#dodge houston

[riveroakscars]

Your Premier Chrysler Dealership in Houston, TX

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[stastrodome]

Fun Facts. 100% verified.

“Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now”, the theme song for TV's Perfect Strangers, was composed by Brian Eno.

On a dare, poet Sylvia Plath once ate a cranberry-scented candle at the Yankee Candle Company in Deerfield, Massachusetts.

The Hoover Dam project was undertaken so the money from construction contracts could be funnelled to cover Herbert Hoover's gambling debts.

The actor who plays "Larry the Cable Guy" (Daniel Whitney) started out as a dramatic actor who had a recurring role as "Blaine Silver" a hotshot divorce attorney on the short-lived NBC soap Sunset Beach.

In 1976, to try and cash in on the success of the movie Jaws, Dodge-Chrysler manufactured a car called The Big Fish.

[2trilldaniel]

🐬🐬🐬

http://www.instagram.com/danielthatrillest

[hawkesoutdoor]

Looking for an auto shop that cares about your time, has great service, and a good price? Give us a try at Hawkes Outdoors in #SanAntonio #Texas 210-251-2882. #repairs for #everyone

[riveroak-tanuj]

2024 Ram 1500 Laramie in Texas for Sale | Ram 1500 Laramie

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[thethief1996]

Israel has just bombed a hospital where hundreds of wounded and refugees were taking solace. Journalists in Gaza have reported there was hardly a single body whole in the aftermath (If you can stomach it, there's a video of a father holding what remains of his child). At least 500 people killed by IOF soldiers, who planned this action, got into an airplane and dropped that bomb willingly. The deadliest attack in five wars, according to the Ministry of Health.

Israel has denied ownership of the attack and said it was a misfired Hamas rocket. Originally, they celebrated it on their social media, saying they had destroyed a Hamas target, treating the deaths like an unfortunate collateral. After international backlash, they posted videos to their social media claiming it was a Hamas rocket. The video, though, shows a second explosion 40 minutes after the airstrike, and they edited it our of their tweet in a pathetic attempt at covering up.

Israel has said multiple times that they were going to bomb hospitals. They told doctors to evacuate and leave their patients to death because they were going to bomb, namely: Al Shifa, Shuhada Al Aqsa and the Quwaiti Hospital. Al Shifa housed at least 10.000 refugees and wounded, and worked as a hub for the press because it was one of the only hospitals that still had working generators. Medical crew worked with sirens blaring to signal the hospitals were not empty. This was a purposeful massacre. These people died hungry, thirsty and in pain because of the Israeli government's cruelty.

CNN and other media outlets already tried to pin the blame on Hamas, parroting back the pathetic propaganda being sold by the IOF. Even in death, Palestinians can't be respected and are used to further their own oppression. These people's deaths are not going to be in vain. Within our lifetimes, Palestine will be free.

Take action. The Labour Party in the UK had an emergency meeting today after several councilors threatened to resign if they didn't condemn Israeli war crimes. Calling to show your complaints works.

FOR PEOPLE IN THE USA: USCPR has developed this toolkit for calls

FOR PEOPLE IN THE UK: Friends of Al-Aqsa UK and Palestine Solidarity UK have made toolkits for calls and emails

FOR PEOPLE IN GERMANY: Here's a toolkit to contact your representatives by Voices in Europe for Peace

FOR PEOPLE IN IRELAND: Here's a toolkit by Voices in Europe for Peace

FOR PEOPLE IN POLAND: Here's a toolkit by Voices in Europe for Peace

FOR PEOPLE IN DENMARK: Here's a toolkit by Voices in Europe for Peace

FOR PEOPLE IN SWEDEN: Here's a toolkit by Voices in Europe for Peace

Protests in support have already erupted in Beirut, Madrid and Rabat in response to the shelling of the hospital. Join your local protest and raise your voices. For people in the US, Israel has just asked for additional $10bi in aid on top of the annual $3.8bi already given to them. Palestinians are asking that you refuse this loudly, with their every breath.

Here's a constantly updating list of protests:

Global calendar

USA calendar

Here are upcoming events:

WASHINGTON, DC: Outside Congress on 18/10 at 12 PM

WASHINGTON, DC: NATIONAL MARCH in front of the White House on 4/11 at 12 PM

SAN DIEGO: 2125 Pan American E Rd. (Spreckles Organ Pavillion) on 18/10 at 7 PM

NEW YORK: 72nd st. And 5th ave., Brooklyn on 21/10 at 2 PM

NEW YORK: CUNY Grad Building on 18/10 at 2 PM

NEW YORK: Oct 18, 5pm, Steinway & Astoria Blvd.

DALLAS: 1954 Commerce Street (Dallas Morning News Building) on 19/10 at 3 PM

[CAR RALLY] KITCHENER-WATERLOO: Fairview Park, 2960 Kingsway Dr. on 18/10 at 6 PM

KITCHENER-WATERLOO: CBC Building, 117 King St. W on 19/10 at 5 PM

HOUSTON: Zionist Consulate, 24 Greenway Plaza on 18/10 at 4 PM

OMAHA: 72nd St & Dodge St on 18/10 at 6 PM

SAINT PAUL, MN: Oct. 18, 5:30pm. State Capitol, 75 Rev Dr Martin Luther King Jr. Blvd.

BALTIMORE: Oct 20, 6pm. Baltimore City Hall

DUBLIN: Leinster House, Kildare Street, Dublin 1 on 18/10 at 5 PM

THURLES: Liberty Square on 19/10 at 7 PM

LURGAN: Market Street on 21/10 at 3 PM

PORTO ALEGRE: Rua João Alfredo, 61 on 18/10 at 19h

RIO DE JANEIRO: Cinelândia on 19/10 at 17h

RECIFE: Parque Treze de Maio on 19/10 at 17h

MANAUS: Teatro Amazonas, Largo de São Sebastião on 19/10 at 17h

SÃO PAULO: Praça Oswaldo Cruz on 22/10 at 11h

FOZ DO IGUAÇU: Praça da Paz on 22/10 at 9h

TSHWANE: Belgrade Square Park, Jan Shoba Street on 20/10 at 10 AM

VEREENIGING: Roshnee Sports Grounds on 21/10 at 14h30

Feel free to add more resources

[nicorobinohara]

The Meeting of Minds.

—————————————————————————

-Aunt scientist of Senku-

(OC-seiko)

Part 1:

It was heavy inside Xeno Houston Wingfield's underground hiding place. The dim light of the lamps cast shadows on the stone walls, illuminating the serious faces of the soldiers under his command. In the center of the enclosure, attached to a chair and tied firmly, was Gen Asagiri.

Despite the unfavorable situation, the mentalist still maintained his characteristic smile, although his eyes showed a slight discomfort.

- Ugh... this is too tight. - He complained, twisting his wrists inside the ties. - If you want a civilized conversation, Xeno, tying up your guest is not the best way to start.

Xeno, who was calmly reviewing some notes about the rocket project, looked up at Gen, but before he could answer, something changed in the environment.

A sound.

Low. Quick. I need it.

Stanley, who was next to Xeno, raised the gun in an instant, his sharp senses detecting the subtle movement coming from the corridor. But before he could react completely, one of the guards fell to the ground with a deaf thud.

Xeno narrowed his eyes. This was not a common attack.

The other soldiers took out their improvised weapons, but then, before they could do anything, a figure emerged from the darkness, moving with surgical precision.

It was a woman.

His hair was identical to Senku Ishigami's, but it was stuck in two forward braids, framing his face impeccably. His eyes, of the same golden hue, shone in the light of the lamp with an analytical intensity.

She wore practical clothes for exploration and fieldwork, and the posture indicated that she was not a simple adventurer - every step she took was calculated, efficient.

Gen blinked when he saw her.

- Oh, finally, my savior arrives!

Xeno kept his expression neutral, but his mind was working at a thousand per hour.

- You must be Seiko. - He said, already deducing her identity.

She smiled slightly, without taking her eyes off him.

- And you must be Xeno Houston Wingfield.

The scientist crossed his arms, evaluating her.

- A woman of multiple specialties, they say. Scientist, engineer, mathematician, apothecary and also with practice in medicine. It seems too good to be true.

- For a man who built a civilization from scratch, you should be more used to dealing with prodigies. - Seiko countered, taking another step forward.

Stanley kept the gun pointed at her, but Xeno raised a hand, signaling him to wait.

- Did you come alone? - He asked, intrigued.

Seiko tilted her head slightly.

- Are you implying that I would need an army to get Gen out of here?

Xeno let out a soft laugh.

- Interesting.

It was the only warning he gave before moving forward.

Seiko noticed his movement at the same moment. Xeno was not only a scientist - his brilliant mind was also accompanied by an impressive physical capacity. He tried to grab her wrist to immobilize her, but Seiko already foresaw this movement and deviated, turning her body with agility.

Her counterattack was accurate. With a slight movement, he pressed a specific point on Xeno's arm, causing an involuntary reflex that made him let go of his attempt to grab her.

Stanley finally shot, but Seiko had already pulled Gen away, dodging the shots with an agile jump.

Xeno massaged his arm lightly, still feeling the impact of the pressure. He looked at Seiko with a curious glow in his eyes.

- You're not just theory. You know how to apply it in practice.

- It would be shameful to depend only on words when you live in a world without advanced technology. - She replied, already positioning herself near the exit.

Gen waved to Xeno with an amused smile.

- It was a lovely visit, but I think I prefer my freedom.

Before they could stop them, Seiko launched a small explosion of smoke - a chemical trick he created with apothecary herbs and minerals available in nature. The dense smoke filled the place, making everyone cough and lose their sight for a few seconds.

When the fog dissipated, Seiko and Gen had disappeared.

Stanley lowered the gun, grumbling.

- That was humiliating.

Xeno, however, didn't seem frustrated. On the contrary.

He looked at the point where Seiko had been moments before, a small smile appearing on his lips.

- Fascinating...

Stanley stared at him, skeptical.

- Don't tell me you liked her.

Xeno just adjusted his gloves and went back to his table.

- I would say it was a first impression... thought-provoking.

He knew that wouldn't be his last date with Seiko. And next time, I would be even more prepared to face her.

—————————————————————————

Just an image of how seiko would be:

[theoutcastrogue]

Cartoon depictions of the homeless increasingly reflect the hostility of today’s political leaders toward people on the streets. We’ve gone from images of charming hobos with bindles to zombies taking over cities. If you consume any news at all, you’ve probably noticed that the United States is pathologically cruel to its homeless citizens. This May, the brutal killing of Jordan Neely—who was strangled to death, at the age of 30, simply because he was unhoused and shouting on the Manhattan subway—captured the national spotlight, but it was just one of many such cases of unprovoked violence. In January, two cops reportedly kidnapped a homeless man in Hialeah, Florida, drove him to an “isolated and dark location,” and beat him unconscious. That same month, art dealer Shannon Collier Gwin faced battery charges after he sprayed a homeless woman with a hose outside his San Francisco gallery, barking “Move! Move!” at her. (Predictably, Gwin got a lenient plea deal of just 35 hours of community service.) Elsewhere in the city, homeless San Franciscans have been attacked with chemical bear spray on at least eight occasions. Other assaults have been more impersonal but no less vicious. On July 14, the city of Houston abruptly closed its only public cooling center in the downtown area, potentially condemning anyone without shelter to suffer heatstroke in 90-degree weather. Among the property-owning class, the phenomenon of hostile architecture—sidewalks with spikes that stab anyone who tries to sleep, benches with iron bars, and the like—has become de rigueur. The widespread callousness and lack of compassion are both infuriating and hard to comprehend. How on Earth, we might ask, did things get this bad? [...]

Looking back at older cartoons, one of the things that stands out immediately is the absence of negative attitudes toward the homeless. In fact, during the Golden Age of animation, creators seemed to have had a real affinity for the poor and unhoused, often placing their most iconic characters in that role. There’s a wonderful 1948 Warner Bros. short called “Riff Raffy Daffy,” in which Daffy Duck is looking for a place to sleep—first on a park bench, then a trash can, and finally a furniture display in a shop window—and has to dodge the harassment of the police, as represented by Porky Pig in a little blue uniform. (Literally, the cop is a pig!) Or, in the 1950 cartoon “Homeless Hare,” Bugs Bunny’s rabbit hole is destroyed by a new construction project, leading him to unleash his usual slapstick mayhem against the developers until they put it back. In these cartoons, homelessness is something inflicted on people by outside forces—gentrification and the real estate business, in Bugs’ case—and something which can be successfully resisted. Even Disney cast a homeless dog as a romantic lead in 1955’s Lady and the Tramp, contrasting Lady’s sheltered naivety with Tramp’s superior knowledge of the world. The title invokes the memory of Charlie Chaplin’s “Tramp” films, which similarly brought dignity and humanity to the role of a homeless man. (Bugs Bunny, too, takes inspiration from Chaplin, and multiple Warner animators have drawn him as the Tramp.) In 1961, Hanna-Barbera’s profoundly underrated Top Cat followed the adventures of a gang of wisecracking Manhattan alley cats, who, like Daffy, are always outwitting a meddling policeman. At worst, classic cartoons may trivialize the suffering and danger associated with homelessness—there’s a certain recurring image of the carefree hobo carrying a bindle, which paints the whole subject in a romanticized light—but the homeless themselves are rarely disparaged or made the butt of the joke. Quite the opposite. 

It took a few years, but cartoons caught up to the Reaganite turn. In episodes from the ’90s and early 2000s, there’s a palpable shift in the way homeless characters appear compared to earlier decades. The perspective is different: we’re now seeing them through the eyes of comfortably housed characters, rather than their own. Often they don’t even get proper names. [...] This trajectory leads us, perhaps inevitably, to SpongeBob SquarePants. [..] Squidward gets accused of stealing a dime by his comically greedy boss, Mr. Krabs, and quits his job in a fit of outrage. We then flash forward to see Squidward, now bedraggled and unshaven, living in a cardboard box on the street and begging for change. [...] Mercifully, the ever-cheerful SpongeBob gives Squidward a place to stay—but the moment he’s safely off the street, Squidward turns from a sympathetic victim of circumstance into a lazy, entitled freeloader, straight out of a Reagan speech. He makes no effort to find work and loafs around SpongeBob’s house for ages. [...] Eventually, an exasperated SpongeBob writes “GET A JOB” in his alphabet soup, before shoving him (bed and all) back to work at the Krusty Krab. [...] Worst of all, though, the episode suggests that homelessness can be solved on an individual basis if the people in question simply stop being lazy and “GET A JOB.” This is the biggest myth of all. In 2021, a statistical analysis by the University of Chicago found that 53 percent of people in homeless shelters, and 40.4 percent of unsheltered people, do have jobs. The problem is that their wages are too low, and rents are too high. According to statistics from the same year, it’s impossible for someone working a full-time, minimum-wage job to afford a single-bedroom apartment in 93 percent of U.S. counties, and there are no states in which someone can rent a two-bedroom space on the current federal minimum wage of $7.25 per hour. In other words, homelessness has little or nothing to do with personal responsibility, or lack thereof. It’s a consequence of large-scale economic decisions made by landlords and bosses. [...]

— Alex Skopic

[stusbunker]

Spotless: Col Legno

Chapter Forty

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader

Other characters: Very briefly Sam, Donna, Benny, Jody, various fans, Kevin and Patience

Word Count: ~7800 (and you thought last chapter was long)

Warnings, etc: The tour continues, Dean keeps Trouble in the Austin hotel for a secret mini vacay. Adorable couple things, Dean gets to show off his oral skills, mild ass play, some exhibitionism via pointed masturbation, and plenty of regular p in the v smut.

Series Masterlist

Dean flinched as his hand brushed skin beneath the hotel room sheets. Then his waking mind reminded him that it was you there beside him. Instead of inching away, he slid closer, and molded his body to your side. It felt so right wrapping you up and holding you close. He never wanted to let go.

“What time is it? Nevermind, I don’t want to know. Don’t let me even look at my phone,” you murmur-moaned as you stretched within his hold.

“Deal, no phones. All we got is time.” Dean smiled to himself and smelled your hair, before nuzzling closer.

The week and a half you had been together had been a fucking whirlwind. Between shows, the band, the fans, and the road, Dean just wanted some time alone with you. And after that night’s show, he was going to take it. He had already extended his stay in Austin an extra three days. He figured he could rent a car to make it to the Houston show in time. Pam and Lee were taking a redeye home after the show to see Gibson anyway; Sam and Kevin could make do without him, too.

There were always Jody and the girls to keep them busy on the road.

Dean sighed and ran his palm down your bare arm, enjoying your softness. You shivered and pulled the covers higher, hiding all that smooth skin from the morning air. But not from Dean, who found you beneath the blanket easily and returned to his subtle affections.

He drifted in the warmth of your presence, knowing you had gone back to sleep already. There had been a lot of things weighing on Dean with this tour, and most of them were beyond his control. But this thing with you was different. Amazing and scary and big. But mostly, it felt like winning the world series immediately after opening day. Sure there was an entire tour still ahead of him, but if he got you, nothing else felt as daunting. Even the paps and the suits had become far off worries.

You had always been someone he could lean on, but now he got to give you the same kind of support back. Bonus: he got you naked and in his bed. 

How lucky could one guy get?

Eventually, Dean got up and went about his morning bathroom routine, leaving you to sleep as long as you liked. He ordered room service while making coffee, and gave in to the temptation to scroll through his phone while you rested. It was barely after ten, and you both had plenty of time before you had to be at the venue for soundcheck and the meet-and-greet.

“Austin, it's been a pleasure. Goodnight!” Dean’s voice fought against the applause from the final encore. He blew kisses and squinted into the darkness, exhaling after a rigorous show. They hadn’t swapped to acoustic all night, which meant that his voice was rougher than usual. It being their second show in a row only exacerbated that fact.

He unplugged his guitar and handed it to a crewmember. Before he made it to the wings, Sam was slapping a bottle of water into his hand. “Right on.”

They drank between exhausted grins. 

“Nice job, Sammy.” Dean didn’t know why he chose that moment to point it out, Sam was a true professional, but sometimes it was nice to hear it.

“Yeah, good show, man.” Sam finished off his water. “I told Patience we’d grab some food after Pam and Lee head out. You in? Or—?”

Dean smirked. “Let me talk to the boss first.”

Sam shook his head. “Figures.”

“Come on! Don’t be like that.” Dean went to kick Sam in the ankle, which Sam easily dodged.

“I’m not. Really. I’m happy for you two. Seriously.”

Dean relented and handed Sam his empty water bottle back, which Sam took on instinct. “Let’s go get cleaned up.”

The dressing room was a bustle of people taking shots, changing clothes, and sorting gear. Charlie and you were talking with Donna, while Benny made something close to hurricanes at the makeshift bar you leaned against. Lee and Pam were giving out hugs and kisses as they hustled to make it to ABIA on time.

“Hey!” Dean grabbed Lee by the shoulder and pulled him in for a noogie. “That’s for Gibby, tell him Uncle Dean misses him.”

Lee pinched Dean’s side where his shirt had rucked up and broke free from his hold. “Asshole, better be nice or I’ll tell him you didn’t say shit.”

Dean rolled his eyes and gave Lee a kiss on the cheek. “There, ya big baby!”

Pamela slinked forward and dragged Dean into a hug. “Heard you’re taking a few days. That’s good. Have fun.”

Dean pulled back and looked her in the eye. “Yeah, haven’t told her yet, but yeah. You too. Be safe.”

Pamela winked and smirked. “Always am.”

“Bye, guys!”

A chorus of farewells sent the couple on their way, and Dean to your side. He glanced around the room, making sure it was just his people there before he slid his arm around your waist. You didn’t even stop your story to let him into your space, you simply angled your hips and threw your arm behind his back, drawing him into the conversation.

“---so, yeah, we’re never doing Asheville again.”

“Whoa! Can’t say that I blame ya,” Donna exclaimed.

“Wish we could say the same about Chicago,” Charlie muttered, intentionally getting under Dean’s skin. But he just flipped her off instead of taking the bait.

“Benny! Those things ready yet?” Dean broke in.

“Been ready, brother. Ladies? Bottoms up.” Benny slid the solo cups forward and everyone grabbed one. It was overly sweet and strong enough to make Dean’s mouth pucker, but he drank it all the same, forgoing the meeting of cups in the middle of the group.

“Cheers!” Charlie said and everyone else took a drink.

The night had only just begun. 

Dean, Chief, and Jody stood outside a convenience store, waiting for you to head to some club or another you had heard about. Charlie, Nancy, and Benny had gone ahead. 

“Dude, is that Dean Winchester?!” a deep voice, not very quietly, asked from a pack of passing dude bros, all of them right around Adam’s age.

“Hey man, are you?” A braver soul asked.

“Guilty,” Dean said before blowing out a stream of smoke. Chief straightened up and Jody crossed her arms as the group all turned to see for themselves.

“Dude! That is so tight,” another one says.

“Can I get a pic— if you don’t mind?” 

Dean eyed the group carefully before nodding. “Sure, okay.” 

He handed his square off to Jody for safe keeping and rubbed his hands off on his jeans before stepping closer to the huddle of fans. The guy who first noticed Dean, leaned in and held his phone in the air, but the streetlights weren’t bright enough and the natural reflex to the flash killed the final shot. “Ah, man, we look high af.”

“Let me,” you said, seemingly out of thin air, taking each of the guy’s phones and snapping pose after pose until you ended with your own. “These are great! Do me a favor and tag the band for me when you post them?”

“Anything for you, sweetheart,” one of the punks had the nerve to say.

“Watch it, sonny,” Jody said in her best mom voice. Which earned her some laughs and the guy some ‘oo’s’. 

“Thanks! Have a good night now,” the first guy said as he convinced his crew to keep moving in the opposite direction. 

Once they were out of earshot Dean remembered his cigarette, which had burned out under Jody’s watch, and had been tossed into the street. 

“Another one for the road?” You offered after you tucked your phone back into your bag. 

“Nah, let’s get out of here,” he passed. Instead he kept in step with you as you lit one for yourself, carefully keeping his hands in his pockets and off of your ass.

The club was an absolute waste of a cover charge, but that didn’t stop Charlie and Nancy from getting totally knackered on their overpriced cocktails. Dean hated places like that, where everyone only wore designer duds and they sneered at his out-of-date phone. He was a fucking millionaire; he didn’t have anything to prove. 

When the bartender made a judgy face your way, Dean had had enough.

“Last round, guys. This place ain’t all that it's cracked up to be, if you ask me! On to bigger and better things,” Dean said loud enough for more than just his entourage to hear.

The look of pure shock the chick gave him as she handed him back his black card almost made up for her earlier vitriol. Almost. Dean gave a sassy salute and marched everyone back out into the windy spring night.

Just as Dean’s feet hit the pavement, a body slammed into his side. He spun and bent, nearly tossing the guy over his back, when another bigger body stopped him.

“There he is!” Sam’s voice boomed. “Fucking priss, what were you doing in there?”

“Pissing on the 1%! What are you assholes up to?!”

The groups joined once more, with the bodyguards planting themselves at the corners as Dean and Sam’s combined presence was enough to draw eyes from every direction. Kevin was lucky he was so short, Dean thought, not for the first time. They came around a bend and the Proud Mary sat waiting on a side street, like a beacon in the darkness. Bobby, however, looked about dead on his feet.

“How is he still up?” Dean muttered to Sam.

“Dunno, maybe Annie made him.”

“We coulda walked, man.”

“Tell me about it,” Sam agreed. 

“Nah, I called him. After the frat boys, I didn’t want to play nice,” you explained over your shoulder. Dean shouldn’t have preened at that, it was Bobby doing more than he had to. But there was something about you looking out for him, and maybe being a little possessive of his time that felt good.

“Damn, I’ll take it,” was all he said.

The ride back to the hotel was twenty minutes of drunken stories and a couple rounds of ‘Never Have I Ever’. In the privacy of the bus, you parked yourself in his lap. Finally, Dean was able to feel you against him after a very long night of playing platonic. Just to have to leave room for the holy ghost in the hotel lobby. But as the band and friends trickled out of the elevator one floor at a time, Dean eased further into your space. 

“How’s the socials looking?” he asked, looking over your shoulder as you scanned your phone.

“Good. Lots from the show. Some speculation about things. But mostly positive. I’ll look at it more once we’re on the road tomorrow though,” you said decidedly, before switching apps.

Dean didn’t say anything about his plans to miss the bus in the morning, but he did think of all the places he could hide your phone and laptop if he had to. In his corner of the elevator, Sam swayed with his knowing nod. Kid was sloshed, but he could handle himself. Probably had a facetime with Madison waiting for him anyway.

The elevator dinged and you marched towards Dean’s room without an upwards glance. Dean trailed after you with a passing “night, Sammy.”

“Later, Dean.”

Dean watched you walk toward his room, shoes in one hand and phone in the other, head down and legs bare. He’d seen you like this countless times, but the thrill of you waiting for him to let you into his space, to share a night with him was still so surreal, so awesome, he let himself take it all in.

It took you a few beats to realize Dean wasn’t opening the door. When you did look up and hit him with a questioning face, he knew he had been caught. He silently kicked himself and shuffled forward, pulling his wallet out of his pocket to retrieve his room key.

“Time for bed?” you asked, like he was simply tired and not struck dumb by his feelings for you.

“If you insist,” Dean murmured as he swung the door wide.

The look in your eye told him you were ready for anything but sleep. You sprang on him the moment the door clicked shut, deadbolt and shoes be damned. Dean caught you against his chest easily, mouth fitting against yours with a certainty of purpose. Dean hummed at the taste of you, cigarettes and the tang of your last vodka tonic. 

“Let’s get you comfy, hm?” He offered, fingering your crossbody bag on your hip. 

“On it,” you said urgently, tossing it over your head and dropping it on the floor beside your shoes. Your phone was placed on the first flat surface you saw and then your hands were on his belt. Dean chuckled and kissed your neck, breathing in the way the night had clung to your skin. 

“Trouble,” he rumbled. “Let me tonight?”

He bent his lower half out of your reach, while he nuzzled at your jaw playfully. You whined and tipped your head to give him better access. 

“Please?” He whispered in your ear while his fingertips tugged at the belt loops on your shorts. Your hand came up and held him still, cupping his cheek as you let him think you were internally debating his merits. “It’ll feel so good— for both of us.”

You sighed. “I know. I’ve heard all about your skills. I just have to psych myself up a bit.”

Dean’s mind became television snow and he let his hands fall off your waist. He stepped back and braced his oral game for yet another rejection.

“If you don’t want me to—”

You covered his mouth with a firm palm. “Oh my god! YES! Of course I want you to. Let a girl relax a little.”

Dean bit his lips around a grin. You were adorable when you got flustered. Your hand was still over his face, letting you feel what he was doing anyway.

“Such a shit.” You shook your head and stormed toward the bed. Dean watched as you took off your jewelry, leaving it in a small pile on your bedside table. Then off came your bra through the sleeve of your top. You slipped out of your shorts and rounded the bed to get back at him. Dean swallowed, unsure if he should say another word and ruin his chances, or just drop to his knees and beg. Your blouse didn’t reach past the swell of your hips, the unseen, yet exposed curves of your ass teasing him as you approached.

Dean stood still, and so fucking hard.

This time, no one spoke. You popped up on tip toes and kissed him. Shamelessly, he kissed you back, his tongue chased yours until you peeled off his shirt. Your hands roamed his back, nails digging into the meat of him. It wasn’t close enough. He kicked out of his shoes, while still trying to kiss you. His hands worked on getting closer to your bare skin that was just out of reach.

You graciously pushed down his pants and boxers, which he frantically kicked out of.  The smooth fabric of your top sent shivers down his back as your bodies collided, his dick pinned between you. He held you close and dragged you with him onto the bed. He had a fleeting worry about precum stains on your clothes, but then you climbed on top of him and his upstairs brain effectively turned off.

The heat of your pussy leached through your panties as you dragged yourself over his entire length. Dean groaned against your jaw, but he wouldn't let himself get distracted.

"Nuh-uh," he said, oh so smoothly.

Dean rolled you onto your back, careful to keep his dick away from its target for as long as possible. But still gave a little thrust to the sheets to ease some of the aching.

"You said I could. Can I?" Dean asked again, voice catching in his throat as he stared into your eyes. Let me love you the best I can, he thought.

You squirmed beneath him, and still he waited.

"Dean," you whined, rubbing against his side. God, he would never get tired of hearing his name in your mouth.

Dean pulled back while he waited for you to say yes. He felt your body trying to follow him, but he held you in place, one hand on your tummy, sliding up the fabric of your shirt. He kissed your bad knee, and nosed around the scars. Then started teasing the inside of your thigh, just rubbing his lips over the impossibly smooth skin before gently nipping with just his lips. 

You huffed as you hauled yourself up on your elbows to glare at him. Dean smirked. "Fine! Just get me naked already, Jesus!"

Dean did not gloat, but he did listen and dragged your panties down your amazing legs. He could smell your arousal on the air, and his mouth watered knowing he would finally get to truly taste you. But first, he needed you completely bare.

Dean kissed you as he pulled your shirt over the last of your hair. He hummed into your mouth as you tried to distract him with reaching hands and an eager tongue. He slowed the kiss down and settled you back against the pillows, fingers gliding over your nipples in teasing swipes.

"Just relax, that is what you wanted, right?" Dean quipped and started mouthing down your body.

The thing was, Dean knew your body. Not just from the past few times he got to see it bare. But from years of friendship as well. He knew wet states made your knee ache. That there were times you worked out too hard and you made yourself stiff for days on end. He knew how you got cold easily, but you would still wear flip flops to grab complimentary hotel breakfast in Minnesota in January. But he also knew, your knee wasn't the only place you had scars.

The car accident was brutal in every way imaginable, Jo's death included. But the ways it shaped your skin would never truly be gone. Dean had made his peace with the accident long ago, but he knew you may never be able to, not entirely. So he kissed the scars and eased your legs apart and made sure not to put any weight on your right leg for long.

He slid lower down your body, tasting and teasing as he went. Your fingers played with his hair and stroked over his shoulder, distractingly sweet. Like you couldn't let go, like you needed to feel him too.

He looked up once before he dove in, just to see you. To check in. But your face was already thrown back with closed eyes. So he exhaled and started slowly. Your thighs filled his palms and he stretched out his fingers to feel it all. My cup runneth over, he thought as he felt your flesh shape around his digits. He kissed the seam between your leg and your mound, and dragged his lips over to the other side. He kissed and lapped each lip until you were weeping for him. 

He loved the noises you made, even the ones that sounded fake, because he knew you were trying to be encouraging.

He pulled you open and drank you down, licking up each side until he couldn't wait any longer. He hadn't thought you could taste better than you smelled, but being surrounded by it, he knew how wrong he had been. He sucked your clit into his mouth and you cursed his name. He rolled his tongue over that magic button and you pulled him closer by the roots of his hair. His eyes watered from the force, but he nestled closer and let you grind against his face. 

"Easy," he rumbled, pulling back once you released your hold. "Gently, Trouble, gently."

He blew a stream of cold air over your folds, making you twitch and goosebumps form up and down your legs. He went back to teasing you with his tongue, but this time it was with the smallest hint of pressure. Dean used the tip of his tongue to draw pleasure from parts of you you'd never seen. Then his rough fingers started to trace circles around your entrance and your ass, a promise of penetration. 

"Dean," you begged.

He slurped up your want. "Yeah?"

"Please!"

"What do you need?" Dean dragged his tongue flat and lazy up your slit. "Huh?"

"Fuck! Just anything!"

Dean smirked, trying not to get too smug. Obviously, he wasn't doing something right. But seeing you so strung out was still satisfying in itself.

"More or less?"

"More! Just get in me already, Christ!" You almost yelled at the ceiling.

Dean perked up and saw you clutching at the pillows beside your head. "Hey, look at me?"

You groaned, but cocked your head down a bit awkwardly.

"Like this?" Dean asked as he slid two fingers inside your swollen channel. God, you were so warm, so right.

Your body curled in on itself and Dean watched as you relaxed, as you accepted him in and let him find what you needed. He went back to drawing patterns with the tip of his tongue as he thrust his fingers inside of you. And you continued to moan a symphony of his praise. He tapped the pads of his fingers around until he found the patch of nerves that drove you crazy. It wasn't a switch, Dean knew it was more of a gas pedal. He had to ease his way into the acceleration, coaxing your engine just so.

He hummed against your clit and your hands once again were in his hair.

Dean smiled as your pussy clenched around his fingers. But he could finger pick a taut guitar string, he sure as hell could fight against your body's stubbornness. He sucked greedily on your clit.

You were so close, but you weren't letting go.

"Trouble, breathe, honey. It's okay," Dean promised.

You gasped and shook and clenched tighter. Dean twisted his hand ninety degrees and started teasing your ass with his pinky. He went back to broad strokes of his tongue and just as his smallest finger put the smallest pressure on your hole: you came, hard and wet all over his mouth and chin. He finger fucked you through it. 

"Attagirl," he said between pecks against your inner thighs.

You shivered against his kisses, core slowly pulsing back to normal. You whimpered and pulled him closer, twisting until you were both on your sides. You kissed him between gasped breaths, moaning around the pleasure and the harsh difference in body temperature. Dean hugged you close and pulled the blankets up your back as you came down.

"Alright, there?" He asked, he couldn't stop himself.

"Uh, yeah, just leave me here. It was a good way to go," you teased.

"Oh, no, no way you're getting off that easy," Dean said.

You popped an eye open and cocked a brow. "That was easy?"

Dean looked over at the bedside table and checked the time. "I got you to come in nine minutes, Trouble. Just imagine how fast and how hard you'll do it after some practice."

You moaned and tried to push him away. Dean laughed and caught your hand instead. He kissed your palm and dragged your wrist against his chest, right over his heart. You flattened your hand and brushed it over his pec, perfectly revving him back up with the accidental nipple stimulation.

Dean cleared his throat. He had to remain smooth. He looked over at you, all blissed out and relaxed and he could have sworn he felt his heart grow inside his chest then and there. Like his ribs couldn't hold it all anymore. He sighed, fuck fucking. If you were tapping out, the least he could do was calm down and pass out beside you.

"You need anything?" He asked, careful not to rub his junk against your thigh any harder.

"I have to go do bathroom things before bed, but I don't wanna right now."

Dean chuckled and kissed your temple. "Yeah, well, let me know if you think of anything."

You snuggled closer, tucking your head under Dean's chin. He pulled the blankets over you both and listened as your breathing evened out. If there was one thing Dean knew for certain, it was that he was a goner.

Dean woke up the next morning to you freaking out.

"Holy shit, why didn't we set an alarm?!" You jumped out of bed, still naked, and ran to the bathroom.

Dean simply rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. He probably should  have warned you not to worry, but he was kind of nervous about the whole thing. Maybe you wouldn't want to spend that much time with him so soon. It was probably too soon for romantic getaways. He really didn't think this through. Damnit, now he was awake.

He sat on the edge of the bed and waited for you to get out of the bathroom. He shook yesterday's boxers out of his jeans and slid them on so his dick wasn't part of the inevitable conversation. He debated making coffee, but before he could decide you were rushing out of the bathroom with a towel on your head and another tucked under your armpits.

"Okay, your turn, but be quick! Check out is in like ten minutes or something. I will just throw everything into our bags and we'll figure it out in Houston," you assured.

"Trouble—," Dean's voice dragged out your nickname.

"I know it's not that big of a deal if we're a few minutes late, but I hate to keep Bobby waiting after making him come get us last night," you explained as you turned your back to Dean in order to get dressed.

"It's not that, it's that I extended my room for another two nights."

You turned on the spot, still half bent and slinging on your bra. "Why would you do that?"

Dean tried to look you in the face, but you were still mostly naked and there was a lot to appreciate. He cleared his throat and did better.

"Uh, you know, thought maybe you'd be up for a road trip, just you, me, and a rental car?"

You squinted at him and then at the clock.

"They're already gone aren't they?"

Dean sighed and nodded. "More than likely."

You squared your shoulders and looked down at him. "And what if I say no?" 

Dean swallowed. "I'll pay for your Uber. It's only three hours, I'm sure I could get you a quality driver."

You stepped closer. "Who knew you were doing this?"

Dean scratched the back of his neck and tried not to sell anybody out. "Bobby— Sam. Maybe Kevin."

You sank your knee next to his hip on the bed. "And just what were we going to do for the next two days? We can't exactly go sightseeing."

Dean felt your mirth before you swung your other leg up and straddled his lap. He grabbed a hold of your hips and held fast, enjoying the feel of you against his palms, fresh panties and all. "Oh I think we could find something to keep us busy."

"That—," you kissed him deeply, a bright burst of mint broke through Dean's cottonmouth. "--is an excellent plan."

Dean grinned and kissed you again, the heat between your bodies escalated quickly. Apparently, his dick wanted into the conversation after all.

You rolled your hips and rubbed against his interest. "Guess we don't need to get out of bed at all, huh?"

"Not if I can help it," Dean agreed as he thrust up against your pussy. His hands worked to get the towel off of your hair, and promptly threw it somewhere in the vicinity of the bathroom. You shook out your hair and rocked against him, making every inch of him sing. 

You held him by the jaw, thumbs in front of his ears, and took control of the kiss. Dean let himself be led. He held you close and let you rile yourself up as much as you could. When you grew too frustrated by the small bits of fabric between you, Dean sighed and promised he'd be right back.

His joints creaked as he stood and made his way to the bathroom. He went about his business and even brushed his teeth. He still had half the concert and the night before clinging to his skin. He hoped a cursory wipe down would be enough to keep you more interested than disgusted. After a final glance at himself in the mirror, rejoined you in the bedroom.

Like something out of a movie, a romcom, not a porno: you were tucked in, sheet over your tits and centered on the pillows, waiting calmly for his return.

"Hey," Dean said stupidly.

"Hey yourself." You grinned without teeth, so cute Dean couldn't help but smile back.

With your hair half wet you looked all kinds of rumpled and Dean couldn't resist getting back beneath the covers with you to make it even worse. He dropped his boxers, threw back the covers, and slid beside you. He rolled onto his side and you turned to face him. He cupped your cheek and kissed you softly. This sort of unironic tenderness was still new to Dean, after the months playing pretend with Bela and the years on the road, he hadn't had something so real in so long. It almost hurt to finally let it soak in, to let himself relish in your equal and earnest affection.

Dean hummed into the kiss, because music was never far from the surface of his being. He wanted to sing for you, you made him want to soar.

Dean rolled you onto your back and he sank into the cradle of your hips. He rested his weight against you as he reached for the pack of condoms, pinning you in place and giving you something to squirm against as you revved you both back up.

You grabbed ahold of his dick and Dean groaned as your smooth skin stroked him to full hardness. He got the condom out and batted you away so he could secure it before threading it through your folds for good measure. He sank inside you with full eye contact, need and exhilaration matched in your stare.

"Oh god," you whined.

"I got you," Dean said as he pulled back and started to thrust. He watched where he disappeared inside you and thought about how long you should have been doing just this. How long he was going to make sure you kept doing this. About how much he wanted to tell you and about how words weren't enough. Instead he looked back at you and gasped out your name, your real name before he kissed you deeply.

He changed his rhythm to hold himself back. He dragged out slowly and pushed in, feeling you quake beneath him. Dean fucked you until your knee stopped cooperating and you had to change positions. He kissed you as you settled on all fours and had to break apart to square himself behind you. That angle was so good, Dean had to slow down. 

He exhaled and tried to rein himself in. He reached out and grasped your right shoulder, palm hot over the dark ink of your tattoo. He squeezed and you tipped forward. Free from holding you up, your left hand reached across your chest and held his fingers in place. The deeper angle made you both moan. 

Dean took his time.

He felt you silently cum and still he fucked your through it. You whined his name as he kept loving you. He shushed you as you twitched with sensitivity. And he kissed your neck as he finally let himself go, filling the condom and the hotel room with his unbridled devotion.

Dean was used to life out of a suitcase. He was even used to avoiding the outside world, especially without a bodyguard on call. He was not used to this. You laid with your head in his lap as he scrolled through his messages on his phone. Clad only in panties and one of his flannels, you were half asleep and adorable. 

How could he not snap a picture?

Careful not to jostle you too much, he reached his hand out and tried to get as much of you in the frame as he could. It took a few angles, but he finally got a shot he could hold onto. He made it his wallpaper before he thought better of it and went back to discussing the next day's setlist in the band chat.

Eventually, your phone rang and woke you up. That led to you having to work for a while. But that meant Dean got to watch you move around the suite in his shirt, all bare legged and hot. He may have taken a few more candids before you caught him and glared at him long enough for him to stop.

"I'm done, I swear!"

"Give me your phone and maybe I'll believe you," you grumbled, but made no move to try and steal it.

"Nice try, but no. Just finish your emails, then I won't have to keep my hands busy all by myself." Dean loved riling you up, the way your cheeks peaked as you bit your lips, told him he was on the right track. "Actually, that's not a bad idea."

Dean decided to be a bit brazen.

He kicked the covers off his legs and centered himself on the king sized bed. He had been lounging in sweats and a hoodie since breakfast, but that also meant he was commando. He glanced over to you, trying to catch your eye. The small office area was off to the side of the kitchenette and from this angle you probably couldn't see his face, but he guessed you could see enough. 

He started by just cupping himself, feeling the weight of his dick and sack in his hand. Dean was not a shy guy, he knew what he looked like, and how big he was. He had nothing to be shy about. He just wasn't sure if you liked to watch, or if you preferred to be watched. It was that thought that made him firm up faster. Just picturing you in his place, the way you'd bite your bottom lip as you teased yourself almost made him dizzy with the rush of blood to his dick.

He cleared his throat and took a chance.

He brought his junk out of his sweats, but remained clothed otherwise. He liked the way the waistband propped him up, making him the centerpiece of the bed. He dragged his hand up his dick and squeezed the tip, it only eased some of the ache. He was a vain bastard, but it felt so good when he heard you catch on.

"Dean Robert Winchester!" you admonished him. "It has been less than two hours!"

Dean hummed in consideration. "Yeah, and?"

"I really need to get the album release party figured out."

Dean started stroking himself. "Well then, better get on that. I'll be here when you want to join me."

"You are impossible." Your words conveyed precisely the face you were making out of Dean's line of sight.

"Just finish your work, Trouble. I can hold off— if you want?"

You groaned. "No. You just keep enjoying yourself. I'll be over here being an adult."

 Dean smirked and closed his eyes. The next words came out a little breathless, but he'd chalk it up to laughter if you asked, "I think this is very adult. Eighteen plus content."

Dean tugged faster, knowing you were watching since the keyboard noses had stopped all together. God, you wanting him made him feel so powerful. You being unable to keep yourself from watching him made him even hotter. He added his other hand to the mix, rolling his balls between his thumb and fingers.

"Fuck this!" You spat out.

Dean cocked an eye open and caught you slipping out of your panties and stalking towards the bed. He sucked in air through his teeth and held himself at the base of his dick, stalling the pleasure as long as he could.

"You takin' a break or something?" Dean tried to tease, but naturally his voice cracked.

"Or something. You little shit. Put on a condom before I climb you like a tree."

Dean swallowed and exhaled. He would not cum yet. He released his dick and balls and rubbed his hands on the thighs of his pants. He leaned up and kissed you, both a promise and faux apology. He carefully unbuttoned your shirt as you crawled next to him. You wore him on your skin already, in nips and crescents. His dick throbbed at the sight, but then he remembered what he was supposed to be doing. The box of condoms you had ordered on instacart (along with extra lube and gatorade) sat on his bedside table and he broke off another square and ripped into it with his teeth.

 You watched him hungrily as he threaded his dick into the latex. God, that look would always do him in, he was sure of it. 

"Get to climbin'."

"Fucking finally," you muttered and crawled onto his lap.

You kissed him like he deserved to be punished and then you sank down on him in one swift drop. For a few seconds he thought he had gone blind, but then Dean realized he had simply closed his eyes. You felt so fucking good, even through the damn condom every ridge inside of you rubbed him perfectly. He was not going to last. He had to, though.

You whined and shivered as you settled in. Then you started to ride him, really ride him. Unwilling to break your stride, Dean pulled open the sides of his flannel to get at your tits. You grunted as he took a nipple into his mouth, but simply fell forward and used your hands for leverage against the pillows. Dean sucked until his mouth was full and then he focused on driving you crazy. 

He loved how you tried to hide what he did to you. Like it was a game of concentration, if you just held back he'd stop. But Dean had been watching you put on masks for years, he knew where to look for the truth. He was simply just learning how to draw it out of you in a new arena. And god was it fun to see. 

He brushed the opposite nipple with the pad of this thumb and you sucked in air. The bounce of your rhythm sank deeper against him and Dean had to breathe through his nose. 

"Still being a shit," you muttered. 

Dean grinned around your boob and pulled off to kiss you instead. You pushed him away playfully and braced a single hand on his chest to continue your ride. It was a helluva view and Dean wasn't gonna complain, even though his mouth was now empty.

His hands weren't.

Your nipples pebbled under his attention, and you started to lose your control on your own pleasure. Dean loved watching you fall apart and this orgasm was one of his favorites of yours so far.

"That's it, honey. Ride me. Take what you want," Dean tried to sound encouraging, but his words came out between pants for air.

"Dean?" you sounded almost scared. Then you crumpled on top of him, the hitch of your breath and the pulse of your pussy contrary beats of pressure around him.

Dean chuckled as you rolled off of him. 

"That's what you get for trying to distract me!" you warned, not-so-convincingly.

"Huh, right."

You huffed and dragged yourself back above him. You stared down at him in faux seriousness. "I mean it, mister."

"I'm sure you do. You're just so—"

"Intimidating?"

Dean laughed. "I was gonna say adorable."

You pouted and glared at him. "I am very intimidating."

"Oh, trust me. I know. I have seen you in action. It's just, right now. You're anything but trouble."

You rolled your eyes at his bad pun.

"But I like you like this. Like I'm too much to resist."

You shoved his face away and then bit his ear lobe. Then you hissed in his ear, "you knew exactly what you were doing. And I just left you hanging. So there."

You climbed off of him and marched back to your desk around the corner.

Dean laid there, speechless and still hard.

The problem with renting a car was that it had to be done in his real, legal name, as you hadn't held a valid driver's license or car insurance in over a decade. Which meant a lot of questions from placing the order to drop off. But once Dean held the keys, he knew freedom was within his grasp.

It wasn't an outright flashy car, but he could feel the horsepower beneath his feet when he finally got you onto the interstate. She wasn't his baby, but there were worse ways to take to the open road.

"Okay, so soundcheck is at noon. We've got plenty of time to get to the hotel before everybody heads to the venue," Dean confirmed the plans for the day.

"And I will wait to hand off the keys at the hotel and meet you guys later," you tacked on in between sips of your coffee.

"Couldn't have planned it better if I tried," Dean peacocked.

You gave him a placating smile, because you both knew he had worked diligently to make this mini vacation happen.

Dean grinned, dropped his sunglasses back in place, and took in the scenery flying past. It was a perfect day to drive, even if it was just a short trip between shows. He started thinking about the band and where they would go from here. Not Houston, specifically, but this tour. They had new momentum from Kevin joining up, but touring was getting harder on Pam and Lee with Gibson getting older. 

And Sam had Madison now. 

Sure, you came with the band wherever you wanted, but Dean couldn't deny your relationship made him look at touring differently. Benny's crew all had side gigs on the stretches between tours, they'd be alright if the band took a little bit longer between albums. Dean could even put in a good reference or two, if he had to. Maybe if they paced out the singles a bit, they could get a whole year off without getting back on the road. They'd made it happen before. 

Dean made a promise to himself to at least try to stay put for a while this time. He wanted to believe he deserved it. 

You sure as hell did.

Though it had been a few years since Dean had driven through that stretch of Texas himself, highways were highways and he made good time. Before long, he had parked in front of the lobby doors and was helping you get all the bags out of the trunk. He smiled at the receptionist as you handled checking in for both your (unnecessary) and Dean's rooms. The guy was just as flattered by his attention as most women were and Dean realized too late he should rein it in. 

"Alright, Ms. Y/L/N, you and Mr. Mulder are all set. If there is anything either of you need, do not hesitate to call," he said a little too suggestively. 

You side-eyed Dean, but he just thanked the guy and wheeled your bags toward the elevators. Dean heard you thank the concierge before trailing after him. Inside the elevator, you outright laughed at him. Dean couldn't blame you, his cheeks were on fire and even his handy-dandy baseball cap disguise couldn't hide that, or his stupid ears.

"You really should be illegal, poor guy," you teased.

"I didn't even say anything!" Dean whined and leaned against the rail lining the elevator.

"Yeah, I know. But it's the eye contact. You have really good listening face," you explained.

Dean huffed. "Whatever."

"I think it's cute."

Dean's innate people-pleasing perked up at that admission. "Oh yeah?"

You glanced at the floor number on the front of the elevator. "Yeah, not knowing how you affect people makes it seem like you're almost humble about your looks."

"Only almost?" Dean felt like he was walking into a trap.

"Yeah, because I actually know you. And you do use it to your advantage when you really want to."

Dean shrugged off the burn. "Why waste such a gift?"

You sighed and patted his arm reassuringly. Just then the elevator doors opened and Kevin and Patience stood waiting to get on.

"Hey guys!" Patience looked between you and Dean as if trying to decipher your last words. Or she was reading your aura, Dean couldn't be sure.

"Dude!" Kevin burst out as you both shuffled out of the elevator to let them in. "You missed it! Benny asked out Donna and Sam and Victor did karaoke!"

That was enough to take Dean's mind off of everything that had just happened. "Please tell me there's video evidence of my little brother making a fool of himself."

Kevin nodded. "I'll send it to you. But, yeah, lots happened. Glad you're back. Both of you!" Kevin shouted the last bit as the doors closed between you all.

You looked up at Dean expectantly. 

Dean chuckled and had to stop himself from leaning down to kiss you, even though he didn't see anybody else in the little elevator lobby. "Guess we have a lot to catch up on."

"Sounds like it. I'll see you at the venue tonight, Mr. Winchester," you postured as you handed Dean the handle to your luggage. 

Dean cleared his throat and turned to check he was heading down the right hallway for his room. "Sounds good, Ms. Y/L/N."

You headed down to your room with your purse and laptop bag to work, while Dean took all the luggage and got ready for soundcheck in his corner suite. He silently cursed the industry that had made his dreams come true, because all he wanted was to have you by his side. But he still couldn't do that publicly. 

Not yet.

Tagging:

@deans-spinster-witch

@mrswhozeewhatsis

@cosicas-cuquis

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like

@suckitands33

@ladysparkles78

@deans-baby-momma

@stoneyggirl2

@sassy-pelican

@leigh70

@globetrotter28

@winharry

@lastactiontricia

@rockhoochie

@brightlilith

@coldhearted93

@djs8891

@beautiful-places-blog

@n-o-p-e-never

@spxideyver

@tldix

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 9/17/2024

come take this very very friendly little man out of my bathroom! he is fiv+ and we are in houston tx! i am willing to drive a couple hours for the right home! he is a good boy he's just orange! more details here!

listening

emily jeffri's DENY off my spotify recommended weekly playlist: i can only describe it as "throbbing". immediately attention grabbing lyrics:

What kind of lover does your mother want? I'll do whatever, oh but you could not

very distinctly indie electronica. this would be the song in a cyberpunk/80s hacker movie where the chase takes you through an goth/alt fashion show where the models are actively giving blood as they walk or something.

i love the spotify daily mix for me and my bestie bc there's a guaranteed four bluey songs on it and it's a nice jumpscare. i know my mental health is taking a turn for the worse when a lot of mother mother starts popping up, i know my bestie's is taking a turn for the worse when a lot of girl in red starts popping up. suicide-watch-level sapphic angst singer-songwriter, generally. except for this song! extremely fun! didn't even recognize it as her! DOING IT AGAIN BABY is a more traditional selling-you-a-dodge-charger car commercial song and it's such a startling departure from her usual work that i wonder if it was a commercial commission? hard to immediately find out tho

I'm on a new level Something's got me feelin' like I could be inflammable And I might be I'm gonna light it up Nothing's gonna stop me if I say this is what I want

-

reading

i read twilight (yes that one) at the behest of my bestie and bc my mental health could not have gotten any worse in that moment. it has led to some uncomfortable realizations about my high school experience i will save for a therapist. i am mostly putting it here to remind myself that i read this book this year.

^ this is some silly goofy nonsense. not that i think people shouldn't be recognized at their retirement, but what happened to giving people nice watches instead of a thousand dollars in plaques

Saying that, the records did reveal something actually interesting: although the individual contract I sent a request related to was for a few thousand dollars, an attached blank purchase agreement (BPA) says that “the government estimates, but does not guarantee, that the volume of purchases through this BPA will be $360,000.00 over the term of the BPA.” So, a lot more than a few thousand bucks.

-

watching

Hang 'Em High (1968, dir. Post). certainly not clint's sluttiest role but really up there. i do wish he kept the fucked-out little rasp for the whole movie :(

When an innocent man barely survives a lynching, he returns as a lawman determined to bring the vigilantes to justice.

it has a typical bizarre shoehorned romance that (i think) deeply undercuts the theme it wants to explore, but there is no on-screen rape. the bar is on the FLOOR with westerns and yet i DNF so so so many.

hell of a whump film. literally everything happens to jed cooper. i will trumpet this again from the rooftops: that character needs cbt both ways.

-

playing

HIGHWATER, a 2022 adventure/turn based strategy thing from Rogue Games, courtesy of Netflix Games, whose game library is a fucking nightmare to navigate on mobile.

i loooove a water-based postapoc. the boat does in fact handle very poorly and like a horrible inflatable raft on mobile, which is both charming and frustrating.

i do not love a turn-based combat. despite the vibes off the charts, including a very well integrated "pirate radio" station as the game's soundtrack, i am not patient enough to muddle through complex turn-based combat. i'm sure someone had fun fighting off six guys and two bears (who aggro anyone and can one-hit anyone) and then a further three guys who show up for backup but i gave it the good old college try over two days and wasn't able to swing it. it would be nice to have either a difficulty setting or some way to spectate the ideal fight, but alas. a lot of fun environmental stuff in the fights you can use to your advantage, like the bears and these trees you can flatten your opponents with in a much earlier fight. there's a fun mix of different characters with different abilities and different weapons you pick up and keep during fights. i have no specific beef with this game's choice to make this the way you move through the game, it's just not my preferred genre.

a lot of book and newspaper collectibles in this one that i feel of several minds about. it feels less like environmental storytelling through newspapers and just the devs telling me their opinion when they provide little book summaries like this. also i wish The Industry as a whole was more thoughtful about using the word "insurgent".

not a game for me, i have once again confirmed that i cannot tolerate a turn-based combat no matter how much seafaring postapoc you drench it in :(

-

making

got a Phantom Menace era curtain panel for $4 at the thrift, and i was convinced it was fabric someone had made into a curtain panel until i got home and discovered it was an officially licensed product with bafflingly generous seams.

it's about two-ish yards of a 50/50 cotton/poly blend, which i feel like i haven't seen in a while? i think the current fashion leans more 70/30 or 100 poly for curtains i've purchased. after i finish unpicking the seams and pinking it, i am going to throw it in the wash again with some vinegar and see if that softens it up any, or if it makes the transition between the wear lines on the seams and the body of the fabric any nicer.

thinking about what kind of dress to make that 1) shows off this extremely large scale pattern 2) does not look like i am wearing a paper bag, and 3) does not look like the late aughts craft trend of sewing a twin flat Star Wars sheet to a tube top and calling that a dress, bc that's how hard up we were for feminine merch. much to consider. maybe it Will be a maxi skirt with pockets and i can wear one of my seventy black tees on top?

[jamieroyjamieroy]

Catchphrase game

What I really want to know... do you use any phrases from movies, books or tv shows in your daily life?

Yes I do! So many that I’ll probably forget them all

When the fuck did we get ice cream (The Ringer) I have so many from this movie.

If you can dodge a wrench (Dodgeball)

You heard about Pluto? (Psych) again so many from this show

What is it asshole day? (10 things I hate about you)

Who the hell is Bucky? (CA:TWS)

Ugh as if! (Clueless)

Houston we have a problem (Apollo 13)

Stop looking at me swan (Billy Madison)

I’m sure there are lots more that I can’t remember right now 🤣

Np tagging @quintessenceofdust88 @agentpeggycartering @bisexualb23 @cliophilyra @dum-amo-vivo9 @owlgirl495

[riveroakscars]

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[stastrodome]

Fun Facts. 100% verified.

In order to teach a "very special" lesson about diabetes and weight-control, Sesame Street considered a story arc titled Funeral for a Cookie Monster

Today's most popular source of A.I. voice adapters were developed in concert with Dodge's Ram, out of "express concern that our future will always have Sam Elliott's deep cowboy voice".

Editors cut more than two hundred pages from Theodore Dreiser's preferred version of his novel Sister Carrie, including recipes for cheddar popcorn balls and Italian beef sandwiches.

There is no French word for butterbean.

A court in Bergen County, New Jersey dismissed a plaintiff's submitted evidence because the phrase a posteriori "sounded dirty".

Izzy the Islander, mascot for the Texas A&M Corpus Christi Islanders, forgiving the contrite Saint Peter.

[beardedmrbean]

A man pretending to represent a professional basketball player allegedly swallowed hundreds of thousands of dollars' worth of stolen Tiffany jewelry, according to court documents. 

Jaythan Gilder, 32, of Houston, Texas, allegedly robbed a Tiffany & Co. jewelry store in a mall in Orlando, Florida, on Feb. 26, according to an arrest affidavit reviewed by CBS News. Gilder allegedly entered the store wearing a red hat, a red Polo-brand shirt, and very ripped blue jeans, police said. He allegedly told store staff that his name was Shawn and he was a negotiating a sale on behalf of a player on the Orlando Magic basketball team. 

Gilder was brought into the store's VIP room because of the value of the jewelry involved in the transaction, store staff told police. The merchandise included two pairs of diamond earrings and a diamond ring. The pairs of earrings are valued at $160,000 and $609,500 each, and the ring is valued at $587,000, store staff told police. 

During the consultation in the VIP room, Gilder allegedly jumped out of his seat and grabbed the merchandise. He then allegedly attempted to leave the VIP room by "violently pushing and pulling" at the sliding doors. Store associate Amit Nayee tried to stop Gilder, according to court documents, but Gilder "violently pushes and pulls his arms." Police said they saw visible injuries on Nayee's arms. 

During the scuffle, the diamond ring was dropped. Gilder was able to keep possession of the earrings and get the doors open enough to escape, police said. He allegedly ran through the store and dodged other staff members. One store employee told police that she feared Gilder had a gun. He left through the store's front doors and left the mall, police said. 

A man matching Gilder's description was seen on mall parking lot security cameras getting into a blue 2024 Mitsubishi Outlander. They were able to follow the car through public safety cameras and toll records. Florida Highway Patrol was notified on the vehicle's make, model and license plate number. 

Shortly before 8 p.m. local time on Feb. 26, the highway patrol pulled over a car matching that description for a traffic violation. The driver of the car allegedly resisted the investigation and was arrested on resisting charges separate from the incident. Highway patrol officials identified the driver as Gilder. Earring forms and price tags from Tiffany & Co. were found on the floor of the vehicle. 

As he was being taken into custody, Gilder allegedly swallowed several items. The highway patrol officers transporting him to jail heard him allegedly say "I should have thrown them out the window."

Gilder was then taken to Washington County Jail, where a live scan showed several foreign objects in his stomach. Police suspect the items are the Tiffany earrings he left the store with. The two pairs have a combined value of $769,500. 

Nayee identified Gilder in a lineup at the jail. 

At the jail, Gilder allegedly asked staff "Am I going to be charged with what's in my stomach?" 

Court documents do not confirm if police were able to recover the earrings. An official with Washington County Jail said the earrings were not recovered while Gilder was there.  Gilder is currently being held in the Orange County Jail, police told CBS News. 

Gilder was charged with grand theft in the first degree, and robbery with a mask, according to court documents. Gilder was not masked at the time of the robbery, but was wearing a gauze nose covering and arm bandage, as well as a hat, and police said this "indicates by state statute" that he committed robbery with a mask, since the items were used to conceal his identity. Both are felonies. 

Police said that a search of Gilder's criminal history found he was charged in a near-identical robbery from a Tiffany & Co. store in Texas in 2022. He is also being held on 48 separate "failure to appear" warrants out of the state of Colorado.

[the-knight-of-the-stars]

Soon the world will be ours

Fictober Trope: Uma/Jay — I Have Nothing by Whitney Houston —Urban Fantasy AU

Part I: What me, a traitor?

School nights were always strange. No matter how mundane, there was always a strange, volatile feeling floating between the traffic noises, the barking of the dogs and the chirping of cicadas. As if such a moment had magical properties of its own. A particularly crude kind of magic, with the smell of car oil and old paint peeling from the humidity.

Uma was sure that in a small, remote town like this, the feeling was due to abandonment. It slowly took over the houses and the people, and left a vague premonitory feeling that one day no one would remember this place, it would remain as nothing more than a ghost in their memory.

On a Friday like this, six thirty in the afternoon, trying to understand the complicated words in her textbook, the orange sun of the sunset beating down on her face, Uma feeling the proximity of the night tickling the back of her neck. A Friday like all the Fridays in the world, all coexisting at that very moment.

“Due to the multi-diverse nature of a supercomposite spell, all original components must be taken into account both individually and collectively, and how each set interacts with its components to create a new product.”

Instead of concentrating on the assignment, Uma often found herself wandering about the complicated nature of these texts, wondering how the people who wrote them had learned all that and then decided that redundant words and confusing phrasing were the correct way to convey the information.

Uma threw her book into her backpack and peered through the cracks in the blinds. The sun had set, and Uma felt a surge of voltage zip through her chest. In the dim light of her room, the posters of horror movies and pop band albums were distorted by the dim light, shifting watercolor shadows. Uma threw her jacket over her shoulders and bounded down the stairs.

“Uma! You better not run out like that tomorrow, I told you I need you to take the night shift,” the voice of her mother, Ursula, came from the cracked pool in the backyard where she spent her afternoons in her octopus form, trying to reach the sensation of the waves in that lime-smelling water.

Uma opened the front door with more force than necessary, making noise so her mother would know she had heard her.

“And those dishes ain’t gonna wash themselves!”

Share my life Take me for what I am 'Cause I'll never change All my colors for you

The entire galaxy spilled out into the sky. Uma tried to mentally name every color in the night sky as she sped along on her bike, dodging potholes as the wind whispered the neighborhood gossip into her ear.

Turquoise, purple, royal blue. Flush! The clouds seemed to melt between the stars like colorful cotton candy. Tina still hasn't picked up the laundry from the dry cleaner. Ahead were the downtown stores with their buzzing signs and the apartment buildings lighting up window by window. Pastel pink, mint green, scarlet red. Johnny wants to quit his job.

The familiarity of the city squeezed her heart like one of her mother’s hugs. Invasive, uncomfortable, deeply comforting. She wanted to pull away immediately and reject the warmth, but it was too comfortable, too sweet in all its suffocating nature.

A Friday like every other Friday. The buildings were grey, their windows emanating the warm amber of the interior. The shops were colorful and children with sticky hands escaped from their mothers to peer into the shop windows. New televisions were displayed next to outdated models of never-sold vacuum cleaners.

On the avenue, middle-class kids passed by, crowding around Anthony Tremaine's yellow convertible. The extra-large horns blared and made everything jump. The old man from the butcher shop came out in a huff, shouted a spell in Latin at them, and the yellow car swayed as if a giant hand had shaken it.

Uma turned into an alley between buildings and braked. The metal door, hidden between the trash cans, was closed, so she knocked into it hard. Desirée opened it, a scarf in her hair and a tray under her arm.

"It’s rush hour. You’ll have to take the service stairs, boss,” she said.

Inside, steam from the stove made the waiters sweat and grease from the fryer stuck to the walls. Uma crossed the kitchen and ran upstairs, where the noise from the cafeteria grew old and distant.

Harry had his head buried in wires, a pen behind each ear. He reached for the screwdriver and scratched his head, trying to remember which wires to save first if the circuits had been compromised. The constant beeping of the power center was starting to drive him mad.

“Shut. Up! ”

“Harry!”

He jumped up, inadvertently dropping pens, paper notes, wires, and tools onto the floor. A screw rolled to Uma's feet. She closed the door and picked it up. She had already put her gloves on, Harry noticed.

Take my love I'll never ask for too much Just all that you are And everything that you do

“Missing me?”

“Uma,” he said, his crooked grin reaching down to his pointed, dented ears. “What are you, an evil elf?” Uma had said to him the first time they’d met. “No, sadly,” Harry had replied. “I’m only human.”

Still, Uma was sure there was some spooky mysticism to him. She liked that.

“Are we all set?”

“I don't do tools work, and they left me alone,” Harry replied, emerging from the nest of cables he had found himself in, grumbling.

“ Chill. Gil is on his way.”

“It’s been unbearable,” Harry continued, shaking his head.

Uma dropped into the swivel chair in front of the main panel and looked at the screens that filled the wall and illuminated that room of sad objects and forgotten dreams. Shadows of boxes looming between the computers. One, two, three screens out of service. That left them with two channels unreachable.

But at least four monitors were transmitting the desired images. Live television projecting its greenish light dots across the thick screen. Romance movies, animal life documentaries, a report on the governor of Camelot. The usual for Auradon's open television.

She smiled as she identified the target for the evening. Auradon TV, the only channel that all televisions on the Island tuned into. The only one the Isle's population could access without hacking and piracy. They were now broadcasting their usual afternoon gossip show, recounting all the drama between Princess Melody and the outdated dress she had worn to the most recent ball.

Adam kept saying the reason no other channels reached the Isle was an inescapable peculiarity of the air around that zone. They would fix it, eventually, even if they haven’t been able in more than ten years. Now Uma knows for sure it is a lie.

How perfectly convenient. The population he wants more eagerly to keep isolated stays in the dark, unable to learn anything about the outside world. The only window to the rest of Auradon being the mindless, carefully constructed view they want them to have of them. Another gear on his propaganda machine.  

But if Adam won't give them more windows, Uma will poke as many wholes as necessary.

“How long until the transmission loads?”

“I'm not sure, love. If Gil were here…”

“Relax, Harry,” she said, and was surprised by her own optimistic tone. “We can wait for him.”

She sat back on the chair, caressing the surface of the keyboard. Any of the channels Gil had gained access to would do. They were all knowledge, and it was their mission to give it back to the villain children, piece by piece.

I don't really need to look Very much further I don't wanna have to go Where you don't follow

Harry scooted his chair over to Uma’s and dropped his head into her lap. “We make a mess tonight, darling.”

Uma pressed her forehead to Harry's. His skin was dry and cold, contrary to her, cheeks flushed and hair warm from the last sunset rays. His hair still smelled like the damp, dense air of the lagoon. Through it, Uma could picture his father's boat; heavy, worn out fiberglass, rocking in the clogged murky waters, the bitter smell of alcohol and resentment of its walls.

“You bet we do.”

She pulled away, and with her finger traced a sigil over his face, his chin, his nose, his forehead. For a second it sparkled, like miniature fireworks between them.

“What was that for?”

“Protection,” Uma said. “There's been more vandalizing lately, I don't want you to get cursed.”

It was almost true—Hook's ship was already covered in sigil graffiti everywhere—but if she's being honest, Uma hoped the sigil would also scare away the deadly melancholy that plagues his father.

Harry stayed still, staring at her.

“What?”

Harry smiled. “Your face… it shimmers.”

“You pick today's program,” Uma answered, rolling her eyes.

Harry’s eyes glowed and widened like a cat’s. The greenish lights of the monitor loomed over him, accentuating the shadows of his smile. “A horror movie!”

“Perfect,” Uma said, letting out the shadow of a laugh. “Just in time for Halloween.”

The door busted open. Gil walked in with an electrifying grin and pounced on the available chair, sliding over to where they were. His hands and face were covered in car grease, his faded Sherwood Forest Falcons shirt permeated with the smell of gasoline.

“You guys are not gonna believe who I just saw outside!”

“You were supposed to be here hours ago!” Harry exclaimed, getting up and gesticulating toward the screen.

Gil's smile seemed nailed to his skin with how stretched and immovable it was. Harry's words flew over him.

“Carlos de Vil!”

Harry's eyes went white in an expression that was half nervous twitch, half sneer. Uma just stared, very still.

“Really?” she said.

“He was just walking with Professor Yen Sid on the street! I told Jonas to follow him, we should kidnap him!”

That caught Harry's attention more. He smiled and shook Gils' shoulders, excitement growing on his chest.

“Aye, that's a great idea! We could broadcast him to Auradon and scare the whole bloody kingdom off their skin…”

The tinge of anger in his voice lit a spark in his eyes, and he stood up straight, triumphant in a sort of superhero pose. Uma could feel all his illusions, flying around in a whirlwind inside his head.

“We could…” Uma whispered, tapping on the arm of the chair.

But something worried her. Her eyes narrowed in thought. Carlos de Vil. Yen Sid. They hadn't heard anything about it, neither on the news channels nor on the gossip channels. Why would he come back?

Carlos had his precious passport, a scholarship at Auradon Prep, and a life that had been as far removed from the Island as humanly possible. The mother he left behind has long since sunk under the weight of her own bitterness. The town had forgotten her, along with the ramshackle house with rusty hinges and rotten wood that the blizzards tear apart little by little, and where Cruella remained as if the house had become part of her.

There's nothing left for Carlos here. Nor for any of them.

“He didn't come alone, did he?” Uma said, unable to stop the anger seeping into her voice. “They must have come with him.”

As if responding to that omen, the small transmitter hanging around Harry's neck began to make noise.

“… oss I… th …” a voice started to come through the wall of static, and Harry ripped it off to move the antenna.

“First Mate here, over.”

The static answered her, ominous in the deathly silence their nervousness had created. Uma held her breath until they heard the click on the other end.

“… nas here… er you, over.”

Jonas's voice was much clearer now, and Uma immediately noticed that he was whispering. Like he was hidden.

“Captain…” Jonas said, breathing slowly over the radio. “Just spotted Jay in a bar…”

I won't hold it back again This passion inside Can't run from myself There's nowhere to hide

Her heart dried up and tightened like a raisin. It felt stupid, to care so much. Gil and Harry's faces told her everything, trying to hide the disappointment they still felt like a sore that never fully healed.

The veil of years and forgotten dreams passed before her eyes like the halo of a ghost. A sentimentality that she felt ashamed of still treasuring, in the memory of eyes and a laugh and a voice that were no longer there. He might as well be dead, with how much his absence had penetrated.

And it was strange, how far away it felt. Uma remembered the greenish light of the store filtering in distorted halos through the fish tanks. The shadows of Christmas lights that were never taken down, gathering dust between the old cat cages. The glitter-covered plastic floor and the ghostly sight of the life-size cardboard cutout of King Adam by the cash register.

She remembered arriving with nervous aggression, squeezing his house keys in her hand until they made indentations on the palm. He saw her first, through a space between the fish tanks. He was smiling when Uma looked at him.

“You have my mother’s eels,” she had said coldly, without any pretense of formality.

It had taken Jay a few seconds to react, staring into her eyes.

“Hey, the name's Jay.”

He was leaning against a shelf of fish food, a half-smile slightly crooked by a fresh cut in the middle of his lip. He was all ragged baggy jeans and frizzy strands of hair over small, mischievous eyes.

“Don't worry, I'm a great eel dad,” he said, raising an eyebrow with that ridiculous, charming smile.

He spent the afternoon in the back room of the pet shop convincing her that the eels were safe with him and was not intimidated by her stoicism. He was energetic, daring and shameless.

“You could say we have an electric bond; do you feel me?”

The first thing Uma thought of him was that he had a stupid laugh, muffled by a teenage cough and infinitely confident. The second thing was that Jay gave off the same chaotic air as Harry. A strange aggression barely contained in the tension of his muscular arms. Jay handed her a handful of powdered eel food for the two of them to throw into the fish tank. Lagan and Derelict put their snouts to the glass as soon as Jay approached them.

“Check it out, they love me already,” he said, genuinely excited. “You see, I happen to be a professional heartbreaker.”

He gave Uma a wink, and she allowed the shadow of a smile to pull from her lips.

Uma is still not sure why she came back many times after and sat on the plastic box next to the empty cages that smelled of wet dog, feeding the eels while Jay flirted tirelessly until the heat of the evening steamed the puddles on the floor and the place became stifling.

Harry's initial jealousy only exacerbated Jay's brazenness. He waited for her outside school, biting his lip, anxiously awaiting the moment when he could jump into a spot next to them on the sidewalk and steal some attention.

“What a coincidence to see you here, must be fate.”

“Hey, gorgeous, I thought I could come by and bring you this super cool ring I found, you know, it just reminded me of you.”

“If I ever find that damn lamp, I'm going to wish to be the earth you step on, sweetheart.”

They never knew when the distrust faded. Harry began to let go of the initial bitterness through the fake fights he had with him, in which Jay was unable to take anything seriously and Harry took everything with great personal seriousness. Punches turned into laughter and accidental enthusiasm for the same things.

In no time Harry was all over Jay. Hugs that from the outside looked a little too restraining, hands casually resting around his neck. Always with his hands on him. Invasive affection still tinted in aggression, but unmistakably friendly.

Gil was charmed from the start. He would laugh at Jay's bad jokes and give him a pat on the back that took all the air out of him, until they were both pushing each other.

“Bro, you should do parkour with me!”

It was a terrible idea. But Uma had never seen Gil so excited, even when he fell off roofs and slipped off walls a hundred times. Afterwards, they sat in the park with its rickety swings and yellow grass, their faces covered in bruises, sharing a comically large bag of cheap snacks that tasted like cardboard Jay had stolen from Facilier's store.

Don't make me close one more door I don't wanna hurt anymore

Jay fit in with them like a piece they didn't know was missing, slipping slowly through the cracks until he penetrated their barriers. Suddenly, he was there. Another body to hug, another loud voice, another name ever present in the back of their minds. His aggressive energy matched their own, growing and boiling until they were drunk in it.

Professional thieves wrecking everything on their path. Jay, enthusiastic show off and seasoned kleptomaniac, would get them in trouble constantly, getting too comfortable in his craft and stopping mid-chase to collect anything shiny he thought Uma would like. But he would always come through; he was good at it, terribly, stupidly good. It seemed there was nothing he couldn't get away with.

It's probably one of the first things that caught Mal's eye (another ghost from Uma's past, another rip in her heart), and made her want him in her gang again, like when they were little kids. Uma never thought he would take up her offer.

That's how secure their wrap felt. Living in a haze of blood and party and recklessness that for some inexplainable reason was the safest place they knew.

An irrational, resentful part of her thought she should have known. After all, Jay was raised to be a snake.

But it is hard to reconcile it. For a second, their lives had felt tethered forever, and maybe they still were. With how much his ghost still lingered, despite their best efforts to ignore it.

Stay in my arms if you dare Or must I imagine you there

There is something unforgettable in the way Jay looked at her. Like all misery was worth looking into her eyes. Uma was made of rough edges, a bellicosity deep in her bones that made her hungry for power. Back then, Uma couldn't understand the depts of that anger that threatened to break her apart.

But Jay had. He pushed back her, dug right into her spikes and revealed in her darkness, seeing through her and wanting her with every fiber of his being.

“I know you love me, babe,” he would say, getting his face too close to her and laughing ecstatically when she grabbed his chin in an iron grip.

Uma didn't want to think about how much she had liked it. That pull and back that turned into attachment that turned into yearning. Uma doesn't know when it is she let Jay invade her every breath. Her mother's indifference, the phantom of the family's greatness, the wound of having been born helpless; it all disappeared under his touch. And for Jay, she made the devastating anger and the parasitic loyalty to Jafar and the helpless prospect of the future all turned little.

This youthful, blurring love affair was all that existed. Uma still has his adoration burned into her mind. Carnal, careful touches over the stiff sheets of her bed, her lava lamp barely breaking through the hazy darkness of that night, starts and ashes of magic floating all around them. Reverence glimmering in Jay's eyes, amid this suffocating intimacy, kissing her neck and stroking down her legs and whispering, “Uma… Uma… Uma.”

Like he needed to summon her at every second. Like her presence was as fleeting as a sea wave, and Jay would cling to her, desperate to inhale her for as long as she would have him.

Harry could never forgive him for hurting her. For not answering Gil's calls. For leaving them. Like her, Harry still has Jay's kiss tattooed on his skin.

This hatred and hurt that now blinded them, as the static on the radio kept buzzing, a blur of past present and future liquefying on the blinding blue glow of the screens, it could only come from something just as strong. And maybe that was the worst part of it all:

It had been real.

And he still had left.

“Jonas,” Uma said, voice firm as iron. “Size the little birdy; he has a show to perform.”

Don't walk away from me I have nothing, nothing, nothing If I don't have you, you, you, you, you, you

***

This is strange, right? I'm still trying to strech my abilities after a long health issue that prevented me from writting, but I liked this.

Okey, hi, thanks for reading. This was one several drafts I left abandoned last year when I was trying once again to do fictober (that is clearly not for me) but I thought this October I would try to come back to them. Basically I put spotify to reproduce songs from my playlist on a random order and the first four would be paired with whatever character/ship I thought of first.

Some really unique ideas came from that, such as this one. The flavor of the song inspired me to make an urban fantasy amd I tried to give it a kind of an 80s coming of age romance feel.

This has two other parts planned, exploring more of Mal and Jay's perspective. Tell me if you would like to see those and the other songfics I had, and what you think of this weird little thing I made.

[riveroak-tanuj]

Dodge Dealership Texas

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