#get the real map find the cake shit Fuck up the cake so bad but at this point i dont care

[midifighter]

girls will literally have the scariest dreams and then wake up atfucking 7 AM

[dirtroadtooutofhere]

Chapter 2 - "Preparations" Max

ROAD! TRIP! ROAD! TRIP! ROAD! TRIP!

Alright, I’m gonna be real with you. I’m not actually that confident Canada is safe.

Is it possible? Definitely. Do I think it could even be likely? Hell yes!

But there’s no guarantees in life, especially not after the apocalypse.

It’ll still be good to escape this dump, though. Even if it’s only for a couple days before figuring out we have to go back.

Raymond takes the map and crumples it up, throwing it in the trash.

“Hey! What the fuck? I thought you were on board with this?!?”

“I am, Max, but it’s no use to us. Every last major roadway in the country is going to be blocked by abandoned vehicles and swarmed with roaming hordes. Driving through is physically impossible, and walking is suicidal.” He talks while pulling a drawer out and rifling through it, finally finding a compass and a zoomed-in state map of Florida. “This is all we get to work with, plus more regional maps, if we’re lucky.”

The next morning, I find his legs sticking out from under the car, working on the engine. “How’s it going?”

He remains absolutely stoic.

“Raymond. Hellooo. Earth to moron.” I lightly kick his shin, and he stirs.

“I’m up! I’m up.” He slides out, sits up, and lets out an audible yawn. “I wanted to. Check everything before we go.”

Sleeping beauty finishes his tests as I do some final packing, and we load everything in the trunk together. He sighs nervously. No clue as to why he’s worried, we have more than enough:

A metric fuckton of food. It’s mostly chips, cookies, cereal, that kinda shit. Shelf stable. Ready to eat. Not the most nutritious, I admit. There’s also a little over a dozen meals, between canned foods and boxed pastas. It looks like a lot, but I admit it might not last as long as I was hoping.

Some medical supplies. Some bandages and tourniquets, various pain medications. God, there’s a lot of pain medications. When did we even get all of these?

My trusty fire axe, that I used to smash windows and bust doors with back when the department was still a thing. Still good for breaking shit, but sees a lot more zombie blood these days. I kinda miss when destruction was for a cause.

Two boxes of low-caliber ammunition. If we’re lucky, we’ll find a working gun to use it with. We do have a revolver, but it’s ancient, and only fits the 4 bullets that were in it when we found it in the back of an antique store.

Raymond’s box of tools. He managed to keep most of his original set after all this time, but there’s a few odd screwdrivers and wrenches he’s had to replace with whatever was left in the hardware stores. Includes his thick iron monkey wrench, which has doubled as his go to back-up weapon when whatever sports gear he’s holding breaks.

A pair of fire extinguishers, an ordinary red one you’d find in any house, and a bulky yellow that resembled a diving tank. You’re not supposed to hold the hose by the horn, it can freeze your fingers.

Three ratty blankets and an old nylon camping tent. There was about a week last winter where a bad frost-snap caked these islands in ice. We set the tent up in the basement and laid the blankets over it, and rode it out. He was really clingy then. “For body heat.”

He turned the ignition after we got in the front seats. He pinched his nose and blinked a few times. “I should probably drive first, dude. You look like death.”

“...yeah.”

I wasn’t even out of the neighborhood before he passed out, passenger’s seat leaned all the way back. Only a handful of undead passed by as we rode towards the main peninsula. They look so fun to run over, but I guess I value his sleep. Bastard.

[kickingitwithkirk]

Paschal Moon

Summary: Jensen finds crossing the tracks isn’t always a bad thing

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Astronomer!Reader

Word Count: 2200

Warnings: some angst, really bad punning(sorry) divorce, cheating, innuendos, cursing, reader says shit like I do in real life🤣

Square Filled: @winchesterandbeyondbingo -midnight @spnmixedbingo -secret dating @spnaubingo -wet dream @j3bingo -camping @howbadcanitbebingo -cliche galore

*Moldavite

*no Beta-all mistakes are mine

*photos found online

It was Saturday night and once again Jensen found himself the proverbial third wheel.

Jared and Genevieve meant well, dragging him everywhere with them since his filing for divorce, wanting to keep him from brooding at home with a bottle when not with his kids.

And it wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy socializing, that wasn’t the problem, it was knowing it would be an evening filled with repetitive I'm so sorry and the look that sent him straight to the open bar first for many a shot nowadays.

Feeling the slight buzz he needed to deal, Jensen put on his game face and with another tumbler of liquid courage in hand made the rounds; chatting amicably with various groups, catching up with old friends.

Things were going pretty well until some dumbfuck with more alcohol than brains turned to Genevieve loudly blurting they’d heard the reason for the divorce was Danneel had been making the rounds with guy’s with more sizable assets..

That’s when her moose sized husband bellowed in the jerks face to shut their unprepossessing cake hole.

Jensen takes the momentary distraction to escape out a side door before he gives into the impulse and punches the sonuvabitch with the double entendre slammed it shut crossed over to the riverside railing and gripping it in both hands wrung it like a chicken neck.

The unexpected swish of fabric made Jensen shift his focus spying a glass half full of liquid being held out in front of him, “looks like you could use this more than me.”

He turns, finding himself gazing into the eyes of the tall drink of water he’d noticed throughout the evening.

Glancing at the glass again she laughed, “I’m not slipping you a mickey,” lifting said glass to her lips he watched her throat ungulate, making Jensen Jr. rise to attention.

��See Peaches, I’m not some crazy charity stalker.”

He took the glass and felt a spark as his fingers brushed hers, “thanks, I wasn’t actually thinking..that,” threw back the rest of the liquid appreciating the smooth slide down his throat, “it’s been a pretty shitty evening.”

“Preaching to the choir honey child. I’m here ‘cause my second cousin on my mama’s side girl broke up with him and now I know why.”

She bends over giving Jensen a fantastic view of her breasts artfully showcased in her cocktail dress retrieves a bottle, “that motherfucker thought he could pimp me out for a promotion!”

She points the bottle at him, “what the hell is it with people? That having a ring on it,” she grabs his left wrist holding it up so the lights glint off the band he hasn’t been able to remove yet, “means absofuckinglutely nothing?”

“Now you're preaching to the choir,” Jensen can’t keep the bitter note out of his voice as she refilled the glass, “my soon to be ex’s been doing that while I was working,” his shoulders dropped, feeling deflated.

“Holy shit, you’re the guy everyone is gossiping about! Is it true your wife’s been running around ‘cause you couldn’t find her clit with a map, GPS and a fucking bullseye paint on it? Hell, most gals just use a vibrator if they wanna get off that bad.”

There was no disguising his blushing this time, even the tips of his elfin ears felt hot and he’d swear they were glowing in the dim lighting as she continues, “or that your package is really,” she wriggled her pinky finger, “don’t get me wrong, no shame if you know how to use it.”

Jensen’s eyes widened in shock and she slapped her hand over her mouth, “oh fuck, I’m so sorry, my mouth doesn’t know how to stop once I get started, blame it on my upbringing.”

Jensen took a drink figuring he’d need a stiffener since there’s no telling what she’d say to his one word question, “upbringing?”

She grinned at him, “you know what they say, you can take the girl outta the trailer park..” Jensen's expression became bewildered, “yep, I’m that relative they always warned you about.”

“Little late with the warning sweetheart.”

She burst out laughing and Jensen found himself doing the same.

***

Later

They were sitting with their backs against the building working on another bottle she five finger discounted.

Here he was, a forty-three year old man normally in control ‘cause in his profession showing emotions that weren't scripted was a sign of weakness that could be exploited but this woman, whom he’s never met before, had upended his control, making him feel like he’s thirteen year old having his first crush, had him talking and laughing and before he knew it told her everything that’d actually happened.

“That sucks balls and not in the good way!”

“Kicker is she wants alimony.”

“But you caught her doing the beast with two backs..” Jensen hums in response taken another drink before handing her the glass.

“Peaches, I’m no lawyer but I’d say that ain’t fucking happening,” she refills the glass, “and no offense but your ex makes those whores back home look almost pious, they have the decency not to fuck in your bed..most of the time.”

Jensen rubbed his face, “I can’t believe I’ve told a complete stranger about my problems.”

“Sometimes it’s easier to unburden yourself to someone you don’t know.”

“I haven’t even told my family or Jared!”

“And Jared is?”

“The guy who has my back no matter what.”

“That’s probably why, you’re afraid that if he knows what really happened it'll diminish how he sees you.”

Jensen looked at her confused, “guys POV.. if I caught my wife fucking around in our marital bed saying it’s cause I couldn’t keep her satisfied in the sack, I’d not wanna discuss it either but I know it’s,” wiggles pinky again, “horseshit.”

“How..”

“You dress left..and I’ve never had a phone stand up to say hello.”

Jensen found himself stumbling to come up with some kind of coherent response.

“Ahh, come on Peaches, you know you’ve given a lotta people wet dreams about you and your alter ego.”

“Why do you keep calling me that?”

“Cause you’ve got the juiciest peach of an ass I’ve ever seen and I wouldn’t kick you outta bed for eating crackers,” she says winking at him.

“Jensen!” They both look up at a fuming Jared coming out the side door. “Fuck man, I’ve been looking all over for you, we’re ready to go,” heads towards them as a church’s bells ring twelve times.

“Well pooh, I was having fun,” she says as they stood up, “guess it’s time to leave the ball and for me to head back to the pumpkin patch.” She gives Jared a nod walking towards the open door.

“WAIT!” Jensen hollars and runs to her, “you can’t just leave this way..I don’t even know your name.”

“Give me your phone,” he pulls it out of his jacket pocket making her smirk seeing its size, enters her digits, “give me a ring if you ever cross the tracks Peaches,” winking at him she then disappears into the crowded room.

“Who was that?” Jared asked as Jensen glanced at her contact info.

“Cinderella.”

***

It took weeks of Jared’s continual nagging about getting back on the horse for Jensen to decide to call.

Yet he didn’t.

Another two weeks went by when Jared flat out told him to stop acting like a teenage girl made him whip out his phone and pull up her number before going to shut it off again when Jared snatched it and held it over his head out of Jensen’s reach making him squawk taps call.

Two rings and her voice came through the speaker.“Peaches, you’re slower than molasses in January crawling uphill giving a girl a holler.”

Jensen’s irritation with Jared mellowed hearing her voice, agreeing to meet Friday at a hole-in-the-wall for lunch where he wouldn’t be recognized.

Lunch became dinner, dinner became bar hopping which lead to sneaking into Blue Hole to go skinny dipping and doing things that would scare fish, detouring to Waffle House for chili around four in the morning, ends with him spending the weekend at her place.

***

Jensen was nervous. It didn’t happen often but tonight was extra special.

A few months back she’d bounded into his home excited about an upcoming celestial event and field trip her astronomy class was taking and she really, really, really wanted him to go even though they agreed on keeping their relationship secretive until his divorce was finalized.

It struck him that it'd be the perfect night to do something he’d literally been wanting to since their first date so he said yes while mentally making other arrangements for the night.

***

“Peaches, this isn’t the way to the observatory.”

“We’re not going there sweetheart.”

“I realize that Captain Obvious! What I want to know is wtf..are you trying to get me fired? I have a class..”

“That Dr. Carnegie is graciously covering.”

“Why is..what did you do Jensen?”

“I went to the head of your department,” she groaned, “and inquired if it was possible for someone else to supervise because I’d planned a special night with my girl.”

“What happened to us keeping on the DL? Carnegie is the biggest blabbermouth..everyone on the planet’s gonna know about us by morning!”

“We don’t have to anymore ‘cause my divorce was finalized this morning.”

“WHAT!” She indignantly squawked,”why the hell didn’t you tell me..”

Jensen bemusedly listens to her ongoing rant, picking up her hand kissing it’s back entwined their fingers as he drove on for another hour to Inks Lake State Park paying for an overnight camping permit.

“Since when do you camp out, ‘cause the one time I asked, you gave me stink face when I mentioned a tent.”

“Since the day you bounded in all excited, asking me to come with you and I wanted to make tonight special.”

She leaned over kissing his cheek, “thank you. I sincerely appreciate you compromising your creature comforts for me.”

Jensen scratched the back of his head, “well, we’re not technically camping out, I got an air mattress that fits in the truck bed.”

***

Jensen gaze’s up at the moon awash with a pink hue, “I know it's a yearly thing so what makes this one so special?” The question made her lift her head from the telescope’s eyepiece, an amused expression crossed her features taken in his reclining position on the air mattress in the moonlight.

“Are you trying to seduce me Mrs. Robinson? Or do you want me to paint you like one of those french girls?”

Jensen peers down at his unintentional position: one hand tucked behind his head, bowed legs splayed, one knee slightly bent, his other hand lying near the sliver of skin peaking out between his dark henley and low riding jeans.

She walks towards the truck, “what makes this years,” sets a foot on the back bumper, “so special,” grips the tailgate and hops over onto the mattress, “is the proximity of the moons orbit,” on her hands and knees crawls forward, “to the earth,” placing her hands on either side of his shoulders she straddles Jensen’s hips slowly sitting down, “is ultra close and..whatthehellisinyourpants!!”

Jensen quickly grabbed her waist, preventing her from hitting the sidewall when she jumped off him, “that’s the other surprise I planned for tonight.”

“That’d better be a sex toy and not Peyronie's disease,” Jensen gave her an bewildered look, “what, I like your cock as is, curves just right for my pleasure.”

“Your mouth is gonna be the death of me..”

“..but what a way to go?”

Jensen flopped on his back groaning, “this isn’t how I imagined tonight going.”

“So let’s pretend we’re on set, I’ve flubbed the scene and do another take.”

“That’s why I love you,” he says, tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear, “the fact everything that pops into my head comes flying out of my mouth?” Jensen chuckles, “yeah well, I like you just as you are and would be the luckiest man alive if you’d marry me.” He reaches into his pocket pulling out the box she sat on and opens it revealing the ring he’d chosen takes her hand sliding it on her finger.

Her silence was almost deafening, having never known her to be without some kind of a response, “getting nervous here sweetheart,” Jensen says, “I know we’ve only been together for a short time and I don’t want you to feel pressured in any way to answer...”

“What’s the stone?”

“Umm..it’s a Moldivite,” she has this expression he wasn’t sure what to make of it. “I know it’s not conventional and if you want to pick something..else..” Jensen broke off watching her eyes fill with tears.

“You gave me this ring, not because you’re being cheap, but ‘cause you know what the significance of its origin would mean to me. You’ve never put on air’s with me, never been anything other than yourself, a genuine, caring, funny as hell, beautiful soul who couldn’t be any more perfect and I’m saying yes!”

SPN TAGS: @donnaintx @lyarr24 @flamencodiva @b3autyfuldisast3r @lassie-bird @nancymcl @spnbaby-67

Dean/Jensen @thoughts-and-funnies @stoneyggirl @akshi8278 @beabutterfly987

[kalesorbet]

the lesson chapter one (liveblogging)

(i got back from dinner with 20 seconds on the countdown my adrenaline is PUMPING)

- BAD START BAD START

- why is the cake so important why is this a point of Emphasis

- remember how ranboo wanted to use maps to find the book/see where the enderwalk was going

- "are you a book reader?" LMAO

- ... they don't want guests...

- secret... with a HUGE ASS WINDOW

- hmmmmmmmmm wtf is green cardboard box

- ranboo's like "yes... hmmm yes of course... I uh... yes"

- THE WAY FOOLISHES AUDIO IS CUTTING

- ENDERMAN NOISE YEAAAAHAHAHHAH

- AUDIO GLITCHES MY BELOVED!!!!

- HE REMEMBERS!!! MY BOY CAN DO IT!!!

- a m o n g u s

- ranboo: "yo what the FUCK is going ON"

- THE WHAT

- THE EXPERIMENTS????

- its the hotel why wouldn't you remember it bb

- (i literally can't eat my dinner bc i'm so invested in this, whole plate of rice starin at me rn)

- "sam promised" O.K. buddy you tell me how that's gone down in the past

- wait we are dangerously close to Panic Room rn

- O H ?

- (also 53 wtf how many are there)

- ranboo said "ah yes let me select the healthiest coping mechanism i know: Denial"

- why are we so damn close to the p r i s o n

- h o m e (is home the tundra or snowchester i Have to Know)

- someone give c!ranboo a hug challenge

- i'm sorry i know this is an emotionally charged moment but fake crying for minecraft roleplay might be the line for me

- oh we gettin the book out (lmao nvm he put it away as i was typing)

- what the fuck

- BABY NO WAIT TURN AROUND GO HOME

- NO. NO. TURN THE FUCK AROUND

- I WILL PULL THIS CAR OVER RIGHT NOW

- C!RANBOO TURN AROUND CHALLENGE

- "for the greater good" SHUT! THE FUCK! UP!

- the little "oh thank god" was cute though

- ranboo is a really bad liar

- sam let him in i wanna see my meow meow

- O H ? oh no baby please just get some sleep

- PLEASE SAM GIVE HIM A HUG

- "are you alright" SAM. CLEARLY FUCKING NOT.

- theater kid ranboo jumped the fuck out

- sam's mic is so quiet

- ranboo if he doesn't understand just fuckin tell him my guy

- YEARS????

- YEAH HIT HIM!!!!

- c!sam is probably SO damn confused rn

- i bet c!ranboo attacks the prison to give sam a reason lets goooo

- ok how long we gonna do this for babes

- "PUT ME IN COACH"

- HE DID IT. HE BLEW UP THE PRISON. SAM HE DID IT. SAM. SAM.

- ranbo bb just spit it out

- c!sam said "no <3"

- i am a c!ranboo enthusiast but i would pay real money to see him confess to every. single. one. of his crimes

- is that blood on the prime path by bad's mansion and mc puffy's

- where we goin ranboo

- this is exactly where quackity would put a cutscene lmaooo

- fuck up outta here with the greek myth shit my guy

- the only things that are this way are the anarchists and logstedshire (maybe las nevadas im not sure)

- are we.... forcing the enderwalk state my guy???

- THIS IS SO COOL

- i am rubbing my evil little hands together rn im so excited

- let me see him. let me see the enderwalk boy

- that better not be the end so help me god

- pspspspspspss come on out buddy

- FUCK.

[itsbenedict]

I didn’t post about everything I played this year, so here’s my opinions on the stuff I played that I didn’t make a rec post for:

Raging Loop 

Raging Loop is one of them twisty meta Zero Escape-y branching-path visual novels where an ensemble cast is trapped in a mysterious circumstance where people are dying gruesomely, and you have to find out what’s happening and stop it by looping a bunch. 

I can’t wholeheartedly recommend it, because... it tries to have its cake and eat it too with the supernatural elements. Clearly magic is real and has important impacts on the scenario, but then other parts are trickery you’re supposed to see through, and it’s entirely uninterested in cluing you in to how that trickery was accomplished. Not exactly a fair play mystery, in that regard- you have to kind of just be along for the ride, rather than try to figure it out.

That said, it’s a good ride- pretty strong character writing, and the central conceit of the Werewolf/Mafia-style murder scenario creates really interesting drama. It’s more concerned with making itself feel clever than letting the player feel clever, but it’s still well-paced and gripping and has a pretty decent resolution.

Detective Grimoire

I recommended Tangle Tower, the sequel, pretty strongly- and this one, while obviously a little rougher around the edges with the art and mechanics (the suspicion tracker system is a total dud; I didn’t even realize it existed until I realized I was missing an achievement for using it), it’s still pretty darn good. Really fun character designs and animations, fully-voiced, and a solid whodunit backing it all. Plus- while the two are more or less self-contained, the continuity threads with Tangle Tower raised some really interesting questions.

Contradiction - the all-video murder mystery

This one was pretty fun, largely on the strength of the actors. The main mechanic of interrogating people on evidence and using their own statements against each other was some good stuff, too. Definitely had that Phoenix Wright quality to the deductions, and Jenks is a really fun character. (Had a few points where progression was just linked to standing in a certain previously-abandoned area of the map where a clue was suddenly there for no reason, there- good thing it had a hint system.)

As a mystery, it could use a little work- most of what you end up finding out is sequel bait (for a sequel that never actually came together, unfortunately), and the actual whodunit is just sort of hiding in the cracks of all that. And... cornering the culprit just sort of happens out of nowhere once you’ve got your hands on the right piece of evidence, without much fanfare. You’re following up on leads like usual, you find a little lie in someone’s testimony, and then- oh, shit, they’re just confessing everything! Unlike all the previous times you questioned them and they were super evasive like everyone else! And then the game is over. 

All in all, it’s pretty meaty and entertaining and I’d recommend it, but unfortunately the creators have moved on to other things, so there’s not going to be any follow-up on the stuff it left unresolved.

Ikenfell

Ikenfell is a tightly-designed RPG about kids at a magic school, with Paper Mario-style action command mechanics and a battle system that makes a big deal out of careful positioning and movement, which was really enjoyable. The difficulty’s a little high (I recommend always always always speccing into max damage because killing things before they kill you is worth more than any amount of defense, speed doesn’t work, and healing is cheap), but I found it really satisfying.

There’s... something... off? About... I don’t know how to put it, it’s... doing that “yes, everyone is queer and mentally ill, deal with it” thing, which, sure, okay. But for a lot of them it’s such a background thing, like... half the playable cast is unambiguously nonbinary, but like... I don’t know if it’s trying to make some statement on how there are no rules to being NB and you can 100% perform a particular binary gender presentation but still count, or if they wrote the whole story and then changed the pronouns of some of the characters for Representation Points, or what. Probably the former? I dunno, it just feels weird. Maybe I’m just not woke enough to Get It.

(unrelatedly: why the heck is the official art they use everywhere so... off-model? none of them look like they do in-game- they look like the creator commissioned someone to draw a group shot with one reference image each and didn’t tell them anything about the characters. how much you wanna bet they commissioned a friend and it came out wrong but they were too polite to say “sorry, no, this is wrong, can you do it over?”)

Trails of Cold Steel IV

Hoo boy. It’s... not great, and it’s not great in a pretty predictable way for an even-numbered entry in the Trails series. It happens every time- first there’s a game in a new engine with new characters and a new world to explore, and it’s really nice and does interesting things... and then it ends on a cliffhanger, and then there’s a sequel game in the same engine with the same characters and the same world, reusing as many assets as possible. Also the League Of Generically Evil Anime Supervillains is there causing trouble for reasons they refuse to explain, and the plot is a storm of magicbabble and macguffin-chasing that makes little to no sense. 

Cold Steel IV is that for Cold Steel III, full stop. Welcome back to all the same places you visited last game, except this time there’s some stupid magic apocalypse happening (not that it stops you from taking the time to do random sidequests constantly, of course). The whole “oh, the evil curse mind controls people and that’s why they do stupid bullshit that’s in no one’s interest” plot point is leaned on super hard, and it’s just a big yawn the whole way through.

It’s still really fun, though, because the battle system remains really well-designed. (The same battle system that was just as fun in Cold Steel III, mind you, but it hasn’t gotten old.) And- though they’re struggling to square it with the dumb mind control apocalypse plot, the NPC dialogue continues to make the world feel believable and lived-in. They don’t slack on the parts that make Trails good- it’s just the parts that make Trails bad are making themselves more evident than ever.

did finally get to date Towa though so that’s a win

One Step From Eden

OSFE is... uh. It’s fucking hard is what it is. It’s sort of a deckbuilding roguelike, and there’s this combat that takes place on a grid, and- wait, it’s like Mega Man Battle Network, it’s exactly like Mega Man Battle Network. Man, I forgot about that, but the mechanical influence is extremely obvious. It’s MMBN meets Slay the Spire.

Except it’s super duper hard as hell, because unlike MMBN you can’t pause and swap out chips or anything- everything is just always happening so much, all at once, everywhere, and you have no recourse but to git gud and learn all the enemy patterns and the behavior of your own spells and develop the twitch reflexes necessary to not fucking die from all the shit that’s on the screen always.

(What’s the story? Uhhhh, there was some kind of magic apocalypse, and some anime girls are trying to reach a city for some reason that doesn’t really get explained ever. The game doesn’t really care to build its world at all- it’s all mechanics plus a little token character dialogue that doesn’t say much.)

The point is it’s really frickin’ hard but I am an epic pro gamer and I got ALL THE ACHIEVEMENTS, MOTHERFUCKER. If you’ve played it, I expect you to be really god damn impressed with me, okay???

A Short Hike

This one was really relaxing! It’s a platformer where you explore an Animal Crossing-y island of cartoon animal people, collecting mobility upgrades- but like, mainly it’s about straight chillin’. The flight controls are fun and there’s lots of little secrets to find and it’s just a nice time that doesn’t drag on too long. Not too much to say about this one.

Pokémon Sword

Ehhhhh.

I’m not here for the hot takes about how Dexit is good actually. Development hell happened, they had to make cuts for time, I get it. It’s disappointing and makes the game a little bit worse, but it’s not the end of the world.

Apart from that... perfectly serviceable? The Wild Area could’ve used a little more technical polish (as could most things in the game, really) but was a step in the right direction, giving the player a wider array of early-game team-building options than ever before. No HMs is good. Story and characters were kind of nothing, but that’s par for the course. “At least this time they’re not shoehorning in some kind of stupid evil-team-wants-legendary-pokemon-to-destroy-the-world apocalypse plot”, I thought to myself before they managed to shoehorn one in at the last minute with zero buildup- but, hey, beats wasting half the game on it.

It’s nothing special and it’s missing a lot of polish, but its problems are mainly due to being rushed, and presumably next gen they’ll be able to reuse a lot of the models and animations (maybe even improve the animations so they’re not so boring??? a man can dream) and make something interesting. SwSh seem like they were testing the waters for something else, and not taking too many chances in the meantime. 

(yo why would you sell all these cosmetic items and then turn them all off during gym battles, though) 

Hades

Hades is- oh, who am I kidding? Everyone knows Hades, it’s the game of the year, greatest thing since sliced bread, Supergiant are heroes, yada yada yada. I’ve played almost 300 hours of it and I’ve completed everything except all the Resources Director levels (currently a Sigma Wraith), it’s extremely fun and you don’t need me to tell you that.

Petal Crash

It was that thing the Paranatural creator helped on? It’s, uh. It’s a block-sliding puzzle game thing, sort of in a Puyo Puyo vein. It has fun character designs and some good dialogue, like you’d expect from Zack’s involvement, but it didn’t really leave an impression otherwise (besides how got dang infuriating some of its Turn Trial puzzles can be.) The story is... kinda heartwarming, kinda didactic, kinda childish, not especially deep or interesting. Hard for it to be, when it’s told through little bits of fluffy character dialogue that exist to set up a puzzle battle as quickly as possible. Not super recommended unless you really really like block-sliding puzzles.

Hollow Knight

Man, why’d I sleep on this for so long? It’s a metroidvania platformer with heavy Dark Souls inspiration, in terms of tone and difficulty and death mechanics and environmental storytelling. And it’s... apart from all that, just really good as a game, with tight controls and juicy movement and great animation. Progression is linked as much to mastery as it is to upgrades collected- I found myself in lategame areas facing down things that would’ve killed me ten times over at the start- not because I had the best gear, but because I’d learned the game’s language and understood how to move in ways that wouldn’t get me killed.

(Usually. Sometimes I’d walk into a room and sit on a bench and suddenly there’d be a boss fight and I’d get slaughtered. Ain’t that just the way it goes?)

Anyway, on top of all that it’s just charming as hell, with a really unique and well-realized world full of little bug people. I love how, like, your character is clearly some kind of eldritch abomination, but it’s small and cute and so everyone (besides enemies that attack you on sight because they’re possessed by some kinda evil mold) is like “awww, who’s this little guy? want some help, little guy?”

(except Zote, who is just an ass hole. i love him.)

[michaels-blackhat]

bro-back mountain.

So, it’s still my birthday and I’m still being self-indulgent, so here have another remix. This time it’s @insidious-intent‘s frat boy!michael ‘verse.

-

“Bro. Dude. Seriously, I’m begging you man.”

Alex wasn’t sure why the SigEp boys didn’t seem to know his name. They always called him ‘bro’ and ‘dude’. Maybe, if Jacobson ever called him ‘Alex’ he’d be more inclined to listen to him. As it was, he was grumpy and waiting in line for his coffee at the stand in the engineering building an hour and a half before his first class and definitely not in the mood to be bro’d by anyone.

“Maybe if you actually used my name I would consider listening to you,” he replied as he took his very large iced coffee from the student worker.

“Alex,” Jacobson said, reaching from his caramel blended monstrocity. Alex glared at the glorified milkshake. “Alex you know how he gets when he doesn’t see you for a few days.”

“Yes. I know.” Alex took a sip of his iced coffee. “It’s the only reason I’m on the wrong side of campus at 8 a.m. instead of still in bed.”

Michael had given him a manic smile when he spotted him outside the building. Alex could still feel the sharp press of the brick in his back where Michael had pressed him against the building and kissed him, sloppy and uncoordinated, but enthusiastic.

“I’m not too sure he’s slept? Like at all. And he keeps stress baking, like all the time.”

“That’s not new. He has his interview for that internship after class today, of course he’s stress baking.”

“There’s been like, twenty cakes and I’m pretty sure he hasn’t actually made an edible one yet.”

Alex paused, straw still in his mouth. He knew he was blocking the doorway, but he didn’t particularly care.

“Everything he makes is good.”

“He forgot the flour bro. Twice.”

“Fuck,” Alex swore as he lead the way out of the building toward the green.

“It’s getting so bad that I think Max has only consumed red bull in the last week and Michael just asked if he tried mixing it with espresso.” Both Jacobson and Alex scrunched their noses up at that. “Yes. It was disgusting. And he snapped at the pledges. He made them cry. Pretty sure he was about to throw a punch too, but that was at Valenti, so who knows if that was related. Whatever. Please dude. You’re our only hope.”

Alex sipped his iced coffee again. “I’m your only hope to what? Take my boyfriend to a cabin so that he doesn’t continue to destroy your already disgusting house?”

Jacobson took a loud slurp of his coffee milkshake thing and nodded. “Just a weekend alone with his boyfriend, doing things he loves. You know, snowboarding and fucking you.”

Alex glared at that. It was true, but he didn’t have to say it.

“You know that he’s not the only one who’s busy, right? Yeah, he’s stressed, but I haven’t been around because I have performances. Fuck, I have an exam Tuesday and a new program due on Wednesday. I can’t just spend the weekend away because my boyfriend is grumpy, sleep-deprived, and barely able to feed himself, let alone the rest of you.”

“You can bring your shit! Come on man! You’ll have privacy! The only one’s there will be the two of you. You get out of your dorm and you don’t have to come to the house.” Alex stopped again. Jacobson knew he was winning. “You’ll have your own bathroom for a weekend Alex. The only person you have to share with is Michael.”

Alex stared at Jacobson. Jacobson smiled.

-

“I swear to fucking god Guerin, if I find one piece of hair left in the drain trap you are kicked out of the cabin. I don’t care if you have to sleep in your truck all weekend,” Alex said as Michael pulled the truck in front of the cabin. It was exactly what Alex imagined when Jacobson said ‘dude, Erik has a cabin you can use’. There was a covered porch, one story, a chimney, and presumably a clean bathroom with a door that actually locked.

“Are you seriously more excited to not have a communal bathroom than you are to spend a weekend with me alone?” Michael put the truck into park and cut the engine. “Like, I know the dorms are bad, but it really seems like you’re more into the shower than me right now.”

Alex gave him a look before he got out of the car and walked around to the driver’s side. He opened up the door and blocked Michael’s exit. He leaned in and gave him a kiss, tongue pressing into Michael’s lips and quickly back, a quick tease. He pulled back with a smirk.

“Can’t I be excited about both?” He moved in for another kiss, this one long and languid. He could feel the moment that Michael thought ‘screw it’ and moved to wrap his arms around Alex to just pull him back into the cab to makeout in the front seat, but Alex pulled back before he could. “Might be a little more excited for the bathroom.”

Alex laughed at Michael’s outraged cry and ran towards the porch. He barely got the key in the door when Michael’s arms wrapped around him and he was hauled over Michael’s shoulder. Michael carried him into the cabin and placed him flat on his back on the couch. Michael climbed on top of him with a smile.

“You sure I can’t make you more excited?” Michael’s right arm supported him above Alex, while his left hand wandered from Alex’s neck to his chest. He rubbed at Alex’s chest as he brought his face closer to Alex’s, as he rubbed their noses together and angled his head so that his lips just brushed Alex’s. His lips brushed Alex’s as he said, “I think I can convince you.”

Alex barely let him get the sentence out before he moved his head to kiss Michael properly. His hands that were laying uselessly at his side moved towards Michael’s ass, gripping tight as Michael nipped at his bottom lip. Michael groaned into Alex’s mouth.

They didn’t leave the couch for a while.

-

They’re on the mountain for maybe an hour when it happens.

“Come on bro, let’s try another slope.”

Michael didn’t realize what he said, not at first. He was too busy checking the map for a new trail. Alex had frozen the moment ‘bro’ had left Michael’s mouth. It took a moment, but Michael’s words caught up to him.

“Fuck.”

“What did you just call me Guerin?”

“Alex, babe, I’m so sorry it just slipped out!”

“Your hand is on my ass and we were just making out, yet somehow the ‘bro’ just slipped out? You do that with all your bros?”

Michael hand, which had moved from Alex’s ass to a more appropriate for public location around his waist, tightened where it gripped on his side.

“Oh my god,” Alex gasped, fully aware of the stereotype he was portraying but completely uncaring. This was too big to care about his image as a stoic, emo bitch. “Who?”

“I mean, not since we started dating, so it’s been a long time and--”

“Who, Michael? I need to know!” Michael refused to turn his head to look at Alex. “Come on, tell me. I’m your boyfriend, you can tell me anything.”

“If I tell you, you’ll just go text Maria and Isobel, and I don’t want them to know.”

“I promise, I won’t! Who could it be that you don’t want Isobel to- Wait? Was it MAx?”

“Oh gross no. He’s basically my brother.” Alex opened his mouth but Michael beat him to his comment. “Basically my real brother, not like in the frat scene.”

“Ugh,” Alex groaned and leaned his head on Michael’s shoulder. He looked up at him through his lashes and asked again. “Tell me, please? It wasn’t Valenti was it?” Michael finally looked at him at that, disgust clear on his face. “Hey, I just needed to be sure, don’t look at me like that.”

“Fine. It was Jacobson.”

Alex pulled his head back so that Michael could see his disbelieving stare.

“Jacobson? You mean the man who begged me to take you away for the weekend so that you could quote “do your favorite things”, one of which is me?”

“Well, yeah,” Michael said, tone saying that it was obvious. “How do you think he knows you’re one of my favorite things?”

“Pretty sure he was just making a lewd sex joke and he wasn’t serious.”

“Oh, he was totally making a sex joke. It’s also true. After that first party you went to I basically stopped messing around with anyone else.”

“But we didn’t start dating until weeks later?” Alex asked, voice soft in the mountain air.

“I know,” Michael said, voice just as soft and he used the arm around Alex to pull him in closer. “But I already knew I liked you, had since that class we shared, and I thought that maybe, you giving me even one chance, could mean something good for us in the future. Wasn’t going to mess that up for some hook up.”

He finished his sentence by rubbing his nose against Alex’s. Alex gave him a quick peck on the nose, his lips almost burning hot compared to the cold skin of Michael’s nose.

“I think you just made up for accidentally calling me bro,” Alex said with a smile. He kissed Michael’s cold cheek. “You’re cold,” he continued with a smirk, “why don’t we go back to the cabin and warm ourselves up?”

-

“We should probably wash the sheet,” Michael said from the mess they had made of the bed.

“There’s a lot we should probably clean,” Alex said from the bathroom. “I really don’t know how you managed it, but there’s definitely dried cum on the tile in here.”

“Think they have a cleaning person who will take care of this?”

Alex popped his head out of the bathroom. “I know I make fun of your cleanliness levels constantly, but you are aware of how gross it is to make other people clean your body fluids, right? Like, we are more than capable of wiping down a few walls and doing laundry.”

Michael poked his head out of the blankets. “We do clean the house, you know that right? I know you’ve been there when we’ve cleaned it.”

“I don’t think picking up after a house party really counts.”

“Fine. We’ll clean.” He groaned as he rolled out of the bed. His feet didn’t quite make it under him and he fell to the floor. “Hey,” he said as he popped up from where he fell. “I thought you wanted to study a bit before we left. Are you going to have time to do both?”

“Of course,” Alex smiled as he made his way to the bed. He gave Michael a quick kiss before he started pulling the sheets off and rolling them up. “I’ll start the laundry and study while you clean the bathroom.”

“This was your plan all along, wasn’t it.”

“Love you babe,” Alex called as he walked out the bedroom door. “There’s bleach spray and a cleaning rag in the bathroom.”

-

It was Monday morning and Alex was once again waiting in line at the coffee cart in the engineering building. Michael was a sleepy presence at his back, face smashed into Alex’s neck and his arms wrapped around him Alex. He was doing a convincing job of imitating an octopus, or really anything overly clingy.

“Michael let go, our coffee’s ready.” Alex moved towards the worker who had his iced coffee and Michael’s mocha.

“No,” Michael mumbled into Alex’s neck. “Don’t want to let you go.”

“You’ll see me in four hours once my exam is over.”

“No.”

“Michael, seriously I just spent all weekend with you, we’ll survive a few hours.”

“But that still doesn’t make up for the week before,” he grumbled, but he did loosen his arms so that Alex could untangle himself to get their coffees.

“We were busy last week,” Alex admitted when he came back with his iced coffee. He handed Michael his mocha. “And the only thing we have this week is that project I have due for my programming class. It won’t be like the last few weeks.”

“I really liked this last weekend,” Michael admitted.

Alex smiled. “I liked it too.”

“We could do it more often.”

“I don’t think Erik would be cool if we stole his parent’s cabin every weekend,” Alex said with a laugh.

“I kind meant more like, I liked waking up with you every morning, cooking you breakfast, falling asleep with you.”

“I liked that too.”

“What if we did it every day.”

“Michael, are you asking me to move in with you?”

“Yes, but before you say anything I don’t mean at the house. I meant more like, what if we got our own apartment? Then we’d never go days without seeing each other, because even if we’re busy we’ll always be going home to each other. And you’d be able to play your music whenever because it’ll only be me and you know how much I love it, and I’d get to-”

“Ok,” Alex cut him off before he could work himself up more. “Ok. Let’s start looking for places for next semester.”

“Really?” Michael’s smile was huge.

“Really.” Alex kissed his cheek. “Now go, you only have three minutes until class.”

“Oh Shit!” He gave Alex one last kiss. “Bye,” he said into the kiss. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Five minutes later Alex got a message with an apartment listing.

Pay attention to class he typed back to Michael. He smiled and made his way towards his dorm. He still had another hour before his exam.

[emeraldwaves]

Title: The Sweetest Girl Pairing: KateAaron, Andreil Rating: T Word Count: 5,009 AO3

Summary:

Aaron doesn't consider himself a good Postmate. He doesn't particularly like his job. However, there's one bakery that he doesn't mind picking up orders from.

This was written for the @aftgexchange for @thetallwinchester ! I hope you enjoy this silly little Bakery AU! :D Thank you for the prompt!!

The phone buzzes on Aaron's dashboard and he looks at the device with disdain. If looks could kill, the thing would've exploded right there in his damn car.

[You have one new delivery request!]

Aaron regrets everything.

The small line is slowly moving down his screen. He's running out of time to accept this order and though he really doesn't want to, he knows it's either this one or some other shitty food pick up.

He taps his screen, accepting the order, and sighs.

Postmates sucks. Not as bad as Uber, cause there is far less human interaction with Postmates, but people can be so damn finicky about their food.

He pulls up the order on his phone screen. Fox Bakery, three miles from where he is now. Not bad, though he's never heard of this place. The person wants some cookies and a bagel. Interesting combination, but not the weirdest order he's ever gotten.

Putting the car in drive, he follows the map on his phone, annoyed he even has to do this. Postmates isn't a difficult job, but it's not ideal. It's tedious, it wears down Aaron's car, people are rude, and the list of awful shit goes on and on, but it pays the damn bills well enough.

Living with his brother and his cousin in their tiny apartment also isn't ideal, but he tries not to complain about that either. At least, not out loud. It's a place to live, a means to an end. Eventually, he'll be done with medical school and he'll be making so much money he'll be able to buy multiple houses. Houses he won't have to share with Andrew and Nicky.

It takes him a minute to find the damn bakery. It's actually not on the road it says it's on. It's down a side alleyway, sort of around the back of the street. Without the stupid little Postmates app, Aaron would definitely have gotten lost.

The front entrance has a few paw prints on it, and the logo is orange: Fox Bakery. A fox sits behind the text, it's tail making the curve of the 'y'. Aaron's just happy he found the damn place.

He pulls the door open, a small bell jingling at the top. The place smells heavenly, Aaron can't deny that. He doesn't have his brother's sweet tooth, but stepping in here, he can see the appeal. It smells like freshly baked cake and sugar. The smell wraps itself around his body and Aaron could take a nap right there on the floor, letting the comfort take over.

"Welcome!" A chipper voice calls out, and a girl pops up from behind one of the counters. Her long brown hair is tied up into a ponytail, a bow wrapped around it. The ribbons almost look like little fox ears. Lame. Her smile is wide, her dark eyes glistening with excitement.

Honestly, no one should be this excited working in the customer service industry, but she's certainly owning it, and Aaron can't fault her.

"Can I help you? We just took some cakes out of the oven if you're looking for something fresh!" Her voice takes on a bit of a sing-song, the lilting tone soft, yet tempting. Aaron's mouth goes dry.

For a second he forgets why he's there. Between her beautiful face, and the delicious smell, he tries to focus, but he just keeps staring.

"Uh," he says finally. Real smooth. He needs to get out of here. "I'm picking up for... Jeremy? Postmates," he says, holding up his phone.

"Oh! Great! Of course!" The girl beams at him and makes her way to a small shelf near the back. There are a few bags there, probably waiting to be picked up. "Here you go! Three cookies and an everything bagel," she says. "Do you know if they want cream cheese?"

"Just... throw some in there," he says, waving his hand to the side. He doesn't really care either way, but getting to stay here for a couple additional seconds isn't all that bad.

"Sounds great!" She tosses a few tiny cups of cream cheese into the bag and wraps it up, putting a cute fox sticker on the edge of the bag to keep it shut. Reaching over the counter, she hands it to him.

"Thanks," he mutters, taking it from her. Orange looks horrible on everyone, but somehow she makes it work. His eyes fall on the name tag on her sweater: Katelyn. Cute.

"Katelyn," he says, not realizing he said anything out loud.

"Yes? Oh! Yes! That's my name," she giggles. "Do you want to try something? I mean, since you came all the way here."

Aaron glances around the case. He really doesn't have much of a sweet tooth... "Uh, no thanks."

"Oh." Her face falls and she presses her teeth into her lower lip before smiling again. "No worries! Happy delivery!"

Fuck, he's dumb. He mentally kicks himself for saying anything. How is it he loses his mind so quickly over one pretty girl? He's not normally this awkward. Actually, that's debatable, but whatever. "Thanks," he mutters again, and rushes out of the store.

At least the bakery is out of the way, so not many people order from there. Maybe he'll never go back.

~~

The problem is, Aaron wants to go back. He can't stop thinking about stupid Katelyn and how cute she is and the soft orange ribbon in her dark brown hair. She's stunning. Absolutely stunning, and as much as he hates his damn job, he's secretly waiting to get pinged for Fox Bakery.

But it never comes.

He supposes he could go there himself, and actually order something, but Aaron tries not to go to restaurants in his free time. He saves money by cooking at home, and why would he want to go places he always has to go for work? Still, he's actually tempted to go back and buy something just to see her one more time.

Creepy.

No, he's not a creep, and he won't go back for no reason.

But he will go back if he gets another order from there. Which, thankfully, a week and a half later he does. It's probably the fastest he's ever accepted an order.

The little bell jingles when he enters the place, and a short guy stands by the register. He's got bright blue eyes and messy brown hair and he looks entirely uninterested in being there. Disappointment washes over Aaron. Of course Katelyn doesn't work there everyday and he shouldn't expect her to always be there.

Sighing, he makes his way to the counter, taking the loss. "Hey, I'm picking up a delivery for Postmates."

The guy looks up, face unchanging. "Yeah, okay. Name?"

"Uh, Laila," he says, glancing down at his phone.

"'Kay." The guy walks over to the shelf right as Katelyn opens the door from the back, stepping behind the counter.

"Oh! Hey! It's the Postmates guy!" She laughs, and gestures to him.

"You know him?" The other worker asks, pulling the bag from the shelf.

She turns to look at him, her dark eyes full of excitement yet again. How someone can be so happy working in a bakery is beyond Aaron. "Well, sort of! He's come in before." She looks down, her cheeks flushing. "Sorry, I actually never got your name."

"Aaron," he says, reaching over the counter.

"Katelyn!" She smiles, waving at him. Though she quickly straightens up and gasps. "I-I mean I guess you already knew that from my name tag!" She gestures to the small badge on her shirt.

"Yeah," Aaron says.

The guy next to them scoffs, and clicks his tongue. "Shouldn't you deliver your order?" he asks.

Immediately, Aaron frowns. Who the hell is this guy? Maybe he's Katelyn's boyfriend and he wants Aaron to leave cause his girlfriend is obviously one of those people who is nice to everyone. Or maybe he has a crush on Katelyn and is jealous her attention is elsewhere.

"Oh! Neil's right!" she says. "Sorry for keeping you."

He wants to urge her that it's not a big deal. Worse case, he just gets less of a tip, which honestly, he wouldn't mind if it was because he stood here talking to her.

"Do you want a small sample to go?" She asks, and Aaron glances around the store. He should probably take something. It would be the polite thing to do, but Aaron really doesn't know what to take.

"I should... probably get going," he says, gesturing to the door. So much for staying and talking to her.

"Right! Of course! Good luck, Aaron!" She bows her head toward him and he stands, watching her. He waves, after what seems like both an eternity and not long enough, and heads back out the door. He wishes things had lasted longer than that.

~~

He notices the bakery popping up more and more on his Postmates app. It's like everyone suddenly realized what a hidden gem this is. For once, Aaron doesn't care. He doesn't even care that he has to park on a side street and walk all the way around through the alley just to get to the damn place.

It's worth it when Katelyn is there.

He's been lucky. The majority of the time he goes, Katelyn is there. She always greets him, popping up from behind the counter with a cheery: "Hello Aaron!" A few times he's even smiled at her.

Every time he leaves, she asks if he wants to try something, and he always says no. Each time, he starts to regret it more and more. He just... panics when she asks, never sure what to pick.

A few times he goes, and Neil is there working by himself, and Aaron hates those times. Neil is nothing like Katelyn. The guy is completely uninterested in everything, and even though they both know each other's name, the conversation is always as short as it can possibly be. Aaron grabs his order and practically dashes out the door.

He wonders if Neil notices the difference between when Katelyn is there or not there. Aaron spends a grand total of 10 seconds in the store when it's just Neil but with Katelyn he always lingers for at least a minute. Or two.

It's stupid because he never actually talks about anything with her. Usually she talks about the specials or asks how Aaron's deliveries have been. One time, she talked about a rude customer who had come in just moments before. Aaron's honestly thankful he hadn't been there, because he probably would've punched the guy’s face in if he saw someone being rude to her.

One day, he gets a particularly large order: a dozen donuts, some cupcakes, and a half dozen cookies. He's hoping he gets there early, before the order is ready. Hopefully Katelyn will be there too.

Aaron doesn't really understand what it is about the girl that interests him so much. Honestly, he should despise someone as peppy as her. Yet, he can't help but find her endearing. He loves the way she giggles, and how her hair is always pulled back into a signature ponytail. He adores the way she says his name. Somehow, she always manages to punctuate the 'A's like they're really important.

Making his way down the side alley, he pops into the store, the tiny bell jingling. "Hi Aaron!" He hears her voice immediately, the high pitched tone cutting through the small room.

"Hey Katelyn."

"You know," she says, leaning against the countertop. "I was hoping this big order would be you. We're just waiting on the cupcakes!"

"No problem," he says, and for once he actually means it. Waiting for this order will be anything but torture.

"I can go check on them if you'd like! I know people can be mean when their food isn't on time," Katelyn says, a gentle sigh slipping from her lips.

"More bad customers today?" Aaron asks, looking around the empty bakery. He's glad when he's in here alone, it means he has the chance to try and talk to her, even if he often sucks at it.

Katelyn shakes her head. "No... the other day, my roommate gave our Postmate a horrible tip because he couldn't find our apartment. I felt so bad, I couldn't stop thinking about you and how hard you work. Even if a Postmate is slow, I try not to tip them too badly."

Aaron's cheeks light up. He's not even that good at his job. He doesn't even like working for Postmates. "Oh, uh, well, you know, not everyone is a good Postmate."

"I know, but who knows, maybe they legitimately got lost! Our complex is a little confusing," she explains.

Aaron is about to say he understands because he's gotten lost before but he gets cut off when a woman with long dark braids steps out from the backroom, carrying a hot tray of cupcakes. The smell is overwhelming, and it actually makes his stomach gurgle.

"Hello!" The woman says, placing the tray down. "Is this a regular?"

"Sort of!" Katelyn laughs. "This is Aaron, he's a Postmates driver."

"Oh! Hello!" The woman smiles. "I'm Dan. My husband Matt and I own this place. Thank you for coming by."

"Oh, cool," Aaron says, mostly because he has no idea what else to say.

"I'll get these bagged up for you," Katelyn says, and carries the tray over, wrapping up the cupcakes. "Are you sure I can't interest you in one? You've been in here so many times and never tried anything."

Aaron purses his lips. He always feels guilty saying no, and especially now, in front of the owner. This probably isn't the time to refuse. Swallowing, he nods his head. "Yeah, I'll uh, I'll take a cupcake." He supposes he can give it to Andrew.

Katelyn's face lights up, her eyes shimmer. She claps her hands together. "Of course! It'll be my treat! I promise you'll love it. I think cupcakes are our specialty... though, I do like the chocolate chip cookies too. A classic, you know?" She wraps up the treat and puts it in a separate bag, holding both out to him.

Nodding, Aaron takes the bags from her, separating the two. "Thanks."

"See you soon!" she says, waving, her beautiful smile lighting up her face. Holy heck she's so cute, Aaron wants to bury his head and never look at anything else again.

"Yeah," he nods, trying to stay cool. "See ya'."

He really does hope he'll see her again soon.

~~

"What the hell is this?" Andrew asks, holding the cupcake in his hand. He twists it around and gives it a glare. "You poison this?"

Aaron rolls his eyes, clicking his tongue. "Yes. When you eat it, you'll finally die."

His cousin pouts, looking at the sweet treat in Andrew's hand. "You didn't get me one?"

"Nope. She only gave me one freebie. I wasn't gonna buy more," Aaron shrugs, hopping over the couch to take a seat.

"Dammit, Aaron! You should've handed it to me, at least I would've shared with Andrew-wait," Nicky says, stopping in the middle of his thought. "She?!" He gasps loudly, and makes his way around the couch, cupcake completely forgotten. "Aaron, do you have a girlfriend?!"

"Gross," Andrew scoffs, unwrapping the cupcake on the couch.

"...I don't... have a girlfriend..."

"He hesitated!" Nicky screams, bouncing up and down on the squeaky cushion. "Who is she, and why is she giving you free cupcakes?!"

"I dunno, she's just a girl at this bakery," Aaron says, shrugging. He sinks back into the couch. The last thing he wants to do is tell them about Katelyn. He'll never hear the end of it, and Andrew might hunt her down and murder her. So, better to keep his mouth shut.

Next to him, the wrapper crinkles, and Andrew tosses the trash on the table in front of them, ready to dive into the treat.

Nicky scoffs loudly. "Aaron, your cheeks are red. You're lying!" He hums loudly, bouncing up and down once again.

"I'm not lying!"

"You are!"

"Fuck," Andrew curses next to them and both Aaron and Nicky turn to look at the unruly blond. "Where the fuck did you get this?"

"Uh... why?" Aaron asks, immediately skeptical. The last thing he needs is his brother snooping around in his business. He likes Katelyn. As much as he hates to admit it, he likes her. He likes her smile, her hair, how she probably smells like freshly baked treats all the time. He likes going into the bakery; he doesn't want his brother and his cousin to ruin this for him.

"Aaron. I asked you where the fuck you got this," Andrew repeats. He's holding the cupcake in his hand, bouncing it up and down, a large bite missing from it. He's got a bit of frosting on his nose, but Aaron isn't about to point that out.

"Just a small bakery in town."

"We're going," Andrew says, shoving the rest of it into his mouth.

"What?"

"Tomorrow," he says, after swallowing. "We're going to this bakery."

Needless to say, Aaron knows he doesn't have much of a choice.

~~

Katelyn blinks when Aaron steps into Fox Bakery with his twin. He supposes it's pretty jarring, seeing two people who look exactly the same when you don't expect it. "Hi Aaron! You didn't tell me you had a twin." Katelyn smiles her glowing smile.

"Yeah, this is Andrew," he says, gesturing to his brother who is eyeing all of the sweets behind the glass counters.

"Can I help you?" Neil asks, looking down at the blond. Andrew tilts his head up, stares at Neil and scoffs, like he's seen the most disgusting thing in the world. Only, Aaron knows his brother well enough to know that disgust means Andrew is interested. Of course his brother would be interested in Neil. The two of them can be uninterested assholes together. It's oddly perfect.

"No," Andrew clicks his tongue and Katelyn immediately looks distressed.

"Is he okay?" She whispers the question, leaning over the countertop.

Aaron rolls his eyes, looking at the way his brother continues to scan the treats, his eyes constantly flicking back toward Neil. "Yeah," he says. "He's just like that. It's fine."

"Oh," Katelyn says, narrowing her eyes at the two boys. "Well then, are you here to pick up an order?"

"Nah, my brother..." He pauses, realizing he doesn't want to tell her that he didn't eat the cupcake she gave. For some reason, he thinks it might hurt her feelings. "I gave him some of the cupcake and he really liked it. He's got more of a sweet tooth than I do."

"I see!" she says, smiling. "I can give him suggestions-"

"No, just... let him do his thing," he says, but then quickly turns back to her. "You can suggest stuff to me, though." Even if he ends up giving it to Nicky this time, at least he can get her talking.

"Oh! Okay, well, I'm gonna force you to pick a chocolate chip cookie. Like I said, classic," she giggles, pulling one off of the shelf. "I'm also a fan of the fudge, but if you don't like sweets I think that might be too sweet!"

Aaron honestly stops listening to the specifics of what she's saying and just watches her talk. He's ignoring everything else. He doesn't even notice the stare down Andrew and Neil seem to be having. He watches as Katelyn gestures to various treats, her eyes lighting up as she talks about each one. She's really passionate about working at this bakery, unexpected, since Aaron can't imagine working around people and food in a serious way. But Katelyn seems to know everything about what they have in the bakery.

She's put together a variety of treats for him to try and he doesn't even know what half of them are, but she's so excited about it he doesn't wanna disappoint her.

Neil slides a tray of more sweets down to the register. "These are for him," he says, gesturing to Andrew. His twin looks vaguely amused, and pleased with his selection.

"I'll ring you guys up," Katelyn nods. "You'll have to let me know what you think the next time you come in."

"Yeah," he says. "I'll let you know." He wishes he could share the treats with her, but that would require him to ask her to spend time with him outside of their little encounters and, well, he's just not ready to do that.

~~

Later, he actually tries some of the treats Katelyn gave him before Nicky steals the rest. She was right, the chocolate chip cookie was the best, by far. It's so good, in fact, he wouldn't mind having another one. Some of the cakes are a bit too sweet, but he tried.

Andrew is absolutely addicted to the Fox Bakery. He goes all the time now, usually without Aaron, and he buys shit for himself. Aaron can't complain, but he does get a little jealous of the fact that Andrew is always going there. A couple of times he thought to go with his brother, but he doesn't want his brother to see him around Katelyn. Nicky and Andrew have already teased him enough for it.

There's a part of him that wants to ask Katelyn out, but he has no idea if she's interested. Hell, she might have a boyfriend! Maybe it's Neil? Either way, Aaron isn't ready to just jump into asking Katelyn out. Besides, why would she be interested in someone who barely talks to her, despite how nice she's been to him?

Aaron likes to think he can keep his mind off her, but what really does him in is seeing Neil at their apartment a few weeks later. He's stopped into the bakery a few times to make a few deliveries, and Neil never once said anything to him. Yet here he sits, on their couch, leaning against Andrew.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" Aaron yells.

"Uh, I'm hanging out with your brother, my boyfriend," Neil says, shrugging as if he's so confused why Aaron is so mad.

"Your what?!

"Unlike some people, I take what I want," Andrew says, popping a mini cupcake into his mouth. Aaron hopes the idiot gets fat from all the sweets he keeps eating just to, apparently, go and hit on Neil.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Aaron growls, folding his arms over his chest.

Nicky pokes his head out of the kitchen, carrying a large bowl of popcorn. "It means that you've been pining over Katelyn for months now and have done nothing about it."

"W-What?!" Aaron scoffs, taken aback. "You've never even been to the bakery!" He yells, trying to shift the focus to Nicky.

"No, but Neil and Andrew told me all about it," Nicky shrugs. "Plus, I know you! You probably just stand there, all quiet like an idiot, barely talking to her!"

"I talk to her!"

"Barely," Neil scoffs, reaching forward into the bucket to grab popcorn. "Not like she's any better. She's always talking about you, hoping every time we get a Postmates order that you'll be picking it up."

Aaron's heart skips a beat. Katelyn talks about him? It's not just him who is constantly thinking about her, hoping an order for Fox Bakery will pop up. She wants to see him? She wants him to come in? "S-She is?" He asks the question before he can stop himself.

"Yup," Neil shrugs.

"Oh man, so you're both pining fools! It's perfect!" Nicky yells, laughing as he leans back against the couch.

"Shut up!" Aaron yells, glaring at his cousin."You know what? I'll go right now!" He stomps toward the door and grabs his jacket.

"It's closed," Neil calls out.

Huffing, Aaron slams his jacket back onto the hook and storms into his room. "Fine, I'll go tomorrow!" He slams the door shut behind him. Stupid Andrew, asking out stupid Neil. How the hell did his brother just swoop in and get this guy? At the very least, Neil is just an asshole, and not interested in Katelyn.

Still, Aaron has no idea how he plans to ask her out, but he knows if he doesn't he'll never hear the end of it from the rest of them.

~~

Aaron tries not to think about how weird it is that he's going to the bakery alone for no reason than to ask Katelyn on a date.

A date.

He swallows, the word circling around in his head like a scary demon he has no idea how to face. It's not like he's never asked girls out before, but the thing is, he's never asked Katelyn out before. Katelyn, with her perfect smile, her passion for bakery treats and her signature ponytail that bounces against her neck every time she walks around.

Swallowing, he yanks the door open. He can do this. He's been walking into this bakery for months now. She knows him, he knows her, it'll be easy and not creepy at all.

He smooths out his jacket and steps inside, the small bell jingling as he does. Aaron sees Katelyn right away, bent over, slowly sliding pink and yellow cupcakes into place. She's humming softly, singing along with whatever basic pop song is playing on the radio.

When the bell jingles, she looks up and immediately stands, her ponytail bouncing with her body. "Aaron! Hi! Good to see you! I feel like it's been a few days. Though, your brother came in to see Neil. Are they dating? Neil won't tell me," she pouts.

Her words fire at him quickly and Aaron blinks, staring at her curious eyes. "Uh, I think so," he mutters, rubbing his forehead. "About that-"

"Oh, I know Neil seems a little blunt, but he's a really good guy. Pretty funny actually! So, don't worry about your brother," Katelyn giggles, reassuring him. She waves her hand up and down gently.

"I don’t. I mean that's good," he says.

"Mhm!" She nods, and heads over to the shelf where the delivery orders are. "Picking up?"

"Actually, uhm, no," Aaron says, swallowing.

"Oh! Did you come for your brother? Or... did I sway you with the treats I picked out?"

"The chocolate chip cookie was really amazing," he says. "You did sway me there." He rubs his hands together, leaning against the counter. How is he supposed to just ask her out? Will she think he's only doing it because of Neil and Andrew? Stupid Andrew, jumping into this random relationship with Neil.

"Great! I can give you more, or other things to try, if you want!" She offers it so genuinely, saying it with such a huge smile on her face. It makes his heart flutter, his cheeks growing far too red for his own good. He has to ask, he can't keep standing here staring at her like a total idiot!

"What if... we tried them together?" he asks, the question so quiet.

"Together?" She tilts her head. "Well, I've already tried pretty much everything in the store."

Shit, of course she has! What a stupid way to ask her to spend time together! He mentally slaps himself and exhales. He can do this, he can explain.

"No, uh, okay. Maybe we could get sweets somewhere else then?"

"Oh, but I mean, I'll still show you what's best here," she says, waving her hands back and forth quickly. "I don't want to be biased, but I think we're the best bakery in town."

Dammit.

Shaking his head, he slams his hands down on the glass. "No! Katelyn, I'm asking if you want to go somewhere with me! We can go, you know, on a date!"

She freezes, blinking once and then again, staring at him while his cheeks grow redder and redder. "Oh..." she whispers. "O-Oh!"

He's a fool. An utter and total fool. Neil probably just told him Katelyn was interested to trick him into looking like a total idiot when his brother had done everything right and perfect or whatever.

"Look, you don't have to it was a stupid-"

"What? Aaron! Of course I would want to... go on a date! I-I just was so surprised you asked, I thought you never would," she yells, her words slurring together as she rushes them out.

Huh? What? She really... had been waiting for him to ask!?

"To be honest, I was getting really close to just asking you myself, but there was a small part of me that was hoping you would and... yes! I would love to go out!"

Aaron tries not to look like more of an idiot by doing a stupid dance or something, so instead, he smiles, unable to stop himself. He pulls out his phone and pushes it across the counter. "Put your number in, I'll uh, I'll call you and we can compare schedules?"

"Sure!" she says, picking up his phone while she hands hers to him. "You do the same."

"Great," he mutters, the two trading back their phones.

"I'm... really excited!" She laughs, the sound echoing in the small bakery.

He has no idea what they're going to end up doing, but he has a feeling he's going to love it no matter what. He honestly doesn't care what they do, as long as he gets to learn more about her, and listen to her laugh and talk. Maybe even kiss...

He doesn't want to get too ahead of himself.

"Yeah, I'm really excited too," he says, a smile stuck to his face while he stares at her excited dark eyes.

He can't believe he found Katelyn because some idiot wanted to order some dessert on Postmates. He supposes he can't hate his job all that much, if it led him to the sweetest girl.

[aboysbestfriendishismum]

Chapter 56 - Secrets, mix tapes and jealousy

In the previous chapter: the special date set up by Angie turned out to be a disaster for her and it's coming to a even worse end, since Eddie doesn't seem interested into having sex with her. In the end though, they both manage to open up and talk about their feelings and insecurities and they make love for the first time. Despite all that, Angie's still firm on her decision not to tell anything to their friends. We find it out when the couple joins Jeff, Stone, Grace, McCready and Cornell at their usual go-to pub. Jeff sees them getting there together by car but entering the place in different moments to avoid suspects. From his thoughts about the matter, we find out that Jeff actually caught the two exchanging affectionate effusions a few days earlier, when Angie had brought a cake for him and Eddie before a show. At that time, Jeff preferred to silently and secretely leave before they could see him, so that they wouldn't be embarrassed. Thanks to his friends's advice, Jeff can finally put together a bunch of titles for the fake demo tape by Cliff Poncier, the main character of Cameron Crowe's movie, and then challenges Chris to actually write those songs.

**

“Did she knock him out?”

“Yeah, he went down like a sack of potatoes. And it was a pretty big sack” Angie lets go of my hand for a moment, just the time to mimic the body size of the guy, then takes it again, as we walk to her car.

“With a punch?”

“Actually, two”

“Given what he said to you, I'd have given him more” drunk or not, if you touch a woman you're crap, and if I run into you you're dead.

“You'd have beaten a dead horse, well, a dead sack of potatoes”

“Nuh, you're right: too little satisfaction. Anyway, hats off to Meg, cool girl”

“Yep... and to think that at the beginning I thought she was a vapid Barbie”

“What? You? Having prejudices about someone? It can't be!” I have fun picking on her. When I expressed very similar opinions about Violet she made me feel like shit.

“Hehe yeah, I confess, I made a mistake too, I'm human after all. Anyway, that's how we became friends and everything started”

“That's the perfect example of how something good can come out of a bad story too”

“See, so that guy deserves some credit too after all” as soon as we get to her Mini, Angie takes my other hand too and leans back against the back of the car, pulling me closer.

“Fucking credit. It happend ages ago and I wasn't even there and my hands are hitching to hit him good” it looks like taking me out to dinner to a Thai restaurant in the university district makes her feel safe enough from being possibly seen by our friends.

“Don't be upset” she tries and calm me with a kiss and I'd say it works great. But she doesn't need to know.

“Uhm... I'm still a little upset” I tell her after making a stupid scene, licking my lips and clicking my tongue as if I was trying to taste the kiss, just like a weird sommelier does after a sip of wine.

“Hahaha come on, let's go” she gives me another peck and opens the door, as I walk around the car to get to the passenger seat.

“Angie, I'm the last person who can give lectures about Seattle's street map, but weren't we supposed to turn left?” I ask her after our turn at the second crossroad.

“Oh... 'cause... you wanna go back home, right?” she's reaching for something in the glove box with her hand but freezes, as if I had caught her doing something wrong and I can notice her suddenly saddened eyesin the dark too.

“No, I mean, not necessarily”

“'Cause I thought it's still early and...” she puts both her hands back on the wheel and shrugs her shoulders at the same time.

“It's early indeed” it's always too early for me when it's time to say good night.

“I thought... well... we could hang out a little, go for a drive”

“Ok”

“But I can take you home if you want”

“No, I don't wanna go home”

“I didn't even ask you if you're busy tomorrow morning”

“I don't have shit to do tomorrow morning, Angie”

“Maybe you're tired”

“I'm not tired”

“I'll take a U turn as soon as I can”

“Angie?” I take her right hand from the wheel and kiss it.

“Yeah?”

“Take me for a ride”

“Ok”

“Where are you taking me?” I ask her as I let go of her hand and this time she opens the glove compartment and takes out a caseless cassette, putting it into the car player right away.

“To some place... you'll see” she smiles as Jim Morrison starts to sing.

Yeah, I'm a back door man

I'm a back door man

The men don't know

But the little girls understand

“Do we have a long way to go?” I ask a while later, as Brian Ferry's just admitted Love is the drug he prefers and we take Greenwood Avenue.

“No, we're almost there”

“Almost... can you be more specific?” I like to tease her and see her faces.

“Less than ten minutes and we're there. Are you getting bored?”

“Never, with you”

“So why are you so impatient?”

“I'm not impatient, I only wanna know if this place you want to take me to is within the borders of the United States or not. 'Cause if you, by any chance, are taking me to Canada, so our friends don't catch us, I warn you I didn't bring my passport”

“Ha ha” Angie gives me a nasty look, then her hand happens to land on my knee, which she gently squeeze.

“We're not crossing boundaries then”

“No, we're not”

“Where are we going then?”

“You'll see, soon”

She turns left at the next crossroad, then left again and the trees become thicker.

“I already know anyway: you're taking me to a park”

“Maybe” she lets go of the wheel and put her hands up wide open as to say who knows.

“No! You're taking me to the beach” I correct myself when, after a short while, the road goes downhill, plants thin out and I can see the horizon better.

“One thing does not exclude the other”

“I love watching you drive manual, you know?” I tell her, completely dropping the subject, lost in her driving movements.

“Haha my father taught me when I was twelve. And you?”

“Actually, I can't drive manual”

“No?? Really? You can't drive with a clutch?” she lookes at me shocked for a moment as she drives gently through the curves of the basically desert road.

“Hehe for real, I swear, I never tried”

“I'll teach you!”

“Thank you. I bet you're a good teacher”

“Good but strict”

“That's just perfect”

A yellow sign indicates a dead end street and that's when I figure out we've got to our destination. Angie turns into a rather narrow road on the left, then stops at some kind of natural open space, a clearing among the trees, with the front end of the car facing the wide free view of the ocean.

“Wow”

“From the upper parking lot the view is better but here it's quieter” she remarks as she turns off the car.

“I see” I look around and we're actually well hidden from the houses along the coastline.

“Do you like it?” she questions as she unwraps her scarf and throws it on the back seat. And from the speakers the Stones fade out and Nico's both smooth and scratchy voice comes in.

Here she comes, you better watch your step

She's going to break your heart in two

I have very little to watch out for by now. I'm in too deep and my heart is hers. It's not broken but she can do whatever she wants with it, even though she doesn't have false colored eyes and she's not an evil femme fatale like the one in the song.

“Yes, I like it here...” she can be a little tease though, with that smile of hers that... wait a minute “Angie?”

“Yes” she replies as she unbuttons her coat.

“I have this small sudden nagging question”

“Hehe that is?”

“Did you take me here to fuck?”

“EDDIE!”

“Fuck in a Mini Cooper?”

“HAHAHA”

“Why are you laughing? I only asked a question” actually I'm having such fun too but in subtler way.

“You just really don't know how to beat around the bush, right?”

“No, you should know by now... so?”

“So, I took you here so we could stay here, together, alone, and chill”

“That is, fucking”

“Not just that!”

“But also that”

“Well... if you want to, yes” she admits and I can see her blushing in the dark. This thing about initiatives is getting out of our hands. I'm not complaining though.

“I want to. But to do that, we could have gone to my apartment. I mean, it'd have been even better”

“Uhm not sure about that” she shakes her head not convinced.

“Both for the temperature and for the comfort”

“You're forgetting a small detail”

“What?”

“A not so small detail, who lives with you and his name is Jeff”

“Jeff knows when it's time to mind his own business, he's a smart guy”

“Too smart, that's the problem”

“Umph...”

“And you don't have such a view at your place” she retorts pointing through the windscreen.

“Whatever the place, the view is always spectacular when you're there”

“So basically you're telling me you wanna go back home” she looks down and plays dumb because she'd rather die than take a compliment.

“No, I wanna stay here and enjoy the view from up close” I hug her and my hands slip under her coat, pulling her closer for a kiss. The first one of a long series.

“So, did you like this... initiative?” she asks pulling back from my lips and still playing with my hair.

“Hehe yes, I liked it a lot. I'd just like to know how everything's gonna happen... from a, you know... technically”

“Just use some imagination”

“Next time you wanna have car sex, tell me first and I'll take my truck”

“Hahaha it's not that larger than this inside, you know?”

“But it has a bed, you know, in the back”

“Hahaha very comfortable and most of all very private”

“It depends on where you go...”

“Oh my god, you had sex in the truck bed??” Angie pulls away from me and looks at me as if she saw a ghost.

“A couple of times, yes”

“Fo the pleasure of the pervs and the voyeurs”

“I first made sure nobody was around”

“You're such a showoff!”

“There was nobody around, you asshole”

“Hehe there's nobody around here either”

“Right”

We looked at each other for a second, stop laughing and basically throw at each other at the same time. Angie shrugs off her coat and somehow flings it to the back, then climbs over me and straddles my legs. All this keeping her lips stuck to mine.

“Recline the back rest a little” she whispers into my ear.

“Like this?” I barely touch a side lever and find myself in a completely lying position in a second.

“Haha a little less than that, here, like this. Maybe try and go back a little too” Angie helps pulling me up a bit, then reaches for another toggle, under my seat I guess, and pushes it back, so that she wins some more vital space.

“Are you comfortable?”

“Yes, don't worry”

“Are you sure? You've got one knee against the door and another on the seatbelt attachment”

“I've never been more comfortable” if I don't like beating around the bush when I speak, Angie is the one who doesn't waste any time with actions., 'cause she's already trying to unzip my pants. She makes it and it only takes her a few seconds to make me go completely nuts. Then she pulls away all of a sudden and sits back on the driver seat.

“What are you doing? Where are you going?”

“Wait, I just have to remove... some obstacles” I see her unlacing her shoes, fidgeting with her jeans , and I guess with her panties too, before straddling me again. I pull everything down too in the meantime to make the whole dynamic easier. I don't pay attention to the fact I haven't seen her launch anything else towards the back seat and only when I touch her I realize she's still wearing one leg of her pants.

“You do things halfway” I smile against her lips.

“What if we have to get dressed quickly?”

“You thought about everything, didn't you?”

“You know I'm a neat person”

“Uhm I can see that. The tape too...”

“Which tape?”

“The sex mix tape we've been listening to since we left the restaurant”

“What?!” Angie springs up, I don't know if it's for my remark or for the way I'm touching her.

“Don't even try to pretend it's not a car sex compilation”

“It's not!”

“Tim Buckley has just said he wants to be your victim of love” and I relate to him a lot.

“It's a mix... kind of romantic maybe... that's just how it turned out”

“It's such a romantic mix that he asked you to whip him and spank him straight away”

“Have you ever heard about metaphors? And you even write songs”

“Metaphors. Sure. So when Eric Clapton talks about making love against the wall, is it some metaphor too? And I won't say what comes later in the song, that's even worse, 'cause I'm sure you already know” I unbutton her sweater and her shirt together, while she shrugs and tries to play dumb.

“It's just a great song”

“They're all great” I hold her and manage to pull her back over me.

“I don't wanna listen to shitty music when I drive” she states before taking my breath away with a kiss.

“Or whenever you sneak off with your boyfriend” I immediately give her a taste of the same medicine

“I'm neat” she stares at me before her witty reply. By the way... this tape... did she do it for the occasion? I mean, especially for tonight or for me anyway? Or is it a ready to use mix tape she keeps in her car in case she needs it? And if that's the case, who did she use it with? Did she make that tape with someone else in her mind? But most of all, why do I have to think about this bullshit right now?

“You forgot one thing though...” I'd better focus.

“What?”

“I'm not ready to be a dad”

“Uh! No... I got them, don't worry” all her confidence disappears in one second, Angie sits up and turns around, not only to try and open the glovebox but also to hide a little hint of embarrassment.

“You're my favorite neat freak”

“Actually... ehm... you wouldn't run that risk anyway... since... you know, I'm on the pill but, I mean...” she starts stuttering and opens the box without looking at me.

“Ok”

“I'd rather keep it that way, for now, I mean, I think it's better if we use them all the same... if it's not a problem for you...”

“Angie”

“At least for now, since... well... we just... and considering what happened before...”

“ANGIE?”

“Yes?”

“I sad it's alright, stop being paranoid, ok?”

“Are you sure?”

“Sure, we'll think about it later, right now it's great this way”

“Ok”

“Now come here”

“Here where? I'm already here”

“I mean, closer”

“We're in a Mini, I can't go that far”

“I'm cold and lonely down here on the passenger seat. And I want you. So come back here” I pull her close, tugging at the hems of her shirt and she gives in, either 'cause she's afraid I'll tear it up or because I convinced her with my words.

“The needy puppy look is almost more powerful than dimples” she rolls her eyes and smiles as she comes back to me.

“Really?”

“I said almost”

**

I still don't understand how can Angie have all this power over me, how can she disarm me and surprise me every time. Even a crazy stupid thing, like driving up to an unknown hidden place for some night acrobatic contortion in a small car, something I haven't done for almost ten years, becomes special with her, and not just for the act itself. Right now I'm totally enraptured by the girl whose body is over mine but not just because she's literally over me. The truth is she's over, under, inside, outside, on my shoulders, between my legs, in my head, in my blood, on my skin and all around. I make love to her in the most uncomfortable way and place but my only thought is that I want her closer, and closer, as if it was even possible. My only thought is not a thought because I can't think now, it's only an instinct, a sensation, a need, like hunger and thirst. I kiss her and through my closed eyelids I can see colors and bright dots, waves of light like electric shocks given from sudden lighting bolts. And the jolts of electricity become closer and closer together and more intense and I think I'm going crazy, 'cause I've never felt something like this. Until Angie disengages her mouth and uses it to speak.

“What the- OH FUCK”

So, I don't know if it's because of Angie, but we got each other so twisted up that we didn't notice the police car appeared who knows how long ago, from out of nowhere and parked a few yards from here with the lights on.

“Oh oh”

“OH OH? The fucking police is here and all you can say is Oh oh?” Angie comes back to reality much more quickly than me. I'm still kind of dizzy.

“What should I say? Would shit be more appropriate?”

“Yes, definitely”

“Are you getting dressed?”

“Oh of course not! I'll just stay here, waiting for the cops butt naked” Angie frantically gets dressed, whereas I do everything at a slower pace. I can say it's also easier for me.

“Don't panic too much, they may think you wanna hide something”

“Hiding something is exactly what I'm trying to do” she hurriedly pulls up her pants and starts buttoning down her sweater, ignoring the shirt underneath, and that might be on purpose or not.

The moment we hear someone knocking on the window we're both startled. Angie looks at her left, then right in front of her, then towards me and shakes her head with an imperceptible movement before wearing the most innocent expression I've ever seen on her face since I first met her.

“Good evening, officer” she addresses one of the guys who killed our fun tonight after rolling down the window on her side. From the shadow I see through my window, I can say his colleague is on my side.

“Good evening... although good night would be more appropriate, what do you think?” we got the cop who tries to be funny. Fuck.

“Well, yeah, hehe!” Angie decides to go along and I agree with her plan “How... ehm... how can I help you?”

“Uhm let me think, why don't you start by turning on the light and give me your document, miss?”

“Sure!” Angie stretches out towards the back seat and the policeman knocks lightly on the windscreen of the car with his billy club pointing at the space where the rearview mirror is, to catch her attention and let her understand she has to switch on the interior lights first. She gasps then obliges, before starting to look for her papers again.

“Keep calm” I whisper as she takes her beg and gives everything to the officer. I'd rather be the driver, I'm afraid Angie will get nervous and do something wrong. I think it's the first time the police stops her.

“Thank you, I'd like to see the ones of your... friend too... please” the guy gives me an extremely bad look and at the same time someone knocks at my window. As I turn around I see a female silhouette gesturing for me to wind it down.

“Good evening, here it is” I take out my wallet very slowly, find my driving licence and give it to the policewoman.

“Angelina W. Pacifico... Idaho, huh?”

“Yeah, I moved here a few months ago” Angie deliberately adds something as an answer to a question no one asked, trying to look willing to cooperate.

“1972. Wow, it almost seems true hahaha!” the officer waves the document in the air and laughs through gritted teeth looking at his partner.

“It seems? Of course it's true!” Angie gets upset and I go pale in a second because if she starts responding to his provocations, we'll be dead.

“If you say so... I'll check it out”

“Feel free to check, so you can see for yourself!” fucking dead.

“Why don't you also give me your registration doc, so I can check that too, miss”

“Alright! I'll give it to you immediately, then you can also frisk me, him and search my whole car, my conscience is clear!”

“Do you know you've just given me a great idea, Miss Pacifico?” the jerk laughs again and I hope Angie will soon take that angry look off her face as I see her getting out the car documents.

“26 years old. Aren't you a little too old for that girl?” the police woman asks me after she's checked my licence and I decide to keep my mouth shut. Unfortunately someone else has a different opinion.

“I AM OF AGE! How many times do I have to tell you?”

“Shut up!” the officer's yell catches me off guard since it comes from my side. Apparently he has come to get my document from his colleague. After that he goes back to their car for the checking.

“Angie, don't talk, please” I hiss and hope she'll follow my advice.

“Wether you're of age or not, he's still a little older than you” the woman leans down on the car door and talks gently to Angie through the window.

“That's not a crime” she says in a lower voice and I don't even know if the officer heard her. Maybe she finally understood what the correct behaviour is.

“You're going to the University of Washington, right?” the policewoman asks. She clearly wants to chit chat to kill time and ease the tension.

“Yes, how do you know?”

“The bump sticker”

“Oh right! Yeah, I moved here for that, to go to college”

“With your family?” ok, the Good cop/Bad cop operation has officially started.

“No, by myself”

“So, you're living on your own, you've got an apartment...”

“Well, yeah”

“And you?” this time she talks to me and to do that she points her flashlight right at my face.

“I don't go to college”

“I mean, don't you have a place?”

“Sure”

“So what the hell are you doing here? In a car? Well, something that looks like a car” she goes on switching off the flashlight and using it to vaguely point at Angie's car and I abruptly turn towards her, 'cause I know this could be enough to get her mad and we'd be fucked. But she keeps on with her quiet act.

“We were going for a ride”

“A ride?”

“Yeah” I repeat.

“But you were parked”

“We stopped for a minute” my girlfriend promptly replies.

“Stopped to do what?”

“Chat” a mechanism has tacitly established by which we take turns giving answers, so this time it's me speaking.

“Talk” Angie adds.

“Listen to music” the answer was suggested by the tape, which goes on and now it's time for... The rain song?? Holy fuck, Angie, couldn't you be more obvious? And she got the nerve to say it's not a car fuck mix tape. The cassette alone would be an evidence of public indecency in court.

“Enjoy the view”

“Yeah, actually as soon as we got here we noticed how focused you were on the view” the woman rolls her eyes and barely holds a laugh. We'd laugh too if we weren't under interrogation.

“She didn't make it clear what kind of view she was talking about... you, you gotta try and be more open minded, please!” the comedian colleague is back and gives Angie her documents back through the open window.

“Right!” the woman exchanges an amused look with her partner, who's back with the questions.

“Right, so, if I search this bumper car, will I find drugs or not?”

“Of course not, officer” she replies with no hesitation and I hope it's true 'cause if he actually finds something, we'll be in double deep shit.

“Guns?”

“What? Please, I hate them”

“And what if I give you a breathalyzer? What will I find?”

“Nothing, 'cause I didn't drink. He did, he had something to drink, but he's not driving, I'm driving, so...”

“Yeah, I see, I got it from the start that you're the one who leads, that was quite obvious hahaha” the cop can't hold himself and bursts out laughing in the end, followed suit by his partner, who scolds him though, also revealing his name to us.

“Barlow!”

“Ok ok, do you know why we stopped you?”

“You didn't, we weren't moving” Angie whispers in a very low voice as she gives me the car registration to put away into the glove box. But it's not low enough.

“Don't try to be funny, Miss! Do you know it or not?” don't tell him that if he does, then you can do it too. I know you're dying to tell him but don't do it, please!

“No” we both reply at the same time. Thank god. At least she knew about this: with the police, always say you don't know.

“'Cause you think that fucking in a car in a public place is a normal thing, right?”

“It's not public if nobody's there, is it?” my girlfriend tries but she'll be very disappointed.

“On what rulebook did you read this?” he answers sarcastically.

“I hope you're not studying law, darling”

“No. I study cinema”

“Uh! So you were rehearsing a scene! That's what it was!” these two are having the time of their life with us.

“Barlow, shut up! Ehm ehm we're patrolling the area because there have been some robberies lately. There's a gang who targets couples who come here at night to park, like you guys”

“So if I were you, I'd change my habits a little” the guy adds as he starts breathing again after his fucking laughter fits.

“You have an apartment each, just go there”

“O'Hara, can't you understand? There must be some cheating going on here! He leaves his girlfriend at home with an excuse and meets his younger mistress, am I right or am I wrong?”

“NO!” Angie reacts outraged and I feel this night will last much much longer.

“You can tell us, I mean, this surely is not a crime” Barlow leans down and folds his arms against the window opening in the car door, almost diving inside.

“There's no girlfriend at home”

“So she's the cheater”

“No one's cheating on anyone, I'm her boyfriend, we're together”

“Ok so, help me understand: you're together, I mean, in a regular relationship, she's legal, you both have a place... annoying roommates?” agent O'Hara counts the elements that don't add up to her on her fingertips.

“No, I mean, not too much” Angie looks at me as she replies, as if she was looking for a suggestion or, most likely, 'cause she finds it all unreal, just like me.

“So why arent' you at home?”

“You gotta ask her” I don't know why I answer like that, I can't even say if I did it for real, I don't even notice. It just comes out like that, spontaneously.

“Eddie?!”

“Tell us, Angie, why aren't you at home?” the comedian gets curious and calls her by her first name.

“Because... because it's a new thing”

“And we got that, also considering the... the enthusiasm” he goes on, earning the umpteenth fake nasty look from his partner.

“She doesn't want to tell our friends” and I guess this is me again, freewheeling talking.

“Why? Is there some ex?” O'Hara questions and now we went from interrogation to gossiping.

“No. I mean, yes,” Angie corrects herself when she sees me making a face “but that's not the reason”

“What is it then? Don't tell me you're ashamed of him? I'm not particularly attracted to long-haired men but he seems a good looking guy to me, after all”

“I'm not ashamed at all, he's... he's very good looking, he's perfect, in everything” are we going from gossip to confessions? Wait a minute, what did she just say?

“It's just... well, we know the same people, it's a whole group of friends. And some of them play in a band, with him”

“Musicians, huh? We'd better do a search after all” Barlow tells another shitty joke but his colleague ignores him and focuses on the current topic.

“And are they closer to you or him? Are they more your friends or his?”

“Well, I got to know them a few months before but... I'd say they're friends of both of us in the same way”

“Ok, so you're both afraid to lose them and to make him lose them, if things went wrong, right?”

Angie nods in silence to O'Hara's words and I'm completely stunned. Lose them? Suddenly a new light is shed on the situation, a new point of view I hadn't considered before. Angie told me she doesn't trust herself but she trusts me and I didn't fully believe this version. She's always been worried about our friends, 'cause they're kind of nosy and always intruding in other people's private life, but I never figured out they were the actual object of her insecurities. The guys.

“I'm afraid they'll judge me or him. I'm afraid I can create problems in the group and that we'll end up parting ways” Angie's still confessing and I wonder if she needed to be pressured by the police to finally tell the truth. But is it Angie, who never talked, or is it me, who never understood?

“But it's just a normal thing, dear! Take each other, leave each other, take each other again, break up again, get together with another guy of the gang. It happens all the time among groups of friends but that doesn't necessarily ruin the friendship” O'Hara lights up a cigarette and from good cop she officially turned into big sister or aunt, the one you can tell everything to.

“Well, I don't know, I've never had a group of friends, I mean, not so big. I've never had so many friends” now everything's clear, shit. She's never had them and she doesn't want to lose them.

“Angie, even if something went wrong between us, don't worry, our friends would kick my ass, not yours. And if one of us has got to take the brush off, well, it's gonna be me” I try and reassure her but looking at her face I guess I'm failing.

“And do you think that would hurt me less?”

“It's like watching Oprah live” Barlow says, totally hooked on our show.

“Angie, friends will be friends. The truth is friends do care, yeah, but not that much. Don't get me wrong, friends love you, give you advice wether you asked for it or not, they can get in the way and root for you or him, but in the end they just want you both to be ok, together or not. At some point they stop and say it's up to you, guys, in the best sense possible. And if they disappear in the end, well, it means they weren't true friends”

“Maybe, maybe you're right”

“Sure I'm right!”

“Right or not, you can't come here and have sex anymore, do you understand?” the cop, who was basically collapsing on the car door, stands up straight and gives a couple of punches against the roof of the car, maybe to wake himself up.

“Sure”

“It won't happen again”

“Fine. It's getting late, let's go O'Hara”

“Go home, guys. And drive safe, Angie, ok?”

“Ok, thanks officer”

“Good night”

“Good night”

We roll up the windows at the same time, Angie starts the car and waits.

“Why aren't they moving?”

“They're waiting for us to go first, to make sure we are actually leaving” I explain and smile for the fact that she didn't understand that. And this quick scene is like a little representation of her innocence. Sometimes I forget that she's so young and has little experience of everything, and no, I'm not only talking about how to handle the police when they pull you over.

“Oh right, I didn't think about that” Angie snorts and we leave.

“That was so weird” we're back in town when Angie finally breaks the silence.

“Yeah”

“Such an embarrassing moment”

“Very embarrassing” it opened my eyes a little though, so it actually turned out to be useful. Since we left we haven't mentioned what had happened, we haven't mentioned anything because we just kept our mouth shut and only exchanged quick looks and smiles and sang a few songs. Now that everything's started sinking in, it's time to return to the core of the matter and do the talk, this time only between us.

“It never happened to me”

“To me neither” I had dealt with the police before but not for this kind of infringment.

“I've been there many times and I never saw the cops there, these robberies must be something recent”

It takes me a while to register what she said, maybe 'cause I'm still thinking about the infraction we were committing on these front seats like an hour ago. But when I figure it out it's like I've been awaken with someone throwing a bucket full of ice at my face.

“Never? Do you mean... you'd been there already?”

“Sure. If not, how could I know the place?” she calmly answers, so either she's crazy or she doesn't know where I'm getting at or she doesn't care.

“With who?” Angie's mouth opens up forming a small O and so I guess now she does know where I'm getting at.

“What do you mean, with who? With... with Meg”

“With Meg”

“Yeah, she's been living here for so long, she knows the area. She took me there”

“She took you to the beach at night to do what?”

“To go for a ride! To just stay there, drinking, smoking, gossiping, normal stuff”

“And that's it?”

“Hahaha why? What else do you think we were doing there?”

“I mean, you went there with Meg and that's it? But you said you've been there many times”

“And with you?”

“Ok, so, with Meg and I... and no one else?”

“Well...”

“Angie?”

“Not just you two...”

“Have you been there with Jerry?”

“...”

“Angie, I'm talking to you”

“I know, it's only me here” we're at the traffic lights and Angie looks around inside the car, even giving a glance at the back seat, before turning back to look at me.

“So?”

“I didn't go there with Jerry”

“So would you swear to me that you didn't take me to the same place where you used to park with your ex boyfriend?

“No, I didn't!”

“Ok”

“With Jerry.. ehm... we used to go to the upper parking place on the hill”

“WHAT?!”

“What? Why are you mad?”

“Why? What do you mean why? You took me to the same place where you fucked your ex and I'm not supposed to get mad?!”

“I never fucked Jerry there”

“The fact it was a different paking lot 50 yards away doesn't change anything, Angie”

“I mean I never did it with Jerry in the car!” she exclaims as she gestures an apology to the guy in the car behind us, who's just honked at us because we didn't go immediately when the lights turned green. What the hell does this fucker want? Is he in a fuckin' hurry or something? Fuck you man.

“Didn't you?”

“No, I never... I never had full sexual intercourse with Jerry in a car”

“This use of very, very specific and technical terminology looks kind of suspicious to me”

“We kissed and stuff”

“I don't wanna know” she says it and I'm already imagining it, I mean, I can imagine even if she doesn't say anything. My imagination doesn't need further help.

“But you practically asked me”

“I'm not stupid, I get that you didn't fuck him there, but still you did something. That's the same to me”

“Who cares who I took there first, now I got you, I'm with you”

“I care because... because it's weird, it gives me a... bad feeling... I don't like it”

“I told you as soon as we got there that I had already been there, but you didn't say anything then. Why are you suddenly upset now?”

She's right actually, she told me, I don't remember the exact words, but she let me know. The truth is I was so enraptured by the situation, by her, her scent, her gestures as she was taking off her coat, her big eyes, her naughty heart-shaped smile... I was like drunk and didn't understand shit.

“Maybe I hadn't noticed then, and now I did”

“I come from another state, I don't know many places. If I want to go to some quiet place with you, of course I have to follow... ehm... the beaten road”

“Well let's just stay home then and avoid going anywere else, problem solved”

“If you say so... Jerry's been in my bed too, shall we stop going there too?” Angie gives me a perplexed look and I know, I know I'm crazy, that I'm the sick one, that retroactive jealousy makes no sense. But I'm so fucking mad right now!

“Could you... could you just not remind me, please?”

“But... are you jealous of Jerry?”

“No” nooooo, I'm not! Why do you think that?

“Ok. Also because it'd be really stupid if you were” there you go.

“Exactly”

“Because I'm not interested in him, there's no chance at all I could be into him ever again and go back to him anytime soon” are you sure about that? I mean, on your part I know there's no chance. But Jerry, he still has hope. He told me! And this is a piece of information I'm gonna keep to myself.

“I know”

“Fine”

“Did you use the tape with him too or is it exclusively for me?”

“I did the mix tape yesterday, for you, for the occasion” she retorts tiredly as she rolls her eyes.

“Ok”

“Are you happy about that?”

“Very happy. I like it”

“Thank god”

“And how was Jerry's tape?”

“Jesus... Jerry never had a tape”

“I don't believe you”

“Believe what you want, I could as well not answer, because in the end that's none of your business. Yet I answered and told you the truth” she's right, what she had with Jerry is none of my business. And I'm acting like a jerk.

“Sorry”

“It's ok”

“I'm stupid sometimes”

“I noticed that”

“Then it goes away and I'm back to normal”

“I hope so”

“Can I borrow the tape? I wanna make a copy”

“I hope it goes away soon, very soon”

**

“Here we are” Angie stops one block away from my condo, as she's been doing lately every time she takes me home.

“Look, Jeff's not the bored meddler housewife who waits at the window to check who I'm going out with. He doesn't give a fuck, I'm not Stone” I joke to ease the tension, which is still on despite my apologies and the shit I say.

“Friday”

“Friday what? What happens?”

“You're playing at the Ok Hotel on Friday”

“Yes”

“And we're also celebrating Jeff's birthday, that's gonna be two days later”

“Right”

“And on Monday you'll start recording Eleven”

“Hahaha the name's Ten”

“But it's eleven songs! It doesn' t make sense, I told you!” she finally turns around to face me and her hands move to the lower part of the wheel.

“What's the point? It's also our first record, should we call it One? Or First? Hehehe”

“You can laugh as much as you want, when you won't know how to call your tenth album, then we'll see who'll have the last laugh”

“The tenth? Do you believe we'll last that long?”

“Sure! But you'll split up right because of that record, 'cause you won't agree on how to call it, and you'll be torn between... I don't know... a surfing brand and a Seattle Supersonics bench player”

“Hahaha that's if the Seattle Supersonics will still exist by then”

“Why wouldn't they?” she asks suddenly serious, in her typical adorable way of focusing on totally secondary aspects.

“Do you ever think about the future? I mean, future future, like in twenty or thirty years” I do. Now, for example, I'm picturing myself twenty years from now, taking to you in a car, maybe as we get back home from a Sonics' game.

“Uhmmm no, I mean, not in detail. But I'm eager to know if Kubrik was right about 2001 or if in 2019 we'll have android replicants slaves like in Blade Runner. Yeah, that's something I often think about”

“Hehe I mean your future, what's gonna happen to you personally, where you'll be at. I mean, where you picture yourself and what do you see yourself like... stuff like that” I ask her again and I'd want to confess that sometimes I do think about my future. And she would make fun of me, 'cause someone used at living the moment who thinks about the future doesn't make sense. But I'd pretend I didn't hear her and I'd say that I don't know if I'll get there but sometimes I like to think of myself in twenty or thirty years, maybe with shorter grey hair or no hair at all, living off my music, married, with two or three kids. And that's how I'd scare her to death and she'd definitely run away from me.

“Well, no, honestly I don't. I only hope I'll get my degree before then”

“What? A control freak like you doesn't plan her future? You surprise me”

“You can't controll the distant future, like the past. The only thing you can have control on is the present. Or the near future” she shrugs as her eyes wander through the windshield.

“You're living the moment too, then? Should I expect you to climb some building in your free time?”

“Hehe no but my planning time is short term. For example, this time I planned until Friday, as I was telling you, before we got lost in one of our typical nonsense conversations” I love our typical nonsense conversations.

“What happens on Friday?”

“I though we could do it on Friday”

“Do what? Climb some building? I'd start with something iconic, like that Hat'n'Boots shit at the gas stations, what's its name...”

“I thought we could say it on Friday”

“Say what?”

“About us... to our friends”

“Uh” I can't believe that. Am I dreaming? Yes, come on, the cops story was too weird, of course it's all a dream, I should have known.

“Since everybody's gonna be there for different reasons, I think that could be the right time. So, you know, we'll say it just once” she keeps talking and strangely I didn't wake up yet.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes”

“You don't have to do it just because two fucking cops told you to”

“It's not for that”

“Neither because I got mad for no reason a minute ago”

“Not even for that”

“Why then?”

“Hahah you've been pestering me to tell everybody from the start and now you're making a fuss?” Angie lets go of the wheel and turns around towards me completely.

“I'm not making a fuss, I just want you to be sure and it seems strange to me that you got convinced in a couple of hours”

“I didn't get conviced now, I've always thought we'd say it sooner or later obviously. Now I realized the moment has come”

“Has it?

“Yes”

“Ok”

“Great”

“We're doing it on Friday”

“Alright”

“And how do we do it? I mean, practically, how will we do? Should I get on stage, point at you and say into the mic Just so you know, that girl down there is my girfriend?”

“If you dare doing something like that, you won't even be alive for Pearl Jam's first album, much less for the tenth” she threatens me so good that I'm scared for real.

“Should I get some posters printed?”

“We won't have to do anything special, we'll just act normal”

“And how will we communicate with our friends? Telepathically?”

“We'll act normal, do as we always do when we're alone and they're not around”

“Do you mean tear our pants off and jump on each other?” I know, I know I'm ajerk. She's finally opening up and I just talk bullhsit. But I can't help it, that's how I am, especially when I'm happy.

“Eddie!”

“You're fixating on public places, huh? I didn't know this... exhibitionist side of you, ouch!” I insist as I try and dodge her slaps.

“You're such an ass!”

“Hehe come on, I was kidding”

“I'm talking serious stuff and you make fun of me”

“I joke because I'm happy for your decision”

“Anyway... I meant normal stuff, walking hand in hand, hugging, kissing, but without showing off too much, discreetly but so that everyone understands. And they'll come to ask us Do you have to tell us something? or  Are you a couple? and at that point we'll only have to say yes, short answer, no further explanation needed”

“You're a genius”

“Do you think it'll do?”

“Sure it will do, I think it's a very good idea”

“Ok, it's a deal then”

“And since we're telling everybody next Friday, could you please drive me home?”

“Hahaha no”

“And maybe come in with me”

“Is it Friday already?”

“Uhm no”

“Forget it then”

“How long is it until Friday?”

“Not that long. Good night” Angie gets close to give me what in her intentions was supposed to be a quick kiss but I can't resist and hold her for much longer.

“You're freezing, put your coat back on” I tell her as I unwillingly pull away from that cold hug. Cold in terms of temperature only.

“You're right, I left so fast that I forgot to put it on” she follows my advice and grabs it from the back seat.

“So... good night” I kiss her once again, open the door and get out of her car.

“Good night, I'll call you tomorrow, ok?” I nod at her and smile internally. I love when she calls. Then suddenly, right when she's about to start the car again, I remember a not so small detail.

“Angie, wait!” I knock against the car door on her side a couple of times, she brakes and rolls the window down.

“What's wrong? Did you forget anything?” she asks as she looks around inside the car.

“What does W stand for?”

“What?”

“The cop, when he was reading through your driving licence, he said Angelina W. Pacifico. What does W stand for?

”Oh. That W” she stiffens and the engine goes off, I don't think she turned it off on purpose.

“Yep, that one” I lean down and look at her through the open window, waiting for an answer.

“It's a first letter”

“I got that. The first letter of...”

“Of a name”

“Ok, and what's this name?”

“My second name”

“That is...?”

“That is... a name starting with W” she gives me a pained look and I feel she's not done with her blabbering.

“Hahaha what's that, another of your secrets?”

“Exactly! Good night, Eddie” she's about to wind up the window but I put my hand in the way and stop her.

“Hahaha good night my ass, tell me your name!”

“Do I have to?”

“You're my girlfriend, I gotta know your full name!”

“I don't know your full name”

“I was born Edward Louis Severson III, I was Edward Jerome Mueller for a while and now I'm Edward Jerome Vedder, 'cause I took my mother's last name”

“Jerome and Louis are lovely names” she remarks, focusing on the names and completely ignoring the anagraphic mess that is my identity.

“I bet your second name's lovely too”

“No, it's not”

“W as in... Wendy?”

“Nope”

“Wanda?”

“No”

“Wilhelmina? Winifred?”

“No and no”

“Winona”

“I wish. It's not even a name”

“It's not a name, what does it mean?”

“It's a name that is not a name, it's... it's a thing”

“A thing? Wait... hippie parents, right?”

“Ehm... yeah, something like that”

“Willow!”

“No”

“Water”

“No, good night Eddie” she restarts the car and at least my desperate expression has the power to bring back a smile on her face.

“Shit, you can't leave me like this!”

“Yet I'm doing it, nighty night!” Angie goes away just like that and leaves me here, alone, to rack my brain on the umpteenth mystery, a new thing I don't know about her and I'm looking forward to know.

“No no no, Grace, I'm sorry but I have to tell you: you got it all wrong. What about this guy here? Where did he come from? Do you wanna go? Just go! How much space do you need to pass a Granada diesel?” without taking anything away from my dear father's car, it's not exactly the fastest model produced by Ford.

“Why?”

“Do you want me to pull over? Is it enough or do I have to get out and help you push your car? Oh there you go! Good boy! What do you mean, why? Do you see any logic in it?” the asshole passes me and I can go back to torture Grace.

“Well, apart from the night guard who was about to catch us, it was nice and it seemed like you were having fun”

“I was! The night pic nic at the abandoned factory was cool. And also running from the guard. Well, if you can call it running. You were as slow as a snail. If the guy was at least a little in shape, he'd have got us”

“He'd have got me, since you fled without even waiting for me” she sulks.

“I was waiting for you in the car”

“Sure”

“With the engine on, I had a detailed plan in my head”

“I can imagine”

“Anyway, the date was an 8, I didn't mean that”

“What else then?”

“The cassette. It's all wrong” I'm not saying she has to be on Angie's level, she's sort of a black belt in the art of making mix tapes. But this is a complete mistake. If I had known, I'd not have asked her to bring something to listen to in the car.

“Hahaha they're songs I like, how can they be wrong?”

“It's not the songs, it's how you put them together. You broke every rule for the creation of a mix tape” the songs, taken individually, go from ok to amazing. Some even surprised me. I had no idea Grace knew bands like Cock Sparrer or Japan, which have got nothing to do with each other. And of course one comes after the other in Grace's mix.

“Do rules exist for that?”

“Sure they do!”

“Tell me one of those so-called rules”

“Well, first of all, you've got no theme”

“A theme?”

“Yeah, a theme, a common thread, something they have in common”

“The theme is: Songs I like”

“Nuh-uh that's not how it works. You gotta tell a story and not just throw in random tracks. You mixed songs of different genres, decades, mood, even different languages!”

“I love that song by Ofra Haza!”

“Slow ones, then fast ones, then all the slow ones. No! And you can't just pick a lo-fi tune and then follow with a super produced song”

“I'm not a musician, I don't care about technicalities, I just go with my feelings”

“What kind of insane feelings bring you to the point of putting Bootsy Collins right after Bauhaus?”

“They both set... an atmosphere” Gracie shrugs but I go on with my rant.

“And you selected live tracks too... live tracks... in a compilation... uhm... that's a no-no”

“Ok, so how do you grade the cassette?”

“Unclassifiable. Try again”

“And how do you grade these instead?” she crosses her legs to show me her new pair of boots. As if I hadn't noticed them already.

“A 10, of course. Pete, your ex, advised you good” they're brown, with thin tight laces and some sort of side floral embroidery.

“Pete is not my ex and you know it. And don't pretend to be jealous, nobody falls for that”

“I'm not jealous, I was simply acknowledging his refined taste” and they look great with those corduroy shorts.

“And by the way, I didn't buy them there, I found them in a thrift shop downtown” I bask in the belief she bought them especially for me, because she knows the effect they have on me.

“They're not bad. Although you didn't buy them from Pete” on the other hand though I don't want her to think I'm some kind of perv who can't get an erection without seeing a nice pair of boots. And generally I don't want her to believe I'm that kind of person you have to necessarily surprise every fucking time with something weird and over the top. That's the impression I got but maybe it's just me. I mean, the date thing is funny but mostly because it's our thing and not because of the peculiarity of the date choices.

“You're an asshole, Stone. Did somebody ever tell you?”

“Yeah. But it sounds better when you say it” I reply, quickly taking her hand and kissing it and I really wanna see her comeback to my masterstroke.

“Sounds better than my mix tape too?” she's good too, I have to admit it.

“Definitely. Also because it doesn't take that much...” but she doesn't know yet how much I like having the last word.

“Right. As much as it took me to realize you're an asshole” she retorts with a wink. The last word, she loves stealing it from me so much.

**

“Are you sure you don't want anything?” Grace asks me from the bathroom, while I focus on one of the fishtanks.

“Sure, I'm full” she must have prepared like twenty sandwiches for the pic nic, plus the wine. Yeah, I'm full.

“Can't you make a tiny little room in your stomach for dessert?”

“I think I don't have any room left in any internal organs, even if I wanted to. Maybe into my ears, I could try but...”

“Not even for this dessert?” Grace comes out and the way she shows up is not new to me but not less extraordinary.

“Well... maybe... just a little bite...” I think my internal organs are exploding the moment Grace walks up to me, wearing nothing but her boots.

I instinctively back up but I don't know why, this fucking instinct must be broken because I have no intention to escape her attentions. Maybe I'm just overwhelmed by her beauty. Maybe I'm still a little tipsy.

“Perfect.” Grace walks my way but instead of hugging me, she passes me by and walks up to the kitchen. I see her move away one of the chairs, maybe the new one, then place her hands on the table to jump on it “So, what are you waiting for? The meal is ready”

“From which porn b-movie did you get this quote?”

“Hurry up or I'll put my clothes back on”

“Ok”

**

“What are you doing tonight? Are you sleeping here?” I'm still trying to remember who I am and where I am and what kind of truck has just hit me, when Grace shows up again in the kitchen wearing pyjamas, brushing her teeth.

“It depends”

“On what?”

“If I can sleep in your bed I'll stay, otherwise I'll go back home” I don't know what gave me the strength to come up with the topic that could bring to a big heavy discussion. Maybe I reached such a balance in our relationship that I can openly talk about everything. Or maybe it's just that my lower back hurts, my leg hurt, all my bones hurt and I'm sleepy, so I'd rather sleep on the closest most comfortable surface.

“Ok, see you tomorrow then” Grace points at me with the toothbrush, then sticks it back into her mouth and goes back into the bathroom.  

“Come on, Pebbles, why do you always act like that?” I get up from the couch, pulling up my boxers and pants, trying not to lose balance, then set up to go to the bathroom to speak face to face like normal people do. But the face to face thing becomes literal when she rushes out of the door like a fury and we almost crack heads.

“What the hell did you just call me?” she asks barely holding a laugh.

“You said your last name means stone, right? I can't call you... She-Stone, that would be weird”

“Stonia?”

“No”

“Stonette?”

“Why can't we sleep together?” I drag her back on the crux of the matter because knowin her, and me, we could go on like this for hours.

“I told you why, it's complicated” Grace walks away from me and stops in front of the couch, as if she wanted to sit there, but then changes her mind and goes on to take a sit at the kitchen table, on the chair right beside the entrance.

“I know but time has passed. And you gotta start somewhere to... get used to another person's presence, right? Let's go step by step, together” I take back the chair Grace had thrown on the side half an hour ago and I sit down, right in front of her.

“I'm not the only one who has to get used to something new, Stone” her words tell me there's clearly something else and I'm not stupid, I've known for a while that it's not just a matter of being used at being single. There's something that's making her insecure. At first I thought it was something in her room, like the tons of stuffed animals or some real animal, some weird pet she didn't want to tell me about. Then I figured out it's more than that. I thought he could have OCD or something like that, something that makes here panic as soon as someone enters in the picture and threatens her balance. I mean, just think about what happened with the chair thing. Maybe she arranges her things on her nighstand following a determined use order or she makes her bed using set squares and a ruler and the thought that someone could mess it up makes her go nuts. I guess she only manages to sleep in her empty bed. Then I thought it could've got something to do with her past, maybe with the long illness she never wants to talk about. Maybe she's taking meds that fuck her up a little or that she simply doesn't want me to see. I even went as far as to thinking she could take some drugs. But no, not Gracie. And what would be the connection with her bedroom?

“Ok, if you tell me what I have to get used to, maybe I can start right now and you can follow suit, what do you think?”

“I wish it was that easy”

“I know it's not easy or I wouldn't have waited so long before putting the squeeze on you”

“Are you putting the squeeze on me?”

“Yes, just talk”

“Do I have to?”

“I won't leave until you tell me what's wrong. For real”

“Oh.” maybe Grace has just realized that I'm being serious and that I won't put up with her elusive explanations anymore “Ok”

“Don't be scared, it's... it's just me.” I stretch my arms out on the table to take both her hands in mine and finally she looks up to me “And you know how smart I am, I can comprehend anything, don't worry”

“Hehehe I know, I can trust you”

“That's it”

“I gotta trust you, I mean, I knew this moment would have come, I have to tell you sooner or later. I can't hide it from you forever. Despite your particular preferences.

“What do you mean?”

“Ugh I can't believe I'm about to have the talk, again” she covers her face with her hands and then runs them through her hair.

“Again?”

“That must be why I became allergic to steady relationships: just to avoid having the same talk each time. But then you came and blew up my plans” Grace takes my hands once again, squeezes them gently and smiles, before letting them go and focusing back on the table cloth's print.

“Which talk?”

“It's not easy for me to feel comfortable with a man... in intimacy”

“Really? 'Cause my joints and I didn't notice” I try and joke to ease the tension but I'm not sure I should. Maybe I should just keep my mouth shut and let her speak.

“I'm not only talking about that intimacy but rather in general”

“'Cause you need your space and-”

“No, it's not about that. It's... it's a physical thing, Stone”

“Physical?”

“I know, knowing me, one would thing the problem is in my head. And won't deny that, it's a fact that I'm not completely in my right mind”

“Well... you said that, huh?” I shrug and reply to her half smile with a full one.

“But the main problem, well, it's about my body”

“Your body can't possibly have any problem, Pebbles”

“Because you haven't seen all of it, Bam Bam” considering the gravity of the moment, I decide to ignore the nickname. Also because I called for it.

“I haven't, really? What else is there to see, more than I already saw?”

“I'd say that your strange fixation gave me a sort of advantage this time. Or disadvantage. Because thanks to that, I could postpone the talk forever pretending the problem doesn't exist, so it really depends on how you look at it”

“My strange... Gracie, I'm not getting what you're trying to say, could you be clearer?”

“There's something odd in my body, something you haven't seen yet”

“Has it got something to do with your past health problems?”

“Yes”

“Oh Grace, a couple of scars won't make me uncomfortable!” I stand up, ready to take her in my arms and squeeze her to death as a punishment but she keeps sitting, glued to her chair.

“Hehehe scars... I wish it was that!”

“Is it worse?”

“The problem is not something I have but rather something... I don't have”

“I must be dumb, I didn't notice anything”

“Do you know what an osteosarcoma is?”

“Given the name, I'd say a bone disease” the technical medical term breaks into a so far lighthearted conversation and hijacks it towards a darker destination.

“A tumor, for the record”

“Is that what happened to you, years ago?”

“Yes”

“But you won against that fucking tumor, I mean, you're alright now”

“But that fucking tumor left its mark anyway, Stone”

“Grace, seriously, there's nothing that could push me away from you. I know I may look like an uptight fucker but I'm not easily impressed” I'd better avoid telling her that I don't really like needles though.

“Do you know how they cure osteosarcoma?”

“Chemotherapy?”

“Chemotherapy and surgery”

“Ok”

“It started from the big toe, an extremely rare circumstance the doctors said”

“You always have to stand out, right?” I try and keep things light and Grace smiles keeps going along with me but I'm not sure this is the best attitude although I'm not showing it.

“Then it spread to all the toes, then the rest. It was all so fast, one week before I felt good, I lived my life as usual, then my foot hurt while I was jogging and one week later I was risking to lose my leg or worse, to die if it reached vital organs”

“But the super docs did their magic thing and cured you and got you back in shape” I sound like the annoying child who doesn't wanna hear the drama parts of the good night story and wants to get straight to the happy ending so he can fall asleep in peace.

“Yeah, they saved me. At a small cost”

“Grace, I don't give a fuck if your foot is not nice to see, the important thing is that you're here, now, with me, and you can tell this story”

“It's not nice to see because you can't see it, Stone. Didn't you understand? It's not there anymore, I don't have it, I had to have it amputated” I can hear words coming out of Grace's lips but they sound emptied of every trace of sense and meaning. I feel the need to sit down and say something, anything, but whereas I manage to do the first thing, my second goal seems strangely impossible. Maybe for the first time in my life I don't know what to say.  I mean, there are so many things I'd want to say that roll in my head and they all seem stupid, shallow, flat and completely useless.

“Stone?”

And I don't even know how to move now. What do I do? If I back up, I'd look detached. If I get closer, she'll think I'm flaunting a quietness I realistically can't have right now. Same thing if I look at her feet. But if I purposedly avoid looking at them, she'll convince herself she scared me.

“Say something, Stone. Or if you don't wanna say anything, at least close your mouth, you've got it wide open for fifteen minutes” Graces reaches for me over the table and closes my jaw with a light pressure of her hand. Her hand so delicate, sweet, gentle, like her. I can't believe something so terrible could happen right to Grace. Ok, nobody deserves such pain and the world is full of horrors. But I wanna be free to get mad at such an injustice.

“Is it the left one or right one?” I finally speak. And I say something stupid, of course.

“What difference does it make?” Grace looks at me as if I was dumb.

“I just asked”

“The right one”

“And do you have a prosthesis?”

“How would I stand up and walk otherwise?”

“But you wouldn't say it, I mean, when you walk, you walk normally. You're just-”

“As slow as a snail” she finishes my sentence and it's like when in crime movies they give you the ultimate hint and it lights a spark for the detective, who starts going backwards through all the key points of the investigation. In my specific case, all the times I made fun of Grace for being slow.

“God, I'm a jerk” and here's the sudden realization.

“Jerk or not, you couldn't have known this”

“Yes but I feel like shit all the same”

“Stop thinking about it and you'll be better. So, what do you wanna do now?”

“What do I wanna do?”

“From my personal experience, I can say men fall into two categories at this point. I wanna know which one you belong to”

“It depends on the categories” I answer, more and more uncomfortable on this chair. Maybe it's because it's the new one. Yeah, that's it. Grace is right, she's always been right, not all chairs are the same.

“Those who don't wanna see and those who want to look”

“Oh”

“And inside the before mentioned categories, we can find two subgroups: those who don't wanna see that but ask me to show them, because they want to pretend they don't care, and those who are actually curious and would like to watch, but they say no because they don't want me to think they're gross”

“I, well, I guess I belong to a brand new category”

“That is?”

“The ones who don't know what to do”

“Hehe well, that's surely a more honest category” Grace stands up and I immediately do the same.

“Did you tell somebody else? I mean, to our friends?”

“No”

“Why didn't you tell me before?”

“That's not exactly something you say during small talk, what do you think? Hi, I'm Grace, I'm an aquarious and my favorite color is red. Oh and by the way, I only got one foot”

“I... I need... yeah, I mean, I gotta get out” how can I tell her I need to leave without looking like a jerk? I have no idea, and that's why it comes out like shit.

“Are you leaving?” she asks as I take my jacket and start putting it on.

“I need some fresh air”

“Oh, ok”

“And I have to clear my mind.” as I try to put my arm into the second sleeve for the third time unsuccessfully, Grace has pity and helps me “Thank you”

“Are you ok, Stone?” I honestly don't know the answer to this question and I don't even know why.

“Sure, everything's alright.” I take her face into my hands and kiss her “It's just... I didn't see that coming, I have to... process it, figure all this out, that's it” I tell her and myself.

“After all these years, I still haven't found a better way to say it”

“Well, you won't need to find another way now anyway”

“No?”

“No, 'cause you're with me now, you won't have to say it to any other guy” I offer a more sincere smile to Grace, also because she deserve nothing less, and kiss her again.

“Thank god. See, you're not totally useless then”

“Good night, Pebbles”

“Night, Stone” I get out of Grace's apartment, then leave the building, then get into my car and that's when I realize I have been holding my breath the whole fucking time.

[starr182]

@raspberrymama Here is is, chapter 1! 

Summary: You’ve been hunting with the boys for awhile and your birthday rolls around. Crowley gives you a special birthday gift. 

Pairing: Crowley x Reader.

Warning: Smut. Just 18+ please.

Word count this chapter 2066. 

Let’s be honest, your childhood sucked; both parents, correction adoptive parents, were very abusive. You had an inheritance from your birth parents, but your fake parents wouldn’t let you use it. Nor did they tolerate you to have an opinion or personality. They felt kids should be seen and hot heard. So from a young age you dove into books and drawing the quietest hobbies one could have. The pain of this existence drove you to the enjoy the darker things in life, the moon and stars, mythical creatures, demonology, witchcraft. You learned a few spells or charms to protect yourself, you found that it came naturally to you. As grew older you started having recurring dreams about a large suspended over a pit of nothingness, writing on the bars and a soft glow of red and blue light emanating from within. You tried searching but you could never find anything that matched the writing, but then again you could never really remember it clearly once you woke up. You collected many books on lost languages which lead you down the road of the supernatural. Of course, you never thought the creatures you often read about were actually real.

One night while having dinner with the fake parents when three people broke in. Not people, they couldn’t be. Their teeth were razor sharp and they had too many of them. You hid under the table as your parent were butchered, their screams faded to gurgles as they choked on their own blood. Your mother fell to the floor as you watch the last light fade from her eyes. Two of the monsters leave but not before telling the third to make sure you were taken care of. She pulls you out from under the table and pulls you up to her face. You notice she isn’t much other than you. She tells you she’ll let you live but you have to promise her something. You have to get her away from the monsters that killed your family, that she wasn’t like them, they liked hurting people but she didn’t. You agreed and she let you go. It took you awhile but you held up your end of the bargain. And that is how you became a hunter.

 ***Time jump***

Those vamps were long since gone, the younger female freed. Your in your 30’s now and haven’t run or hid from monsters in years. You’ve embraced the hunter lifestyle with ease. A couple years back you ran into the Winchesters and they pretty much adopted you. You first met them when you were both working the same case and staying at the same shady motel. You noticed an Impala in the parking lot with the hood up and offered to help. Dean looks at you from under the hood and says “Yeah doll you could jump me. Uh I mean the car, the battery.” You both laugh as you decide to help them out, you pull next to Baby in your 67 Shelby GT 500 and Dean is impressed. You two hit it off right away and decided to work the case decided to make the team up permanent.

Hanging with “your boys” as you call them, meet all sorts of interesting characters; Castiel an angel of the Lord, a witch named Rowena, Charlie a nerdy hacker and your favorite by far, Crowley the King of Hell. You were always attracted to the darker things in life and you couldn’t get much darker than a demon who reins over Hell. He was suave, smart, sarcastic and nice-ish to you at least.

The first time you met Crowley you were on a hunt for some rogue demons with the boys. You were hold up in an abandoned house in the woods. They boys sent you on a food run and you came back with a couple pizzas, an apple pie, a case beer and a bottle of Jamison. You barge in the door and say “I got pizza, pie and beer.” Dean replies its about time sweetheart. Crowley, who doesn’t even look up from the map that Sam is showing him stated “You’re redundant darling. You don’t need to say pizza pie, everyone knows it’s a bloody pie. “Not redundant. Pizza comma pie. Pizza and apple pie…dumbass.” You reply. Dean almost chokes on his beer. “Oh feisty, I like her.” He replies as he looks you over. Sam tells him to back off as you just roll your eyes. The was the first job you worked with him, the first of many. After a few cases with you two busting each other’s balls, you started to like the guy, demon, whatever. You weren’t supposed to like the King of Hell, but you did. The boys would kill you if they found out. Well not literally but they WOULD kill Crowley. Of course, you couldn’t tell Crowley you had feelings for him. How the hell could he ever like you, a human, a hunter, a Winchester.

Its your birthday and you and the boys are hunting a Wendigo in Nebraska. They needed Crowley for something unrelated and have him stuck in a Demon trap on the first floor of this abandoned house.  You come down the stairs and Dean informs you there was another death; that he and Sam have to run into town and that you would be babysitting the demon. After they leave you sit on the desk across the room from Crowley, legs crossed in your jean shorts, black tank top and purple plaid shirt. Crowley eyes you seemingly with boredom in his eyes. You decide to grab your duffle bag and drop it on the desk. “You wanna drink? Don’t worry, it’s not the swill my brothers drink.” “What’s the occasion?” He asks. “My birthday you reply.” He cocks an eyebrow as you pull a bottle and 2 crystal glasses from your bag. “hmm, what’s your poison?” You turn holding the bottle of Glencraig and you see a smirk grace his face. You pour a glass and hand it to him carefully so not to disturb the trap lines. You pour yourself one as he says “You can’t possibly be related to those two. You don’t have a bad bone in your body.” Ah fuck it you think as you down your glass, step over the trap line to face Crowley. You stand on your toes to whisper in his ear “If you play your cars right, you can be the bad bone in my body.” As you grab his crotch. Holy shit he’s huge. His eyes widen and jaw hangs open as you step back out of the circle. He’s speechless as he downs his drink too. He shakes the empty glass signaling a refill. You pour yours first then carry the bottle over to refill his. He backs up so you have to reach your arm over the trap line to pour. As you finish pouring, he grabs your wrist with his empty hand and pulls you to him. He plants his lips on yours as you bring your empty hand to his face to lightly touch his stubbled cheek. He pulls away from the kiss and looks down at you with those whiskey eyes “Let me out of this trap so I can give you your gift.” You shake your head “the boys would kill me” he replies, “No, they’d kill me. Later then Darling.” He smirks before leaning back down for another kiss. This one rougher than before; he bites your bottom lips, his tongue wrestles yours for dominance. His empty hand grabs your ass as he leans back towards the outline of the trap, its magic holding him up as would a wall.  Just then you hear Baby coming up the driveway and detach yourself from Crowley and head back to the desk to sit down as if nothing happened.

Both of you grinning as the boys enter. Sam is carrying an ice cream cake while Dean carries a small package, “Happy birthday” they say in unison. Aw they did remember. Dean gives you your gift which turns out to be the latest installment in your favorite book series. Sam cuts up 3 slices of the cake, hands one to you and Dean and takes one for himself. “What about Crowley?” you ask. “What about him?” Dean asks. You stroll over to the trap and hand him your slice of cake with a wink and cuts another slice for yourself. Afterwards the boys get whatever they needed from him and release him, He winks at you before disappearing.

After another half hour or so of drinking you head upstairs to take a cold shower and head to bed. Sitting on the chair in your room is Crowley. “Took you long enough. I’m not a patient man, love.” “Sorry, didn’t know you were waiting for me.” You reply “I did say later didn’t I? Now come here.” He raises from his chair in the shadow and grabs you, both hands on your waist. He looks into your eyes before he teleports you both out of there to a dark bedroom with a large 4-post bed with black satin sheets. You can only assume this is his bedroom. The room smells of burning wood, leather, cashmere and whiskey; some of your favorite things. Is this on purpose or coincidence?

He allows you a moment to take in your surroundings before his attach begins. His lips seem to be everywhere at once; your lips, cheeks, ears, neck, jawline and collar bone. His hands explore your curves, your hands planted on his pert ass. He starts to nibble on your neck, but carefully so that he doesn’t leave marks. He pulls away and snaps his fingers and you feel cold around you as your clothes are now gone. You move to cover your breasts and women hood but he slaps your hand away, “don’t you dare, love.” He cocks his head to the side as he looks you over, a predator stalking prey. He smiles as he the pushes you back onto the massive bed.

He climbs on top of you and quickly kisses you while one of his hands starts to massage your breasts. You let out a small moan as he pinches and pulls on one of your nipples as he tries to gauge your preferences. He lowers his head and uses his mouth to play with the only. His tongue caresses it and uses his teeth to gently pull it. All the while watching your face to make sure you are enjoying every moment.

He drops his head lower between your legs and inhales your scent. The smell of you is rather earthy something vaguely reminds him of his childhood home. He pushes the thought from his mind as he dips his long tongue into your folds. You moan out his name in response. He licks from your clit down and into your entrance eliciting another moan. “Fuck, darling, you taste so damn good. You’re so wet for me already.” He plunges a finger inside of you causing you to moan, he adds another in response. His tongue works your clit as he pumps his fingers into you and out of you completely before diving back in again at a maddening speed. His other hand alternates between kneading your breasts and tugging your nipples. “Oh God, you feel so good.” Crowley stops, removes his fingers from you and lifts his head. “Don’t. Don’t ever call his name when you’re with me, love. Got it?! God’s not here.”  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry Crowley.” You whimper as he resumes his onslaught against you. You quickly approach your climax as your clench around his fingers, bucking your hips up into his face as he buries his face further into you as you cum on him. He pulls away from you, licks his fingers and smiles, “you are delicious. I could live down there.” You blush as you crawl to him and kiss his neck. He pulls away and tells you to get dressed. Fuck, what did I do wrong? You think. After your dressed he poofs you back to the abandoned house. “We re you pleased with your gift?” he asks. “Yes, very, but I’d like to return the favor.” “It was a gift, not a favor, Darling. Happy birthday” He kisses you quickly then disappears.  Best birthday yet. 

[turtle-steverogers]

I can’t write for shit but I know you are really talented ,so what about an angst about Spot going to war and he doesn’t make it back and Race and their 1 year old son go to visit his grave and talk to him? Idk you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to but I thought it was a really cool idea

hi! so this is a pretty on brand prompt (especially for a certain upcoming Thing, but...,,.,) but anyway yeah here’s a fic. hope i did your idea some justice!

warnings: lots of talk of death, but nothing graphic.  my shitty, caffeine muddled writing (truly, not my best work, sorry)

ship: sprace

word count: 1529

editing: nein

Just Out of Reach

“Aye, Sergeant, need some water up there?”

“Yeah, thanks man.”

A water bottle is passed up to Spot, and he takes it, taking one hand off the M2 machine gun that’s deadbolted down in front of him and using his teeth to unscrew the cap.  He hadn’t realized how goddamn thirsty he’d been, but it’s fairly easy and not at all uncommon to lose touch with yourself during the methodical cycle of a mission.  

Really, it’s just reconnaissance.  Mapping out the desolate land that surrounds base- cataloguing the unknowns and the possible threats.  It’s the simple stuff.  The required bits that make the more strategic missions possible.  But they still take long as hell and Spot’s willing to bet that he’s sweat through his fatigues by now as he bakes in the desert sun.  His helmet is scratchy and the army-issued goggles are digging into his skull, squeezing his brain and making his head throb.  The water helps a bit.

His vehicle is at the front of the convoy, and somehow, he found himself perched in the turret, calculating gaze scanning around for anything amiss.  They near an Iraqi village, vacated looking buildings lining either side of the sandy, dirt road.

Spot thinks he sees a few windows shutter closed and when he looks to his left, there’s a little girl (she can’t be more than five.  Christ)  sitting on her stoop, knees pulled up to her chest.  She’s staring at the convoy, eyes wide and fearful and fingers plugged into her ears.  Spot feels a pang of...of something.  Guilt, maybe.  Sympathy.

Really, none of these people asked for this.  They never wanted big, scary men in big, scary vehicles shouting out foreign remarks and invading their space- their homes.  

Spot forces his gaze back to the front, willing himself to focus back on the task at hand.  But he can’t help his mind wandering back to that little girl.  There was something about her.  The innocence, maybe.  The simplistic look of discernable fear in the face of something scary.

He thinks of Teddy.

His son’s own wide, brown eyes and chubby, five year old cheeks.  Really, they’re not so different- that girl and Teddy.  They’re lives are so drastically diverse from one another, but they share that same, innate naivete.  The all prevailing look of curiosity that only kids can convey.

Spot misses Teddy.

Granted, he always misses him and Race.  The feeling isn’t mutually exclusive to any one moment, but sometimes the ache will grow into more of a pain, gripping his chest with longing to kiss his husband and hug his son.  Maybe dig his fingers into Teddy’s sides as he picks him up and swings him, planting an exaggerated kiss on his cheek.  It’s a foolproof way to make him laugh.  And if Race is there, he’ll laugh too.  There are some things in life he can count on to be constant, and his family is one of them.

He comes back to himself as he nears a stoplight and suddenly, something in the world seems wrong.  He’s just about to secure himself around the gun when there’s a shout from down below and then the humvee is jerkily rolling to a stop and that’s when Spot sees the wire and that can only mean someone’s going to die if they don’t fucking stop right fucking now and--

Nothing.

-

“Papa, can we go see Daddy today?”

Race freezes halfway through screwing the cap off a carton of milk.  He turns to look at his son and finds him staring at him in all his six and a half year old glory.  His hair is a mess of bedhead and sleep and even though Race had gotten him up and dressed in a decent amount of time for a Saturday, he still looks rumpled.  But that’s just how kids are, Race guesses.

It had been a year since Race’s life took a tumble into the realm of his worst nightmare.  A year since Lieutenant Kelly and Sergeant Jacobs had shown up on his doorstep, clad in Army Service Uniforms and wearing twin, somber looks. 

It hadn’t taken long for Race to piece together why they were there.

That day was still hazy, a jumbled mix of numb shock and things like, “we regret to inform you” and “killed in action” and then there was Teddy pulling at his pant leg and asking him with those wide goddamn eyes why “guys dressed like Daddy” were there and Race didn’t know how to tell him that Daddy’s gone, because how the hell do you explain that to a five year old and he wasn’t equipped to deal with something like this and he still isn’t and-

Yeah.  A nightmare.

Race still isn’t sure if Teddy knows exactly what happened.  He seems to understand that Spot is gone and that fundamentally, he isn’t coming back, but he doesn’t think Teddy understands death yet.  The finality of it- the weight behind the concept.  

It was inexplicably haunting to see Teddy not crying at Spot’s funeral.  Race was crying.  Hell, Race was a mess.  It was so bad that Albert had to take over his eulogy and Jojo had to watch Teddy for a few minutes while he lost his shit in the bathroom.

But Teddy hadn’t cried.  He’d just clung to Race with a tight grip and wide, bewildered eyes, not saying a word.  

“Sure, bud,” Race says, shaking himself and pouring the milk into Teddy’s bowl of Lucky Charms, “we can go see Daddy.”

He takes Teddy along to Spot’s grave fairly often, but he never really knows how much of it he processes.  Like at the funeral, he’s always quiet and subdued when they go, never really saying anything.  Just sitting in Race’s lap, head bent into the crook of his neck as he stares at the headstone.  

“Yay!” Teddy bounces a little in his seat, grinning as Race sets his breakfast in front of him, “I want to tell him about my dance recital!”

Something in Race’s chest cracks open, making him feel simultaneously warm and cold and entirely overwhelmed. 

On their way to the cemetery later, they pass a man selling custom bouquets on the street.  Brilliant mixes of orchids and roses, gardenias and anemones, bleeding color into the cold grey of winter, and when Teddy sees them and turns that pleading look on Race, well, who is he to say no?

-

“Hi, Daddy!”

For once, Race stays a little off to the side, watching his son sit cross legged in front of Spot’s grave.  He’s talking, words spilling out at about a mile a minute, but Race tunes them out.  This is their private moment and he doesn’t want to get in the way of that.  

“I kinda wish you coulda seen it, but…” Teddy shrugs, mouth grimacing in a way that’s so strikingly Spot that Race has to close his eyes for a moment, “That’s okay.  I know you woulda come if you coulda.”

And, well, ouch.

“Anyway, I brought my scarf for you, Daddy,” Race opens his eyes to see Teddy carefully wrapping his little Thomas the Tank Engine scarf around the headstone, just over where he’d placed the flowers they picked up earlier, “‘Cause it’s getting cold and Papa always tells me that scarves help make you super warm.”

Race has to bite his lip to keep from crying or doing something stupid to ruin his son’s moment and, like, breakdown in front of him.

“Anyway, I’ll let you talk to Papa now, ‘cause I know he always likes to talk to you a little,” He smacks a kiss onto his palm and presses it to Spot’s engraved name, “Bye bye, Daddy, I love you.”

When he turns to look at Race, he’s smiling.  It’s big and unyielding and Race fucking melts, because this is all he really wants.  Sure, when Teddy gets older, Spot’s absence will ring loud and daunting, but hell, if he can have any ounce of peace with it then, well, Race...Race is fucking ecstatic.  He can handle this. 

“Your turn, Papa!” Teddy says, beckoning Race to sit down and climbing into his lap when he does.

“Thanks, little man,” Race hugs Teddy close, “Did you have a good time talking to Daddy?”

“Uh huh,” Teddy says, squirming a little in Race’s tight hold, “I know he was listening super good, I could feel it.”

Race swallows, “Oh yeah?” Teddy nods, “I’m super glad, Teds.”

And maybe, really, that’s what this is about.  Spot’s death was a curveball thrown with the wrong hand, jarring a perceived reality and shifting everything Race had known a little too far to the left.  And no, it isn’t okay.  Maybe it’ll never be okay, but it doesn’t have to be.  Spot’s still there, lingering somewhere in their hearts and made real by his memory- their memories of him.  He’s still palpable, still reachable, and if Teddy can feel it, maybe Race can too.

Race takes a breath, fortifying and fond, then smiles.  It doesn’t feel so strained and Race feels just that much lighter when he clears his throat.

“Hey, Spottie…”

-

it wasn’t very good don’t clown me please my brain said ‘sorry bud’ today

thanks for reading, chiefs

hmu to be added to my tag

TAG LIST: @getchapapes @we-dont-sell-papes @suddenly-im-respecsable 

@aw-jus-let-em-try @well-the-kids-do-too @spot-conlon-king-of-brooklyn @felix-loves-albert-and-ralbert @technically-whizzy

@andthewoildwillknow @the-newsies-justice-for-zas-blog @localfakeitalian @have-we-got-news-for-you @musical-shitposts @thebroadwayaesthetic

@thomasbeingthomas

@irondad-spiderson-duo

@snakesarenonexistent 

@i-got-no-clue-what-im-doing 

@kpop-kk

@mentallytiredgoat

@yxseminx

@be-more-chill-evan-hansen 

@stopthe-presses

@elmers-half-a-cup

@and-i-lostmy-shoe

@spot-me50-papes

@honeynutpoptarts

@newsies-ensemble

@bennie-badeend 

@auspicioustarantula 

@faithmil 

@hopefully-not-the-ghostbusters

@bxnesof92

@backgroundnewsies

@sure-as-a-star

@skybert-daherty 

@eveningpaper

@malex-13

@albert-eats-cookie-cake

@heart-a-n-o-n

@bitching-newsboys

@orollyitsracetrackhiggins

@joshuaburrageenthusiast

@random-superhero-stuff

@awkwardstranger98

@falling-out-trees-101

@modern-race-owns-airpods

@asphodelnerd

@i-dont-do-sadness

@rockyroad236

@sirgrahamcracker

@godhatesjordan

@thats-our-que-boys

@bastille-smedry

@nerdsies

@toss-me-a-pape

@wolfbutterfly42

@revolutioninthesewers

@spot-the-brooklyn-pirate

@aintnosleevesinbrooklyn

[imdoingthismspaintadventure]

In which we close a narrative loop and dave is a tsun

Dave: Get the damn beta and save your friend's life!

Let’s get a move on!!

Finally the betas are easily accesible when we want them to be, instead of spending 40 pages finding them by doing things like throwing cakes out the window

This notion strikes you as nonsensical. You can't imagine how a video game could save someone's life, and in any case, you're quite sure no one you know is in any danger.

.... fucking what

Is this before the other things? Have we gone slightly back in time in terms of the general story? Is this while John was fucking around in his room?

....Does this mean that we will lose these betas somehow in the inmediate future because nothing can ever be easy? Oh no

Anyway, these are your copies of the beta you received in the mail recently. You've labeled them with your name in BOLD RED PRINT to distinguish them from your BRO's copies, who labeled his in kind. Neither of you really gives a shit about this game or has any intention of playing it, but you'll be damned if you'll let that get in the way of your campaign of one-upmanship.

What is it with these kids and weird family relationships?

I predict we will lose our copies and we will have to get Bro’s copies, based on that each kid so far has had their parent/authority figure as an antagonistic force.

Dave: Bleat like a goat and piss on your turntable.

Oh god this is indeed a pattern we are going to be following!

We had the “wrong name” bit, the “find your arms” bit, the “idiotic command” bit....Are we going to do them again for GG when they are introduced? I wonder what this command will be then.

You would never consider allowing any fluid even remotely resembling urine to touch your beloved TURNTABLES. That would risk breaking them, and a world without the gift of your godly science just doesn't sound like a place you want any part of. While you're at it, you might as well wipe out human civilization with a meteor or something ridiculous like that which will probably never happen.

I like that the “on your turntable” part is the outrageous part of “bleat like a goat and piss on your turntable” for Dave. Kid values his raps more than his life. Although it’s probably true that the world would be lesser without those wonderful, wonderful things.

And yeah, nothing to worry about with meteors and such, Dave. I’m sure nothing bad will happen, ever. Just like how those game copies you have are going to be safe and accesible forever.

That sort of thing only happens in stupid idiot movies for stupid idiots.

Oh come on, I’m sure you can find a bit of value in them, even if it’s in a “so bad it’s good” kind of way.

==>

...wait, are you really considering it?

You will however contemplate bleating like a goat for IRONICALLY HUMOROUS purposes at a later date.

...I will keep that in mind in case it comes up later.

If PS has taught me anything is that these comics are Chekhov’s armories

Dave: Examine closet.

So inside the closet there is yet another package (probably a gift from John, judging by the pattern we seem to be having. Seriously, do all these kids send each other presents in the same manner? ) and some sort of drink?

This is your closet. This is where you keep a lot of your crap.

Most accurate description of a closet ever

Like that BOX. And that bottle of... what is that? Is that...?

.....

Is that seriously a jar of piss? I would say “wtf” loudly, but your room is such a weird combination of things (including those weird fetus/ dissecated animals/ weeeeird shit) that I wouldn’t even be suprised

Dave: Check the blue box.

.....WHAT?

W-Why is there the BLACK OILY SUBSTANCE THAT STAINED THE KITCHEN WHERE JOHN IS STRANDED IN THE VOID HERE, ON THE PACKAGE??

Does the oil have multiversal properties? If it stains one’s house it also retroactively stains his possesions?? Or is this package from after those events?? Has it gone back in time??

WHAT??

But first let’s stop for a moment to appreciate the fact that Dave has a signed Stiller poster

This is the package that your friend John Egbert sent you for your 13th birthday a little while ago. It now contains nothing except a NOTE and a CERTIFICATE OF AUTHENTICITY vouching for the genuine Hollywood memorabilia which the box originally contained, and which you are now wearing to be IRONIC but also to be INCREDIBLY COOL IN A WAY SOMEHOW INTANGIBLY RELATED TO THE IRONIC NATURE OF THE ACCESSORY. You find it sort of exasperating to explain these subtleties to people.

John gave him the shades!! And they are apparently the real shades Ben Stiller wore in the movie!! That means that they are not *the* universal shades of PS, unless the shades in the Stiller bust were these ones and they somehow ended up there. But isn’t PS a videogame in this universe? But these shades had the universal glow?

Let’s not think too hard about that. It’s probably just an easter egg.

Also Dave please write a thesis on irony, the world needs it please.

The BOX also included a signed photo of BEN STILLER which now proudly hangs above your closet. Proudly and IRONICALLY.

I really like this totally (un)cool hipster kid.

Dave: Take box.

ohwahtthefuck

WHY ARE THE SYLLADEXES GETTING WORSE???

So it classifies things based on the balance of consonants and vocals in the name of the object and assigning an index value like in a hash map.

Oh boy this is a completely useless one in terms of getting shit done quickly, unless you have a godly grasp on words and their composition.

You captchalogue the BOX through your HASH MAP FETCH MODUS. Your modus's current HASH FUNCTION resolves the index by valuing each consonant at 2, and each vowel at 1. The total is divided by your number of cards, and the remainder is the index. BOX = 2 + 1 + 2 = 5 5 % 10 = 5 The BOX is captchalogued in card 5.

Just...LOOK at this

Look at this madness.

Dave: Examine jar of unknown yellow substance in the closet.

I don’t know why, but the combination of the quick turnaround, the fanfare and the fucking apple’s face makes this way more funny than it should be.

So it WAS apple juice after all.

Oh hell yes. It is an unopened container of APPLE JUICE. You thought you were all out. It is like fucking christmas up in here. This is so great. You've got to tell John about this immediately. He'll be so excited.

Oh wait, is this before the first conversation, when Dave and John talked about Little Monsters and Apple Juices? Is this why that conversation was as out of left field as it was?

I see how it all fits together now

Dave: Take juice.

You captchalogue the JUICE into card 7. 2+1+1+2+1 %10 = 7.

Dear god is this system nightmarish

Dave: Access Pesterchum and pester John.

Oh I can see the loop closing!

In addition to letting your buddy know about this outstanding juice windfall, you figure you'll wish him a happy birthday while you're at it. In your own cool, sort of roundabout way of course. Good thing you looked at that box he sent you, or you might have forgotten. You also might as well ask him about that beta. The kid's been harping about it for weeks. It would be cool if it came on his birthday. He'd be one happy camper.

Dave is such a tsundere in his friendships holy shit. You care about your friends a lot you dork

That background is rad

Wtf is “Complete Bullshit” as an app. (Probably some complete bullshit)

Ill beats because the laws of this universe demand it

Hephaestus, isn’t that the god of the blacksmiths and craftsmen? Cool icon. Reminds me of those flash games where the icons all fought each other.

Of course his emote in Pesterchum is  S m o o t h

-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 18:13 -- TG: hey so what sort of insane loot did you rake in today EB: i got a little monsters poster, it's so awesome. i'm going to watch it again today, the applejuice scene was so funny. TG: oh hell that is such a coincidence i just found an unopened container of apple juice in my closet it is like fucking christmas up in here EB: ok thats fine, but i just have one question and then a word of caution. have you ever seen a movie called little monsters starring howie mandel and fred savage? TG: but TG: the seal on the bottle is unbroken TG: are you suggesting someone put piss in my apple juice at the factory EB: all im saying is don't you think monster howie mandel has the power to do something as simple as reseal a bottle? EB: try using your brain numbnuts. TG: why did the fat kid or whoever drank it know what piss tasted like TG: i mean his reaction was nigh instantaneous EB: it was the 15th day in a row howie mandel peed in his juice. TG: ok i can accept that TG: monster B-list celebrity douchebags are cunning and persistent pranksters TG: also fred savage has a really punchable face TG: but who cares about this lets stop talking about it TG: did you get the beta yet EB: no. EB: did you? TG: man i got two copies already TG: but i dont care im not going to play it or anything the game sounds boring TG: did you see how it got slammed in game bro???? EB: game bro is a joke and we both know it. TG: yeah TG: why dont you go check your mail maybe its there now EB: alright.

And they DID indeed have the exact same conversation!!!

We are indeed back in time!!

We are sooooo gonna lose those Betas!!!! : D

[kaiju-z]

Seon Adventures Episode 23:  Blood and Cherry

Following the cliffhanger of Amelia and the rest of the party literally and figuratively bumping into her sister... we carry on into the conversation that happens.

Sabrina, Sab for short, as it is learned, is the younger sister of Amelia, who at one point in her life had lived under the name, or nickname “DeeDee”. Something Sab is understandably confused about Luctan refers to Amelia as such.

When last the two had met, it was 7 years ago, when Sabrina was 7 years of age, when they were seperated by tragic means. In the time since, she had grown into a strong, 18 year old spellcaster, as she performed some of her evocation magic for the party to witness.

It’s hard to tell what class she may be, as Luck notes in his mind, but at the very least he can tell it’s not Divine type.

Smoothing over some perceived sleights, as the two hadn’t reconnected since the incident that seperated them, Luctan explains that Amelia had confided in him her worries and goal of searching, of finding her little sister. Which would be Sabrina. Persuasive as he is, he convinces her of the Air Genasi Monk’s determination and the two ladies hug it out and we get introduced to Sab’s familiar, a very lovely little weasel.

A promise is made to rendevouz later at the Tabernax tavern later, after they each finish their respective job for the day.

As they part ways, Amelia gets a pep talk from the party as the revelation comes that she has a severe case of Imposter Syndrome, having to have kept her own issues to herself. Believing that she had to decrease, as everyone else had to increase their own issues’ level.

That is not the case though, as Luck, Mournimar and Belli make it clear to her. It’s not the case as her own situation and the need to find a balance is just as important as the rest’s.

Promissing to discuss things later, the five and their pets carry on into the rounded out area of the South-Eastern part of town, on the outer wall’s side.

Three buildings in particular stand out to everyone. A Pottery Shop, named “Straight to the Paint ‘, an old house and an Orphanage right next to it.

Luctan’s lack of knowledge of herbalism aside.. A decision is made on how they should handle the establishments.

Luck takes the executive decision to split the party up in 3 teams:

Team 1: Luck and Ficus take to the Pottery shop.

Team 2: Amelia and Mournimar, to investigate the old house.

Team 3: Malak and Belli to have a chat with the heads of the Orphanage.

Learn information, apply that information, reunite and solve the case of the mysterious lightning strikes!

And so they go!

Luctan, making a promise to Belli to buy pot, goes and gets her a flower pot. And paints.(Poor low Int Roll, yaaay!) Charming the shop owner with his words, complimenting his youthful appearance and all that, Luctan learns a bit of info, before he decides to go Assassin’s Creeding up the roofs:

The gnome shopkeeper, having spoken to Mr. Greg, two doors down had come to learn that the old man kept finding left over snacks in his spare room. Quite odd. Crumbs? Maybe a rat infestation, the guard aren’t interested. He complained that someone talked from his chimney. But no one could be found.

On the opposite side of the street, the chimney of Mr. Tim was taken out in one of the lightning strikes. Frankly, the Gnome suspects that, based on whispers around town, The Storm God Dahktot was responsible in some way, maybe the involvement of a cult was in play?

Losing a fight to a fly, aside, Luctan doesn’t get any info or perception on what’s going on from the top of the buildings.

Amelia and Mournimar have far much better, well, Luck, in this situation than Luctan as they confront the owner of the house (you know, after Mournimar suggests breaking in). They meet the legend himself, Old Greg, a crotchety old man in his 80′s, who complains to them about rats in the guest room upstairs.

Guy has a shitty day. As usual. Fucking kids.  He hates them kids.  Little brats in the spare room get hella loud.  He’s such a crotchety bastard. But the suspicion does arise that kids from the Orphanage may be involved somehow.

Mourni figures the vibes in the house are spooky. Old house and magical energy coming form upstairs, one part in particular. Though...  The room doesn’t appear to have anything off about it. The dust is lighter, like there used to be a bed and it smells like rotting food.

The two most perceptible in the party notice that there’s a small circle with markings, scribbled out and redrawn repeatedly. Mournimar notices the angle and his eyes are drawn to the fireplace, the wall shared with the orphanage and there is a loose brick hanging off of it.

Mournimar investigates the loose brick.  He takes a peek and can notice, in the dark of it, a pressure point. While he fiddles with the bricks, Amelia gives a closer look to the runes carved into the floor. They sadly are unreadable, but one is always the same. Amelia has no idea.

As the two talk actions,  Amelia agrees that Mourni should press the button.

Clunking sounds. He holds down the button. Eventually there’s a shifting and the bricks at the back of the fireplace separate and open up... and  Mournimar essentially breaks into an orphanage. 

There’s a single bed in the room. Pretty plane room, there’s a propped up piece of wood. A bag under the bed and the bed is fairly small.

Casting Pass Without a Trace, Mournimar sneaks inside. He finds a thick heavy book within the sack, beneath the bed. It’s compex in design, intricate and it’s lead bound back. Black, with a fire pattern at the bottom.

There’s a detailed drawing of the ritual circle in the bedroom they started with. With a combined effort, the two make a copy of the ritual circle. And Mournimar draws a detailed map of the building and circle.

The runes are clearer and neater, the main one repeated is the symbol for Conjuration.  They figure they should warn the old man. Mourni makes sure the close the door behind himself. Walking back, they do see a picture of a younger Greg, in a canoe.

They try to explain the situation to him, but the old guy pulls a dagger on them, ‘cause he’s startled by the cult shit book. Amelia lies it’s a cake and he buys it.

Back with Belli and Malak, the two go do dad and totally normal daughter activities. Just two bros, hanging out, going to an orphanage.

There’s a chiming. An older Firbolg lady opens the door. The story is that they’re here to play music for the kids. Belli pays attention for weird shit. Malak gives her Guidance. “You’ve got this. They’re just kids.”

There are toys all over the place. Very much homemade.

After the ringing of a bell, 15 kids in a swarm enter the room. (Roll for initiative, j/k).

They kind of, a few of them walk right up to Belli and one of the youngest is in the Firbolg’s arms, as it’s too young. A few sit down as Malak introduces Belli.

“ Wow, are your teeth real?!” asks one child and Belli confirms, as she is an Olf/Erc (Half Orc/Half Elf). The question is raised as the baby in the Firbolg’s arms is asl oa Half-Orc. His little tusks being all nubby and the like as he nibbles on her blue dress’ shoulder.

The kids ask about Malak’s axe and he shows it off, safely, for the kids. A few try to climb Malak to get to the axe, ‘cause that shit’s sick.

The lady introduces herself as Doreen. The head of this Orphanage.

As Belli begins entertaining children with magic and song, Malak converses with Doreen. She has a brother, who left recently. She’s been taking care as best she can of the kids, rough life and the like. Heartend, Malak gives her 10 gold. This will feed them for a while. Grateful for the kind deed, she asks if she can repay him somehow.

Malak asks about the lightning strikes, Belli offers practical lessons. “"Who wants to learn some practical skills?! we can start with knitting and then get to fire!" Seriously, Belli’s gonna blow these kids’ minds.

Doreen guides Malak upstairs and leads him to a room upstairs. There’s a desk in one part of the room, multifunctional, a calendar and stuff.  There’s a single painting of a lake. This is Doreen’s room and her office space. Work place, dinner table and the only place she can get some privacy.

She’s still carrying Dave.

Malak scans the room with Detect Magic. A ring of Protection is on the table, given to Doreen by her late husband. 

"So kids anyone wants to learn magic or how to play an instrument", goes Belli downstairs.

Questioned about anything off recently, Doreen admits she’s been worrying about Cedric, one of the boys. He was attached to her brother and he never wants to talk to Doreen like with her brother.

It’s probably more of a personality thing. Malak learns that they got on like a house on fire. He was blunt with the kids and Cedric responded well to that.

“"Anyone want to fly? you have to be lighter then ten pounds"”

She mentions that Lord Arwen had come to visit, at least, mentions him by description. She didn’t trust him, though. He was asking similar questions, about the lightning and the children. He focused more on her, thinking she was doing something wrong.

By this point,  Belli has taught the kids “Baby Shark”.

Not all the kids are enthusiastic, though. One of the older kids, 7-8 year old being the loner. Slouching, hands in pockets. Belli talks with the boy, who introduces himself as Cedric.

He doesn’t know music and Belli tells him that’s ok. The two end up bonding over the ridicilously chonky boy that is Orion, the Familiar (and we make Sprinkle jokes ooc).

Good times.

Cedric admits he has a “friend”.

Bad times.

Her name is Cherry and he claims she’s not doing well.

They could always go and visit her, suggests Belli. But, according to Cedric, Doreen said they have to leave her alone.

Malak eventually rejoins Belli as she tells tales of the party’s adventures.

Mentioning Cherry to Doreen, Doreen can all but stare in confusion, having no fucking clue who that is.

Belli, followed by Malak, goes to check Cedric’s room and knocks. “Just a minute!” calls Cedric from inside.

Malak opens the door. He’s kneeling down in front of his bed, poured open a sack of his belongings and tears are welling up in his eyes.

And there we have it.

Mournimar stole his tome.

They ask about the book. They ask about Cherry.

Cherry’s real, but he gave her that name, because her skin’s the color of cherries.

“She’s not a tiefling. She, um.  She’s real and his friend, not feeling great, but doesn’t live here. “ Belli offers her services. Cedric explains that he’s been trying to summon her. And has killed cats and mice. All these storms that keep happening? It’s due to his failure.

Last time he heard her was a few nights back. She keeps wanting him to try until he does. She hasn’t told him right now where she is.

“She’s from the Feymind Zits- Err... Flaming Pitts?!”

Taking a knee, Malak has an “ I’ma be real with you, chief.” moment with the lad.  And he and Belli talk sense into the sad boy. Making him promise not to try and summon her anymore.

“You deserve better than someone, who only talks to you to get you to do something.” - Words of Wisdom by one, Belli Narah.

Malak asks if anyone else knows about the book, where he got the book from (no and Cherry, she taught him how to make it and stuff).

Can you tell me, as best you can remember, what the book looks like?”Black with a fire pattern at the bottom. It looks old, but the pages are still strong.

With Cedric’s promise, Belli passes some things over to him. Her Lute, as well as a piece of Platinum. She encourages him and gives him a gameplan to become a Bard. Making him, essentially, her apprentice.

They share a hug and the youngster gets a headpat.

“ Learn from Freddy Orcury’s works. “

Ignore Cherry, tell her to Fuck off. Cedric promisses to do this.

The party soon reunite in the center of the circle, after Belli and Malak take chase after the book. And bumping into Amelia and Mournimar, with Luctan and Ficus coming down from the roof after that.

The party  discuss what’s what and the options they have. Suggestions to outright burn the book are brought up, with Luctan pointing out that they should probably hand it over to Lord Arwen as proof of their work here.

This is essentially the tome of a Warlock. As in. Cedric had accidentally made a contract with a Fiend and become a Pact Of The Tome Warlock. Belli remembers a spell that transports people through planes, one of these spells has to do with it.

Thinking fast, right before the party make their leave, Belli transformed Orion into a fly and sent him to watch over young Cedric,in case something went down.

As the six head back to the spires to have their business transaction, Luctan is positively glowing over the party’s team work!

The talk is had and the party trade the tome for the agreed upon sum and extra for the tome, wich each party member getting 10 platinum pieces.

As we head off to study in the library for our Cherry exam, Lord Arwen mentions that Mountainsteel may have work for us. As he’s on our schedule, that may still occur...?

We go to the Lady Stormweaver National Library. Has a nice plack, marble stone ‘n  shit. Grand old building. It’s about the same size as the Echosmith Hall, so it’s a damn big building.

Walking in, there’s a hole in the ceiling with further floors up there.

After conversing with a gnomish man of age, named Podin, the party plans on what research materials to take.

Malak finds that there’s a demonic tome on the 3rd floor, which he learns from a tiefling woman that it once belonged to someone called “ Golgordonix”, an evil dragon, who , who attacked these lands a century ago. His tome, gifted to him by one of the 9 hells.

While the rest go to do their own research, be it about the Flaming Pits, Pacts and the like, we come to an end to the session.

Previous Episode / Next Episode

[pandemicthestory]

13: ghosted

Emma wanders down a busy virtual street, barely able to keep her jaw from hitting the digital concrete.

She had been expecting a video game, something with pixels and glitches, but what was in front of her seems so much more real. It's almost disturbing.

Skyscrapers are tall, as she has known them to be in the real world. But here, they are round, and they aren’t perfectly straight--they are shaped like an off-balance layer cake. And the lights shine so much brighter. Holographic advertisements cover surfaces. Except, she notices that they’re not for Chipotle or cars, they’re news spots. 

“The death toll in the state of California rises to 12,000, a 200% spike since last week” 

She sees that holograms are delivering news from the real world. 

A car zooms way too close to her, and she jumps back--shaken from her stupor. Well, it looked like a car. However, it has no wheels. Emma smirks to herself at how Madison would react: “I’m already aware that the Camaro is a piece of shit, I don’t need these turbo spaceships to rub it in my face even more.”

Emma marvels at the size of the city and the people around her. Some of them are talking on devices like the one she was handed on the beach--though instead of holding it to their ears like cell phones, it’s at more of a distance from their faces and projecting holographic video. Some people are walking in groups, conversing in a very familiar way. Some people are staring straight ahead, alone, like Emma.

Where is Isabel in all of this? And where to even start looking?

Emma thinks to herself, if she has one of these devices, her sister must have one too. There’s gotta be a way to track her.

“Thanks for nothing, Mason.” Emma mutters to herself, trying to figure out the odd contraption in front of her. She went from being intrigued by this guy, to fascinated, to absolutely fucking pissed. After she finds her sister, she’s gonna find him too. And get some answers.

Emma sits down on a bench on the side of the road, reviewing her device. While very high-tech, it’s surprisingly straightforward. She finds an option to search for other players, typing “Isabel Bradford.” 

While exact coordinates aren’t provided, a green dot appears on a map of the city.

* * * 

Night sits at his desk, staring at his computer screen in front of him.

He’s trying to repress the feelings of guilt that are buried in the back of his mind. Sugar will be fine. He probably left right after Night did. And anyway, Night wouldn’t have left him if it wasn’t important. He’d be having a grand time cutting class even if he was in jail. Night keeps telling himself this.   

Night seems to be playing Universe without wearing a headset, merely with a 2-dimensional view of the game. This version looks older and simpler than the version that Isabel and Emma are playing on--most likely the original from the 80s. 

Night stares at a map in the game and sees the red dot representing Emma lingering not far from the beach. 

*ping*

He keeps forgetting to turn off external notifications, ugh. Oh. He’s just received an email from his teacher, and the beginning of the message is shown in the notification…

“Hello Night, checking in on your absence…” 

Teacher would be surprised that he wasn’t there. It’s not like him to miss class, or really to do anything unruly or “wrong.” Night is expected to come and go quietly, to be somewhat odd, but overall non-disruptive. Like a ghost. 

At some point, he couldn’t remember when exactly, his education had become arbitrary. He saw what was going on...building was all that mattered. All classes had been shifting their focus and slowly morphing into one industry. If you can’t code, you’ll get left behind. If you can’t contribute in one specific way, you’re disposable.

At the beginning of this school year, it had been announced that graduation from the Academy would be pushed forward one year. The board gave the reason that young people were spending too much time sitting in classrooms, gaining information they had no need for, when they could have the opportunity to “get started in life.” 

Some saw this as exciting, but Night knew what it really meant. There were whispers. This change was not for the benefit of the students. It was not so students could be free, it was so they could be put to work. 

Well, Night has no intention of falling in line with the others who mindlessly build. He craves other knowledge, other opportunities. And he believes that the right person can help him achieve this. Her. It’s time for a disruption. 

Night sees the red Emma dot begin to move on screen. She’s walking through the streets now, heading towards the school.

The blinking dot with his name on it stalls in place. He settles into his chair for the search. 

He’ll just have to meet her there.

* * *  

In Zoe’s bedroom, Julian sits in a chair on the opposite side of the room from her bed, where she and Gabriel are sitting. They are at least 6 feet apart, properly socially-distanced. 

Julian’s wearing a bandana that’s covering most of his face. Which is great for Zoe, who kinda despises the sight of it.

“She’s not answering any of my calls or texts. I want to know what’s going on.” Julian says to them, with his trademark entitled tone. 

“Well, there’s a reason for that…” Gabriel starts. But Zoe hushes him. 

“Gabe, we’re not telling him anything. Not unless it’s necessary to protect Emma, which it sounds like it isn’t. Julian, ever considered that she’s ignoring you because you cheated on her, broke her heart, and are generally kind of a scumbag?” Zoe’s temper is rising. 

Julian doesn’t like this. He laughs condescendingly. 

“What the hell is so funny? Wait why haven’t I kicked you out yet?”

“You think Emma’s hiding from me? You don’t know anything about what she’s hiding. Hate to break it to you, but you don’t know her like I do.” 

Zoe’s about to respond, but hesitates. This dude IS a pathological liar, but, why does he sound so convincing…

“You’re lying. As per usual.” Zoe’s smart, she knows that the best way to get a manipulator to spill his guts is through manipulation. She rolls her eyes, for effect. 

“Tell me what’s going on, or you’ll regret it.” 

“You don’t know shit, Julian. We don’t negotiate with terrorists. There’s the door. Buh-bye.”

Julian stands up out of rage. Right on cue. 

“Did she tell you where she’s going next week?” Julian spits out. Bingo. 

“Um, yes, obviously.” Zoe’s lying now, but her genuine curiosity is making it difficult. Meanwhile, Gabriel lies down on the bed and rests his head on a pillow--withdrawing from the conflict. 

“Yeah fucking right. And you know how I know you’re full of shit?” 

“Please, enlighten me.” 

“Because if you’re as good of a friend as you pretend to be, you would have tried to stop her by now. But you haven’t. And I don’t think it’s because you’re not some fucking psycho weird sisterhood obsessed, I think it’s because Emma didn’t trust you enough to tell you that she’s going to start a new life. With me. And far from you.” 

Zoe sits, stunned. Julian is a bona fide liar, so why was she even dignifying this with an iota of her energy? He’s the one who’s full of shit. Obviously. 

Unless. Well, there is that constant curiosity that lives quietly in the back of her mind. Emma had grown a bit different over the past few months. The four best friends knew everything about each other, to perhaps a sickening degree, but yet...there were so many hours of Emma’s time that weren’t accounted for. Not that she isn’t entitled to those hours. But Zoe does wonder. 

“I...um…” Zoe starts.

“She’s leaving. And if you think you have any chance of talking her out of it, you better help me find her. Otherwise, you might just never see her again.” 

“Her phone is broken. That’s why you haven’t heard from her.” Gabriel says softly. 

They both turn to look at him. 

“How do you know that?” Zoe asks.

He takes a few deep breaths. “Because I was with her when it happened. We broke into Best Buy because she needed gear...it was to help her sister somehow...Madison was there, she knows more than I do…” 

And that’s all he has to say. Julian has heard enough to head to his next destination. He briskly walks towards the door. 

“Hold on a second, what happened to working together?” Zoe asks. 

Julian sighs a fake sigh. 

“I think what’s best for Emma will be to have as clean a break as possible.” 

He leaves and shuts the door behind him. Zoe groans out loud, furious. How could she have listened to this monster??

But then again, there’s a part of her that needs to know if what he’s saying is true. She has so many questions… Why would Emma want to leave? Why couldn’t she be honest with her best friends? What happened to Isabel? And where is Emma now?

Zoe lies down next to Gabriel and wraps her arms around him. She thinks to herself about how there were so many bad guys out there, and she had somehow scored one of the few good ones. She feels blessed yet torn apart. 

“Zo, I feel like hell.” he says. 

Zoe realizes the heat of his body, and puts a hand to his forehead. Burning up. 

She can’t let her mind go there. 

“Don’t think about it Gabe. You haven’t seen anyone except me. Okay and Emma and Madison for five minutes, but you were totally safe, weren’t you?” she asks, starting to panic. 

He doesn’t respond. 

“Gabe?”

“Well yeah, the only thing I can think of is…Madison wasn’t wearing a mask.” 

* * * 

Emma keeps walking. The Isabel Bradford dot is getting closer and closer. 

She’s in such a state of disbelief that it will take a lot to shock her even further at this point. 

What will she say to her sister when she sees her? Hi, what the hell is going on? Why is your limp body chilling in our house? What are you doing here?

Isabel has been acting so weird lately. But then again, her family probably thinks the same about her. They’re probably wondering why this emo introvert is even more emo and introverted than usual. Or maybe they aren’t wondering at all. And it’s the lack of wondering that has driven her to run away with someone who may or may not love her.

Where is Julian now? The eternal question. Although one that has plagued her a bit less over the past couple of days. It’s legitimately insane how much has happened in that time. 

And what of Mason? 

Her blood began to boil. Emma has been massively fucked over by a guy before, and she feels that it’s unacceptable for this to become a pattern. Julian cheating and lying and manipulating...ok she can chock that up to a learning experience. Right? Ehhh. But if two guys play her in a row, well than she’s a bigger fool than she could have ever imagined. And she deserves what happens to her.

For a moment, Emma marvels at the fact that somewhere, she is in a closet on a pile of laundry. She can feel no trace of that reality, only absorb every hyper-realistic facet of what’s around her. She continues on these roads that only exist on a hard drive but feel solid under feet.  

Once Emma finds Isabel, who probably knows her way around this game, she’s going to force her to help her find Mason. Like a, “I saved your life, now you owe me one” type of situation. Hopefully Isabel will see it that way.

And soon, she’ll be able to ask her. 

According to the map on her device, she has arrived at the school. 

It’s quite tall--taller than any school she’s ever seen before. It looks more like the other buildings around it than a place where young people would typically go to learn. But this is a game, so, she’ll roll with it. 

But how to get inside..? Like is there even a door? Where’s the front? Hm. 

Emma rounds a corner, and realizes that this is definitely the front.  

Glassy, a giant arch over massive front doors, seemingly thousands of quotations inscribed on the reflective material. It’s somehow modern yet historic. It’s incredible, and Emma is utterly entranced.

“Emma?” 

Emma has a near heart attack. She is abruptly pulled from her stupor by a voice behind her, a smooth voice that says her name like it’s familiar. 

She turns around to see a boy around her age. Dark hair, slim, ghostly.

[shirtlesssammy]

6x13: Unforgiven

Then:

Good news? Sam’s got his soul back. Bad news? The walls are starting the crumble around it.

Now:

One Year Ago:

Bristol, Rhode Island

Sam Winchester, the soulless killing machine, goes around shooting things while the camera stays focused on his grandfather, a look of distress plastered on his face.The job done, with Sam sporting only a minor flesh wound, they quickly make their exit from town. The local law enforcement pulls them over before they can get very far though. Oh, they’re federal agents, but the sheriff doesn’t like the blood oozing from Sam’s arm and wants to haul them downtown. One: Sam in a Carhartt again is delightful. Two: Soulless Sam is just the most fun.

Sam laughs and starts to walk away from the cop, and before the cop can pull a gun on him, Sam beats the living shit out of him. (I mean, Sam’s still fun even if he’s a fucking psychopath.) “Do you think there are calmer ways we could have handled that?” Samuel ponders. “Do we care? Let’s go.” And they take off, leaving the cop unconscious in the middle of the road.

Present Day:

Sam and Dean are in random motel #3534. Dean’s got nothing on the Mother of All thing when Sam gets coordinates from an unknown source. The coordinates are for Bristol, Rhode Island, where three women have disappeared in the past week. Dean’s reluctant to check it out but Sam convinces him.

The boys arrive in Bristol (“Where Memories Are Made” lolololololol.) and Sam almost immediately starts having flashbacks. At a local nautical themed restaurant, they catch up on the case. Dean heads to the “Poop Deck”, when Sam is approached by a couple who thinks he’s “Agent Roark”. Uhoh. The woman, Debbie, asks if he’s back in town because the disappearances have started again. He goes along with it all and agrees (I mean, he is after all). She then asks where his partner is, and Dean interrupts and says “sex rehab.” Oh, if only Samuel was around to not enjoy your humor, Dean.

Debbie and her husband, Don, take off, but not before Debbie leaves a lingering touch on Sam’s shoulder. Hmm. Sam has another memory, this one of him and Debbie going at it pretty hot and heavy in the restaurant bathroom. Uhoh. The exchange did not go unnoticed by Dean. Sam admits that he thinks he and Samuel worked a case in this town. Dean shows him a picture from the restaurant wall with Sam in the background.

Dean wants to skip town. “You never use the same crapper twice.” (Dean could be a poet.)

Sam insists they need to stay and work the case. Dean relents.

Dean follows up on the victims. He starts by interviewing a roommate. Apparently one of the victims, Nicole, had previously meet Agent Roark. A neighbor in the apartment building was a victim the previous year. In fact he came by a few times. Dean’s spidey sense is vibrating. Apparently Agent Roark and Nicole’s non-relationship was loud and athletic.

Sam, meanwhile, heads to the sheriff’s office, but can’t even get in the door before the cop he accosted last year finds him and draws his gun on him. Uhoh. Sam flashes back to that night. UHOH. Sam gets thrown in the clink. (And called “dumb as a sack of hair” lol) The cop knows he’s not a federal agent and he wants to know where the bodies are.

Later that night, a woman walks into the dark cell area and demands that Sam tell her what happened to her husband. This woman knows Sam’s name, and what he does. Sam has a mega-flashback to when he and Samuel told the sheriff and this woman, his wife, their real story. The sheriff disappeared though, along with the two hunters. Sam tells her that he has no memory of his time here before. Why would he be back if he did? The woman believes him and tells him her name is Brenna Dobbs. She opens his cell door so he can find some answers.

We finally reach the truly nightmarish part of the episode. Debbie is at home enjoying her boxed wine when she runs out of said boxed wine (THE HORROR, but lbr, there’s another glass of wine in there if she just takes the bladder out of the box)

so she heads to her basement to find more. Something grabs her leg on the stairs and she stumbles to the floor. The camera (and monster) closes in on her as she screams.

Dean meets up with Sam again and fills him in on the missing person info he’s collected. They hear there’s another missing person over the police radio. Dean heads out alone after insisting that Sam stay hidden. A command Sam isn’t about to listen to.

After checking out the latest in the case, Dean calls and leaves a voicemail with his brother. He found a connection to the missing women. “They all banged the same dude. You.” This is a trap for Sam.

For Whatever Reason Dean is a Cute Bean All Hunched Over On His Phone Science:

Brenna comes home to find Sam in her house. She tells him that Debbie is missing and wants answers. Sam doesn’t have them, and he needs her help.

Sam flashes back to working the case with Samuel again and this time they’re sitting down and having a beer with Brenna and her husband. They end up talking about Sam’s relationship with Samuel. Soulless Sam rather smugly announces that he has a business-only relationship with Samuel. “Family just slows you down.” Nice, man.

When Sam snaps out of his flashback, Brenna hands over the case files for her husband. Cue more flashbacks!

Sam remembers Samuel concluding that they’re dealing with a monster called an arachne. Sam figures out that the arachne is hiding out in a local park, and that the monster seems to have a type - men in their thirties. He formulates a plan to lure it out. I’m sure it’ll be a nice, gentle plan where nobody gets hurt!

Back in the present, Sam listens to Dean’s voicemail while he leaves Brenna’s house. As he listens to it, he notices some cobweb blowing in the wind off the side of the front porch. Did he just finish talking to a….black widow? Dun dun DUN. While Sam checks out the webbing, we get a shot of him in arachnid vision.

At the place they’re crashing, Sam fills Dean in on the case and his spotty returning memories. Dean’s generally pissed to hear that Sam’s remembering ANYTHING from before. As far as he’s concerned, the next step down memory lane is a one way bus trip to Hell Boulevard. Dean insists that they blow town and call up another hunter but Sam puts his foot down. He’s got a soul now. That, paired with a terrible feeling that he was part of something awful, makes him want to stay. MAN it is such a relief to get caring Sam back - even if he really needs to just GTFO.

Together they make a murder wall, pinning up maps and pictures and looping yarn and THEORIES are flying it’s wild, guys. Sam looks at the evidence and flashes back AGAIN. Sam remembers using Brenna’s husband Roy as a lure for the arachne. Samuel was uncomfortable about it but Sam has zero patience for Samuel’s reticence. Roy was the right age and type for the spider-critter they’re tracking. How else are they going to find its lair?

In the flashback, the arachne gets the drop on Roy and drags him off before they can do anything. Soulless Sam isn’t worried - he turned on the GPS on Roy’s phone so he can track his phone to the spidey lair. “You’re about as cold as they come,” Samuel notes, which is a real damn statement coming from Samuel.

They track Roy to a barn covered in Halloween cobwebs. There are bodies under the webbing - bodies EVERYWHERE. Only they’re not bodies. They’re still alive and gasping under the webbing.

They find Roy right when the arachne, a woman, attacks. Sam slices off her head. Hooray! They saved the day!

Only...Sam looks at all the victims. They’re poisoned by a spider-monster and swiftly dying (according to his non-existent medical examination of them). It’s better to kill them all and put them out of their misery, Sam concludes. RECORD SCRATCH! Honestly, guys, I am guilty of thinking of soulless Sam as a dick, but not particularly murderous. I...forgot about this episode entirely. Sam remorselessly kills all the victims one by one. (Samuel - who HAS a soul - also isn’t winning any popularity contests with me because he just stands there.)

When Sam returns from this flashback, he tells Dean that he remembers everything now. And it ain’t good, sunflowers.

Brenna wakes in the night to an intruder in her home. It’s Roy! But it’s Roy transformed into an arachne. Sam happens to call her to check in (handwave handwave) and realizes that she’s in trouble. They head to Brenna’s house.

There are lights on in the shed and Brenna’s hiding in a corner. “What you did to Roy?” she asks Sam, “Is it true?” Cue Roy jumping in and attacking the Winchesters.

Before you know it, they’re tied up in cobwebs while Roy stalks in front of them. He reveals that the arachne was breeding, capturing mates and transforming them. Getting shot in the head had no effect on him because he had become….SPIDER MAN. (Without all the badass powers.)

It was Roy who tried to lure Sam back to town so he could avenge his own attempted murder. As added frosting on his revenge cake, all the women who went missing are now spider women and scattered throughout the country. “You killed one monster, you made so many more. Congratulations.” Roy ponders the timeless monster question: to kill Sam or turn him?

Dean breaks free before that existential question can be answered. Brenna slices Sam free and Sam kills Roy.

Later, Sam drops Brenna off at home and apologizes. Too little, too late, bby. She stalks inside and slams the door. I mean, same girl. Sam and Dean return to the place they’re squatting in. Sam’s dejected. Dean tries to bolster him up, telling him that none of the terrible things he did was him.

Sam’s not buying the “everything’s gonna be okay” line. And in just a moment, Dean isn’t either. Sam collapses and as he gasps on the floor, we get a glimpse of what’s in Sam’s head. It’s hell fire and Sam’s burning up.

__________________________________________________________________

Chicken Quotes for the Soul:

You got mysterious coordinates from a mysterious Mr. "X," leading to a mysterious town? That doesn't throw up red flags to you?

She just cougar-eyed you.

“You never use the same crapper twice.” “Everyone uses the same crapper twice.”

What? The boxed stuff doesn’t get better with age, Don.

What is this, "Days of Our Lives"? You're telling me you have some sort of amnesia?

Roy’s just some redshirt to you?

You love to say "I told you so."

You killed one monster, you made so many more. Congratulations.

__________________________________________________________________

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

[michaelkayauthor-blog]

Esparanza - A Horror Short

There are all kinds of secrets in this world. I’ve always said it and the things I’ve been through prove it true. Esperanza, Texas is one of them. I’m not supposed to talk about Esperanza, I’ve been promised very bad things will happen if I do, but I’ve never cared much for threats. See, I’m sitting here on a quiet beach in Mexico sipping a margarita with enough Pesos to keep me in cheap tequila for the rest of my natural-born life, but I still owe a certain oil company a big fuck you. What better way than spilling the dirty secrets they paid a lot of money to hide?

I used to work a rig out in Middle of Fucking Nowhere Texas. Fifty miles from the border and three hundred from anything resembling a decent meal. Me and eighty-five other roughnecks spent 9 months out of the year holed up in a shit hole company town named by the foreman in a moment of sarcasm. Esperanza, a town that you won’t find on any maps. Not really a town at all. It was just a bunch of disposable barracks thrown up around a company-owned general store and a ramshackle bar with one dirt road running down the middle.

For three years I lived there, and I was an old-timer by Esperanza’s standards. Not a lot of men came back after Christmas, and each year the company would offer big bonuses to pull in the next crop of fools looking to stash enough away for that little house with the white picket fence by pulling black gold out of a wasteland. Every freshie had his story, the reason he’d signed on to the gig. A woman he wanted to impress, a ranch in Montana he had his eye on, or a kid to put through college. No one came to Esperanza without a reason. No fewer than a dozen men died in the three years before everything went to shit, and I always figured their kids would rather have a father than a death benefit.

Of course, the fact men die for oil isn’t a secret to anybody, so let’s jump straight to the meat of this little tale. June 14th, 2011.

Rumors had been going for months that the company had found something big. Court battles, a challenge by the local native tribe, and a slew of inspections had finally ended in an official announcement. We were about to tap the biggest oil reserve discovered in Texas since the booms of old, and they wanted it done fast. Old wells were capped and half the men reassigned to digging wells and setting up new pumpjacks just forty miles outside town.

I was sitting in Mary’s, the only bar servicing the needs of Esperanza’s lonely drunks when the well collapsed. The whole building shook with the force of it and through the dirty tavern window, I could see a cloud of dust rising up from the direction of the new wells. We were all trained in handling disasters, forced to take a refresher class every six months as part of a compromise with OSHA, and the town set into motion in an instant. I was half-drunk, but I made my way to the company office and pull on an old gas mask that smelled of dust and mold. By the time I got to the waiting truck filled with off-duty oil men, it was already half full.

Most the men were unprepared. They were half asleep and half-dressed, only a handful wearing the masks they needed to make their way through the cloud of dust and debris that filled the air as we raced toward the collapse. Can’t say I was surprised by that, all the training in the world won’t prepare a man to act in a real emergency. Half the kids I rode out with were straight out of school, vocational or otherwise, and the other half were drunk old men hoping this’d be their last year digging holes and putting life and limb on the line so some foreign investors could buy another private jet. I was in the latter group myself, but I hadn’t had time to get a good drunk going. Pretty sure that accidental sobriety saved my life, without it I doubt I would have remembered to grab my own mask.

The truck pulled to a sudden stop as we hit the dust cloud billowing out from the collapse site. Most the boys started hacking up a lung, those of us with masks just sat there looking dumbfounded. It maybe wasn’t the brightest idea to drive right into the middle of a giant cloud of Texas desert sand like we could rush in and save the day. We didn’t make it a foot further, and I dropped to my knees in the bed of the old work truck when the driver high-tailed it out of there, going in reverse halfway back to town. No way I'll ever forget what he said when we got back.

“There’s things out there,” He told me when I ran up to him demanding to know why we stopped, “Things out in the dust.”

I was about to shove his ass back in the seat of that truck. I’m no hero, but I had friends in that collapse, and I wasn’t about to leave them out there if I could help it, and my first thought was that the driver had seen men out there covered in dirt and blood and panicked.

Then, one of the boys at the back of the truck collapsed, blood pouring out of his nose. Two more followed him to the ground. Everyone was in a panic then. I rushed over to the first kid who collapsed, his nose was bleeding and his eyes rolled back in his head so far all I could see was white. I’ll never forget the sight of that twenty-two-year-old boy convulsing in the dirt, his hands clawing uselessly at the ground. I had him by the shoulders trying to hold him still when he bit his own tongue off and sprayed blood all over the lollygaggers standing around in a stupor and across the face of the gas mask I hadn’t took off yet.

No point in sugar-coating it now; that was too much for me. Next thing I remember I was behind one of the barracks puking my guts out. I must’ve run off in a panic myself, though I don’t remember it. After I was done losing my head and my lunch, I made my way back toward the parked truck. The men who’d collapsed had already been carted off to the clinic where a nurse - the only medical expert in hundreds of miles - could have a look at them. A little later the foreman came on over the loudspeakers and told everyone we were officially closed for business until further notice. The foreman mentioned at the end that rescue workers were called in to deal with the collapse. I barely registered it, I was already in bed trying to sleep off the vision of that young man’s tongue flopping around on the ground.

Screaming woke me up from my nightmares that night. It was a woman’s scream, and that narrowed it down pretty fast. I jumped out of bed and ran out into the dark in my boxers and a wife-beater heading toward the clinic. Stepping through the door I saw the blood, it was sprayed across the walls and dripping from a single lamp sitting in the corner, casting the room in a reddish glow. That was the first time I saw one of them.

He was an older man, pretty sure his name was Jack or John or maybe James. Something with a J. He was thin and wiry, a tough old man who had spent his life in one kind of field or another. We’d shared drinks a couple of times, but never talked beyond that. I remembered his eyes, though, bright and clear and sharp. He had been one of the men who collapsed right after we got off the truck. Only it wasn’t really him, I’m certain of that. The thing that was crouched in the middle of the room had grayish skin, even in the dim light, and it stopped gnawing on some soft, dark piece of the nurse’s guts long enough to stare at me. Blood caked his lips, and black pieces of flesh were caught between his crooked teeth.

I backed out of the open door behind me, and he watched me as I went. I could hear men heading toward me. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I slammed the front door to the clinic behind me and leaned against it. The buildings were meant to be temporary, and the clinic was basically a small trailer with some pills and a bed in it. As long as I held that door closed I knew he couldn’t get out.

“What the hell’s going on?” the foreman, Doug Crawford, asked as he got there. Doug’s eyes were wide and deep bags were already settling in. It was just past two in the morning the day after the collapse, June 15th.

Eleven men had shown up with Doug, coming to the source of that first scream. As I sat there on the small steps leading up to the front door of a room where a nurse was being eaten, I tried to come up with the words. I didn’t have to; I was saved that effort by screams that erupted from the other end of town.

I don’t know all the details from there; I know screams rose and were cut short. Doug and I looked at each other for a long time. Finally, he turned away and headed straight for his office.

“You,” I told a kid standing with his mouth open, “You make sure this door stays shut. Nothing comes out.”

He stood there looking at me like I was stupid. I didn’t have time to explain everything to him, and I still wasn’t sure how to start. Instead, I just grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him toward the door. “Hold that shut, that’s an order.” The kid nodded; not that he understood what was going on, but I think he was happy somebody was telling him what he should do.

By the time I caught up to Doug he was already unlocking the gun case in the foreman’s trailer. Officially the guns were there in case we ran into any animals, but rumor around town was that it was just in case any cartel boys decided we were easy pickings this close to the border. Either way, I was glad to see them. Doug fumbled with one of the half dozen rifles as he handed it to me.

I liked Doug, he’d been foreman since the town opened and he was always fair. All that aside he was a Massachusetts boy who had fallen into the job when his business went tits-up. He didn’t really know the desert, and sure as shit didn’t know how to handle a gun. Me, I was born and raised in Texas. Learned how to handle a gun years before I learned to handle a woman. If you ask my ex-wife, I learned to handle guns a damn sight better. I was loaded and ready to head out before Doug finished collecting the rest of the guns. Outside we armed as many men as we could with what we had and told them to sit tight.

“We’re gonna check things out and come back. Try not to accidentally shoot your balls off while we’re gone,” Doug told the men gathered around the trailer.

We made our way across town. No need to go into the gory details though; and there were plenty. Most of the men who went out with us to try and rescue those workers had gone crazy in the night. I saw a twenty-three-year-old kid named Russell chewing on the arm of a sixty-year-old man like he was gnawing on the best ribs he’d ever had. That was the first one I put a bullet in, a single .223 soft point square in the forehead. Doug threw up on his shoes when Russell went down, and if I had anything left in my stomach I might have joined him.

Every man we found alive we sent back to the trailer. All told six men joined the ten we’d left there. The boy I’d left at the clinic was gone when we got back there, and I never saw him again. The trailer was empty, the nurse’s body wasn’t there either.

Mary’s was dark when Doug and I made our way through the half-open door. Mary’s was a converted aircraft hangar with a long bar across one wall and a kitchen in the very back. The lights were dim, and smoke poured out of the swinging door that led to the kitchen. I went to check on the cook and Doug watched the door. The smoke was pouring out of the deep fryer, but the kitchen was empty. I pulled the basket full of charred nuggets that might have been tater tots in another life and turned around to head out.

By the time I heard Doug scream, it was already too late. Mary must’ve been behind the bar, hiding, waiting. Or maybe it takes time, and she just hadn’t woken up yet. You’d have to ask someone else to explain that, Christ knows I wasn’t trying to study the damn things. Either way, I stepped through the swinging door and she was there latched on to Doug’s thigh. Her teeth went right through the denim like it was paper and blood was already pooling on the floor. He lowered his gun and blew her brains out, took her head clean off at that range.

Like I said, I liked Doug. I’m not proud of what came next, but Mary hadn’t been part of the crew that went out to save those men. I could see where Mary had been bitten clean to the bone on her upper arm, though. Maybe she’d bled out, and hadn’t turned until after she was dead. That thought keeps me up at night now, wondering if I had a choice, but it didn’t even occur to me then. Probably wouldn’t have mattered anyway. Doug was down, leaning against the bar with his gun across his legs with blood pouring out.

“Don’t,” Doug was pleading under his breath. He realized before I did what came next.

“If I don’t, you turn into one of those things. You don’t wanna go like that.”

“I don’t want to go at all,” he wheezed.

I don’t remember pulling the trigger, but I must’ve done. I remember Doug’s body, though, leaned up against the bar with his brains decorating the wood paneling behind him.

I stayed in Mary’s that night, and in the morning men in moon suits and guns came in and dragged me away. I was isolated, quarantined, poked, and prodded. I was released August 18th and paid a hefty sum if I agreed to disappear permanently. I might have argued, but some very stern men in very expensive looking suits made it clear that if I tried to go public they’d see to it I ended up a permanent resident at one of Dallas’ fine mental health facilities. Probably wouldn’t be hard to do to a man screaming about a zombie cover up even if these particular suits didn’t seem more like government spooks than oil money men. I did the smart thing and took the cash.

Officially a mine collapsed and released a toxic cloud of methane gas. No one who knows the real story is talking. I’ve tried to get in touch with other survivors, and with Doug’s family. No one is talking, no one will even listen. They’ve either been paid off or intimidated into keeping their mouths shut.

They sold the land to the government as part of a new military testing ground. No satellite images, no planes overhead. Nice and neat.

Or it would be, if not for the rumors you hear from coyotes, men paid to smuggle people into the states, over the past few years. I’ve kept tabs, paid the right people and asked the right questions since I made my way south of the border. Rumor has it that across the border in the land of the free the desert has gotten a lot more dangerous than it used to be. It’s not militias with guns or border patrol agents that has them scared.

It’s Los Muertos. The Dead.

[anadriftsoul]

Rebirth

/The trees were like fallen soldiers. The skeletal remains of the proud, the powerful, so old they seemed nearly invincible before the battlefield of winter had taken them to their deaths.

The trees were my constant and only companions in the world of solitude I’d recently self-imposed. One caught my attention in particular. It was standing strong but naked without its spring leaves and armored in withered bark. Rather than collapsed like its timbered comrades, it had taken a final bow, coming to rest in that very image, somehow managing to succumb to the elements with a tragic grace, bent but not broken. God damn it was like staring in a mirror. It was quite something what nature could reflect for a person. Seclusion helped to carve out the details of the surroundings in greater relief than any place busy with distractions. This was the driving force behind my decision to seek it.

Life had found me at a crossroad, one of many predecessors. Some intersections in life were there to teach you how wrong you could be about a person, good and bad. Others were like a little red string, tied around a finger reminding you that despite the twenty-four seven date with oneself, you still had shit to learn.

Anyone who’d ambled through this forest never would have questioned the integrity of the trees nor their staying power but here they were, chopped back down to size by forces they couldn’t combat. It was among these once living giants my truth was blatantly clear.

I’d long thought I’d settled into a way of life I found satisfaction in. Demons, though, have a way of resurfacing where you can’t quite kiss them goodbye. Mine lingered, like an itch you couldn’t scratch. To cope with this internal prey, somewhere along the line I’d unintentionally stopped taking in the details, allowing the edges of my reality to blur. My metaphoric knife needed a sharpening and the evergreens of the Pacific Northwest, were my stone.

I’d fed egregiously before I’d come into the forest, draining human after human before embarking on my walkabout. It wasn’t blood I was after, but energy. I took varying degrees of youth, rage, angst, will power, a dash of confidence, a side of spring in my step, stripping my victims of what had been driving them, leaving them minus the things I had absorbed.  Aside from strapping myself with the extra fortitude, the feedings allowed the fringe benefit of quality time with Mr. Vitamin D himself, hello sunshine. Too long between feedings and I’d have to hit the vein directly, but I preferred not to get energetically emaciated. The atrophy of one’s brain was not at all pleasant, trust.

I was not unused to being on my own; I had been a solo rider for the better part of eighty-five years. My parents had been unfailing companions until their immortality had been robbed in an act of homicide, one that had gone an unsolved. I was only just fifteen. Revisiting that set of memories was well north of unpleasant. Like an old Polaroid, the color had faded but the image would not be erased. Their bodies had been smoldering in their own hearth, their heads on either side of the mantle. My screams had caused a ringing in my own ears. My pursuit for their assassins would not find an end, not without avenging the only family that had ever been mine. Even with my determination, it was unlikely I’d ever find their killers, especially after I’d let my concentration dull. I knew their assailants could only be vampire. And… That. Was. It.

My focus had been sacrificed for far too long in favor of pleasure, indulgence in travel and music and arts and literature and food and sex. I freelanced as a private investigator, solving cold cases.  In the rage of my grief I had found myself an opportunistic sleuth, hence the Jaxon PI gig. Helping others find the closure I couldn’t worked as well as bandages do, covering up the wound, not allowing it to become infected, but not actually doing much for the healing. I had relied on those bandages, lying to myself that I was moving on.

I never had.

The unresolved had the power to surface like bile in the stomach after a bad meal. One day I woke up, eyes wide open to the realization that all my movement actually had left me standing still. I was no closer to the truth than I had been the day I’d let it all fall to my subconscious and also no less alone. I hit another crossroad, this one telling me to go back three spaces and find that closure I’d lied to myself about possessing. Facing all that, to put it bluntly, sucked, but what else could be expected with reopening wounds. It also left me with a bitter aftertaste for allowing the trail to grow not just cold, but downright polar.

This restart would be out of the fray and modern day distractions. The world was too far gone into virtual reality and it took a shit ton of efforting to concentrate on the real deal. John Muir knew what he was doing, that man was a sage.

I walked right into those trees, minus a map and purposely lost the trail. As my resistance to the sun’s companionship started to diminish just three days into my walkabout, I’d found myself in that field full of fallen troops. Fixated on their various states and arrangements, I moved from tree to tree, taking time with each one, letting imagination tell me their fictional stories and how they had met their end. It was in a particularly dense section a flash of light had caught my eye. Hidden among the overgrowth was an abandoned cabin. Boarded up and barely discernible, clearly the forest had been working on reclaiming it. Damn, nature was fucking fantastic. Gut instinct hit with a force that nearly knocked me silly. I hadn’t known I’d been looking for it, but somehow the place had found me. Completely out of the fray and off the grid, it called out to me, “Welcome home, Jaxon.”

I set to work without delay, clearing the brush to see what I had to work with. Whoever had left the place clearly had no intentions of returning. It was a shell, for certain, but the foundation was solid and it even had a working well, not to mention solar panels. Five out of the six were busted and needed replacing; I’d have to get them on the first trip back to the city.

The inside of the three bedroom was caked with about ten years worth of dust and an entire universe of cobwebs.  It was sparsely equipped with a few necessities but not a lick of furniture.  Someone had lived here at some point and they’d had to have hauled shit away which meant I could come back with what I needed to make this homestead all my own.

With a reluctance and an inner voice crying out it was “too soon” I made a trip back to plugged in, concrete reality a few days later. I had a mental list of what was needed, and the walk out provided me enough time to navigate how in the hell I was going to return with construction supplies because I was damn sure Home Depot wasn’t delivering. The strength of twenty men on my side, the clever trick would be accessing the trail without notice considering a new mattress would be part of the loot. Cloak of night it would be.

I’d liked to have said I only picked up the necessities, but it would be a whopping lie, considering I’d grabbed my record player and about five hundred out of ten thousand of my vinyl sweethearts, some books and a decent amount of food. No television or computer though, I was going unplugged. I fed again, this time tapping the human’s vein, not because I’d gone too long, but because it would allow me the luxury of working under the sun. Blood gave me a day pass the canopy of trees could not. I’d have a good two weeks, give or take a few days.

It took about twice as long as the trip into town to get back with what equated to enough shit to fill a truck bed, but it was worth the hassle not to have to make two. I was itching to be away from the confines of modernity; somehow I had become trapped by a world that was wide open.

First order of business was setting in the solar panels so I could run more than just the fridge. My laughs echoed in the trees at the awareness the very beast that could kill me was going to provide me electricity. Sunshine, so fickle.

It had been a long ass time since I had worked with my hands and I was savoring every busted knuckle and blood sacrifice my project claimed. I was digging the outdoor shower, which needed a few alterations to accommodate those times I had to stay out of the sun.

After the outside was addressed in the span of a week, I worked on making the inside a lot more livable, first up was building a bed frame for the monster mattress that I’d hauled for miles off trail, still wrapped in its plastic.

The interior I banged out in a day and it was then and only then I allowed myself to celebrate with a scalding shower, half a bottle of good vodka to my head and some vinyl spinning under the needle with the windows wide open to all that piney, fresh air.

I had nowhere to be, no one to answer to. Lost to the world, I only hoped I would find myself./