictures of paisleys and oms lining the walls. It was hard not to scoff at the conflict of culture. It was so 'white girl' that I couldn't keep my eyes from constantly rolling to the back of my head. When we entered Kat's office I saw the dreaded chaise lounge that I had been doing everything in my power to avoid. Luckily there were two seats in front of the desk that we could sit on like dignified people. Cici and Kat squealed at each other and hugged, expressing their shared contrition of not having seen each other in so long. I simply shook Kat's hand. We had all gone to the same schools so Kat was already well aware of all the history behind us. There was not a lot to explain but I felt like I was going to be forced to open up about some things that I hadn't quite given a spoken voice to yet. This was what I was trying to not do, the very thing that I hoped to avoid. "So, it goes without saying that you have the right of doctor and patient confidentiality. Whatever is said in this room will not leave these walls." The opening spiel was not as long and drawn out as I thought it would be. I attributed that to the fact that Cici had already been in contact with Kat for weeks prior to the meeting. I wouldn't have been surprised if Kat already knew every little detail of every tiny thing that had happened between us within the last few months. "So, Vye, I'm sure Cici has already told you about the resort. What are your thoughts? Do you have any questions?" I squirmed uncomfortably in my seat, Cici's eyes bored into me with excitement. I was sickened by how much pleasure she was getting from having finally sat me down in front of a doctor. I hated this and she knew it yet she was still practically bursting at the seams. "Yeah, I have questions. What is it? Cici told me some stuff but it sounds a little ambiguous to me." I began. "Well," Kat started, folding her hands in front of her in that proper doctor way. "The resort is called Mirth Island and it is exactly what it sounds like; an island resort for people that are in happy relationships that just want to explore new ways of being together." "Still, sounds pretty vague to me." "Shush," Cici hissed. "Let her talk." Kat smiled at Cici and then looked back at me. "Mirth Island has a lot of beneficial programs for couples that are experiencing troubles in their relationships. There is group counseling available which is just like any other support group except for it's on a beach and there are no judgments. I have a few friends from school that teach there as well." "Teach?" I pressed. "Yes, there are workshops for couples that want to experience a deeper connection. It's like a mixture of sex therapy and sexual education. There are actual practices as well." "Like... Sex practices?" "It's totally optional. Everything available there is completely optional. You are not obligated to attend any circles or sessions. Sometimes couples just go there to be get away and find enjoyment around other like-minded people. It's all very open and honest." "Sounds like a sex cult." "Vye..." Cici said warningly. "No, I'm curious." I stopped her. "Do people like... Fuck each other there? Is it all like open-relationship type people? Like a swingers getaway?" Kat smiled at the both of us. "Not quite. Although I am sure there are couples there that do engage in things like that but like I said, everything and everyone there is very open and accepting. You do not have to engage in anything that you do not want. You can simply go there just to reset the batteries but I do strongly recommend trying some of the circles. They can be very awakening." I sat back in my chair and took it all in. It did sound nice to go to a secluded island where I could relax. Cici seemed to think it was a great idea and if that made her quiet about me going to therapy then maybe it was something to consider. "They also have sex-addiction counseling," Kat not-so-casually brought up. I looked over at Cici who did what she could to avoid my stare. There it was. With that little revelation alone I knew that she had been talking to Kat about more than just my depression. "It's all very safe and loving and non-judgmental, I assure you, Vye. I really do feel like the both of you would benefit greatly from an experience like this." "I'll have to think about it for a little longer," I claimed. "What is there to think about?" Cici chimed immediately. "It's perfect! We have been saving for a vacation and what better way to spend the money than on something that might help the both of us? It sounds amazing to me." "I can write a referral for you two today if you want Vye." Crossing my arms, I sat in silence just to show that I was feeling a little ganged up on. In my mind, I already knew what I wanted but I relished the thought of Cici sitting there in suspense. For once, I had the upper hand and I didn't want to give it away so easily but the way her big blue eyes begged at me made it difficult to keep a straight face. "Fine. All right, I guess we'll go then." She gasped, looking back excitedly from me to Kat and back again. "Yes! Thank you, Kat! I can't wait. Aren't you excited, Vye? I can't wait!"

[yourplayersaidwhat]

We had just finished our first quest, where none of us really were experienced DnD player, and I did some feeble attempts at solid DM'ing. The goal of the quest had been to find an antidote for a farmer’s son who had gone into a magical coma.

(ps: due to an inside joke, Winnie the Pooh is in the party like, just there. Christopher Robin is the farmers son who fell ill. The party coloured winnie the pooh neon pink. I don’t know why.)

DM: You reach the farm. You don’t have to roll shit to figure out these peeps are poor. They have a cow and a goat in a small pen that don’t look too hot. Oh, and there’s a donkey tied by the door to their shedlike home.

Elf Ranger: guys i think these peeps are super poor.

Half-Elf Cleric (only good aligned partymember): oh my god really????

DM: just as you say that, the door creaks open, and a thin, a bit aged man peeks out, and when he sees you, his eyes go wide and he steps fully outside, and he says “Are you the ones my daughter sent to- have you found it? Did you find the antidote for my son?”

Half-Elf Cleric: Hello we are here to speak to you about Jesus Christ- I mean, Njord. That’s my deity, right?

Elf Ranger: Yeah, the word of Njord.

Dward Fighter (whose alignment is sorta fuzzy): Yeah we got some antidote dude but uhh time cough up some gold pieces, aight

DM: So- these news fills him with both glee and fear. He sinks down on his feet-

Half-Elf Cleric: What was he on before

DM: -His knees. He sinks down on his knees, and he brings his hands together in your typical prayer like- he’s begging you. “Please, we have… nothing.”

Tiefling Warlock (Chaotic Neutral): sad trombone

DM: “Please, I- I have but one son, he and my daughter are- we won’t be able to do the amount of work- we need him!”

Tiefling Warlock: “Shall we move on, my fellows?”

DM: As you guys speak about this, Winnie the Pooh slides down from /Half-Elf Cleric/’s shoulders, where he’s been perched, and sort of waddles forward, past the begging father, and into the house, to join Christopher Robin.

Half-Elf Cleric: AWWWWWW

Dwarf Fighter: Ey he didn’t swipe the antidote from us, did he?

DM: No- no, you still got that.

Tiefling Warlock: I would’ve Eldritch Blasted his ass if he had.

Half-Elf Cleric: I think we should just give them the antidote.

DM: Like- just to clarify: the antidote is not like- a valuable thing. It’s just this one specific conconction for this particular- you won’t get more cash out of this anywhere else, nobody is gonna run up to you and go “oh, my father is in a magical coma and needs an antidote that-!” like. It’s literally worthless except for these people.

Tiefling Warlock: But we won't have to help someone pro bono.

Half-Elf Cleric: *annoyed sigh* I don’t give a damn about money.

Everyone except her: *horrified gasps*

Dwarf Fighter: … well, you guys do got a nice ass-

Everyone: WHAT

Dwarf Fighter: the donkey. You got a nice donkey.

DM: You… want the donkey.

Half-Elf Cleric: IS IT EEYORE

Everyone: YES we want the donkey.

DM: … The man looks at the donkey and then at you, and he goes “I- If it is a trade between the life of my son and my donkey, it’s- then it’s yours.” And- and Eeyore looks up at you all-

Everyone: YES IT’S EEYORE

DM: -and he goes “I figured I was going to get sold anyway…”

Half-Elf Cleric: AWWW

DM: and the farmer goes “AAA” cus he didn’t know he had a talking donkey

Dwarf Fighter: eyy hasn’t he seen Shrek talking donkeys means cash

DM: yeah well that doesn’t matter now cus he’s giving him to you guys

Dwarf Fighter: right you are

DM: and the man unties Eeyore and he sighs deeply and he goes “this surely won’t make things easier for us… but in exchange for my son… *sigh*”

Tiefling and Dwarf: oh stop moping around jesus hell

Half-Elf Cleric: EYY if I have a ‘set of commoners clothes’ can i give them to them cus they look poor right

DM: I guess

Half-Elf Cleric: EYYYYYYYYYYYY

DM: but then you’d be naked

Half-Elf Cleric: NÄÄÄIJ in that case fuck it you don’t get shit i’m sorry i tried

DM: -and you just start taking of your clothes to give them to the man, but you realise halfway through what you’re doing and you get dressed again

Tiefling: cover yourself, woman

DM: so- let me get this straight. You guys literally have a box on wheels that you pull along with you, and it is filled… with the golden heads of a pair of statues AND YOU WANNA TAKE THIS POOR FAMILYS DONKEY.

Tiefling: survival of the fittest, honey *grabs rope with Eeyore on the other end*

-they go inside and give Christopher Robin the antidote-

Christopher Robin: what the fuck

DM: And the family all rejoice at the awakening of their son, and they turn and thank you, and they’re in the middle of hugging you all when the farmer murmurs “They… they took the donkey.” and the whole family just. Goes quiet-

Dwarf Fighter: fucking tattletale?

DM: - and the mother sort of sinks down on her chair and she whisperes “How will we surviv-”

Tiefling: Oh for fucks- “look, woman, if you don’t shut up I’ll Eldritch Blast your ass-”

Half-Elf Cleric: “HEY WHAT”

DM: The woman gasps loudly and pales-

Dwarf Fighter: “Yo what’s the problem don’t you want a talking donkey”

Half-Elf Cleric: “I meant the whole threatening to KILL HER actually”

Tiefling: “I wasn’t threatening her, I was just stating a fact”

DM: That if she wouldn’t shut up you’d kill her?

Tiefling: It’s a very known fact.

DM: Winnie the Pooh is looking at Christopher Robin with such glee; it’s really indescribable how happy he’s looking, and he’s hopping around happily and he’s climbing up on the bed to give him a big old hug, and Christopher Robin, he goes- “What the- could you guys like take the bear away from me.”

Everyone: “WHAT”

Half-Elf Cleric: “Isn’t he like with you?”

Christopher Robin: “Wh- no? I just went into the woods and he just came up to me, and I found this ruin and he just followed me? And then I got stung by something and that’s all I remember? Could you like take him away he’s a bit creepy. And why is he pink?”

Half-Elf Cleric: “Well uhh he’s yours now. You don’t have a donkey anymore, so-”

DM: And this sorta comes as news to him cus when the father told the fam he had just woken up so he was a bit disoriented so now he goes “Wh-Why is-? What happened to our donkey?” And the father, he goes “Well, son, it was their demand to give you the antidote… and-”

Tiefling: “By the way… can we get this transaction on paper?”

DM: - and the boy turns to you incredulously, and he goes “But-! You can’t! We need that donkey, without it we’ll die!”

Dwarf: “You’re young and strong, boy, time to saddle up.”

Tiefling: “You got a bear now.”

DM: - And Christopher Robin starts to cry too, and he goes “You might’ve saved our lives, but you’ve killed our family-”

Dwarf: “Anywho, gots to go.”

DM: So, you go to leave the shedlike home, and the athmostphere is next to devastated-

Dwarf: “Okay, okay, I ain’t okay with this. We go here and save your life, and you guys are devastated? Really?”

Tiefling: “I agree entirely. Ungrateful runt.”

Cleric: “I-”

DM: “And Chrisopher Robin slams the door in your face.”

Cleric: “No, I was- I was gonna whisper to him "I didn’t want this, I wanted to let you have it for free-”

DM: -Okay, so you whisper that, and he just stares you down, and he shakes his head, and tears are falling down, and he just spits out “You’re just as bad as them for letting it happen anyway,” and he throws the door shut in front of your face after doing that.

Cleric: “GODDAMNIT”

DM: okay so like just to state- like, you guys are super welcome to just. give them something on your own accord, like, out of your own pocket, you picked up som gold in that temple, so if you want to-

Cleric: I WANNA GIVE THEM 100 GP

Tiefling: WHAT “NO, NO, DON’T” ok so I try to pursuade /cleric/ not to do it.

DM: You- you can’t roll to make another player do stuff they don’t wanna do.

Tiefling: Okay, uh “Hey, /cleric/. Don’t do it.” There, you’re pursuaded.

Cleric: … yeah, nah. I give them the gold.

DM: So- you hammer on the door and you shout “I GOT GOLD FOR YOU” or something like that, and Christopher Robin opens the door, and once he sees the gold you’re extending, he- he is so happy. He takes the gold and he goes to hug you, and the entire family comes out and does the same, they can buy like 3 donkeys now i dunno how GP works in dnd yet uhhh so-

Tiefling: Fuck this, I eldritch blast Christopher Robin.

Cleric: NO YOU DON’T i stand in the way.

DM: -Fine? Uh, roll an attack roll.

Tiefling: Twelve.

DM: You miss. You hit the ground.

Tiefling: … don’t I hit the house at least?

DM: NO YOU- WHY DO YOU WANT TO BURN THE HOUSE DOWN

 Cleric: WHY WOULD YOU STILL ROLL WHEN I WAS STANING IN THE WAY- YOU TRIED TO KILL ME

Ranger: All of this for a donkey

DM: Nah, dude, you got the donkey. This is because /Cleric/ gave them 100 GP

Ranger: Oh okay

Dwarf: Yeah, but they’re super ungrateful. Bastards.

Cleric: Yeah but we can’t KILL THEM for that??

DM: so the family, they- after the attempted murder, they run back into the house. 

Dwarf: Did they take the gold?

DM: Yeah.

Dwarf: Rat bastards.

DM: Does /Tiefling/ want to keep his spree of 'teaching people some manners’ going or?

Tiefling: Nahhh. But he does cast sleep on /Cleric/ cus he’s pissed.

Cleric: haHA i’m a half elf and I can’t be magically put to sleep!

Tiefling: Nvm then I’m tired.

DM: So- you guys walk away from the house, and just for a moment you hear the door opening and then quickly closing-

Ranger: No

DM: -and you turn, and- Winnie the Pooh has been tossed out of the house.

Dwarf: THIS IS WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT when Njord taketh a donkey he giveth thee an illuminescent bear, and they just TOSS HIM OUT

DM: - and Winne the Pooh sits on the ground very- very sadly. Had he had tear ducts, he would cry a single tear. He is on the ground-

Ranger: Still pink?

DM: Still pink.

Cleric: :’(

Ranger: ugh FINE let’s take him with us.

DM: You go and pick him up, and he is so happy. So, so happy.

Dwarf: what are we, collecting Winnie the Pooh characters?

DM: He’s on /clerics/ shoulder again-

Tiefling: Can’t we put him on Eeyores back?

Dwarf: Can’t we put EEYORE on WINNIE THE POOH’s back?

DM: You put Eeyore on Winnie the Pooh back, and you now have a donkey on top of a bear on the ground. They are not moving.

Cleric: Oh dear.

DM: And Eeyore sighs and goes “I knew I’d be too heavy”

Everyone: “AWWWWWW”

[duocorpora]

susurrus

HEAVENLY WORDS - NOT ACCEPTING

||susurrus: (n.)  whispering, murmuring, or rustling

It’s two days before Christmas, and Dean is fixing up thekitchen sink for mom. It always chooses the worst moments to give up on itself,but no matter how often Dean tries to convince her to just replace the wholething, hell, the whole kitchen, mom won’t. She’s a stickler for the things shelikes, and she’s adamant that the kitchen has done right by her, and she’sgoing to do right by it.

Which is why Dean’s spent the best part of an hour on thefloor, hands grimy and skin flushed from the warm-up of wrestling with theplumbing, making the most of those little boxes of chocolates that mom scattersaround the house at Christmas, even though she’ll spend all day complainingthat she’s eating too many of them.

He and Sam are grown men, now; they don’t spend Christmas athome. Not like they used to.

They all gather for dinner, in the evening, sticking aroundfor a couple of drinks and a squabble about which of them helped mom with thedishes last year before they end upall helping out, four of them squeezed into the little kitchen and getting ineach other’s way, hindering more than helping, before they all part ways again.

Sometimes there’s more of them. Lisa had come, one year, andfit right in, even if she’d been a little overwhelmed by it at first. Sometimesless, like the year that Sam – bleeding heart – had been working, right upuntil ten pm on Christmas day, at which point he’d managed to deliver a guyhome for the last two hours Christmas, straight from the jail he hadn’tbelonged in. Sam had even driven the guy home himself. Whole thing had been probono and Sam had been exhausted, even when he’d seen Dean the next day, but Deanhad never been more proud, even if he’d missed Sam at the table.

This year, they’re gearing up for a Sam-less Christmas. Deanhad helped him pick out some over-expensive jewellery – well, he’d beenpresent, at least, bitching and whining that Sam was being such a girl about the whole thing, and what’sthe difference between rose gold and white gold, anyway? – and he knows thatSam’s got plans.

Not quite the Big Question plans, but some pretty big plansnonetheless.

So this year it’ll be three of them, and Sam has promisedthat he and Connie will try and drop ‘round for a drink or two, but Dean’spretty sure they’re going to be holed up at Sam’s apartment, instead, probablyscrewing like newlyweds on the rug in front of Sam’s fake fireplace.

He doesn’t mind, not really. If Sam’s happy, that’s prettymuch the extent of what Dean could ask for.

He’s finishing up when he hears the front door. It takes hima long second to realise that everyone in the house is accounted for – mom inthe living room, feet curled up underneath herself and a good book in her hand,dad upstairs murdering some innocent wrapping paper, and himself in thekitchen, wiping off his hands. Which means –

   “ – Sammy?” hecalls out, and grins when his brother appears at the doorway.

“Hey, Dean.”

It’s warning bells immediately. Sam loves Christmas, isbouncing on feet from December 1st onwards, just like he did when hewas a kid and Dean was restraining himself with immense control from revealingthat Santa was actually dad. Today, Sam’s shoulders are curled in and the smilehe hands Dean is shallow at best, and there’s a weary set to him.

“What’s up?”

“Nothing.”

Dean snorts. Sam’s a spectacular liar when it’s for work,when he’s working one of his slightly-underhand-but-not-technically-illegalplays that are devastatingly intelligent and inevitably successful. When it’sabout him, he’s just about the shittiest.

“Bullshit. C’mon, man.”

Sam deflates an inch or two, and makes his way into thekitchen, settles himself against one of the kitchen counters with his handsshoved in his pockets and his head bowed, just a little. Dean settles in nextto him, so that their arms are pressed together, and waits.

“Connie left me.”

Dean feels his breathleave him like a blow.            

“Two days before Christmas?” he finds himself saying –appalled, disbelieving – and regrets it when Sam quirks an eyebrow up at him. No shit, Sherlock, I’d noticed. “Whatthe fuck? Why?”

“Too much time at work, not enough time with her.”

Sam’s wry tone makes it clear what he thinks of that, and it’sprobably exactly what Dean thinks about it, but with fewer curse words. A girldoesn’t just decide that in the middle of the two weeks her long-time boyfriendtook off for Christmas so they could spend it together.

“What a bitch.” Sam sends him a look, but Dean meets it with an unrepentant one of his own, becausehe means it. Ditching his little brother right before Christmas, when there’s apair of earrings and a matching necklace neatly wrapped in a drawer at homethat cost more than he makes in a month? That’s just cold, and if he’d ever hadany respect for Connie, it’s gone.

There’s a long moment of silence.

“You okay?” Dean asks, even though it’s a stupid question.

“Yeah,” Sam says, even though it’s a stupid answer.

They stay like that for another ten minutes, side-by-sideand silent, before Sam gathers up the courage to go and face mom. She’ll bedevastated for him, all soft sympathy and hugs and brushing his too-long hairout of his face, and Dean’s well aware how hard it can be to stay stoic in theface of that gentleness. He lets Sam go alone.

Mom cooks, so Sam stays, so of course Dean stays, andsupplies a ready stream of conversation that’s nothing to do with Connie, atall, not even tangentially. He digs deep for stories from before Connie wasaround, things that Connie was never privy to. It’s all fine right up until dadasks what Sam is going to do for Christmas.

He doesn’t mean to be cruel, but Sam deflates, just alittle.

“You can come spend Christmas with me,” Dean suggests beforehis tongue has checked with his brain is that’s okay. “Die Hard, some killereggnog, it’ll be good.”

“You’ll both spend Christmas here,” is what mom has to sayto that, decisive. “We’ll set up the sofa bed. It’ll be just like old times.”

And that’s that: once mom has spoken, then it’s decided. Theonly thing Dean is at all apprehensive about is sharing a sofa bed with hissasquatch of a brother, and not just because he’s got more limb than any humanbeing ought to be in possession of.

But they leave after dinner and turn up the next day,overnight bags hastily packed and padded out with presents that all get heapedunder the already crowded tree. They spoil each other, all of them, even thoughevery year there’s a chorus of youshouldn’t have and another one? Itold you I didn’t need anything!

They watch some black-and-white movie in the evening andDean graciously lets Sam eat all the pralines from the box of chocolatesbetween them, and Sam’s okay. He’s a little quiet, long legs drawn up onto thecouch and the reflection of the television flickering across his glasses, buthe laughs at all the right parts and he joins in when Dean starts to croonalong with White Christmas, untilthey’re warbling together in a cacophonous noise that has mom rolling her eyesaffectionately and dad lobbing a caramel at them.

Dean catches it, neat, and keeps on singing even when thechocolate is unwrapped and shoved in his mouth.

They wrestle the sofa-bed into submission at eleven, and momhugs them both on her tip-toes, both the boys bending down to accept the kissshe presses against their cheek.

“Don’t stay up too late,” she faux-reprimands them, likethey’re teenagers again, too old to be put to bed but too young to be sensibleabout doing it themselves. “Santa won’t come if you’re still awake.”

“Pretty sure Santa’s already out for the night,” Dean says,and Mary laughs as she looks over at John, dozing in the armchair, and goes totug him to his feet.

There’s a fight of sorts when they’re sliding themselvesinto bed. It’s oh my god, Dean get off,and it’s well maybe if you weren’t sotall, Jesus Christ, Sammy, and it’s push and shove until eventually they’vewedged themselves into some semblance of comfort, and it’s only Sam’s arm that’sstill trying to find a comfortable spot.

“Here,” he says, and tugs at Dean until he lifts his head,and slides it under the pillow so that when Dean lays his head back down it’swarm, even through the pillow.

“You’re gonna regret that later,” Dean says, knowingly. “Whenyour entire arm is numb and you’re trying to move it without waking me up.”

“Who said I’d try and do it without waking you?” Sam snortsin reply. Dean shoves an elbow back, not hard. Jerk, Sam says, and Dean breathes bitch, and they settle down into comfortable silence, and Dean doeshis level best to ignore the way his breath is caught in some kind of knot highin chest at Sam’s proximity, at the heat he’s radiating out like a furnace.

He closes his eyes, and lets himself revel in it, a little, becauseit’s Christmas, and he’s asleep before he even knows it.

Sure enough, Dean is woken at four in the morning by Samdoing his level best to slide his arm free, inch by inch.

“Told you,” he says, voice sleep-edged and rough, and liftshis head so that Sam can lift an unresponsive, clumsy arm. Dean can feel ratherthan see Sam’s wince in the darkness.

“Yeah, yeah,” he murmurs, voice low. “You’re right again,smartass.”

Dean laughs a little, and tries to roll over, and doesn’thave enough space, and settles for sitting up, instead. He catches sight of theshadowed piles of presents in the corner of the room, and thinks unbidden aboutthe two neatly wrapped presents that Sam must have left at home. There’s a pangof sympathy and rage towards Connie, and then he’s crawling down to the end ofthe bed – almost getting kicked in the face when his hand lands on Sam’s kneerather than the mattress – and leans off the end of the bed, fingersstretching.

“Dude,” Sam whispers in the darkness. “What are you doing?”

Dean grins back at him, latches onto what he’d been reachingfor, and lobs it in Sam’s direction. Sam manages to catch it just before hithits his face, which is probably lucky since it’s actually pretty weighty.

“Remember when we used to sneak down at ass o’clock and openone and hope that mom and dad wouldn’t notice?”

“They always did,” Sam pointed out.

“Yeah, well, they never bitched about it,” Dean points out. “That’spretty much explicit permission.”

Dean leans out again, hooks up a present with his name on itthat he’d seen Sam put under the tree, yesterday, and wriggles his way back upthe bed. Sam’s sitting up, now, and Dean tucks himself under the blanket, shufflingclose into Sam’s side to do so.

“What’s life without a little risk?”

“Simple,” Sam says, but he eases off the tape on one end ofthe present. Dean’s always been a tear-it-off kind of guy, but Sam does thiscareful thing, one end and then the other and then the tape in the middle andthen unfolding the paper. It used to drive Dean crazy, because mom and dad would make them take it turns to openpresents, and he’d been impatient as hell. He’d sit and he’d egg Sam on, andSam would continue to open his slow and steady and determined.

Just because they’re grown-ass men doesn’t mean he’sstopping now.

“Come on, Sam,” hegripes. “It’s not like you’re going to re-use the paper. Just rip it.”

Sam does no such thing, but takes the time to stick achildish tongue out at Dean before he smooths out the paper to reveal theleather case, burgundy. His finger brushes over the silver logo and when heopens it, his lips tip upward into a smile immediately.

As far as Dean’s concerned, a pen is a pen. But Sam hadtalked wistful about the only thing he missed about the corporate bullshitworld: the fact that his office had come with a pen, a proper fountain pen,weighty and classy and in its own leather box.

Dean had almost choked when the vendor had told him how mucha pen could run to, and had needed afew minutes before he’d handed over his card. Still, he wasn’t going tohalf-ass a present for Sam, and judging by the reverent way Sam’s fingers driftover the marbled enamel of the pen, Dean did good.

“Alright, nerd,” Dean says. “Enough with the stroking.”

Sam closes the box, careful, and sets it to one side beforehe throws his arms around Dean, and Dean can’t help the yelp that leaves him asthey topple under Sam’s weight, sofa bed creaking dangerously as Sam hugs him.

Dean’s laughing, and trying not to, aware that mom and dadare asleep not too far away, that waking them is a dick move, even if it is Christmas.

“Get off me, youweirdo,” he says, and tries to shove Sam’s face away, and gets a wet stripelicked across his palm for his effort. Sam’s always been more like a kid atChristmas. Dean wipes his hand on Sam’s back with a gross that he doesn’t really feel, and shoves his brother away withslightly more determination. Feels a little better when there’s more than abreath’s worth of space between them.

“Now, let’s see what we’ve got here,” he says. “It betternot be a porno calendar again.”

Sam sniggers.

“You hung that up in the ‘shop,” he points out.

“Yeah, but I could have done without opening it front ofmom.” Sam leans over to see which present Dean’s plucked up, and he looks alittle sheepish when he sees it. Dean had picked it because it was small,figured it was just a little something extra.

“I, uh, kind of blew it all on this one,” he admits. “Theothers are just dumb. You can open one of those, if you want.”

Dean hesitates, then shrugs a shoulder. “Bet they’re allawesome,” he says, and tears into the paper without ceremony or any attempt tolocate the neat strips of tape at the ends. It’s a little box, like a ring boxonly slight bigger, and Dean raises an eyebrow. Sam shoves him.

“Open it,” he says, and there’s a warning there not to makeany dumb jokes, and Dean doesn’t, because he can’t think of any that won’tremind Sam of the jewellery he didbuy this Christmas, and which will be going straight back to the store unworn.

It’s a key. It’s a key with a label attached that reads inloopy handwriting that’s not Sam’s: ‘1969 Chevrolet Camaro Z28’. Dean blanches.

“It’s a wreck,” Sam warns.

“Just the way I like ‘em,” Dean says, and he’s grinning andhe’s buoyant and nothing Sam could say could really knock the shine off a new project, like this, all his own and no one coming to pick it up out of the garage once he’s done.

“It’s got no wheels,” Sam points out.

“I’ll find some.”

“It’s a rustbucket.”

“I’ll fix her right back up. She’ll be perfect in no time.”

They carry on, back-and-forth whispers, and Dean’s gotanswer for every single one of Sam’s reservations, until he punches himnone-too-gently on the shoulder and says dude,shut up, it’s perfect, and just as Sam’s pointing out that he couldn’tpossibly know that because he hasn’t seen it yet, the light flicks on.

They look up, guilty, surrounded by the scraps of thewrapping paper Dean had torn apart and huddled under the blanket.

“It really is just like old times,” mom says, and she’s wrappedup in a big robe and for all that her tone is annoyed, her eyes are fond.

“Sorry, mom,” they chorus together, and she breathes a laughand shakes her head and levels a finger at them.

“Just one,” she says, sternly. “And go back to sleep.”

“Sure thing,” Dean says, just as Sam says, “promise.” She flicksthe light back off and trudges back upstairs, leaving them in the dark.

Sam folds himself back under the blankets and Dean followssuit, and squeaks in a very unmanly way that he’ll deny to the death when Samunexpectedly rolls towards him and clings on tight, face pressed in at Dean’sneck.

“Thanks, Dean,” he breathes, and Dean knows this isn’t thanks for the present. He wraps an armaround Sam back, shuffling himself deeper under the blankets with a sigh.

“Any time, Sammy. Merry Christmas.”

They wake up like that, later, all tangled up and too-hot,and they have pancakes for breakfast and they all open presents, rowdy, andthey start drinking at twelve and they eat Christmas dinner and they all do thewashing up, like every year, and Sam only looks forlorn for two or threemoments.

Dean feels a little guilty for thinking that this? This isthe best Christmas he can remember.

[fathersonholygore]

FX’s American Horror Story Season 7, Episode 9: “Drink the Kool-Aid” Directed by Angela Bassett Written by Adam Penn

* For a recap & review of the previous episode, “Winter of Our Discontent” – click here * For a recap & review of the next episode, “Charles (Manson) In Charge” – click here Kai Anderson (Evan Peters) narrates the story of the Heaven’s Gate cult, their mass suicide. “Leaving the vehicles of their bodies” to ascend into the stars. All that garbage. About the theories of Marshall Applewhite, whom we get to see Peters play briefly, too. There’s mentions of David Koresh, another cult leader Peters plays for us, and the tale of the Branch Davidians, their clash with the federal government. There’s lots of talk of “divine semen,” men under Applewhite’s rule who had themselves willingly castrated, and all sorts of madness that plays into patriarchal ideology. The “Kanye of leaders” is Jim Jones, founder of the Peoples Temple. He brought everybody to Guyana, where they formed Jonestown. Afterwards, when a congressman showed up to see what they were doing down there, Jones fed his followers Kool-Aid, killed others, and took them all out with him. Jim Jones: “And to me, death is not a fearful thing. It‘s the living that‘s fearful.” The point is: cults are destructive, cult leaders are insane, and all these groups do is bring about death. Kai’s in the basement, telling all HIS followers about these men. Everybody has their nicknames, from Sandstorm to Pus Bucket to Tripod. Their leader’s trying to get through the concept of loyalty. Moreover, we discover further Proud Boys satirical links in that these lads don’t jerk off, afraid to give too much of their power over to women. Hilarious, if it weren’t actually a real group this is based on. “Wait, are we a cult? I thought we were a political movement.” At the next council meeting, Kai rants about everything from Candy Crush to “fake news” just as all the good little Trumpites do. He wants to start regulating, or, y’know, censoring views opposing their own, the same these types claim is happening to them. The Kai Anderson Internet Freedom and Integrity Act is passed, not without a large bit of intimidation. Then the Divine Ruler announces he’ll be running for senate, as well. We jump over to the Mayfair-Richards home, where Ally (Sarah Paulson) demands answers from Ivy (Alison Pill), why she’d join a cult, terrorise her, others, so on. Ivy essentially wanted to be told what to do, after the election loss, to not worry about trying to make her own place in the world. She cries, admitting she hated her wife. Yet it’s all a bit trite, isn’t it? And too late. She’s fed into the cult, she allowed people to die, to let Kai ascend to a god-like status. Ugly stuff. Ally’s only still in it with Ivy for their boy Oz. Best of all, she’s overcome her fears, even so far as to give her boy a Twisty comic. Then there’s Winter (Billie Lourd), giving more excuses for her behaviour. It took for her brother Vince a.k.a Dr. Rudy to be killed before she saw the darkness. Beverly (Adina Porter) is stuck in isolation, while the women believe to escape the cult they’ll have to run away. But Ally’s done running. A bunch of the cult meatheads show up to take them to a meeting. They’re brought to the basement, kept there like prisoners until the Divine Ruler arrives, rambling more insanity. He breaks out a big pot, full of Kool-Aid. They’re gonna “do something radical.” He spoons out a bunch of cups. However, they aren’t just for the ladies. Everybody will drink. So the leader points to each member, they must sip the poison. When one guy refuses, Gary (Chaz Bono) guns him down. Bev takes her drink willingly. So do Ally and Ivy, then Winter. The lads follow, screaming like apes. Although none of them are being poisoned. It’s just a test, like Jones himself did with the Peoples Temple before their actual suicides. A test of loyalty, commanded by the Divine Ruler. Kai: “This is not suicide. It is a revolutionary act.” Back at home, Ally tries getting the women ready for escape, under the noses of the crazy men. When she and Ivy go to pick up Oz, he isn’t at school. The nanny and someone else came to get him already. Cut to the basement, where Oz sits with Kai a while. What the greasy cult figure does is wedge his way into the boy with chauvinism, talking about how everyone “has a daddy.” He uses misogyny to subtly break through the kid’s defences. Moments later it’s onto the pinky game. This is when the parents arrive, looking for their boy. Oz almost drinks a bit of Kool-Aid before they get downstairs. This leads into Kai saying that the boy is his son. He’s been giving donations at the clinic where Ally and Ivy got the sperm. Oz is even calling the guy daddy. Oh, man. This is fucking sickening. And all of a sudden the tables have turned on Ally once more. How do the women move forward from here? Murder is most certainly on the table, as well as the fact Ally says she’s got a plan. At home, again, the wives eat together, sip on wine. Unfortunately for Ivy, the plan involves a reckoning for her, too. Her wife isn’t so forgiving of all the shit that was brought down upon her. Revenge was her cure. Ivy never suspected there was arsenic in her pasta and wine. Ally: “I only want two things in this life – I want Oz all to myself, and I wanna watch you die. Halfway home.”

Kai tells of what happened post-mass suicide for Jim Jones. Jesus (Peters) came down and kissed the dead leader on the forehead, returning him to life. A resurrection. Complete with a high five from Mr. Christ himself. After that Jim resurrected everybody, apparently. At least that’s what the Divine Ruler tells his Proud Boys. Although Oz doesn’t believe any of that, especially when he’s searching it all on Wikipedia. The only one smart enough to question this dude’s idiocy is a little boy. But Kai rants at him, that he’s the “only one” who knows the “ultimate truth.” Sound a bit familiar? Herr Trump? When Ally goes to pick up Oz, she discovers he isn’t there. He and Divine Ruler are off somewhere. So she heads over to the fertility clinic, looking for information on the man who is the father of her child. She’s desperate. The woman at the front desk helps her out: Kai is not the father. That night, Ally makes Manwiches for her and Kai. They talk about Oz. When they sit for a bit of food, he asks about Ivy, so she tells the truth. He’s impressed. She also plays up to him the idea he IS Oz’s father. She had the woman at the clinic do up a fake file, to look as if he’s the one who fathered the boy. This is what will be the man’s weakness, he believes the “messiah baby” has already been born. Helps that he’s got a place to store Ivy’s corpse, up with his parents. And it keeps Ally close to her enemy, close to her son. Another wonderful chapter of this wild season! One of my personal favourites so far. Peters is an amazing actor, he can sink into the skin of all types of characters. “Charles (Manson) In Charge” is next week. Can’t wait to see Peters as Charlie. American Horror Story – Cult, Episode 9: “Drink the Kool-Aid” FX's American Horror Story Season 7, Episode 9: "Drink the Kool-Aid" Directed by Angela Bassett…