#i do have a video of me feeding Sammy. so i have at least one sample of his meow.

[orcelito]

Lately, I've been learning to not take things for granted. I've been taking videos of my cats a bit more. Got a video today of me feeding June Bug and Tally, including bits of their meows

I deeply regret not having any record of the sound of Cassy's meow. I'm trying to make up for it with my girls, though.

[symphonicmetal101]

Wishlist For Someone Special

Ok, so I'm feeling really sappy and just a little lonely. All my friends are boring and my family members are too young for me to take to do some stuff.

This is kind of a wishlist of things I wish I had someone to do with or look forward to doing eventually...not necessarily romantic, but I wouldn't mind if it was. (broskis, I ain't never been on a date, not even, like, a platonic one, so bear with me if it seems ridiculous)

Stargazing- lying on a blanket in an open field or in the bed of a truck, just watching the stars, pointing out constellations, and making up stories

Watching the Northern Lights- bundling up in our warmest winter clothing, grabbing a couple campchairs and hot chocolate as we watch them dance and flicker.

Laser Tag- sneaking around, just trying to one up each other, or being on the same team and still- try to one up each other😂

Paintball- a little more painful than laser tag, but still fun. Checking up on each other afterwards to make sure there aren't any really bad bruises

Graffiti- I've always liked the way it looks. I would love for someone to teach me, or for us to learn together in one of those public graffiti houses

A Willow Tree- I would love to find a weeping willow tree and climb it's branches, only to sit and read there with my loved one enjoying their company.

Just Drive- just take a roadtrip with someone I love, blasting music, laughing, singing, and snacking as we blaze down the roads. It doesn't have to be long.

Visit an Animal Sanctuary/Reserve- I find animals fascinating, but also find that sanctuaries and reserves are more educational and often more humane than zoos.

Volunteer at the Food Bank or SPCA- just general acts of service. They make me happy.

Pillow Fortress- I didn't really get to make blanket forts when I was younger, so I want to try doing something even bigger! I want to convert the couch into a cuddle palace.

Spontaneous Dancing- idk man, it just makes me really happy. My dad used to twirl and dip me when I was little, so that's probably where it started.

Cooking/Baking Together- so what if we make a bit of a mess? So what if we screw up the recipe? It doesn't matter, it was time well spent.

Cleaning Together- Growing up as an only child for ten years and then becoming the oldest means I've done chores alone for a long time. I want someone's company, maybe we'll talk, maybe we'll work in comfortable silence, or maybe we'll blast music. I don't care. I would be happy just to know I wasn't alone.

Learning One of Their Hobbies- I want to learn something they know!! Please, let me understand a little better, I just need them to be patient with me.

Forest Walks- especially in Fall. I want to walk down an old trail, listen to leaves crunch under our feet as more fall from above I want the blustery weather to give us rosy cheeks and noses by the time our walk is over.

Horseback Riding- I've done it before, but I would love to bring someone with me. You have more experience? Great! I love to see that confidence in you. You've done it a couple times? Yay, we're in the same boat! Never done it at all? That's ok! I'll do what I can to help you!

Outdoor Movie Night- we don't have drive- in theaters anywhere nearby, but give me a sheet, campchairs, and a projector? I've got us.

Indoor Movie Night- let's bundle up and cuddle together while we watch a new movie. Or maybe it's a classic. Idc.

Try New Food- let's go somewhere for lunch and pick something completely foreign...(I am not eating guinea pig again though, thanks.)

The Wharf- if one of us happens to live by the ocean, we'll be frequent visitors. Not necessarily the beach, bit on wooden planks where the salty sea air still reaches you. We can watch the boats come and go. (Fisherman's Wharf in B.C Canada is fun. There's a really good Mexican food place😂 There's a blind seal named Sammy that lives there, and you can buy a bucket of fish to feed him. Be careful though, seagulls are vicious, being pecked by one sucks...yes, I needed a bandaid and my finger was sore for a long time. Idk if it's still like that, it's been a while. Sorry, just reminiscing a bit.)

Painting- let's buy a couple canvases and paint and see what we can do! It doesn't have to resemble anything, just do what feels like you.

Splatter Painting- dear god I've wanted to try this for so long. Just full on globs of paint and flicking it towards the canvas. (I was never allowed to do it because it was seen as a waste of paint. I couldn't even do it with an old toothbrush on a small canvas😑)

Video Games!- Please teach me how to play! Video games are banned in my family. I mean, I've done Just Dance, but that's about it. Mobile games have been kept a secret...basically just teach me to play and don't make me feel bad about playing, and I'll love you forever, mkay?

Ice Cream Date- again, idk. The idea just makes me really happy, whether we're sitting in a small shop, eating and talking. Or maybe we're walking, maybe holding hands, trying to point things out to each other, but our hands are full, but there's no way we're letting go. Or maybe we're sharing a cup of ice cream on a park bench, just people watching.

Thrift Store Outfits- I want to go to a thrift store and pick out the most ridiculous outfits for each other. We don't have to go anywhere, but just humour me when we're alone by wearing whatever I found for you, and vice versa.

Writing- writing a poem, a atory, a quote, or learning calligraphy and just writing their name- I want to write something to you

Books- let's go to the library and choose a book for each other, one that neither of us have read so we can talk and ask questions, come up with theories as we continue to read.

Books pt.2- if you write me a note and give me a book telling me why it's one of your favourites, I'll melt. I'll do the same for you, and soon we'll have a few more things to talk about and enjoy together

Music!- you bet your bottom dollar I'm going to send you music that reminds me of you, and I would be overjoyed to recieve the same.

Music! Pt.2- if you happen to play, sing, or dance, let's make something beautiful together! If not, I'll teach you!

Improv/rp- just making stuff up as we go, not caring if other people hear our conversations.

Trampoline Park/Something Similar- I just want to try it. Don't care if I break my leg, I want to try it. I'll care if you break your leg though.

Plant Shopping- again, idk. Just the idea of choosing a succulent or two to take care of together sounds nice.

Dance Classes- maybe you're already an amazing dancer, I'll let you take the lead. Maybe you just know the basics like me, we can learn together. (I know how to do the basics for, like, salsa, cumbia, bachata, swing, and waltz, that's it. Please teach me more🤩)

Sewing/Knitting/Crocheting/Fabric Work- useful skill! And maybe we can make something for each other. (Spoiler alert: you're getting a pillow case, mask, or a scarf, I can't do much yet😂)

Rage House- let's just let loose! Make a mess! Yell! Doesn't matter, all of it's legit. I just want to destroy stuff.

Weird Cuddles- again, just the idea makes me happy. If you're lying down, I may as well just flop on you, right? Or maybe somehow we end up upside down. Cuddling while we read books or listen to music. Ok so maybe just cuddling but it feels weird because I'm touch-starved👌

Late Night Calls- I've never done this with anyone under happy circumstances. Could you help me change that? It would be nice to have the last thing before I go to sleep be reassurance and happiness.

Calendar/Planning- let's make a calendar together with pictures of the places we want to go one day. Let's talk to each other so we know what we both want and make sure we put it down.

Scuba Diving- this is something I've wanted to do since I was little- actually it was the first job I said I wanted. I don't want to do it as a career anymore, but I would love to try it with you.

Finding Random Things- little things that remind me of you. Maybe I was out and found a heart shaped rock. Or I heard a bird sing and managed to record it. Or maybe there was a cute keychain at the store that reminded me of you. And that would be enough to make me smile.

Ride a Double-Decker Bus- I've done it before, but the excitement that comes with the thought of riding one again makes me giddy. Just being able to see the city and people from a mobile throne😂

Bike Riding- let's explore nearby, just riding together. Maybe you have trails you want to show me. You can lead, I'll follow. Or vice versa. If we get lost at least we can laugh about it later.

Camping- lets share a tent and a campfire together, roasting smores as we laugh and tell each other stories. Maybe we'll try and sing a few songs too.

Punch Buggy- just playing the game properly will make me happy tbh. It's been 8 years of bending the rules😂

Board/Card Games- yes. I will get competitive. But that's half the fun. Also, I would like to play these properly as well lol

Museum Date- maybe somewhere local, or maybe we were driving by and decided to stop, or maybe we actually planned to go. Let's learn something new together, take some pictures.

Comfy- I didn't know what else to call it. Basically, take out, sweat pants, (messy buns), snacks, drinks, and a good show. Bonus if it's storming outside.

Rain- watching it rain, listening tonit rain, going outside and dancing or running in the rain, jumping in puddles- I want to do it all with you.

Little Gestures- little things we develop as we get to know each other, faces that we come to understand, hand movements we start to copy. Idk, I find it really cute.

Ok guys, sorry this isn't what, well, any of us were expecting. I guess this is my Valentine's Day post?? Idk. If you read it, I hope you liked it.

Feel free to put who you thought of in tags or comments, real or fiction. Or add to the list if you want. I would love to know😊 I know there's a lot of "I wants" but that's because for the first time, in a long time, I feel comfortable admitting that.

51. Mutual comfort characters

[sardonic-at-heart]

Last Date

I wanted to make this the first chapter for the series related to Fragile where it’s all flashbacks of Sam’s memories with Mika, but then I wrote the end of this fic and said to myself, “Yeaaahhhh maybe not.” You’ll see why I changed my mind. Enjoy!

Summary: Tipsy Mika and steak eater Sam enjoy a night out together.

It was a comforting and delightful thought to know that even after two years of marriage, Sam was still captivated with his wife like the very first time he realized he fell for her. Her smile, her laugh, her blush. Every quirk she had he loved, because it all unequivocally defined Mika Anderson.

As he listened to her talk about her day now, he couldn’t help the smile creeping at the corners of his lips at her enthusiasm.

She stopped suddenly and narrowed her eyes. “Why are you grinning? I’m talking about waiting in line for three hours just to get my driver’s license renewed.”

He chuckled. “You just look really great tonight, is all.”

And she did. She was wearing her lace plum dress, a recent favorite she bought a few months ago. He loved the way the skirt swished around her legs like a princess he saw her as. Her long black hair was swept in a loose ponytail, a few strands framing her face. Picturesque and effortlessly beautiful.

Any man would worship the ground she walked on and Sam didn’t mind swallowing his pride to do so if given the opportunity.

“W-wha—” There it was: that famous blush he enjoyed causing so much. And that cute stammering she did when she couldn’t find the right words to say.

“Sorry. Go on, I’m listening.”

“How am I supposed to continue after you caught me off guard like that!”

He smirked. “You thank me for being the best husband in the world and compliment me back.”

She huffed, lips in a pout.

“What else did you do today?” He changed the subject for her sake. Because he was the best husband in the world.

“I went grocery shopping because we were out of eggs.”

“Thanks again for buying it.”

“I didn’t mind,” she grinned. “It was a good excuse to also go out with my friends and try this new gelato place Suzu showed us. We need to go back so you can try it! The key lime pie flavor was very light and refreshing.”

He narrowed his eyes. “They were supposed to be getting ready for their flight to Italy today.”

Mika waved dismissively. “Naomi made sure Suzu packed a few days ago.”

Sam chortled. Suzu wasn’t exactly the type to plan anything. At all. Luckily her fiancée was a lot more responsible than her and kept her important dates in check.

They postponed their conversation momentarily when a waiter came to their table. He ordered well done steak (which always made his wife grimace at his “lack of taste”) and she ordered garlic shrimp pasta. She took a glance at the alcohol menu, and he grinned at how her eyes sparkled once she found white wine to pair with her dish.

“How was your day?” Mika asked.

“Don’t get me started,” Sam grumbled.

“Hey, I had my chance to rant about my day, so it’s only fair you do the same.”

He smiled briefly before it soured into a scowl. “A lot of paperwork. Again. That’s why I was late coming over here.” He paused. “Sorry for that, by the way.”

“It’s no problem. You don’t have to apologize.”

“You sure? How long did you have to wait?”

“Sam. I’m sure now and I’ll always be sure the next time you ask. And it was just five minutes.”

His expression twisted in guilt. “If I’d been here at least five minutes earlier—”

She let out an exasperated chuckle. “Sam. I’ve known for quite a while that your job makes you incredibly busy and I understand that you’ll be late sometimes. Don’t worry about it, okay?”

He measured her with a stare, taking in her relaxed smile and green eyes with an earnest gleam, and then conceded with a sigh.

Mika’s smile brightened knowing she’d won.

Their dinner and wine arrived then and, because Sam knew she always did this when it came to food and Instagram, he leaned back in his seat so she could take a couple pictures of their dishes. Or ten. She made sure to take them at different angles, even though it was the same freaking thing in every shot. He would have laughed at her ridiculous positions and silly expressions scrunched in concentration, but he was getting hungry the longer her photo session dragged on.

“Take your last shot right now or I’m going to eat your shrimp,” he threatened.

“Alright, alright,” she chuckled before she frowned at her screen. “Wait, that was a little blurry. Let me do it again—hey!”

He warned her, but she didn’t listen.

She finally put away her phone with a glare that lost its edge as she pouted. “If your steak wasn’t so charred I’d do the same.”

“Sounds like a you problem,” he cut a piece while snickering.

They talked a bit about their favorite band’s album that had been released recently while they enjoyed their food. There were rumors that one of their new songs would be featured in a video game Sam liked to play and he hoped it was true.

She showed him the pictures she took this morning for Sammy’s Instagram and he chuckled at how adorable the Rottweiler was curled up in his new bed. Once in a while Sam heard the sound of a camera snapping, but when he turned to his wife she acted like he was just hearing things. She was probably taking more pictures again. He let it go with a shrug and kept eating.

After they had finished a delectable chocolate mousse cake, Sam was quick to pay for the bill before Mika could reach for her wallet. Luckily she was tipsy enough to thank him with a noisy kiss instead of insisting she should take care of it like she always did.

He suggested they do a night stroll to gaze at the city lights and she happily agreed, giggling to herself at a joke only she could hear. When she was in this state it was best to have her walk around a few minutes until she had a clear head. He wasn’t planning to repeat the last time she drank too much.

She tripped a few times and he threw his head back and laughed while helping her up. To his relief she was able to walk like a normal person after ten minutes, but then she took out her phone and randomly recorded them together for reasons that were lost on him. He took note to keep an eye out for her newest post later.

Sam heard her light snores as he parked his truck in their driveway and he chuckled to himself. As much as he loved the sight of his wife asleep, he couldn’t let her anywhere near the bed with her dress and her makeup still on. Reaching over to unbuckle her seatbelt, Sam swept her in his arms and made his way inside. Their Rottweiler perked from his sleeping position when his owners entered the bedroom and yipped in an energetic greeting.

“Sammyyyy,” Mika groaned, opening her bleary eyes. “Inside voice.”

He kept yipping.

Sam placed her in their bathroom and motioned her to shower. “Going to take him outside. Don’t fall asleep in there, okay?”

She mumbled her response and closed the door. He made sure to hear the sound of the showerhead turning on before carrying Sammy to the backyard. It only took a couple minutes for him to relieve himself, and Sam spent an extra few minutes to clean it up and chase him around to expend all that excitable energy. It made feeding and refilling his water dispenser much easier that way.

He made sure Sammy’s paws were clean and dry and then let the little rascal run up the dog stairs at the end of their bed and over to where Mika lay, snuggling up to her side on the left. Eyes half open but still aware of what was going on around her, she cooed and petted him as Sam left to take a quick shower as well.

“Still up?” He asked when she glanced at him as he climbed into bed.

“I wanted to stay up until you joined me.”

“I’m here,” he lazily rested his arm around her waist. “Get some shut eye.”

She hummed her assent, leaning in to kiss him. “Tonight was lovely. Thank you for being the best husband in the world.”

“Anytime, doofus.”

“I should pay you back.”

“Wait, what—”

“Because you paid for dinner and I need to return the favor.”

“Mika, you don’t have to.”

“I want to,” she looked so determined that Sam didn’t have the heart to argue. “How about I bring you a home cooked meal at lunch time tomorrow?”

Oh, okay. He was fine with that. “Sure thing. Text me when you’re there?”

She nodded, closing her eyes. “Yup. Night, Sam. I love you.”

“I love you,” he pressed a kiss on her and Sammy’s forehead and turned off the lights, hoping to get enough sleep for tomorrow’s shift.

Want more? Read my fics here!

[hobeymakar]

My Lover | C. Parayko

Words: 2,356

A/N: this one is based off the music video for the song My Lover (Remix) by Not3s Ft. Mabel. In this, COVID never happened and the NHL schedule never changed. Also shoutout to my girls @hockey-and-wine​ @grenawitka​ and @pizzasloot​ for being my cheerleaders in the gc love you girls so much!

Warnings: swearing

-

You and your three best friends pull up to a local fall carnival near St. Louis to ring in the start of fall. The temperatures in the city have already started to drop which has already signaled the end of summer.

You get your tickets and start walking through the carnival, taking in the bright lights from the booths and the rides. You and your friends get on some rides and scream your asses off. You make your way to the booths with games and take your shot on one of the basketball games. You played on a youth basketball team back in the day, so you definitely can hold your own.

Just as you're about to take your first shot, you feel someone looking at you. You turn your head to the side and see Colton Parayko of the St. Louis Blues staring right at you. You shoot him a challenging look in response.

He turns his attention back to the game and his teammates Vince and Sammy keep stealing glances at you and your friends. You play the game but manage not to get enough points to get the prize. You turn your attention to Colton and see he got enough points to win the prize. He takes the prize and walks over to you with it.

"I'm not really a stuffed teddy bear kind of guy," he says, handing you the big teddy bear.

"Thank you. I'm flattered, but don't you have someone you know you can give this to?" you ask.

"I actually don't. It would just take up space in my apartment," he replies. "I'm Colton, by the way."

"I know who you are. I was at the Stanley Cup parade last year," you inform him.

"So you're a fan then?" he asks.

"Yeah, but I was a casual fan until the playoffs, then I became a bigger fan," you admit.

"Well since you know who I am, it's only fair I at least get to know your name," he suggests.

"I'm Y/N," you smile.

"Well Y/N, will you accept this teddy bear as a gift?" he asks.

"Sure," you nod, a smile on your lips.

You hand the teddy bear to your friend who takes it to your car. 

Vince and Sammy finally walk up to the both of you.

"What brings you three to this fair?" you ask curiously.

"We got a few days off before our next game and we wanted to do something different," Colton replies, not letting the others answer.

"Well, I hope you guys have fun," you smile, knowing they'll probably want to have fun by themselves.

"Yeah no, you're not getting rid of us that quickly! It''ll be more fun if we do stuff all together!" Vince suggests, referring to your friends.

You look at your friends and see them nod and smile, letting you know they're on board with the idea.

"Alright, let's do it!" you smile.

You all start walking towards the rides, falling into conversations with each other.

“Can we stop at the concession stands? I want some cotton candy,” you ask.

Colton leads you to the concession stands to buy the cotton candy. You order the cotton candy and before you can pay for it, Colton hands the worker the money, causing you to whine.

“I wanted to pay!” you cry out.

“Too late now,” he replies, causing you to hip check him lightly.

The worker hands you the cotton candy and you take a piece and put it in your mouth, enjoying the taste of sugar on your tongue.

“Is it good?” he asks, as you all start to walk away from the stands.

You take a piece of the cotton candy and feed it to him. He eats the piece and smiles back at you. Your friends and his teammates just give each other knowing looks.

“You guys wanna go on the teacups?” Vince asks.

Everyone else agrees with the suggestion, leaving you and Colton alone to eat the cotton candy. You and Colton go to a nearby empty table and sit down.

“I can’t believe they really ditched us!” you giggle, shaking your head.

“They’ll come back after they’re done with the teacups,” Colton replies. "So what brings you to the fair?"

"I come here every year. I used to come with my parents when I was little, but now I just come with my friends," you explain.

"Funny how I've been in St. Louis for years now and I've never been here before," he explains.

"Well now that you know, you're gonna come back right?" you ask.

"It's obviously difficult with the schedule to come out here, but I wanna come back next year,” he explains.

“That’s great to hear,” you smile.

You two finish the cotton candy, just in time to see your friends and Colton’s teammates come back from the teacups.

“So where to next?” one of your friends asks, as you and Colton get up from the table.

“The bumper cars are right over there!” another one of your friends points out.

“Let’s do it!” you suggest.

The others agree and you make your way over to the bumper cars. You wait in line for a bit before being allowed into the bumper car rink. You get into cars and after a minute or so, the cars start and you all start trying to bump each other. Vince, Colton, and Sammy get super competitive and start trying to kill each other. You and your friends get competitive as well and you start bumping the shit out of each other. You spend the majority of the time laughing as you bump into everyone. After a few minutes, the ride ends and you guys all get out and start walking away. You and Colton walk ahead of everyone else and start walking to the main area of the fair.

“Alright guys, where do you want-” 

You turn around and stop yourself in your tracks, when you notice your friends and Colton’s teammates are gone. They were behind you and Colton and decided amongst themselves to leave you two alone.

“I can’t believe they ditched us!” you groan, shaking your head.

“I guess it’s just us two then,” he replies, trying to fill in the empty space.

“So what do you want to do now?” you ask.

“We can play some games or we can get on some rides,” he explains.

“We can go play some games,” you suggest.

You two walk over to a line of games and you decide to play the water gun game. Colton pays the worker and you grab the gun. You start shooting the water but you’re having a hard time hitting the red target.

“Let me help,” Colton says, pressing himself behind you.

He puts his hand over yours and steadies the gun, aiming it at the water. He hits the target perfectly. You win the race and get another bear as a prize.

“Since you gave me the bear earlier, it’s only fair that I give you this one,” you explain.

“Like I said earlier, it would just take space at my apartment,” he replies, shaking his head.

“Your loss,” you tease, hugging the bear tightly.

“So where to next?” he asks.

“We can do the ferris wheel,” you suggest.

“Alright, let’s do it,” he smiles, leading you towards the ferris wheel.

You wait in line for a few minutes, before getting into a cart. You put the seatbelts on and you start feeling the cold breeze hit you as the night goes on.

“Are you cold?” he asks, wrapping his arms around you.

“Yeah,” you nod, resting your head on his shoulder.

The ride starts and you start seeing the view of the city.

“Isn’t the city so beautiful from up here?” you ask, taking in the view.

“Yeah it really is! My place has a nice view of the city too and I’m blown away by it every time,” he adds.

“You live in a high-rise? I might have to invite myself over sometime,” you tease.

“The view is ten times better with you in it,” he adds, kissing your forehead.

You lift your head up and feel the heat rise in your cheeks. You have no idea how to respond to that. You open your mouth but then close it, like a gaping fish.

“Y/N, can I kiss you?” he asks, cupping your cheek.

You nod sheepishly, not being able to form thoughts or words at the moment. He leans in and kisses you softly and you feel all the cliche bullshit that every teen romance and romcom talks about; the sparks, the butterflies, the hummingbirds singing. After your moment of temporary paralysis, you get with the program and kiss him back. Your hands make its way to the back of his head and you dig your fingers into his hair. You two keep kissing for a while before you finally break apart to breathe. You both take in the surroundings and notice you’re almost on the way down to the ground again. You straighten yourselves out and enjoy the last minute or so of the ride before coming off. You come off the ride holding hands and make your way back to the main area. Once you arrive there, you see your friends and Colton’s teammates show up.

“I see you two had fun,” one of your friends points out, referring to you and Colton holding hands. 

“Yeah, you can definitely say that,” he replies, as you bury your face in his shoulder from embarrassment.

Your friends start talking about the time and how they have to go do stuff at home. They exchange numbers with Vince and Sammy, with Vince talking about them all hanging out soon. Your friends say goodbye and head towards the parking lot.

“And then there were three,” Colton announces.

“Actually, it’s getting pretty late. So, Dunner and I are gonna head out,” Sammy says, making it obvious what he’s trying to do.

“Yeah, we’ll see you around,” Vince adds, playing along.

They both say goodbye and head towards the parking lots.

“So now it’s just us,” he says.

"How are you getting back home?" you ask, hoping that his teammates weren't his ride.

“I was actually gonna take an Uber back,” he replies.

“Yeah no, I’ll take you back home,” you inform him.

There’s no way you’re gonna let him take an Uber back home, when you can drive him back to his place.

“You just want to see the view of the city from my balcony,” he teases.

“You caught me!” you tease back, giggling lightly.

“So you wanna head out now?” he asks, not wanting you to leave.

“Actually yeah. I wanna see if the view of the city from your place lives up to my expectations,” you tease.

“Lead me to your car then,” he smiles

You two walk hand-in-hand to the parking lot and towards your car. You get into the driver’s seat and he plugs his phone to the speakers. You drive out of the parking lot and make your way to his apartment in the city. After almost half an hour, you arrive at the parking garage under his building. You park in the garage and you both make your way inside the building. You take the elevator all the way up to his floor and he leads you towards his apartment.

“Welcome to La Casa de Parayko,” he smiles, opening the front door.

He gives you a quick tour of the place and it’s very luxurious. But you shouldn’t expect anything less from a multi-millionaire hockey player.

“So, where’s this view you’ve been talking about?” you ask.

“Right here,” he says, leading you towards the sliding door.

He opens the door to the balcony and you step outside. He shuts the door shut behind him and you’re immediately hit with the chilly autumn breeze. He comes from behind and wraps his arms around you. You place your hands over his, as he rests his head on your shoulder.

“You weren’t lying. This view is beautiful!” you cry out, loving the view of the Mississippi River and the Golden Arch.

“Not as beautiful as you though,” he replies, kissing your cheek.

You turn around in his arms and kiss him, throwing caution to the wind. He kisses back right away, keeping his hands firmly around your waist. After a few minutes, you pull away from the kiss, biting your lip.

“We have a game tomorrow night against the Avalanche, one of our biggest division rivals. If you’re free, I would love for you to come,” he explains, looking slightly nervous.

“Yeah I’m totally free, but I’m pretty sure it’s sold out already,” you reply, not wanting to get his hopes up.

“I can save you a ticket for the game under my name. Do you own a jersey of mine?” he asks.

“Actually no. I only have an old Backes jersey,” you inform him.

“Well I’ll have a jersey for you as well. You just have to go to the box office and say you have a ticket under my name,” he explains to you.

“Will I see you after the game?” you ask.

“Yeah, I’ll have somebody bring you back to see me,” he explains.

“Colton, I don’t know what to say. This is a lot,” you smile, not expecting all this to come out of going to the fair.

“I like you and I want to get to know you more, if you give me a chance,” he explains.

“So it’s a date then?” you ask, biting your lip.

“After the game, it’ll be,” he explains.

“What are we doing after the game?” you ask curiously.

“If I tell you, it’ll just ruin the surprise,” he teases.

“As much as I’d love to stargaze with you out here, it’s cold,” you inform him.

“Sure, we can go inside and watch a movie?” he suggests.

“Movies and cuddles? I’m definitely in,” you smile, kissing him sweetly.

You’re so glad you decided to go to the fair again this year.

[flamencodiva]

Getting Back to You 2 - Forgive Me

Description: Amaya Campos and Dean Winchester had a playful rivalry. what happens when Dean is no longer her Dean. Will this change make one of them realize what they really desire, or will they continue to keep secrets?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Amaya Campos (Original Female Character) , AU Dean Winchester x AU Amaya Campos

Warnings: Language, Violence, Smut, Fluff, Angst

Word Count For Series: 100K+ words

Beta: @superfanficnatural

Book Cover by @talesmaniac89​

A/N: Special thanks to - @crashdevlin @atc74 @smol-and-grumpy @winchest09 @waywardbeanie @deanwanddamons @malfoysqueen14  @emoryhemsworth @janicho88 @jensengirl83 @whatareyousearchingfordean @katehuntington @anathewierdo  and to all my friends who listen to me ramble about my writing. your words of encouragement mean the world to me! Without you I don’t think I could have found the courage to come back and share what I love most to do, WRITE.

A/N 2: SURPRISE! Decided to post it early so I hope you guys enjoy! 

Getting Back To You Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Amaya placed her box on the bed. She had just finished moving into the Bunker permanently, taking room 20 for herself. Being right next to Sam made things easier when Dean was just down the hall. 

"Is that all you got?" 

Dean's voice made her jump towards him before a small wave of relief washed over her face. 

"I mean, what more do I need, right?" she shrugged. "Almost everything I own is either in my duffle or in a storage unit." 

"You could always move it here," Dean offered. "How does a nice night out at a bar sound?" 

"It sounds good," she breathed. "Could use the time to get plastered before beating you at another bet." 

"Oh, sweetheart," Dean licked his lips before crossing his arms. "That witch hunt was just a fluke. I'll win the next one, just you wait." 

"Yeah, yeah," Amaya waved him off as she grabbed a few of her clothes and made her way to the bathroom they all had to share. "I'm going to shower and change. I'll meet you in half an hour?" 

"Yeah, sounds good," Dean walked with her to the bathroom and placed his hand on her shoulder, making her look up at him. 

"Yeah?" she raised an eyebrow at him. 

"I figure," he cleared his throat, "we can eat someplace before we get down to drinking." 

"Sure," she nodded her head. "Sam joining us?" 

"I'm sure I can persuade him," Dean smiled. 

With a laugh, Amaya walked inside and closed the door. Dean could hear the soft click of the lock before he turned around and made his way to Sam's room. Running a hand across his face, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. The witch hunt seemed a little too easy for his liking. Lifting his fist, he was about to knock when Sam abruptly opened the door. 

"No," was all his brother said. 

"You don't even know what I'm going to ask," Dean argued. 

"You were going to ask if I would come out with you and Amaya," Sam crossed his arms and leaned on the door frame. 

Dean scoffed and gave his brother his best bitch face, "Was not. I mean, eventually, I would have, but I was going to ask if that witch hunt seemed a little too easy." 

"Yeah, sure," Sam shook his head. "When it comes to the hunt—" Sam rubbed his hand across his stubbled cheek, "I'm looking into the incantation the witches were chanting. So far, I've been able to translate part of it." 

"So, what were you able to translate?" Dean moved aside as Sam walked out of his room and made his way to the kitchen. 

"Not much," Sam grabbed the notepad from the kitchen table as his eyes looked over his writing. "What I've translated so far is," he gave a slight squint "’We call upon the ancient powers, to hear our call, feel our power. Across time and space, let the souls switch.’" 

Dean raised an eyebrow at his brother as he thought about the words, "’Let the souls switch?’ Which souls?" 

"I don't know, but I'm going to keep looking into it," Sam grabbed a mug and poured himself a drink. "Dean, just wing it, or pick up a chick and have fun with Amaya like you always do." 

"Sam," Dean sighed, "You know why I keep my distance. This life—" he ran a hand across his face, "this life is not easy, and the last thing I need is another stain on my soul. I don't need guilt when I can't protect her." 

"She's not like your other loves, Dean," Sam pointed out. "She's a hunter. She was born a hunter. We’ve known her our whole lives. Dean, she's a legacy like us." Sam grabbed another folder he had out on the table and showed it to his brother, "Her grandfather was a Man of Letters just like ours." 

"What?" Dean found the name of Amaya's grandfather highlighted by Sam, with a detailed explanation of his death. 

"So just like our Dad," Sam sighed. "Amaya's dad lost his dad the same way. He was killed by Abaddon." 

Dean swallowed the lump in his throat at learning the information. He looked at Sam; he knew his brother was right. Amaya wasn't like Cassie or Lisa, she was a hunter; she knew the risks, knew what the job entailed. Then again, so was Jo, but unlike Amaya, he remembered Jo came in late into the hunting game. She may have been a hunter, but she hadn’t really lived the life long enough, and could he really see his best friend and rival get hurt in his arms? It was bad enough when he was keeping his distance, but in revealing his feelings he felt it would just make it worse. He was already worried about her, how much would that change if he let himself feel what he'd been bottling up? Besides, all three of his relationships had something in common: they’d all loved him, and he loved them. In some form or another, he brought bad luck upon the many women he loved. 

"Hey," Amaya's voice cut through his thoughts as the sound of her heels echoed in the kitchen. "We ready to go?" 

Dean felt his breath get caught in his throat at how she dressed. She stood in her skin tight jeans that hugged her legs with a tube top and fishnet shirt combo that showed off her toned stomach and her perfect breasts. Her leather jacket hung on her shoulders as she stood to almost Dean's height in her four-inch black heels. 

"Uhhhh—" Dean lost the use of his voice as he looked at her. His jeans felt a little tighter as he imagined peeling off all of her clothes. 

Sam walked up and slapped Dean upside the head, making the older man glare at his younger brother. 

"Dean's ready to go," Sam took a sip of his drink. "I'm staying in to try and make sense of the spell that the witches were conjuring." 

"Oh Sammy," She walked over to him and gave him a gentle pat on his cheek. "If you don't use it, you will lose it." 

Dean chuckled, the sass coming from Amaya snapping him out of his daze. 

"She's right, Sam," Dean rolled his shoulders and winked at Amaya. "You don't use what you got, it might just shrivel up, much like all the rabbit food you don't eat that ends up going bad." 

"Hey," Sam frowned as he gave Amaya his bitch face. "Just because I don't go out with you two—" he pointed to his brother and Amaya, "doesn't mean I don't get any. I just know how to keep you two from finding out." 

Dean cleared his throat and adjusted himself. With a roll of his shoulders, he walked up to his brother and Amaya. 

"Well, let's leave Sammy here to keep hitting the books," Dean said as he put his hands in his pockets. He stopped himself from touching Amaya, scared that he would do something they would both regret.  

"Lead the way Dean-o," she chuckled, giving his shoulder a slight punch before standing aside to let him walk first. 

Back in the other Universe, Henry Winchester surveyed the damage done by Hecate. He looked at his grandsons, who were assessing the best course of action. With a deep breath, he walked over to them. 

"It seems this was all planned out," Henry said as he placed his hands in the pockets of his suit as he walked towards the trio. 

"We are sorry, sir," Amaya apologized immediately as she stood straight, ignoring the feel of the sticky liquid seeping through her clothes. 

"Amaya," Dean's voice sounded surprised as he saw the large gash on her side. "Infirmary, now." 

"I'm fine," she waved him off as Henry came closer to them. 

"Amaya—" Dean began. 

"Dije que estoy bien," she growled and looked at him. "If anyone should be in the infirmary, it's you. You have a large gash on your head and multiple lacerations on your arms and chest." 

Dean had to smirk at what she noticed. They had been hunting since they were both sixteen, thrust together at the academy they were both now instructors in. Looking at his grandfather, Dean could tell the old man was not in the least bit angry. This was just another curveball in the hunting game. 

"Both of you head down to the infirmary and have Eileen look after the pair of you," Henry ordered be for he turned his attention to Sam. "Is there anything from the video feed from before we stormed the warehouse that we can use to investigate?" 

"I have my team looking into it," Sam said as he looked around. "So far, they were able to stay hidden from the camera angle. I have no idea how that happened." 

"I need you to work on it while they recover," Henry sighed and looked between Amaya and Dean. "Speaking of recovering—" he used his cane to walk over to them. "You two, infirmary now! I am going to be grounding you from hunts until you heal completely." 

"Yes sir," they echoed. Both of them giving each other a slight glare. 

A few hours and a couple of stitches later, Dean and Amaya had made their way to their apartment, where a happy German Shepherd greeted them.

"Zep," Dean warned, "Down." 

The dog gave a slight whine as he stopped his motions and laid down by the couch. 

"That's our good boy, Zep," Amaya praised as she gave the dog a generous pat on his head. 

"You going to tell me why you refused to head to the infirmary when I told you to?" Dean asked as he grabbed a beer from the fridge, looking at his fiancée. 

"Easy," she said and gave him a slight shrug. "I was perfectly fine. I was more concerned with you and the fact that we are now dealing with a goddess." 

"Amaya," Dean sighed as he made his way to her. 

He held her hand in his before pulling her to him, her body between his legs as he sat on one of the bar stools. Setting the beer down, he used his now free hand to cup her face. 

"Dean," she whispered as he brought her forehead against his. 

"I know you are strong, but we have had one too many close calls between us," Dean admitted and lifted his head slightly as he placed feather kisses along her face, avoiding her lips.  

"Tease," she whispered before his lips crashed into hers in a heated kiss. 

The world seemed to stop around them as Dean pressed her body flush against his. He would give anything to stay with her, but Hecate's words resonated in his mind. She had warned him that he had time to be with Amaya, but how much time did he have left? 

Dean moved his lips down her jaw towards her ear. He nipped at her earlobe, before moving down to kiss the sweet spot on her neck. It was the one Dean knew drove her wild. He smirked against her skin when she let out a low, lust-filled moan. 

"I don't ever want to lose you, Amaya," Dean muttered against her skin as he pulled her blouse open. The buttons flew across the room. 

"You're lucky I have about fifty of these," she moaned, raking her fingers through his hair as he kissed down to the valley between her breasts. 

His face nestles deep between them as he left open mouth kisses along her skin. Reaching behind her, he undid the clasp of her bra, freeing her bosom from its constricting grip. Amaya sucked in a sharp breath as his lips sealed around her nipple, his tongue licking as his mouth sucked gently on it. Her fingers moved from his head to his shirt. Quickly unbuttoning his shirt, she let her fingers caress his shoulder as it's removed from its owner and tossed on the floor.  

"Always knew you were a boob man," Amaya teased as she pulled his face away from her chest, bringing her lips towards his in a searing kiss. 

It didn't take long before Dean had Amaya wholly naked and on the island counter of their kitchen, his head between her legs, tongue lapping up at her juices. The sounds she was making were music to his ears. She was tart and sweet all at the same time as his lips surrounded her clit, sucking on her pulsating nub. Her fingers pulling at his hair just the way he liked it. 

"Shit, babe," she moaned. "Your tongue feels so good. You are a damn god with it."

Dean smirked against her wet core as he moved to press his fingers into her. She was nice and warm, making his cock throb against his pants. He continued his ministrations, feasting on her pussy as she pulled at his short hairs. The taste of her driving him wild as he felt her walls flutter as her orgasm hit. 

"Fuck," She cursed. Her legs quivered as Dean helped her ride through it. 

Amaya hadn't come down from her euphoric high when he undid his belt and made quick work of removing his pants. Dean pumped himself a few times as he looked at her dripping cunt. The sight made him moan before he eased his tip into her. 

"Shit, Amaya," he breathed and caressed her cheek before pulling her in for a kiss. "Your pussy feels so good." 

"Dean," she whispered. Her fingernails scratching at his back as he thrust his hips. "Fuck," she gasped just as she felt the anticipation build-up. 

"You going to cum again, Baby? Going to coat my cock with your cum?" he growled as he snaked his hand between them. His thumb found her clit drawing small circles on the sensitive nub. 

"Dean," she moaned, her nails digging into his back as she fluttered around him. 

Her legs shook as she orgasmed. Dean grunted and groaned as he snapped his hips, skin on skin echoing around the apartment. Zep looked at his owners, fucking on the counter, head tilted, watching as his owners moved as one. Meanwhile, Dean dug his fingers into Amaya's hips, leaving marks on her skin. She loved it when he marked her as it sent her over the edge again, just feeling his possessive nature, the sensation of him never wanting to let her go. At the same time, she pulled him close to her, her own fingers digging into his flesh, the fear of losing him surfacing in her thoughts. And yet, the sound he made as she rolled his hips brought her out of the negative haze. He felt perfect inside her, filled her just right. 

Dean gave another groan as his hips met hers. His lips kissed along any skin he could reach, the smell of her lavender perfume calming him as the image of the ruble almost crushing her tried to push their way through. He couldn’t lose her, couldn’t even imagine what his life would be like without her. He could feel her walls clenching around him again and he gave one last grunt before he came, filling her to the brim with his seed. His mouth devoured hers as he stayed buried inside her until he began to soften. 

"Fuck, baby," Dean chuckled. "We need to go on assignment more often." 

Amaya playfully slapped his shoulder. "Going on assignment has nothing to do with our chemistry." 

Dean helped her off the counter, placing her gently in front of him, his arms wrapped around her, pulling her in for another deep kiss. 

"I love you, Amaya," he muttered against her lips. "If anything happens to me, you move on, okay?" 

"Hey, where did this come from?" she pulled back to look into his green eyes. 

"Just— just something that the goddess said," Dean looked down at the floor. "She mentioned that I need to spend my time with you wisely and—" 

"Nothing is going to happen to you," Amaya held on to his face. "Sam will figure out what the witches were up to." 

"This is something we've never dealt with before," Dean said as he cupped her face and caressed her cheek with his thumb. "If anything were to happen, if you can't fix it— just let me go?"

"Fat chance," Amaya scoffed. "No way in hell I am ever giving up on getting you back, Dean. Now, let's forget about this, go to bed, and in the morning we teach the future hunters of tomorrow." 

Dean took in a deep breath, gazing deeply into her eyes. He could feel himself taking in all her features: the shape of her face, the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled, how her hair framed her face. He pulled her in for another heated kiss. Their tongues clashed as he lifted her up, her legs wrapping around his waist as he began to feel aroused again. 

"Babe," she muttered against his lips. 

"Can't help it, Sweetheart," he teased with a smirk "I'm hot for teacher." 

The sound of her laughter filled the apartment, followed by Dean's soft chuckle. The night was spent with laughs and moans echoing in their home. Before long, both hunters were asleep in each other's arms.

Dean awoke sometime later, not able to sleep anymore. Amaya's soft snores filled the room. Looking down at her, he gently moved her hair out of her face. He smiled a bit when she leaned into his touch. He remembered when he first met Amaya. Her grandfather had brought her to the academy, she was thirteen at the time. Dean had decided that she was probably a snooty spoiled princess, but in the end, Amaya had him on his back as she straddled him, blade at his throat. It was one of his fondest memories. After that, he had tried to always one-up Amaya, but every time he found himself on his back, it made him want her even more. She was independent, smart, and always called him out on his shit. Glancing at the clock, he sighed when he realized he woke up before their alarm. Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he gently moved away from her, careful not to wake Amaya. He could hear Zep whining as he made his way to the kitchen to start brewing their coffee. As he set the timer for the coffee to brew, he looked over at Zep, who lay by the sliding glass door to be let out to their tiny backyard. 

"Okay, okay," Dean groaned and gave a small smile as he gave Zep a pat on the head before letting the dog out to do his business. 

Leaning against the open door frame, he watched as Zep moved around the small plot of land to find the right spot to mark. He never noticed Amaya had woken up. With Zep coming in, Dean turned to see Amaya holding out his favorite mug filled with coffee. 

"I see you woke up before the alarm today," she breathed before she caressed his cheek before planting a kiss on his lips. 

"What can I say," he acknowledged and gave a soft shrug. "I was anxious to get back in the classroom."

"Eso lo llamo mierda," Amaya scoffed. ( I call that bullshit.) 

"What?" Dean mocked as he wrapped his arms around her. "I love my classes. The kids are into learning all the strategies for a good hunt. They’re working on what to look for when hunting a ghost. I think they're ready to move on to poltergeists."  

"Really?" she probed while she raised an eyebrow at her fiancé. "Well, My advanced lore kids are already moving up to Demons and Latin incantations," she let her fingers dance across his chest. 

"Well, you do have the students that tested into research," Dean reminded her before capturing her lips with his. 

"Si seguimos, vamos a estar tarde," she whispered. (If we keep going, we're going to be late.)

Dean groaned. He hated it when she was right. 

"Me voy a vestir," he sighed and pressed his forehead against hers. "I also have wrestling try-outs to oversee this afternoon." (I’m going to get dressed.)

"Just don't pop your stitches coach," She chuckled and gave him a playful slap on his ass as he walked back to the room to get dressed for work. 

Back in the original universe, Dean looked over at Amaya as he drove them to the local dive bar. He glanced every now and then towards her. The way she bobbed her head to the music made him smile. He was finding it harder and harder to find an excuse to stay away from her. If he pulled away too much, he was risking hurting her as a friend, but if he didn't hold himself back, he’d slip up, and she could be cursed with dying all because he was in love with her.  

"So," she broke the deafening silence. "How are we doing this?" 

"Doing what?" Dean questioned as he shifted in his seat, driving with one hand on the wheel while the other was casually resting on the open window frame. 

"Well," Amaya began and rolled her shoulders, trying to relieve the tension in them. "Que vamos hacer? (What are we doing?) Are we going to hook up with different people? Are we going to hustle some frat boys at pool? I mean, what's the game plan?" 

"I was thinking just," Dean trailed off a bit and licked his lips, "drinking and hanging out." 

Amaya raised her eyebrow at him, "Okay, what is going on? You usually want to have the hottest girl at the bar hanging all over you." 

Dean parked the car and turned to her. He didn't have a chance to continue before she was out of the car waiting for him. Getting out, he jogged slightly towards her. 

"What can I say," he sighed and gave a slight shrug. "What if, just for tonight, we stress relief together. No strings." 

"No strings?" Amaya asked and opened the door to the bar and made her way to the counter. She sat on the barstool and ordered herself two red-headed slut shots for herself and whiskey for Dean. "I can handle that." 

"I know it's—wait, what?!" Dean snapped his head in her direction as she knocked back her shot. "You-you are okay with what I suggested?" 

"Yeah, porque no?" Amaya shrugged. "I mean, what do we have to lose, right? I scratch your back, you scratch mine. Who better to make me feel good than the meat man," she smirked. 

"Oh, fuck, Amaya! You are not going to let that go are you," Dean knocked his own shot back before slamming the glass on the bar top. It was something that Dean had let slip out on a drunken tirade, he had heard it from someone and figured it described him perfectly. After all, he was a guy who did love eating meat, and then Amaya had to look up the term on Urban Dictionary and laugh at how he used it. "How about we play some pool, hustle some money and then have some," Dean licked his lips before leaning in and stealing a kiss from Amaya, "fun." 

Amaya bit her bottom lip when he pulled away. Her brown eyes gazed into his green ones. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest. She had always dreamed of this but never acted on it. She knew the risks, but she had to keep her feelings in check. 

"Bueno, que estas esperando?" (Well, what are you waiting for?) She downed her second shot and looked at him. "If we're going to do this, you need to learn to relax. Besides, it's not the first time we've fucked, remember?" she let her fingers dance along with his shirt. "Gringo, let's see how much money we can make." 

Dean let out a chuckle, reminiscing about the time they had a few drinks after a celebrated wolf hunt. Three drinks turned into a make-out session in the alley, followed by stumbling into her room, then a glorious night of fucking until the sun came up. When he woke up, she was gone and left a note that said thanks for the help and stress relief. 

Dean shook out his thoughts as she pulled away and walked towards the pool tables, her hips swaying. Dean tilted his head, watching her leave. He licked his lips, wondering what it would be like to have her ass bouncing on his cock. Shaking the thought out of his head, he made his way to her as they picked out the best suckers to hustle. It didn't take long to find some frat boys who were too tipsy for their own good.  

"Hey Mama," one of them said, "Why don't you ditch this guy and hang out with us?" 

"We can really make you see stars. Besides, you're Latina, right?" The other one interjected. "I'm sure we can make a mean salsa in the bedroom." 

Amaya bit her cheek from lashing out and giggled stiffly. "Ay Gringo," she shook her head. "Dudo que vas a poder a hacerme ver estrellas."  (I doubt you can make me see stars.) Amaya walked up to one of them, her knife concealed before placing it on his crotch. "The only guy making me see stars or as you put it, helping me make a mean salsa in the bedroom…" she tilted her head, "is the guy I'm with. Entendiste?" (Understand?) 

The frat boy nodded while his friend seemed to swallow a lump in his throat. With that settled, Dean and Amaya wiped the floor with the frat boys making off with at least $5,000. With a laugh, Amaya and Dean made their way to the Impala. Dean pressed her up against the passenger door. His fingers found their way under her fishnet top, squeezing her hip. 

Amaya moaned into his kiss, "Papi," (Daddy) she whispered. "You gonna make me feel good, Winchester?" 

"Oh, it's a promise, Campos," Dean said as he gave her a devilish grin. 

The drive back to the Bunker was filled with teasing and moans. Dean's cock was rock hard as Amaya teased him. Amaya's panties soaked through her pants as Dean teased her with what he was going to do to her. The minute the car was parked in the garage, Amaya climbed onto Dean's lap straddling him. 

"Amaya," he breathed. "We should move this to my room." 

"Y que? (And what?) Give up a chance to make out like teenagers in a sexy car?" she grinned before nipping at his earlobe. "Tienes miedo?" 

"M--Mi-eh-dough?" Dean raised an eyebrow at her. 

"You scared?" Amaya clarified with a roll of her eyes. 

Dean scoffed as he removed her leather jacket from her shoulders, revealing her fishnet top with her tube top under it. "I'm not… are you not wearing a bra?" 

"Wow," Amaya chuckled. "That's one way to distract you." she smiled before capturing his lips in a searing kiss.  

"Fuck, Maya," Dean placed his hands on either side of her face. "You are as sexy as fuck." 

"Tell me something I don't know," she sassed. 

With a sly smile, she rolled her hips, pressing up against his erection. She could feel Dean take in a sharp breath before pulling away from her, pupils lust blown as he tried to control himself. 

"I really want to take you to my room Maya, please?" He found himself begging. 

"En Español," she teased. 

"Campos, don't ruin the mood!" Dean growled as he reached into her shirt, squeezing her breast. His thumb rolling over her erect nipple. 

"Español, Winchester," she reiterated, grabbing at his short hair, giving it a tug, earning a strangled moan from the hunter.    

"Pour Fa-vour," he groaned. 

"Nice accent," she teased. "Since you asked so nicely and even said please." 

As quick as lightning, she had gotten off his lap and out of the car. Dean stayed shocked for a minute before jumping out after her. By the time he reached room eleven, he had found her in just her panties lying on his bed, legs sprawled. Her fingers played with her clit through her panties. Dean stood there, mouth slightly open at the sight of her fingering herself, her moans, music to his ears. 

"Que esperas, gringo?" (What are you waiting for, whiteboy?) she smiled as she ran a hand along her breast, pinching her nipple between her fingers. 

"Fuck Amaya," Dean pulled off his jacket and flannel in one swoop. 

His hand worked on his belt before unbuttoning his pants and pulling down his zipper. By then, Amaya had shimmied out of her underwear, giving him a good view of her glistening heat. Dean had let out a low growl before licking his lips and striding towards her. His head buried between her legs as he flattened his tongue against her opening.  

"Fuck, Dean!" she hissed when he began sucking on her clit. "You really know how to drive a girl loca." 

Dean chuckled against her entrance before plunging his tongue into her dripping hole along with his fingers, curling them as she squirmed against him. He let out a moan when Amaya ran her fingers through his hair, giving it a short tug. 

"Someone loves their hair pulled," Amaya moaned as his fingers curled and pressed on her g-spot. "Papi, dame lo todo." 

"Want me to give you everything, huh?" Dean chuckled. "I'll give it to you… Mami."

Amaya gasps as he continued his ministrations. The coil in her belly snapping as she came on his mouth and fingers. Dean lapping up at her juices, making her moan and scream some more as he made her cum a second time. Amaya had just started to come down from her high when Dean thrust into her waiting cunt. 

Their bodies moving as one as they swallowed each other's moans and screams in a heated kiss. They both chased their release, holding and nipping at one another as Dean's thrusts stilled as he spilled into her. Amaya's thighs shook with her own orgasm as she pulled Dean close to her body. Dean groaned as he fell next to her, holding her tight. 

"That was nice," he chuckled. 

"Yeah," Amaya sighed. "Sleep time." 

"Night, Maya," Dean kissed the top of her head. 

"Night, Gringo," she whispered. 

Dean made sure that Amaya was sleeping before looking down at her. Closing his eyes, he made his decision. Dean had to keep her safe, even if it meant breaking her heart just a bit. Moving the stray hairs out of her face, he leaned in and gave her one last kiss on her temple. 

"Forgive me, Maya. I just can't have you put in danger because of me," holding her close, he drifted off to sleep none the wiser at what the witches spell had in store for him.

Chapter 3

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[uhforfuckssake]

Holbeck: A Case Study of Hell — FiLiA

By Dr Em

Holbeck is a case study of hell. It is misogyny and objectification in the legal system, a triumph of men’s rights activists. Alan Caton, the detective who led the investigation into the murders of five prostituted women in Ipswich in 2006 and subsequently led the strategy to put an end to street prostitution in Ipswich is highly critical of the Leeds ‘managed approach’. Canton is clear that ‘I totally disagree with it’ he is of the opinion that ‘it plays right into the hands of pimps and abusers of women, and turns a blind eye to the most vulnerable people in our society. It allows men to carry on in their misogynistic ways, to abuse and exploit women who are out on the street selling sex’.1 Canton added that ‘The demand is there in this country because men are allowed unfettered to buy sex from women, to do what they want to them’.2 ‘Because that demand is never quelled, people will use all sorts of criminal avenues to traffic and exploit women. It's all about tackling that demand, telling men it's not acceptable to buy women and abuse them in that way’.3 In Holbeck human trafficking is rebranded as ‘migration for sex work’, paedophilia and child molestation becomes ‘under-age sex work’, rape becomes ‘a disputed sale’.

If one wants to know how unempowering the situation is for prostituted women and girls, one needs only read the punter reviews. Yes – reviews – like one would review a restaurant or hotel. Men describe their experiences to each other using degrading language and slang. For example, women likely trafficked from Romania are known as ‘Roms’, from Poland, ‘EE’, while men bemoan their lack of English or desire to participate, and the presence of pimps. Other men get a sexual kick out of the fact that the women and girls are disengaged. ‘Howaboutit’ related how:

‘i've had a few girls from down Holbeck - usually pass through at about 5am on a saturday morning. Always at least 1 or 2 around, as mentioned above, some are horrors!… total lack of interest while i had her in missionary.. but that kind of turns me on. Bored and checking her texts while i unload bare inside her!!’.4

One particular poster uses the moniker ‘Yorkshireripper’, referencing the serial killer Peter Sutcliffe who murdered prostituted women in Leeds during the 1970s. ‘Many of his attacks came after he had cruised the streets looking for victims, and the area’s reputation as a red light district meant that it was easier for him to persuade women to get into his car while soliciting’.5 ‘Yorkshireripper’ described one prostituted woman thus:

‘she looks a shit fuck based on that video [an uploaded porn film taken during street ‘sex work’] but I just think there's something about her being a really lowlife desperate dirty prostitute with such a shit background who's cunt has had many hundreds of hard cocks up her … that makes me want to empty my filth in her, just for the thrill of it’.6

‘Yorkshireripper’ had actually gone in search of potentially underage girls that night, he informed the other men that ‘I was seeking teenagers or under 25s’.7 ‘Yorkshireripper’ likes to negotiate the already low prices down further, he particularly likes bad weather as a means of creating more desperation in the women. He outlined how he:

‘went for a little scouting mission myself last night, first time in a few months due to reports of increased surveillance by anti whore brigade. Was a cold, wet and rainy night which is my favourite time as it seems gives you that extra cover of visibility and offers a quick respite from the cold as an incentive to the girls when your knocking down the price’.8

The women are looked upon as objects which the men can use, abuse, consume and collect. One ‘Richard1982’ described how ‘Of all the girls I've picked up she's the only one I haven't bb'd [had sex without a condom] so I want to collect the full set lol’.9 And the ‘sex work is work’ champions claim it is empowering for women. Do you feel empowered after reading that? Alan Caton, the detective who led the investigation into Stephen Wright who murdered five prostituted women in Ipswich in 2006 has related that “When I asked the [men] about it, they said: ‘I am paying for it, I can do what I want.’ That helped me form the view over time that this is not right. Men should not be able to exploit and abuse women in that way”.

DESPERATION & DRUGS

Holbeck creates a desperate cycle which we see trapping prostituted women across the world. Drugs and prostitution become a ‘chicken and egg’ problem. Women enter the trade to fund their, or their partner’s, drug addiction and then require more drugs to cope with what they are experiencing. Drugs become a means to endure male violence. While talking about Holbeck, Jenni described how she ‘gave up drugs to get out of the ‘managed’ red light zone – it was too dangerous’.11 Julie Bindel stated that in the opinion of one exited survivor of Holbeck ‘Her biggest criticism of the managed zone is the failure to offer women a route out of a world where drugs are rife’.12 Jenni discussed how “All the girls are down there because they’re dependent on drugs. I don’t believe it’s their choice to do it,” she says. “The key is to stop the drug use and it will stop the girls having to work for drugs”.13 Charles Hymas and Corinne Redfern reported how in Holbeck, it ‘was the sight of a prostitute injecting drugs into her groin on the backseat of a car in full view of residents in the neat terraced street in Beeston, Leeds, that convinced artist Claire Bentley-Smith it was time to act’.14 In 2019 'A woodland of suffering' was discovered by a mum-of-two dropping her children off at school which revealed a ‘sex worker's’ 'home' next to a Leeds primary school.15The drug litter is a constant in the area and a sharp reminder that allowing men to buy women on the street is ineffective at tackling the women’s drug addiction. In one clean-up of one small wooded area it took more than 20 vans to remove mounds of waste from a 'needle and condom hotspot' in Holbeck.16

Then men purchasing the women know they are desperate and many are addicts. One ‘Munterhunter’ said of the prostituted women in Holbeck that:

‘in most cases it's to feed a drug addiction or because some pimp is telling them "go and earn me 200 quid tonight".

I know that a large number of street prostitutes have serious drug habits my mate's wife works with a project which operates all over the UK working with street prostitutes and the biggest challenge they face is drugs. My mate is a support worker working with people on drug rehab and community punishment orders from the courts his wife works for a national organisation working with street prostitutes’.17

Yet he was undeterred from buying women. Mark Edmonds has outlined how in Holbeck, ‘there are no sanctions and no risk of conviction. Widespread drug-taking — sadly an integral part of the lives of many of these women, who have often been abused as teenagers and are subsequently used by pimps who see them as no more than a commodity — is also tolerated, under a scheme that costs local taxpayers £200,000 per year to run’.18 A BBC documentary highlighted the link between drug addiction and prostitution. In the documentary Sammie-Jo described how she ‘has been forced to work as a prostitute in the red-light district of Holbeck in Leeds to fund her addiction’.19 Yet still the ‘sex work is work’ lobby talk about women choosing this.

Safety and Violence

The ‘sex work is work’ pimp lobby and men’s sexual rights activists argue that prostitution should be decriminalised to make it safer for those being sold. Holbeck, and other examples such as in the Netherlands, shows this is false.20 It makes it more dangerous for the women being sold and other women in the area. In 2015, within months of the ‘managed approach’ zone in Holbeck becoming operational Daria Pionko was murdered by a punter.21 Julie Bindel spoke to one Holbeck prostitute who told her: ‘Because [the men] can’t get arrested, they think they can do anything they like. I’ve been raped, and one man urinated on me once and then took a photo’.22 With the first year of the ‘managed approach’ figures released by police show complaints of rape almost trebled … and have remained significantly higher than before’.23Alongside this, rapes are under-reported as the police and courts do not take it seriously, particularly if the woman is prostituted. On the 7th September 2018 Holbeck residents, David and Calum, reported stopping a rape of a prostituted woman. They stated that while walking home through Holbeck after they had finished work at a club they heard a woman’s voice calling for help. They ‘saw a man trying to strangle a woman. He released her as soon as we approached and she ran towards us… she’s a sex worker and he’s a punter. The fight was about condoms. He wanted her to have sex without a condom… but she refused’.24 The fetish killer, Donald Sheridan, who the council and probation service decided to house in the managed zone in Holbeck while he was on parole, told police in an interview regarding his abduction and attempted rape of a woman in Holbeck in 2019 that ‘he still experiences urges to rape and murder women, especially strangling them, and he had recently felt the urge to strangle an older sex worker after using her services’.25

The frequency of sex attacks on women in the small area of Holbeck was highlighted in 2019 when there were three sex attacks within 36 hours. Samantha Gildea and Kristian Johnson reported that ‘A female sex worker was assaulted by a male client in Shafton Lane on Sunday afternoon, then in the evening, a woman was grabbed on a footpath near Kenneth Street in an attempted rape at around 5.30pm. A third incident was reported to officer after a woman was physically assaulted in Holbeck Moor Park at around 10.15pm last night’.26 Julie Bindel interviewed ‘Sammy, who was pimped on her 17th birthday straight into the zone by her “boyfriend”, who told her that the police “don’t give a fuck about the women”. Sammy said that “One night I was screaming my head off when a nasty punter got really rough with me, but these two coppers just walked past’.27 Another prostituted woman, Jenni, told Chris Hymas and Bindel of ‘the constant threat of robbery, sex tourism, exploitation by traffickers, and women so desperate for drugs they sold sex for just £10’.28 Hymas and Bindel reported that ‘the zone, designed to crack down on pimping, was in reality a magnet for men seeking to exploit the women by charging them for protection’.29 Jenni described how “There were loads of young lads who were basically glorified pimps.. There were more and more attacks before I left, of people coming into the area to rob the girls, knowing they were on their own with money’30. Rather than improve relations between the prostituted woman and the police, the managed approach has caused them to deteriorate and the prostituted women feel even less protected.31 Nevertheless, ‘the council says the increase in crime is due to improved reporting and includes Beeston which is not part of the zone. Others disagree. “It was a disaster from day one,” a senior police officer told The Telegraph on condition of anonymity. “Other criminals came into the area quick as a flash. Drug dealers, pimps, even traffickers that brought the women from Romania’.32

Male violence and rape, and police inaction over these crimes, is also a problem for women and children not in prostitution who live near or enter the Holbeck zone. In 2015, ‘Sally – a young woman with learning disabilities, then aged 17 – was approached at a bus stop in Beeston on a weekday afternoon, bundled into a car, and raped in a nearby home. With DNA evidence, the attacker was quickly arrested and prosecuted in court. However, during a gruelling court case which saw Sally forced into a cross-examination, the defence lawyer argued that his client had simply mistaken Sally for a sex worker, and he walked free’.33 In 2017, Ian Staines, managing director of the Fresco Group, a local business, told the Daily Mail regarding the increase in rapes and sexual assaults that ‘these figures do not surprise me. Female members of our staff feel threatened. The police aren’t interested’.34 In 2018, a Holbeck woman was raped on her way home from work by a group of men who assumed she was a prostitute’.35 In another case of rape in the small Holbeck zone, Ed Carlisle reported of the rape of Alice, a previous victim of domestic abuse, that she had moved into a hostel in Holbeck, where she was repeatedly approached by kerb crawlers. Then in May 2018 ‘a gang of men manhandled her into a car, refused to believe she wasn’t a sex worker, and took her to a nearby house, where one of the men raped her. With DNA evidence, the attacker was quickly arrested, but again (supported by the testimonies of his friends) argued for mistaken identity, and was not even prosecuted’.36 At 4pm Saturday 8th September 2018 a resident reported that ‘my 12 year old daughter walking home from school rang me to tell me she’s just seen a lady being raped! 2 men had her pinned against the wall… one was pulling her knickers off as she screamed. My daughter ran home and I’ve called 999’.37 In November 2018 it was reported to the police and the press that a man tried to buy a baby for an hour in Holbeck. ‘The 47-year-old [woman] was carrying her four-month old grandchild in a pram in the area before the man reportedly said 'Give me an hour with it and I will bring it back'.38 In 2019 a woman claimed that while simply out walking she 'was raped in the street in Holbeck'.39 She did not report this as she thought the police would just say her rapist thought she was a ‘sex worker’ and he would thus walk free. Also in 2019 Donald Sheridan, a convicted fetish murderer, was housed in Holbeck while on parole, and later went on to abduct and strangle a woman until a passer-by intervened.40 The housing of Sheridan in Holbeck highlights how the judiciary and police view the women of Holbeck as dispensable. Susie Beever reported in 2019 how ‘many of the area's female residents feel at risk, preyed upon and "constantly scrutinised". Holbeck has one of the highest recorded crime rates in the entire Leeds South policing ward. There were 161 crimes reported in the area in September alone, of which 51 were classed as violent or sexual offences’.41/sup>

The Save Our Eyes community campaign group set up by residents of Holbeck records their experiences. One resident recorded how ‘My granddaughter was approached at 3.15pm in the afternoon in her school uniform by a punter looking for sex’.42 Another resident shared her experience of how ‘My daughter was followed home from school by a man making rude comments and trying to touch her’.43 13 year old Katy tells the story of how while waiting at a bus stop in a residential street adjoining the Holbeck managed zone on a Saturday morning with her mum ‘A man came up to us and said “Are you working?” My mum was confused and asked what he meant. He replied “Not you! I mean her. Is she working?” and pointed at me. My mum… shouted at him “She’s only 13, she’s a child!” but he wasn’t even bothered. He carried on, “It doesn’t matter about her age. She looks like one (meaning a prostitute)… It’s acceptable on Holbeck to ask”.44 Helen, Katie’s mum, described how ‘the man who wanted to buy her on Saturday argued with me. He felt he had a right to ask any woman in the area for sex’.45

Conclusion

Yet despite all of this evidence and Holbeck conforming to the pattern of other decriminalised areas of prostitution around the world in terms of an increase in crime and danger to women Chief Super Intendent Steve Cotter, of West Yorkshire Police, ‘said the force "remain convinced" the system was working’.46 One wonders how Mr Cotter defines success. Mr Cotter elaborated, that the managed approach in Holbeck ‘provides the best opportunity to safeguard the vulnerable women involved in street sex work, to limit the issues that impact on residents and businesses and to reduce the level of street sex work in Leeds," he said’.47 This is contradicted by reality. Still, a controversial report published in 2020 has claimed that the managed approach in Holbeck has had a positive result. This report’s statements are not supported by the data and the report itself ‘failed to comply with the legal obligations of public bodies to consider the equality impact of their policies and did not properly investigate how the scheme affects local women and children’.48 As Nordic Model Now asserts, ‘Prostitution has been recognized by the United Nations Committee on the Elimination of Discrimination Against Women to be a form of gender-based violence – meaning that not only is prostitution inherently violent, but it is also an intrinsic part of the systemic oppression of women and girls’.49 Why would this be different in Holbeck?

[shotgun--rider]

Fake It Till You Make It - One

A Sam x Reader Series

PART ONE

Y/N knows it’s a bad idea to try telling her family that she’s dating Sam Winchester. But it’s just for the week of her sister’s wedding, and it’s all fake anyway. What could go wrong?

Word Count: 3600

Warnings: plus size! Reader, background Destiel for a hot sec, fatphobic comments, Y/N’s family are demons

A/N: Has this trope probably been done five million times? Yes. Am I about to do it again? Yes. 

Your cellphone rang and you grimaced, rolling your eyes as you took in Dean’s all-too-amused expression. Your best friend may have thought your situation was the funniest thing he’d ever heard, but that didn’t mean you were of the same opinion. 

“What?” you snapped out, not bothering to read the caller ID. Who else would be calling you for the fifth time in as many hours?

“Well that’s not a very nice way to greet your mother.”

Here you went again, the same thing over and over. You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed. “What do you want now, Mom?”

Bent over something under Baby’s hood, Dean snorted, shamelessly listening to your half of the conversation. He could probably hear your mother too, you thought wryly. The woman was certainly loud enough. 

“Well, listen, honey,” your mother began. “I was just talking to Jimmy...you remember Jimmy? From down the street, you used to--”

“Yes, Mom, I remember Jimmy.” you said tiredly. “Why do we care about Jimmy?” Please don’t say what I think you’re going to say. 

“For the wedding! I just asked, and Jimmy agreed to come with you.”

You let out an alarmed noise before you could stop yourself. “Mom, no.” you said firmly, with an undercurrent of panic at the thought of being trailed around by awkward Jimmy for a week. “I know it’s hard to imagine,” you drawled sarcastically, “but the vows will still be successful if I’m there without a plus one. Not like I’m the one getting married, you know.”

Still focused on the Impala, Dean’s shoulders were shaking with suppressed laughter. You seized the apple core you’d been munching on earlier and chucked it at him, feeling marginally better when it bounced off of his back. 

“Y/N L/N! You should be a little more grateful. Besides, have you even thought about how it’s going to look to Dick if you show up alone?”

“I don’t care,” you said automatically. “He’s a dick, pun absolutely intended.”

“He’s marrying your sister.”

“At least it’s not me.” 

“That miserable attitude is exactly why you’re going to die alone, young lady,” your mother snipped. “You could at least make an effort. Maybe if you just lost some weight--”

“Yeah, okay Mom.” You hung up the phone before she could get another word in, immediately flopping back onto Dean’s front lawn in defeat. “If I ever get married, it’s going to be in Vegas with Elvis, and nobody is going to know about it.” Not that you would. Given your complete inability to keep a boyfriend for longer than two months and your habit of getting hung up on guys who were completely out of your league, marriage, or a relationship of any kind didn’t seem to be in the cards. 

“Who’s Jimmy?” Dean’s green eyes were sparkling with mischief, and you let out a groan, smoothing out the skirt of your sundress as you sat back up to answer him. 

“Straight-laced, awkward, kind of greasy. Went to high school with me.” You wrinkled your nose. “My mother is really scraping the bottom of the barrel. She’d throw a fit if I actually tried to bring him home. But apparently Jimmy is a better temporary solution than being single while my sister marries my ex.” You trailed off into silence, your hand pulling absently at a few strands of grass in your best friend’s front lawn. “Maybe I should just rent a boyfriend to shut her up. That’s a thing, right? Like a non-sexual escort.”

“If you’re going to the trouble, you should also get the sex,” Dean returned, still smirking at you as he wiped grease off his hands. “Or you could take me. I would make the best fake boyfriend. And I’m free if you feed me.”

You rolled your eyes at him, laughing at the mental image. “My mom knows you have a boyfriend,” you sighed. “Which, believe me, is a great source of sadness to her every single day.”

Dean laughed loudly, both of you glancing toward the house as the screen door swung open. “Maybe we broke up,”

“Well, she still doesn’t understand the concept of bisexuality, so as far as she’s concerned, you’d still be gay.” You rolled your eyes, long since over your mother’s narrow-minded opinions.

“Who’s gay?” Castiel inquired vaguely, making his way over to the flowerbeds. 

“Dean is,” you pointed out helpfully, prompting a wide-eyed stare from Cas. 

“Really? Dean, you should have told me!”

When you’d first met Dean’s new boyfriend, he’d been stiff and absolutely useless at sarcasm. It was always nice to see yours and Dean’s combined efforts working.

“D’you want me to ask Sammy?”

You were still laughing at Cas’s antics, and snapped your head back to Dean so fast that you were positive something popped in your neck. “W-what?”

 “I can ask Sam if he’s free that week,” Dean repeated, looking at you like he thought you were stupid. “If you want,”

You blinked, irrational panic running through you at the thought of Dean’s younger, perfect, brother. 

“It’ll shut your mom up,” Dean went on, oblivious. “Sammy wouldn’t mind.”

“Dean, I barely ever see Sam,” you protested after an awkward pause. A fact that was quite devastating, actually, not that you’d ever admit to your hopeless crush on the younger Winchester. 

Your best friend and his boyfriend shared a look. “That’s because he’s a hopeless do-gooder on top of being a hotshot lawyer,” Dean said fondly. “But I bet we could talk him out of taking a bunch of free cases for a week,”

Walking into your sister’s wedding with Sam Winchester on your arm sounded like a disaster waiting to happen. On the other hand, it would shut your mother up. She’d been vocal in her fears of you dying alone since you’d been barely out of college, sending you links to weight-loss workout videos and advertising her fixer-upper daughter to single men in the grocery store for years. Sam’s presence might even serve to stave off comments about your weight, which seemed to be the family’s second-favorite discussion topic any time they were together. 

Still, that meant pretending Sam Winchester was your boyfriend for a week, which just seemed like some masochistic form of self inflicted torture. Besides, if even you knew Sam would never go for a girl like you, how in the world were you supposed to sell it to your nosy, skeptical family?

“I was mostly kidding about the whole fake boyfriend thing, Dean,” you said wearily, not wanting to devote any more thought to the idea. 

Dean shrugged easily, sharing one more pointed look with Cas before refocusing on you. “Fair enough. You’re still staying for dinner, though, right?”

You’d have to be crazy to turn down one of Dean’s steaks. “Obviously.”

“Great,” he returned brightly. “I think Charlie’s coming.”

--

You were going to kill Dean. And Cas too, potentially, though it was entirely possible that he’d genuinely just been too preoccupied with his backyard beehive to remember the full extent of his boyfriend’s dinner plans. Because, apparently, “Charlie’s coming” actually meant, “Charlie and also Sam are coming.” 

It only took about five minutes for Dean to bring up your mother’s nonsense, prompting you to consider just face planting into the mashed potatoes in embarrassment while Charlie burst out laughing. She thought the whole thing was unbelievably hilarious, and had immediately offered herself up as a fake date. The offer was well meant, you knew, but you were only trying to get your mother to shut up, not disown you for bringing home a girlfriend.  

“I don’t need a date,” you finally huffed out, irritated with the whole thing. “I’m perfectly capable of showing up by myself. It’s not like anyone’s going to have anything to say about it that I haven’t already heard.” It was true. Your mother, and you sister and all of your aunts and uncles, for that matter, had been making the same jabs at your weight and relationship status for the past decade. You were used to it by now. 

“Doesn’t mean you should have to hear it,” Charlie shrugged. “If we’re too gay for your mother, get somebody else.”

“I tried to tell her Sammy would do it,” Dean put in unhelpfully, elbowing his brother, who had been silent up until this point. You contemplated kicking him under the table. 

“Poor Sam does not need to be subjected to my family for no good reason,” you said firmly, hoping that would be the end of it.

Sam was studying you across the table. “Or you could just ask me,” he said finally, and you felt your face heat up as you realized you’d basically been speaking for him. 

“Yes!” Charlie burst out before you could come up with a reply. “Sam doesn’t mind, do you, Sam?”

Too late, you realized Charlie was the real villain in all of this. Your old roommate, after all, was the one who knew about your little crush. You wondered if it was worth running the risk of trying to kick her under the table without hitting Cas, who thus far had remained off of your hit list. 

Sam cleared his throat roughly, looking between you, Charlie, and his plate. “No, I don’t--I mean, I don’t think Y/N really--”

“No, I do,” you blurted out, scrunching up your face immediately after the words left your lips. I do? I do? Since when? And what was it about Sam fucking Winchester that always made you act like a complete idiot? 

Dean was smirking at you across the table, and you idly wondered what would happen if you tried egging Baby. 

“Oh,” Sam brought you back out of your thoughts, looking hesitantly pleased. “Well, I just wrapped my latest case up, so I don’t mind coming up with you for that week. If you want.”

“Are you sure?” you bit your lip. There were a lot of emotions vying for your attention, but the dominating one was concern for Sam’s wellbeing. He had no idea what he was trying to agree to. 

Sam sighed, staring you down with those hazel eyes. “Y/N, you’re basically family. Of course I’m sure. You just worry about the maid of honor stuff, and I’ll watch your back. Okay?”

This was a significantly softer ending to dinner than you’d expected, but you couldn’t deny the warm feeling that rushed up inside you at his words. I’ll watch your back. Pretty much no one in your life had ever done anything of the sort, until you met Charlie, and, through her, the Winchesters. You’d known Dean for months before you finally met Sam, and of course he was perfect. 

It was easy with Dean, since he’d been the big brother you’d never had from day one. Sure, he wasn’t bad looking (seriously those boys won some kind of genetic lottery, you swore) but it just wasn’t like that. And then Sam had shown up and he was six and a half feet of walking perfection. 

And now he was smiling reassuringly at you across the dinner table, having just agreed to pose as your completely fake boyfriend in front of your god awful family. Well, at least you’d be able to pinpoint the exact moment your life went completely sideways, if you ever had to look back.

-- 

Two anxiety-filled weeks later found you in Sam’s car, because subjecting his long legs to your tiny vehicle for a seven hour drive just seemed like cruel and unusual punishment. You were driving at his insistence, and Sam was in the passenger seat with a legal pad on his legs like he thought he was going to take notes.

“Sam,” you whined out, “is this really necessary? Can’t we just... you know, lie?” Since the whole thing is a big fat giant lie anyway. 

Sam raised an eyebrow at you, and it just wasn’t fair how sexy that made him look. “Y/N, you’re the one that kept trying to warn me about getting cross examined by your mother,”

“Such a lawyer,” you huffed. “Okay, fine, you’re right. Let’s write our fake love story,” You batted your eyelashes at him exaggeratedly, punching a surprised laugh out of Sam. He watched your antics in amusement for a moment, and then refocused, absently playing with a pen in his long fingers. 

“Okay, how did we meet?”

You cocked your head to one side. “My mom knows who you are,” you explained. “Vaguely, but she knows you’re Dean’s brother. We can just tell them how we actually met and stuff,”

Sam smirked at you. “You tell your mother about me?”

You made a face at him, smacking his arm as the heat of embarrassment suffused your entire body. “Just in passing, don’t go getting a big head. Well,” you made a show of studying him, “a bigger head,”

He looked affronted, running a hand briefly through his hair. “Okay, fine, we met because of Dean. Where did I take you on our first date?”

“Why did you have to take me out? What if I took you out?” You were mostly arguing for the sake of arguing, trying to keep yourself from thinking too hard as you imagined a fake life with Sam that had never happened and never would. He thought of you as family, he’d said as much, and you had to remember that. 

“Because I had been waiting forever to ask you out, and I had all the good date ideas saved up,” Sam answered immediately.

“O-okay,” you said hesitantly, jarred by the conviction in his statement. But that was the point, wasn’t it? You were trying to sell it, and Sam was obviously a good actor. And unfairly attractive. And kind. And...and oh god. Your fingers gripped the steering wheel harder as you thought about the unexpected trial he hadn’t signed up for. “Sam, can you golf?”

He shrugged. “I know how it’s supposed to work. I’m just...not that good at actually getting the balls in the holes.”

If Dean were here, he would have taken that opportunity to make a lewd joke. As it was, you just winced. “My dad is going to force you to go golfing,” you explained tiredly. “I should have thought of that, I’m sorry, I--”

“It’s no big deal, Y/N,” Sam assured you easily. “I don’t mind. Besides, I want to meet your dad,”

You blinked at him, almost missing a turn in the process. “You actually want to meet my family? Sam, they’re terrible. Well, my dad’s probably the least awful of the bunch. Mostly he just hides. But Ruby will definitely try hitting on you, even though she’s supposed to be getting married, and Dick will try hitting on everything with legs, which is just gross, and Gramma Lilith is gonna give you the speech about how you could do so much better, and my Uncle Az is going to start Googling you and making weird threats, probably…” you trailed off in a huff. “It could be worse, I guess. At least if Uncle Fergus shows up everybody’ll start yelling at him instead. One can hope. He’s pretty harmless,” you shrugged, “if sometimes high. And my mother will probably just stick to the usual fat girl comments, so…”

Sam’s quiet laughter at your descriptions trailed off. “Y/N, you know there’s nothing wrong with you, right?”

You just shrugged again, deflecting. “Oh, come on, Sam, you don’t have to pretend like you think I’m a size two or something,”

“I’m...not,” Sam sounded genuinely confused, and you risked a glance over at him in the passenger seat. Oddly enough, he didn’t look like he was lying. Huh. “I think you’re beautiful.”

You didn’t want to have to pretend not to be affected by that, and this was maybe the first time in your life you’d actually been grateful to see the turnoff for your family’s old estate. “Here we go,” you narrated a little shakily. “It’s a big house,” you warned, still smiling a little at the way Sam’s eyes widened. 

It had been a given that the wedding would take place at your Aunt Abaddon’s old estate house, which no one was quite sure how she’d acquired and which no one questioned. The only fun of the house was watching people’s reactions on the rare occasion that you brought someone here. 

“I’ll get the bags,” Sam said vacantly, still staring at the house, and you chuckled softly, getting out of the car in a rush. You couldn’t explain it, but it felt important that you got to your family before Sam did, to put yourself between them, though at this point you weren’t quite sure who was being shielded from whom. 

You smoothed down the little sundress you’d decided to wear, grabbing your small duffel out of the backseat and hastily going up the front walk, Sam still rummaging in the trunk.

“Y/N!” Ruby opened the front door to meet you, her smile already insincere and condescending. “You’re late. We thought you weren’t coming.” She glanced behind you briefly, then smirked. “And you’re alone. I mean I figured you wouldn’t actually find a plus one, but you know you’re gonna owe me for the meal--”

“Got everything?” 

Oh thank god for Sam Winchester. You smiled tightly at your older sister, glancing briefly at your shoulder to reassure yourself that Sam was there. He was, holding a bag in each hand and a pleasant smile on his face. It was totally his false courtroom smile, but Ruby didn’t have to know that. “Ruby, this is...my boyfriend. Sam.”

Ruby blinked long eyelashes at him, processing. You figured she was torn between insulting you and flirting with him, and, as expected, the flirting won out. “Hi, Sam,” she purred. “I can’t wait to get to know you a little better,”

“Right,” Sam said flatly. “Well, I can’t wait to put these bags down, so…”

Something in Ruby’s expression soured as she looked at him, and her hand fell away from the doorframe as she stepped back, letting you both into the house. You lost no time in ducking past her, Sam right behind you. 

“There’s rooms on the second floor,” Ruby said quietly, then, “I’m up there too, just in case you get bored...”

“Great,” Sam returned, and he shifted both of the bags into one hand to put a hand on your back as you walked toward the staircase. You shivered at the touch, exhaling the frustration that was already tensing your shoulders, and started up the stairs. God, it hadn’t even been five minutes. How were you supposed to get through a whole week of this?

Sam’s warm breath on your ear startled you, and he whispered, “So, third floor?”

You turned to catch him with a mischievous spark in his hazel eyes, and nodded quickly, a little smile pulling up the corners of your mouth as you started toward the second staircase with a new energy in your step. 

“Hurry your fat ass, Y/N!” you heard Ruby shriek from somewhere below. “Everyone’s already out in the garden,”

You blew out your breath, hastily swinging open the first door you saw. The room was mercifully unoccupied, with a queen bed in the middle of the room and not much in the way of decoration. Your Aunt Abaddon had always been pretty minimalist. 

Sam shut the door behind you both, setting the bags down in a line at the foot of the bed.

“I can sleep on the floor,” you said quickly, figuring that it was best to get that out of the way as quickly as possible. “I’m the one that got you into this, so--”

He turned to face you with a quizzical expression. “Why would you...Y/N, you didn’t get me into anything. I said I wanted to be here. If you’re not comfortable, I’ll sleep on the floor,”

“No,” you sighed out, defeated. “Ruby’ll probably try barging in here anyway. I don’t think she believes you’re dating someone like me. We’re adults,” you went on with more confidence than you felt, “we can share,”

Sam’s brow furrowed adorably. Stop that. “Someone like you?” He moved to stand in front of you, one hand sliding very gently along your upper arm. “She doesn’t think I’d go for someone that’s funny and clever and really pretty?”

Something in your chest eased at his words, and, before your malfunctioning brain could stop you, you leaned forward to rest your forehead against his solid chest. “Thanks. She’s a bitch,” you mumbled into his shirt.

Sam’s hand migrated to gently rub over your back. “I’m beginning to get that impression,”

You stood there for a few more moments, letting yourself breathe within the safety of Sam’s arms, and then you straightened up and shook yourself. “Alright, boyfriend, ready to go meet the rest of the firing squad?”

He smiled down at you. “Whatever you say, honey bunch.”

You grimaced, but it got a laugh out of you, which you supposed had been his goal. “Absolutely not.”

“Cutie pie? Boo bear?”

“Stop it,” you threw a mock glare over your shoulder, opening the bedroom door. 

“Okay, darlin’,” Sam murmured, and somehow that one sat better than all the rest. “I’ve got your back, remember?”

You smiled back at him, letting him slide his hand in yours for the show, and you braced yourself to head back downstairs and deal with the full force of your family. 

[marueonmain]

WINDFLOWER

part six ~ to be more normal ~

(part one) (part two) (part three) (part four) (part five) (part six)

A/N: I want to thank each of you who have continued reading and supporting me through all these parts (that’s almost 12k words total!) and I hope you keep wanting to stick around until the end. Stay safe. Stay healthy. 

Summary: Alex visits with James & Fraser in a bid to distract himself from thinking about his feelings toward Y/N. George is concerned.

Pairing: imallexx x reader

Warning: Implications of Disordered Eating Habits. References to a Real/Imagined Domestic. An Absurd Amount of Pining.  

Word Count: 2.4k

Subdued shades of orange with the occasional single brushstrokes of pink projected through his bedroom window and painted him in light. A bird chirped, and another chirped back in a cycle of communication lost on other animals. Alex did not realize the change outside his window until the light gradient settled on a loud yellow and created glare on his monitor.

It was sunrise, and he had just finished editing for his most recent video. Where the hours of work went was unclear as it played back with the same level of effects as other videos on his channel. But the hours showed in his fringe, darkened with grease, and in his hands that shook from low blood sugar.

Sleep was for the strong – for those who executed enough psychological control to shush their thoughts. To untie their mental boat and let it drift into the oblivion sea. Alex was not one of those people. Quieting his internal monologue required medication that put him in a state not unlike how he imaged it felt to be roofied.

Or else he did not sleep.

And Alex did not sleep that night. Not because he needed to edit or because he was so busy he did not realize he was tired. No, none of that. He knew he was tired: exhausted even: his limbs felt heavier as, throughout the evening, his blood was spliced and diluted with concrete mix.

Why did he not take his medication? Why not sleep? He did not want to be trapped in ~the dream~ again.

Despite his fundamental understanding of the uncontrollable manner in which the unconscious forms dreams, Alex was consumed with guilt for dreaming about kissing his friend's girlfriend. So, he punished himself: not allowing his mind rest nor his stomach food as he threw himself into his editing.

He would not allow himself think about it long enough to come to the obvious conclusion – that the real issue was not the dream itself. Despite what imallexx edits might guide someone to believe (with their cutesy music over compilations of smiling pictures or clips of him laughing), Alex was a young man in his twenties. And young men (who enjoy kissing) think and fantasize and dream about kissing.

And far more than kissing but regardless... He had dreamed about kissing his friends' girlfriends before: or at least Mia that one time. Ok, two times. He had dreamed about kissing cute men he saw on the train. He had even once dreamed about kissing Princess Leia.

It was natural. But Alex's thoughts about Y/N felt damning, felt wrong. Perhaps because it was the first instance in which he thought he had a chance to get the girl. Not that he would do; he refused.

It hit him. If he were always doing something else, then he would simply not have time to think about it – about her. Alex grabbed a pencil off his desk and his JoJo Siwa notebook and wrote a schedule for the coming week.

His hand cramped from furiously trying to keep up with dictating the information as it spilled from his head. He finished writing, but there were still stretches of time to fill-up including that entire morning. Was he desperate enough to disconnect from himself that he would risk the Budweiser Bug to visit his other friends outside his apartment building? Yes.

While rummaging around his bedroom for fresh(er) clothing to wear, Alex swiped a hat off his desk and concealed his unwashed hair with it. Not his tiktok bucket hat nor his iconic pink one, it was a lilac snapback with an image of lavender embroidered on the side. He rang Fraser.

“Hello?” Fraser answered with a voice bogged down with exhaustion. 

“How’re you doing?” Alex greeted.

“Um.” (a pause – a processing delay) “Fine. Good. Yeah, what about you?” 

“Trying to keep busy.” He tucked his wallet and keys into the pocket of a pair of joggers he found hanging, oddly enough, over the towel rail in his bathroom. Changing into them required a series of short jumping motions as he used just one hand. “You have any videos to film that I could jump in on?”

“Well I’ve been brainstorming ideas for a new series called…”

At the bathroom sink: Alex did not wait for the water to warm before splashing it over his face. He did a quick once-over and washed his cheeks and forehead with hand soap. Picking up his toothbrush from its holder stirred an uneasiness in him, he could not explain; he brushed his teeth and spit without rinsing.

Returning into the conversation he caught the middle of what would sound like a rant or passionate tangent if he did not know that was just how Fraser talked, “…and I’ve been working on a script for something on social repose—”

“Another needs to be stopped?" asked Alex.

Fraser laughed, letting it linger before continuing, "You got me. It's not done, but I could definitely use you for some reaction bits."

"Great! I'll be setting off within the hour." Ambling around – as is the norm during phone calls – Alex found himself in the kitchen. Half-full liters of lemonade, grocers bags, and dirty dishes cluttered the counters. He worked around the rubbish to make himself scrambled eggs with ham.

Fraser asked, "And you're sure about leaving the apartment? With the Bug? We could do a discord-call."

"Might as well get in some time on the train before things shut down."

"Alright, mate," there was a smile behind Fraser's voice, "just don't get arrested."

With their call ended, Alex finished cooking. He ate his entire breakfast in the same amount of time it took him to pull on his shoes.

During the train ride, he turned his phone's volume to eighty percent and blasted his music through his earbuds. His playlist was a mixture of two to three alt-rock or indie pop bands with a sprinkling of mainstream hits: a calm and comfortable backbeat throughout. No outlier tracks that burst into hard-hitting or exceptionally fast beats – nothing that might pump-up his adrenaline or be useful to scream along with in a fit of anger. That was not the connection he made with music in his formative years. Music to him was something to drown out that pesky internal monologue when lying in bed for too long – doing nothing – but perhaps pondering on some heartbreaking or otherwise emotional line in a song.

He arrived at Fraser and James' apartment when it was still technically morning. Knocking on the door, he was greeted with frantic barking and his tired ~obviously hungover~ friend.

After fussing over Kenji, Alex spotted the camera set-up in the kitchen and took his seat. Fraser and him watched several of social repose's music videos: covers of emo electronic, synth-pop songs, and a lot more original EMD songs than either man guessed – and all were dreadful. Neither could sit through a single video for more than forty-five seconds, and most of the footage they shot was just of their mouths hanging open in a disturbed shock.

Nonetheless, it was a great distraction. Alex liked feeling like he was helping out smaller channels – even if it was just those who were his friends.

Only as Fraser was cleaning up his equipment and Alex was sitting on the couch playing with Kenji, did James clamber out of bed and stroll out of his bedroom.

"Ow. What was that?" Alex asked in an exaggerated voice when the shiba nipped at yet another one of his fingers. Turning his attention to James, he asked, "Has he been biting a lot recently?"

James answered in his softer and calmer 'tired' voice, "He only bites sometimes. His brain is probably just locked on the idea of food right now; this is around the time Fraser usually feeds him."

"I just wanted a picture for instagram." Alex tried to find a good angle to hold his phone. He pushed Kenji to sit on his lap for a nice picture (which was sure to get hundreds of comments and love heart emojis), but the shiba was far too hyper to sit still. The few useable photos he got were of Kenji biting at and tugging the strings of his hoodie. "Come on, Kenj."

"Reckon he knows what you're doing with your phone, just mugging you off on purpose."

Alex hung around the apartment for the rest of the afternoon: enjoying an ubereats lunch and having James crush him at mario kart...multiple times in a row. The three talked youtube and the continuing aftershocks and effects of the ad crisis, and Fraser asked for feedback on a few video ideas.

An hour or two from sunset, Alex said his goodbyes and caught the train home to his apartment. Upon unlocking the front door, he was met with an interrogation.

"And where have you been all day?" asked George standing with his feet planted shoulder-width apart, and his arms crossed over his chest – the spitting image of a disapproving parent to a reckless teenager.

Smiling his fang-displaying side smile, Alex challenged, "Why do you need to know?"

"Sammy came over to film the opening pokemon cards video, and you weren't here. Neither of us could get a hold of you. Do you even care about my upload schedule?" It was a half-humorous rant with an eerie sense of latent seriousness.

"Phone died." He shrugged, not looking his flatmate in the eye and certainly not wanting to admit the truth – he put his phone on do not disturb earlier that morning, muting most everyone, including George and Sammy.

There was not an ounce of belief in George's expression, "Fine. Where were you, though, for real? You never leave the flat, let alone disappear; almost called Will and got a search team going."

"I was just filming with Fraser." Alex bent over to take off his trainers. There was a click from his shoulder when he did – alarming for such young bones. "We should host something soon."

And he meant soon. As talk of a complete social shutdown, rather than just more public health advisements, dominated news outlets; the thought of non-essential businesses being made to close their doors was frightening. And what was worse than the eking paranoia seeping into every day, was the horrifying realization that the pubs were considered non-essential.

Uncrossing his arms, George's posture shifted to be more normal. His brow furrowed as he seemed to examine his flatmate heavily; even so, he nodded in agreement. "Sure, we could do that."

"Great," Alex chirped and started toward his bedroom.

George grabbed his arm as he tried to walk past him. His hand clasped tight enough that his fingers touched his thumb, and nails would have dug into the pale skin – if he had nails that is. Both men were silent amongst the awkwardness of the interaction.

Sidestepping out of the armlock, Alex waited for George to speak.

"You're doing ok. Right, Al?"

"Yeah. I'm ok."

"But, you'd tell me if you weren't."

"Of course." Alex left to his bedroom. It was in a bad state, but he did not bother himself with picking clothes off the floor or taking food wrappers from his side table to the kitchen bin. He pulled his phone from his pocket and checked for messages: sure enough, there were eleven messages from George: ranging from asking where he was to blaming his laziness for ruining their chance to film.

Alex flopped himself onto his bed and started to scroll through his photos with Kenji. There was not much choice, so he took the least blurry one and posted it to instagram – with a bright filter and a sarcastic caption that took him longer to come up with than he would have liked.

Fifty minutes he spent scrolling through instagram, occasionally checking back to watch the likes on his photo go up and to reply to some of the first commenters. It was mind-numbing in the good and proper sense.

Until he saw it – and it was not his fault, he just happened upon it – and it sent his thoughts into hyperdrive.

A post. A photo. Y/N sitting on her sofa in the dark with the one light source (presumably her television) from behind the camera casting a blue light across her face. One hand clutching the blanket in her lap as the other hand was held up. Jewel-like eyes peering through her fingers and connecting with the camera. A smile playing purposefully on her lips.

If Alex's thoughts at that moment were put into a blender, they might still have come out making more sense than they did in his head. Eyes. Lips. Blue. Watching? Angelic. Eyes. Fingers. Dancing. Blue. Lips. Taste. Lips. Soft. Photographer. Photographer.

Before he might ask for the app to load more photos, Alex's burst of energy and hectic but classic over-thinking was interrupted. From above him came the sound of muffled shouting. He held his breath, stilled as if a prey animal not wanting to be spotted, and focused an ear to the noise.

There were no words he could pick out, but from what he could tell – or from the details he filled in – it was not a light argument of few words but something that might supersede a genuine scrap. And it was coming from Sammy and Y/N's apartment.

As he listened, his imagination wandered. Alex visualized himself, rushing to Y/N's aid and wrapping his thin arms around her in more emotional comfort than physical protection. He saw her turn to him with wet eyes and a red nose before burying her face into his shirt. It would be uncomfortable – as it is to be around distressed people. Yet it would be comfortable – as she would fit against him so well.

Again, his imagination wandered. Alex visualized himself as the one shouting at Y/N and growing angrier as she refused his hard-hitting gaze. He saw her turn to him with wet eyes and a red nose before hiccupping out a sob and dashing from the room. No. That was not right. It was wrong. He would not— could not do that.

[cuddliestbear]

So, I have audible and I use it like all the time. Its not that I don't like just reading books but I don't have the time anymore. I'm always doing one thing or another and don't usually have the time to just sit down and read. At work, in between phone calls I have my headphones in listening to the narrators tell their stories and type away at my keyboard. At home, I will listen while doing chores, or cooking, feeding and cleaning my animals, etc.

I have just used one of my credits to get 'The Silver Eyes' audiobook by Scott Cawthon and some other lady I don't feel like looking up right now. And I've heard about it, I've played FNAF, I've watched countless videos on Game Theorists, Markiplier, Jacksepticeye, NateWantstoBattle and other channels about this game.

I'm only on Chapter 7, and holy shit. I obviously know it's a horror/thriller novel, and it's going to have some thing or another to do with creepy animatronics and missing kids, but just...I guess I wasn't expecting this much? I think this book is canon, too. Like a part of whatever convoluted story is all behind the franchise.

There are spoilers ahead if you wanted to read or listen to the book yourself. You have been warned.

So, there's Charlie, for the most part, she's the main character. I don't remember if her last name was mentioned or not. She's come back to this town of Hurricane to attend a sort of memorial/scholarship giveaway in the memory of her childhood friend Michael. Who was one of the five kidnapped and missing children. and then the story goes on from there.

I just wanna note a few things I have noticed in association with the games.

First the five missing kids. We all know the suspected backstory to the first game. Five kids were kidnapped and killed then stuffed into the animatronic suits. So, that was...interesting.

Then, Charlie's childhood home...I could be wrong but for some reason it gave me serious Fnaf 4 vibes and I'm not sure how accurate that is.

The creepy thing that was in the corner of her father's workshop where he built the animatronics. It sounded kind of like an exoskeleton, and the design reminded me of Ennard, from FNAF 5. But then she made the realization that that exoskeleton was put into the Foxy suit, so it didn't add up anymore. But who knows.

The yellow bunny. Before FnafVr came out it wouldn't have meant much to me other than just the creepy guise the killer used to capture not only those five kids but also Charlie's twin brother Sammy when they were toddlers at the Fazbear Family Diner. It reminds me HEAVILY of Glitchtrap, and I don't think that is a coincidence.

Evidently, Charlie's father started the whole Fazbear franchise. The Diner, then the pizzeria, and the others as well. I have no idea about fnaf 3 or 2 or five, but there are strong connections to at least 1, 4 and the fnavr game

The Freddy Fazbear's Pizza is described to be the same one from the first game, suggesting that during the timeline, that game came before the events of the book, but after the children's kidnappings and murders.

Dave, this "security guard" is def the same dude who wore the yellow spring Bonnie suit to kidnap and kill those kids, but Dave could just be an alias. He's a relatively new character to me still because he was only introduced a chapter or two ago.

Same topic but a little less observational of the story.

I obviously know that bad shit gonna happen because the book is centered around fnaf and knowing fnaf something bad always happens.

If ANYTHING happens to Jason, I will literally kill everyone then myself. Because he is a young child and Fazbear Entertainment and children are not a good combo, bad shit happens.

Charlie, though she is the main character is kind of weird to me because she literally grew up in a room of animatronic like toys. And I do NOT gel with that shit at all. I hate hate hate hate hate freaking animatronics and have long before fnaf was a thing. Charlie was unnatural in her fondness of them and I do not trust those who are not at least wary of things that act alive but aren't.

Jessica's character may just be written this way on purpose but I kind of wanna introduce her face to a brick repeatedly. I don't like her much.

Marla is almost as bad but not in the same way. I wouldn't smack her with a brick but maybe my hand. Who in their right mind as an older sibling would let their younger brother or any younger sibling into an abandoned building where one of their friends had been kidnapped and never seen again???? Like this bitch needs a slap hard across the face for even allowing that shit. What kind of big sister are you to bring your kid brother into possible danger like that?

Then, Charlie again, this bitch legit got attacked by foxy on her second outing to this boarded up and hidden old janky place and decided it would be okay to go back???? With some sketchy dude named Dave???? Sure her friends were with her, but the bitch literally showed them all he knew a fuck ton more about that pizzeria and the operation of those animatronics than any rando property security guard ought to, and they didn't nope the fuck out and all leave?

Then, THEN. One of their friends gets fucking kidnapped right the fuck in front of Jason by Dave dressed in the Spring Bonnie suit and since Jason is apparently too fucking stupid to say that the Bonnie was yellow, Charlie nor John caught on even though both of them would have known what that fucking meant!!!!! Like Jason, my dude, I love ya, ur a cute fuckin kid, but descriptions are fucking important. You are 11, you are smart enough to figure that out.

Also, then Carlton's dad, a police officer just kind of invites them over for cocoa and claims Carlton is pulling a trick on them and will show up. Um bitch no. You're son is probs dead, and you are not even helping to find who is responsible right now. All you're worried about is that the door was chained and the kids couldn't have gotten in. Did it occur to you or your dumb as bricks co-officer Dunn that maybe just fuckin maybe the chains were put on in between the kids leaving to get help and you all coming back? Maybe like idk the kidnapper didn't want you to follow him or interrupt whatever sick and twisted things he's doing?

Anyways, I think that's it for now. I'm going to listen to more and hopefully not fucking give myself nightmares. Wish me luck.

[javelon]

Chase's Little Girl

Chase yawned and stretched as he entered the building he filmed in. He and Stacy were taking Gray to the zoo this weekend so he decided to come in early. If he got enough footage he could create an extra video to make up for the time off he was taking. As he was walking towards the room he usually filmed in, the cries of a baby immediately caught his attention. Chase stopped in his tracks and almost subconsciously found himself following the sound. There was only one person he knew of in this building who would have her baby here with her.

Down a different hall he found the woman he was looking for. She was the lady who was responsible for the building looking as pristine as it always did and she had her baby with her, strapped in a tiny pink car seat. He smiled seeing the little infant girl though his heart ached when he saw how stressed and tense the mother's body looked even with her back to him.

"You need a hand, Mary?" Chase called.

Mary whirled around to face him, her look of surprise melting into one of relief when she saw who it was, "Oh yes please, Chase. I would be grateful for any assistance right now."

When Chase reached them, Mary turned towards her infant, "Samantha just won't stop crying. I've tried feeding her, changing her, burping her, but nothing's working! Her little light up toy isn't even working!" Mary cooed at her daughter and pressed the toy hanging from the seat's handle, causing it to light up and play a little tune but still Samantha cried.

Chase's heart broke when he saw the unshed tears Mary was obviously fighting back, "Maybe she just wants to be held? I can clean while you hold her."

Mary shook her head, "No if my boss saw you doing my job I'd be fired on the spot. If it's not too much trouble could you..." She trailed off but Chase gave her a brilliant smile. 

"You know I'm always happy to take care of the little squirt!" Chase replied, crouching down to unbuckle the infant and lift her up out of the seat, "Hey there little Samantha, Chase has gotcha. My you've got quite a set of lungs on ya!" 

Chase cooed and rocked Samantha for a couple minutes and almost instantly the little girl quieted, her big brown eyes opening to look up at him. Chase smiled, "There we go, sweetie. You feel better now?" 

"You're always so good with her." Mary said softly from behind him. 

Chase turned to face her with a small smile, still gently rocking Samantha, "Henrik used to say the same thing when I'd calm down Gray when he was Samantha's age. Said I had a gift for taking care of kids. Though Anti said it's just cause kids found my dorky face to be funny."

Mary smiled though Chase thought it looked a bit strained, "Maybe they're both right?"

Chase gave a dramatic gasp, "You wound me!"

Samantha giggled and Chase turned his look of fake shock to her, "You agree with her! And after I rocked you and everything!"

The infant babbled and wiggled her arms, a big smile on her face. Chase felt his heart melt, "Aww you're too adorable. Alright all is forgiven." 

That morning Chase didn't get as much work done as he had hoped but the trade off of spending time with little Samantha was worth it.

A couple weeks later Chase came in early again to hear crying again, though this time it wasn't Samantha he was hearing. He hurried down the hall until he saw Mary kneeling on the floor, sobbing her poor heart out. Chase's worry escalated when he realized Samantha was nowhere in sight. Had something happened?

"Mary! Are you alright?" Chase called, jogging down the hall towards her.

Mary's head shot up and she quickly tried to wipe away her tears, "I-I'm fine, Ch-Chase. Just those d-danged hormones y-you know?" Her brave face crumbled just as quickly as she formed it though and she was sobbing again.

Chase knelt by her side and carefully placed a hand on Mary's shoulder, ready to pull it away should she not welcome anyone touching her right now. She didn't react at all so Chase knelt there quietly with her, occasionally squeezing her shoulder to try and show her in some way that she wasn't alone.

It was awhile before she calmed down enough to talk to Chase again. While he was braced for whatever had caused her to cry so much, what she said still about knocked the breath out of him, "I'm g-giving Samantha up for a-adoption."

Chase's jaw dropped, "What?"

Mary squeezed her eyes against the fresh onslaught of tears, "I'm going to be evicted from my apartment. Missed too many payments." She whispered.

"But...do you have anyone who can help you? Parents or other family?" Chase tried to offered though he realized he couldn't recall Mary ever talking about family members before.

Mary shuddered and shook her head, though she paused and nodded slightly, "Yes and no. My parents are gone but my cousin who lives a couple hours away has offered to let me stay on their couch. But.." She cut off Chase before he could say anything, "They...she and her boyfriend...they drink a lot. I..think they smoke too." She turned bloodshot eyes towards Chase, "I can't bring my daughter into a place like that. I..." She choked down another sob, "I'd rather give her up so she can have a better life...than drag her through that. Wouldn't you do the same thing for Gray?"

Chase paused and furrowed his brow in thought. The very idea of giving Gray up hurt but Chase had to admit the thought of Gray having to live in a bad environment cause Chase was too selfish to let him go hurt just as much. 

When he later left Mary's side he hurried to his filming room and called Stacy. 

"You want to what??"

"I know it sounds crazy but we've always talked wanted a girl. But your pregnancy with Gray was so hard...this would give us that chance without having to go through that again."

"Yes but Chase...adopting a baby...that's a huge thing to take on..."

"Any bigger than being pregnant for 9 months fresh out of high school?" 

Stacy went quiet on the other end. Chase waited a moment before saying, "At least come meet Samantha before we say no."

"...ok."

Chase silently pumped his fist, "Thank you, Stace!"

It was a week before Stacy could come meet Samantha though it took all of five minutes for her to fall in love with the smiling baby. Mary burst into tears when Stacy told her they would love to adopt her little girl, hugging Stacy and Chase tight while saying thank you over and over again. Mary confessed that part of her wanted to ask if they would take care of her girl, wanting her baby to go to people she knew instead of complete strangers picked by the agency. But she hadn't wanted them to feel obligated to say yes. 

Chase had no idea it took so much to go through an adoption though. Even with Mary signing off on everything saying she picked a couple herself, Stacy and Chase had to jump through so many hoops to be approved. It's no wonder some couples had to wait years to adopt a child of their own. But on the night they finally got to bring Samantha home, Chase decided it was all worth as he watched her sleep, her crib bathed in moonlight making the moment seem even more magical. Even when she started to squirm and cry, wanting to be fed, Chase could only smile through tears of happiness. And as he held her against his chest, bottle held carefully in his hand he whispered, "Daddy loves you so much, little Sammy. I promise I'll be the best daddy possible."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So I've had this headcanon for awhile that one of Chase's kids were adopted and I finally decided to write a little story of how that adoption could have come about. I wrote this in an evening so I apologize for any typos!

[sammydevans]

WHO: Sam & Kitty @doveportkitty​

WHEN&WHERE: January 29, evening at Kitty’s place

WHAT: A conversation to end #babygate2020

WARNINGS: mentions of sexual abuse

Sam was nervous. If he were honest, he felt that way a lot when it came to real relationship conversations with Kitty. He was used to her being slightly distant to feelings and often times more interested in the physical aspect of their relationship, and he was okay with it, truly. It was a system that worked. But when it came down to moments like this, it left him wondering how they would end. No time like the present to find out, right? With a bottle of champagne in one hand, he knocked at her front door, a soft smile on his lips when she answered. "Hey you."

Knowing the conversation that was coming, Kitty couldn’t sit down. Not one to clean usually, she actually found herself tidying up — mostly putting away the empty liquor bottles she had used to drown the thoughts of doubt in her head since the topic of children had even been brought up. Children weren’t in her future. They couldn’t be. She knew her flaws, and being a mother would be one of them. The  familiar knock breaks her “cleaning” concentration, and after quickly washing her hands she moves to the door to open it for her boyfriend. “Hey, hot shot.” She said not able to stop the soft smile from lighting her lips. “You brought champagne... Now if only you were shirtless.” She teased lightly, leaning in to press her lips against his sweetly before moving out of the way to let him in.

He chuckled at her greeting, not hiding the playful roll his eyes as he entered her house. "I keep tell you," Sam reminded. "It's too cold for shirtless deliveries. Once it's warm again." He passed off the bottle to her and shrugged off his jacket, hanging it on a hook by the door. It was easy to feel the weight of the lingering conversation, but he wanted it to feel normal, natural. "So start with champagne? I could probably use a quick recap on last week."

"I'll hold you to that." Kitty commented with a smirk, happily accepting the champagne from Sam. Moving through her apartment to the kitchen,  she pulled down two glasses from the cabinet, popping the cork and carefully pouring the alcohol into them before passing one to Sam. "Because you weren't paying attention? I swear to God, Samuel, If that's the case I'm totally going to start quizzing you on episodes the day after." She leans against the kitchen, and brings the champagne to her lips, taking a sip and immediately wants more. It felt normal now, but even Kitty knew that the weight of the impending conversation was going wear them down. "Or I can just send you my twitter feed, I guess."

He took the glass in one hand, going to take a sip before quickly pausing to protest. “No, no. Totally paid attention, day after I would have aced a quiz,” Sam insisted.  It was true enough anyway. He was obviously nowhere near as invested as she was, but she wanted him to watch with her, so he did. “It’s just been a long week. Peter wasn’t exactly the biggest thing in my mind.”

Kitty froze at the comment of the long week. The two worked at the same place, they worked in the same area even, so she knew instantly why Peter wasn’t at the forefront of Sam’s mind. And it wasn’t because of work. Still holding the champagne in her hand she reaches at Sam’s shirt with her free hand and pulls him in against her. “I’ll let it slide.” She mutters in a whisper before capturing his lips with hers, letting her lips familiarize themselves with his after the few days they’d spent apart. A few days she would allow herself to admit sucked. “Do you want to like, go to the couch?” Kitty asks gingerly. Nervously (a feeling she was not at all used to). “The umm... episode it ready to go.”

Sam slid his arm around her as he kissed her back, holding her close and knowing he didn’t want to let go. Getting lost in this seemed like a much better idea than reality tv. Better than a heavy conversation that could easily end unhappily. At her question, he nodded, pulled back and took her hand to lead the way over. Sam took his normal spot against the end of the couch, an arm open for Kitty to cuddle into his side. “So I saw something about Cleveland?” he asked, trying to keep his focus on the episode at hand. “Which... why anyone would choose that destination is beyond me.”

Kitty doesn’t hesitate to slide herself in next to Sam. She couldn’t predict how the night would end (which was infuriating because kitty liked to pride herself on knowing everything) but right now she was content with being close to him and judging trashy pageant girls on tv. “You didn’t hear? Cleveland is the new Hawaii.” She comments jokingly, reaching for the remote to press play. Attempting to relax, Kitty keeps her attention on the screen for a while, not really paying attention to the one on one date Peter was currently on... Her twitter feed would be disappointing in the morning. Sighing she paused the show and sits herself up to look into Sam’s blue eyes. “I totally can’t do this... sorry, it’s not in my blood. If we’re going to break up, watching Peter send home a few fame wannabes first isn’t going to make anything better.”

“I can show you a funny YouTube video that will disprove that in thirty seconds,” Sam defended with a chuckle. He sipped at his champagne as the details unfolded, even less interested than the past couple weeks. He’d fail if she gave him a pop quiz on this tomorrow. But did it matter? Trashy reality TV ranked about a thousand spots below their relationship. “Kitty, I don’t want to break up with you,” Sam told her sincerely, taking her hand in his. He needed to feel her with him, to hold her from running away. “This doesn’t have to be over.”

For a second, Kitty wants to pull her hand back. But it was Sam, and she’d always had a hard time letting go of him. “I don’t want to break up either.” She tells him honestly. “But if your future involves kids, like... that can’t be a future we’re in together.” Her heart felt as though it was sinking out of her stomach, and she kind of regrets even commenting on the post that day. It was only real when she made it real. “We’re adults so it’s not like we’re dating for clout, and I mean, I’m not sitting up at night practicing my post-wedding signature or anything, but isn’t it sort of crazy to be in a relationship where we both want entirely different things? I would be... the worst mother, Sammy. You have to know that.”

Sam sat up straighter in his seat, quiet as he let her speak her mind. She was right, mostly, and he hated it. But there was still a part of him that knew them breaking up was the part that wasn't. "There was also a long point in time where I thought my future involved me being a superhero," he defended, trying his best to at least bring some lightness to the conversation. It didn't work, and he knew it as soon as he'd said it. "But... plans change. Yes, I've imagined my life with kids. But that doesn't mean I can't imagine one without them. I just haven't before. I haven't had a reason to before," he explained. He took a deep breath and tapped a finger against Kitty's skin, debating if he should say more before continuing anyway. "But if the reason you don't want kids is because you think you'd be a terrible mother, you need to rethink your reason."

If it was any other conversation with, at any other time, Kitty may have laughed and teased him about wanting to be a superhero growing up. But the weight of their future felt as thought it was on top of her, and she knew herself enough to know if they didn’t talk about this now she’d keep avoiding this until it tore them apart. Sighing, she looks down at their hands, her gaze watching the small movements of her boyfriend’s fingers. “Sam, think about it for longer than a minute. There is not a person out there who sees me as mom material. C’mon I won’t even go and see Madison’s baby and I actually like her... and like, the baby’s not ugly. I mean, it's still blob like, but it's a cute blob? I don’t have it in me, babe. When Jesus blessed me he gave me a lot of things, but if I had a kid? They would end up hating me. Deep down you have to know that.”

"I don't want to sit here and convince you to have a baby someday," Sam admitted. Even if that was, maybe, exactly what he wanted, it seemed unfair to push the idea on her when she seemed so opposed. "But I have thought about it for more than a minute. It's all I've thought about for the past few days. No, you're not traditional mom material. But I know you. And I know you're not the cold-hearted person you let everyone think you are." He took a breath and chewed at his lip for a moment, then continued. "I pictured my life with kids. Little league practices, father-daughter dances, pillow forts and Disney movies, family walks, and matching pajamas on Christmas morning. All that cheesy Hallmark stuff. And in that picture I had a partner, somewhere. I mean, it's been the Black Widow more than once and also Thor one time? But mainly, faceless, nameless. And then there's life I pictured with you. It's specific and real. It's a weekend in Atlanta with a whole town to explore but spending most of it wine drunk and naked in bed. It's Christmases watching new Hallmark movies that the exact same as last year's movies. It's supporting each other through winning seasons at school, and someday maybe something bigger than high school. It's teaching you how to cook something besides waffles because we really can't live on Postmates forever. It's someday finding a place that's ours and me letting you take complete control of decorating." He let out a heavy breath and dropped her hand in favor of reaching to cup her face, thumb brushing over her cheek. "I love you, Kitty Wilde. And I know that's gonna be a lot for you, but I need you to know it. I need you to know how real this is for me. I can lose the fantasy of kids, but I can't lose the reality of you."

Kitty fell silent as she listened to him talk. It was easier than finding her own words right now, when it came to the serious moments she struggled with comprehending them at the best of times. A sharp pang hit her heart when he described the family he’d always imagined having. The little league games, and father daughter dances... If there was anyone that deserved that, it was Sam. Kitty brings her legs up, folding them underneath her in a way shed’d done since childhood. Though at this point, it was mostly to distract her body in someway while he was talking. She can’t help but smile faintly at the mention the life he has pictured with her. It wasn’t as detailed as the one she’d pictured, but she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t pictured a future with him. Maybe that’s why in a situation which normally would have sent her running, she was still here. She lifts her eyes to Sam when he brings his hand to her cheek, her face instinctively leaning into the touch. “You...” Her breath felt like it had been taken out of her, processing what he’d just said. “I...” Those words had never come naturally to her, and she cared about him, she did. A lot. But those words? She couldn’t say them. “I don’t want to lose you.” Kitty murmured simply after what felt like forever. “You make me want to be better... And like, I’m already pretty great so that’s an accomplishment.” She let out a soft sigh before leaning in and pressing her lips against his in a loving kiss. “But we really can live on postmates forever, babe.”

Sam had held his breath after his confession. It could have been a mistake to being love into the conversation. Slow had been the default speed of their emotional relationship, she'd technically only been his girlfriend for a month. He, of course, wanted to hear her say it back. But that was someday, he figured. Today he just wanted her not to pull away, not to kick him out. Voicing that she didn't want to lose him was more than enough for today. "You are pretty great," Sam agreed, barely breaking their kiss. His forehead pressed against hers and chuckled. "Okay fine, I'll cook. Shirtless, just for your entertainment."

“You should just be shirtless all the time.” Kitty muses with a small smile. For the first time in days she doesn’t feel as though there’s a pressure sitting on her heart about their future. Maybe this is why people rave about talking through their feelings all the time. Pressing a kiss to his cheek, she pulled away. Sam loved her... He was willing to give up children for her. The least she could do was be honest with him. She takes a deep breath and diverts her eyes to anywhere but Sam. “I can’t sleep at other people’s houses because I wake up and panic.” She starts to tell him quietly. “It’s been like that since the 7th grade. I was at a church sleep over and...” Kitty paused, swallowing thickly at the memory and willing herself to finally let her boyfriend all the way in. “And when I woke up in the middle of the night, the youth pastor was in my sleeping bag. I didn’t know what to do... I should have panicked, I should have said something? But I didn’t. I was scared... And I trusted him. I told my parents a lot later and I guess he left town. But when I wake in the night now... I still feel his breath, Sam. And when I’m in a place that’s not my own, I just... It’s like I’m back there. I need the television on to sleep... But Sugar has given me this ridiculous sleep sound machine and I don’t know, it kind of works. As embarrassing as it is. I’m trying. For you, I’m trying.” She tells him, glancing up at his familiar face. “I’m not telling you this because I want you to feel sorry for me. God please don’t. But for a long time I haven’t trusted anyone? Not fully. I trust you though, Sam. Like I trust you more than I’ve ever trusted anyone before. I just... I needed you to know that.”

Sam watched her carefully as she pulled away, worried for a brief moment that she'd thought better of the whole thing and was going to run after all. But as she spoke, his worried transformed from worry to him to worry for her. "Kitty, if I'd known I wouldn't have pressed about you staying," he told her, and truthfully, maybe he did feel a little sorry for her in that moment. Not sorry for her, but sorry that she had to go through it, deal with it still. He scooted closer to her then, slowly wrapping an arm around her. "You can do whatever you need to be comfortable, you know that right? I'll put a TV in my room, or we can just always be here?" he felt like he was on the verge of rambling and reeled himself in by pressing a kiss to her temple. "I just want you to feel safe with me."

Kitty could count on one hand the amount of people who knew her full past. At least this part. And honestly, she liked it that way. Having this conversation to everyone she met would have been pure torture. But oddly? She’s not unhappy to have told Sam. It was almost as though there was nothing left to hide... and considering he worked to get to this point for over a year, he deserved to be let in. Kitty shrugged her shoulders, pressing her lips together in a sad smile as his arm wraps around her. “It’s okay. It was a long time ago, and I’m mostly over it. It’s just the whole sleeping thing, I guess... But the fact you don’t have a TV in your room freaks me out in general just FYI. If you weren’t so hot it probably would have been a deal breaker.” She tried to joke to eliminate some of the heaviness of the conversation. “I feel safe when I’m with you, Sammy.” She told him honestly, glancing up meet his eyes. “I feel a lot when I’m with you. Like way too much sometimes and I hate it, but I’ve never been scared of you hurting me, or scared of anything happening to me while you’re around. I promise... I mean, not that I can’t look after myself, but... you know...”

"I wanna look after you," Sam told her sincerely. He knew she didn't need him to. No one was going to cross Kitty Wilde and live to tell the story. But he was happy to stand her corner while she did it. Sam pressed a kiss into her shoulder and then to her cheek before sitting back and encouraging her back into his arms. Just the way the things were before the conversation, the way things should be on Bachelor night. "As for the TV thing, I've literally never had one. My parents didn't want us to have them in our rooms, so it's just never been a thing, you know?" Sam reached for his glass of champagne again and took a sip. "But I really will get one. If you want."

Independence had always come naturally to Kitty. She could look after herself. But having Sam on her side didn’t feel like a bad thing at all. Her eyes fluttered shut as his lips pressed tenderly against her skin, and without over thinking it she moved back to the position in his arms. “I want it.” She replied simply, stealing the champagne glass from his hand to take a sip. “It’s time to move into the 21st century, hot shot. Now pay attention to the Bachelor or you’re going to fail tomorrow’s test.”

[mittensmorgul]

1.18: Something Wicked. The one that reaches far back into the past to dig out the spiral narrative themes, Dean’s longstanding guilt, sacrifice, and Dean being the better parent than John by actually respecting the kid in the story enough to tell him the damn truth instead of using him as bait and weapon to kill the monster.

So this case begins when John again sends them anonymous coordinates, but Sam can’t find anything in the local news or police reports that would indicate a potential hunt. Everything in town seems normal at first, until they notice the dearth of children. And Dean begins to suspect what’s making them all sick, because he’s seen it before, when he was too young to know anything about the supernatural.

In flashbacks, we see a Dean who’s about nine years old, left alone in a motel room to care for five year old Sam, who’s more interested in Thundercats and Froot Loops than noticing the orders John leaves Dean with, the literal responsibility for Sam’s life that he lays on Dean’s shoulders.

With the context of Dean’s memories, it makes John’s random coordinates text message that sends them out to this case feel... accusatory and ice freaking cold. Not even a heads up about what they’ll be facing, not even a “I trust you’ll get it this time,” or any other sort of encouragement, or even a freaking lead. Just... with the context of the rest of the episode and Dean’s entire mental state throughout (and in his flashbacks), after the fact it stands as a stark sort of “Don’t you fuck this up again.”

And it’s clear that, through the retelling of that old story from their personal past, that John had absolutely used Sam as bait to lure the shtriga, but also literally left Dean there to be the weapon to kill it. His only instruction to Dean was “don’t take your eyes off Sammy,” and “shoot first, ask questions later.”

Remember, Dean is about nine freaking years old here, tops. And John put a shotgun in his hand and abandoned him to provide sole care of Sam for days. Sure, it can be argued that he was lurking nearby, waiting for the shtriga to strike, but he wasn’t lurking close enough to have noticed when Dean snuck out for a break to play a video game for a little while. Because Dean was a kid, and he was in no way prepared to play the role of sole caretaker for an indefinite period to a five year old.

I mean, I’m an adult, and even *I* would need a break and a few minutes to myself after days looking after my own kid, you know? Maybe Dean would’ve stuck it out if John had actually revealed his plan, or given him something other than a direct order that he expected to be obeyed without question or deviation. Like, John literally expected Dean to just sit there staring at Sam ceaselessly for days. Having no idea to expect this monster to show up, or what to do when it did.

How fucked up is that?

JOHN: I told you not to leave this room. I told you not to let him out of your sight! YOUNG DEAN watches sadly as JOHN cradles SAMMY. His face morphs back into present DEAN. DEAN: Dad just ... grabbed us and booked. Dropped us off at Pastor Jim's about three hours away, but by the time he got back to Fort Douglas the shtriga had disappeared, it was just gone. It never surfaced until now. You know, Dad never spoke about it again, I didn't ask. But he...ah...he looked at me different, you know? Which was worse. Not that I blame him. He gave me an order and I didn't listen, I almost got you killed.  SAM: (Softly) You were just a kid. DEAN: Don't. Don't. Dad knew this was unfinished business for me. He sent me here to finish it. SAM: But using Michael -- I don't know Dean. I mean, how 'bout one of us hides under the covers, you know, we'll be the bait. DEAN: No, it won't work. It's gotta get close enough to feed -- it'll see us. Believe me, I don't like it, but it's gotta be the kid.

But at least Dean didn’t just lurk in the shadows waiting for the monster. He actually gave Michael what John had never given him-- honesty, and a choice.

DEAN: I'd give anything not to tell you this, but sometimes nightmares are real. MICHAEL: So, why are you telling me? DEAN: Because we need your help. MICHAEL: My help? DEAN: We can kill it. Me and him, that's what we do. But we can't do it without you.

He goes on to detail exactly what has been happening, why his little brother is “sick,” and the monster that did this to them. At first, Michael refuses to help. He’s scared, he’s only a kid himself. And Dean and Sam accept that. But after a short time, Michael returns, hoping that killing the monster will return his little brother to good health. The key difference here was that it really was Michael’s choice. Not an order, not a manipulation followed by years of guilt.

This is a nice view of the spiral narrative of the Winchesters’ entire lives, another bit of proof that Dean’s a better man than his father ever was. It’s another reminder of just how different Sam and Dean’s life experiences were growing up, that Sam never had any idea that any of this had happened despite literally having been in the room the entire time. And just how Dean deals with the truths he’s learned the very hard way, in ensuring that other people come away from these traumatic run-ins with the supernatural with at least a modicum of choice in the matter.

SAM: It's too bad. DEAN: Oh, they'll be fine. SAM: That's not what I meant. I meant Michael. He'll always know there are things out there in the dark -- he'll never be the same, you know? (long pause) Sometimes I wish that.... DEAN: What...? SAM: I wish I could have that kinda innocence. DEAN: (Slowly) If it means anything, sometimes I wish you could too.

Sam doesn’t realize just how much Dean tried. But there’s only so long he could stand between Sam and the story of their lives.

[wrestlingisfake]

Triplemania XXVII preview

I always feel like I should cover more stuff from Mexico, but I just haven’t gotten the hang of lucha yet.  Nevertheless, AAA is running its biggest show of the year on Saturday, August 3 (9pm Eastern) and you can watch the whole thing live on their Twitch streams.

A word of caution: AAA has stream for both English and Spanish feeds, but the English announce team is Matt Stryker and Vampiro, and they’re pretty terrible at it.  I mean, I kinda hate most wrestling announce teams, but I’d rather listen to Corey Graves berate Alex Marvez while Don Callis puts himself over for four hours--Stryker and Vamp are that bad.  So while I know it’s tempting for newcomers to rely on the English commentary to figure out the product, I can’t recommend it in this case.  The Spanish announce team at least sounds like they’re calling pro wrestling and not recording a podcast while drunk.

Also, this show is probably gonna run pretty late into the night, and the August 4 G1 Climax show is going to start pretty early (2am Eastern), so if you’re planning on doing both you may be in for quite a marathon.

Blue Demon, Jr. vs. Dr. Wagner, Jr. - This is a lucha de apuestas (”match with wagers”).  If Demon loses, he will unmask and publicly announce his true identity.  If Wagner loses, he will have his head shaved.  Demon, 52, is undefeated in this type of match.  Wagner, 53, has only lost once, when he gave up his mask, although he more recently defended his hair in a match against Jeff Jarrett.  Wagner has suggested he will retire if he loses, but that’s not an official stip as far as I can determine.

Wagner originally issued a challenge to LA Park for this type of match at this show, but Park is notoriously difficult to work with and evidently he and AAA couldn’t come to terms on it.  I’m no expert on lucha libre but I’ve heard all about how hard it is to negotiate a match where masks and/or hair are at stake.  There’s a reason the main event of this show features two really old guys.  The credibility of keeping your mask well into your fifties is huge in Mexico, far beyond any championship.  I’m sure Wagner didn’t give that up cheap, and I doubt Demon will either.

On paper, you would expect the guy who is “just” wagering his hair to lose, since the masked man can only unmask the one time.  Even so, a head shaving means a lot more in Mexico than in the US.  So although I don’t expect much from the match, this should have some historic value, with a lot of genuine pride on the line.

Rey Fénix & Pentagón Jr. & Laredo Kid vs. Kenny Omega & Nick Jackson & Matt Jackson - Incidentally, Fenix and Pena are the AAA tag team champions, Fenix is the AAA heavyweight champion, and Laredo is both the AAA cruiserweight champion and one of the AAA trios champions.  So they’ve got like five belts among them, but none of them are being defended on this show.

This is a rematch from AEW’s Fyter Fest, where the Elite (Omega and the Young Bucks) defeated the Lucha Brothers and Laredo.  The Bucks and the Lucha Bros. have been feuding for months, most notably in a three-match series where the AAA tag team championship changed hands twice.  I don’t expect the Elite are in Mexico for any reason except to return the favor; Fenix, Penta, and Laredo should pick up the win this time.

Psycho Clown & Cody Rhodes & Cain Velasquez vs. Taurus & Texano, Jr. & ??? - Taurus and Texano are Los Mercenarios, who interrupted when Cody was announcing the AEW-AAA partnership on March 16.  They attacked Cody but Psycho Clown (one of the hottest babyfaces) made the save.

Velasquez is a 14-3 MMA fighter and a former UFC heavyweight champion, who also happens to be the guy who took the title from Brock Lesnar.  So this feels like an attempt to present the Psycho Clown team as a bit of a dream team, with a top babyface, a legit badass, and a major American star.  Seems like the heels need a really good ringer to match that, but I have no idea who it could be.

I gather Velasquez is sticking around to work several big AAA shows, so I assume he needs to get a win here, but that mystery partner has me wondering if there’ll be a swerve. 

Keyra vs. Tessa Blanchard vs. Taya Valkyrie vs. Lady Shani vs. Faby Apache vs. Chik Tormenta vs. La Heidra - Keyra is defending the women’s championship in a tables, ladders, and chairs match.  If it’s anything like an American TLC match, the title belt will be hung above the ring, and the only way to win is to be the first woman to climb a ladder to pull the belt down.  (Since that makes disqualifications impossible, any foreign object would be legal, but tables, ladders, and chairs will be provided for the wrestlers to use.)  I actually don’t remember if I’ve ever seen a Mexican ladder match, so the rules may be different.  We’ll just have to see.  Every AAA match I’ve seen so far suggests this will be a trainwreck, but at least it’ll be an interesting one.  No idea who wins.

El Hijo del Vikingo & Myzteziz, Jr. & Golden Magic vs. Mocho Cota, Jr. & Carta Brava, Jr. & Tito Santana vs. Pimpinela Escarlata & Mamba & Máximo - This is a three-way trios match, and I assume the first man to pin any of his opponents will win the match for his team, but I’m just kinda winging it when it comes to lucha rules.  Vikingo and Myzteziz are two of the AAA trios champions, but their championship partner is Laredo Kid, not Golden Magic, so the title is not at stake.

To get this out of the way, Myzteziz is not the guy who used to be Mistico/Sin Cara, and Tito Santana is not the guy that used to be in the WWF with the “Girls in Cars” video.  I’m not sure why you’d name a guy “Tito Santana,” unless it’s to be super random like “Razor Ramon Hard Gay,” which is probably not the case here.  Also Maximo is probably not the big cool titanosaur at the Field Museum of Natural History, but that would be pretty cool.

Vikingo and Myzteziz are from a trio called Jinetes del Aire (”air raiders”).  The Cota/Brava/Santana team is called El Nuevo Poder del Norte (”the new power of the north”) and the Escarlata/Mamba/Maximo team is called Las Fresas Salvajes (”the fresh strawberries”).  So...you know what, those strawberry guys must know something I don’t, that could be a secret weapon, I think I’m gonna just bet on those dudes.

Niño Hamburguesa & Big Mami vs. Sammy Guevara & Scarlett Bordeaux vs. Villano III, Jr. & Lady Maravilla vs. Australian Suicide & Vanilla - Mami and Hamburguesa are defending the AAA mixed tag team championship in a four-way match.  In the US “mixed tag team” has come to mean “you can only wrestle opponents of your own gender,” but from what I’ve seen AAA is more lax about that stuff, and this may be more like what US promotions would call “intergender tag team” wrestling.  I assume the first team to score a fall on any opponent wins the match and the title.

The only team I really know anything about is Guevara (from working the undercard in AEW) and Bordeaux (from beating up Disco Inferno on Impact).  I’m kinda curious how those two ended up together.  This looks like it’ll be undercard comedy wackiness, and I expect the champs to retain.

Copa Triplemania battle royale - This is for the “Triplemania Cup” trophy.  The last time I saw a battle royale in AAA, everybody came out one at a time like in a Royal Rumble, and they were doing eliminations by pinfall, and Jeff Jarrett looked drunk and I think they fucked up the finish a couple of times.  I don’t have high hopes for this one.

[thebisexualmandalorian]

Question 1 for Sam, 2 for Cody, 3 for Garbage Cat, 4 for Grey, 5 for Sam and so on!

Under a cut for length!

1. Name? 

Sam, Samson, Samwise, Sammy, Old Man, Handsome Boy, Sweet Baby.

2. Fur color?

Cody is ORANGE.  THE ORANGEST BOY.

3. Any family you know (other than you)

Answered here!

4. Age?

Grey’s almost two!

5. Favorite toy?

Sam likes fishing toys a lot.

6. Nicknames?

BABY BOY, MY SON

7. Cinnamon roll or problematic fave?

The most problematic of faves.  Garbage Cat is made of cuteness and straight-up evil.  She wants to destroy every other cat and also me.

8. Length of fluff?

Short!  Grey has a short, very silky coat.

9. Any funny habits?

Sam needs head bumps all the time.  Whenever he sees me for the first time every day, I have to sit down so he can stretch up and bump his forehead against mine.

10. How old were they when you met?

We think Cody was around eight months.

11. What does their food bowl look like?

Dollar Tree cat bowl with pictures of fish on it, or straight out of the bucket, lol.

12. Indoor or outdoor cat?

We’re trying to transition Grey to being an inside cat.

13. Recent picture?

14. Old picture?

15. Cuddly?

Garbage Cat only cuddles when I pick her up so she can watch mom cook.

16. Ever changed their name?

Nope!  He’s always been Grey.

18. Eye color?

Sam has the prettiest green eyes.

19. How do they express love for you?

Cody follows me everywhere, screaming, and he’ll fling himself into my lap.  He stretches up to try to grab my hand.  He purrs.  He is the lovingest baby boy.

20. How do you express love for them?

I feed Garbage Cat wet food and treats and throw bouncy balls for her. 

21. Any theories on what breed?

Whatever bizarre breed gave Grey a curved, pointy nose and made him smol.

22. Do they ever wake you up?

Sam does wake me up sometimes, lol.

23. How much do they meow?

So much.  Cody loves to squeak at me when he thinks I’m not paying attention.

24. Any hiding spots?

Garbage Cat got her nickname from sleeping in the trash can, but she also likes to snuggle under blankets.  We have to pat the beds to make sure she isn’t asleep under the quilt before we sit down.

25. Do they enjoy guests?

Nope.  Grey can warm up to people, but he gets spooked when they’re new.

26. Lofty objects to sit on?

Sam doesn’t really like being up high, mostly because he’s an Elderly Gentlecat and it’s hard for him to get up and down.

27. Wear a collar? (and describe collar?)

Cody had a sparkly red collar, but it disappeared and I keep forgetting to replace it.

28. How much shedding?

Garbage Cat sheds so much, jesus christ.

29. Do they enjoy brushing?

Hahaha nope, Grey hates it.

30. Ever drink from the toilet?

Sam is far too fancy for that.  (Also we keep the lids closed so they can’t, lol)

31. How do they get your attention?

Cody flings himself into my legs and tries to climb me. 

32. Embarrassing thing they’ve done?

Embarrassing for me or her?  Garbage Cat has no shame.  

33. Weirdest thing they try to eat?

Grey doesn’t really like anything super weird, but he has stolen the breading from chicken fingers.

34. Are they like your siblings, children, or friends?

Sam is my best friend.

35. What time do they eat breakfast?

Cody usually eats around six in the morning, when dad feeds them.

36. Do you cut their nails?

Dude, I don’t want to die.

37. Do you think they understand you?

I look at Grey and I just know that there’s nothing going on in that tiny, tiny head.  

38. Ever make fun of them?

How could I make fun of someone as dignified as Sam?

39. Do you take their picture often?

I take so many pictures of Cody.

40. Ever hiss at you?

Garbage Cat doesn’t bother hissing, she skips straight to attempted homicide.

41. Ever try to scratch or bite you?

Grey would never.  

42. If you try to grab their paw, what do they do?

Sam bites for that kind of offense.  He hates having his gigantic snowshoe paws touched.

43. Do they ever eat bugs?

Yep.  Cody looooves chasing crane flies.

44. Canned or dry food?

Both!  Garbage Cat gets a specially selected diet of grain-free dry and wet food because she is a special baby who’s allergic to at least one grain. 

45. Weight?

We haven’t weighed Grey but he is Tiny.  

46. Ever got lost?

Sam’s given us a few scares.

47. Do you buy them presents?

Yep!

48. Do they respond when you call?

Garbage Cat only responds to the sound of a can opening or a treat bag being shaken.

49. Do they ever see other cats?

Grey has his family outside, and Cody is his Bestest Friend Ever.  He tries to be friends with Garbage Cat and Sam, but that way only ends in sadness.

50. Declawed?

HELL NO.

51. Funniest expression?

The look she gave us the day we brought her home:

52. Favorite place to be pet?

Grey loves head scritches.

53. Worst thing they’ve destroyed?

Sam is a chronic pisser-on of scratching pads, so we can’t have those in the house anymore.

54. Give them a head kiss.

Cody squeaked at me.

55. What time of the year is most exciting for them?

Garbage Cat loves cold weather.  She runs laps when it gets below 70 degrees.

56. Are they good at hunting real prey?

One time, I went out to the back yard to bring Grey in, and he was eating a rat as big as him.  So... yeah.

57. Do they ever attack nothing?

Sam is pretty chill tbh.

58. What are they doing right now?

Just chilling.

59. How long have you had them?

Since October of 2015.  Garbage Cat was my halloween kitten.

60. If you could have them stay as a kitten forever, would you?

I mean... Grey basically is a kitten.  He’s smol and full of energy.

61. Ever baby-talk to them?

All the goddamn time.

62. Favorite napping position?

Cody loves to sleep stretched out on his back, with his paws curled up against his chest.

63. Have you ever stepped on their paw?

YES AND I FELT LIKE A MONSTER

64. Ever tripped you on stairs?

We don’t have stairs but I am 100% certain that if we did, Grey would trip me on them.

65. Any ear hair?

SAM HAS THE BEST EAR TUFTS

66. Favorite view from a window?

Cody doesn’t really like windows that much.

67. Describe why they are precious.

Garbage Cat is so funny, and she has the cutest little mrrps when she’s watching people cook or when she wakes up.

68. Fit the cat stereotype?

Grey is more like a very strange and friendly ferret than a cat.

69. Chaotic neutral?

Sam is Lawful Good.

70. Do they enjoy following/ keeping you company?

Holy shit yes.  Cody always has to be where I am, and I can’t do anything without him getting up to follow me.

71. Are you their favorite human? 

HAHAHA NO.  I barely rank in the top ten, and Garbage Cat only knows like six people.

72. Do they like tv?

Grey will watch bird videos for hours if I put them on.

73. Favorite noise to make?

This horrible parrot-like squawk.  I love it.

74. If they were a Neko Atsume cat, what would their momento be?

A small heart-shaped plush.

[jdmainman123]

No is the report going to read the white hair girls have kissed me and offered me more sex than the black and white skin girls or let's just say then the black girls did in 15 years

Yeah in handcuffs they weren't allowed to talk you remember that when you were black hair ask your lesbian black sister in handcuffs after the incidents they were not allowed to talk I think it was there allowed to smile in front of the men out of respect for the boys yeah they don't say anything about the black mass cuz they want to forget about it and they want us to only focus on the whites

It's too easy it's easier than the black girl

I was saying I think you're making up cuz the story was he was only in Las Vegas with the black hair whites and girls and we refer to you as desert city one desert City 2 if you say it with desert city 3 and desert 34 it's not as many blacks can men I could promise you that if you say Las Vegas one Las Vegas too

Using the house right next to that house right next to that house it's on the same block and desert city one desert city too is at least an airplane away and get this a timeline of less black skin people

The ladder I just how do you know about the ladder

But I think this this white hair girl is is too young to fear black hair white son she's too smart she's too innocent

She has flirted with me in ways that the black hair or the black hair white skin girls flirt with me in LAX it was a bloodbath because one of the boys leaked keeping me up would get the pimple off of my penis and it worked the pimple moved down to my ball sack and then it started making me s*** like crazy and I still follow that tiny little button right on the bottom

Silver one day I'm going to show you girls with that tiny button on the bottom of my ball sack when you touch it

What it really does Hillary said you guys couldn't get over it I don't know if she said you guys couldn't get over 4 in of what is it a balloon you guys are in your hand what is it a tiny balloon

On a size chart of tits what is it an A cup no matter how big it is 2 in 3 in

Yeah you couldn't get over it is what they said

Z I don't know I think the whole problem is here the timeline is over for the misstatement to be the white hair boys white skin boys that would never go away

Yeah but black doesn't have a daughter

Okay go around having his black man protect gold so that's why we all rejected his offers to go into snow from Dallas yeah he offered us all 16 and 24 bedroom houses satellite maker offered us a each and every one of us salad operators our own church and he was serious about this raise our own white hair white skin family

P but a black skin man was going to be texting his white skin man and we couldn't say the word daughter in the entire city our entire life will be held on to by a gunshot or a broken bone incident if he said dead daughter one time

Yeah so we quit going to a golden camp when we came strictly black hair white and camp you got to do s*** here bro you can actually s*** on the sidewalk out here in front of a group of white hair babies and they don't give a s*** bro they smell different

That white hair girl has crossed the line that a black girl has never crossed outside with me and ask in 15 years remind you it's not only Las Vegas guys remember I was in Chicago 15 Atlanta 10 peach Street 13 Chicago 15 and a half and I get this like we were thrown into the desert city because they're afraid of Los Angeles all these cities are afraid of New York

Every one of these cities including Los Angeles 3/4 no they don't because they got all you cities to what is coronavirus and sent all their men in from their city with covid black really wanted that video Sammy really wanted that video of everything they see and then he gets all the boys $100,000 of them has to feed them and give them girls and it's the same f****** covid his boys have it no matter what age 10 years old they've seen every video 20 years old it's the same covid

And the 911 is declared because all the Chicago and Atlanta all of them run into New York we saw the road we saw the the vein on the side of the building you can mimic the Sears Tower but we're not going to LAX before that's some b******* bro the first time I was kidnapped in Chicago 3/4 I looked up and I said this is the antecedent to Chicago

Right down to the Union station and in that building's in LAX 24th the Sears Tower only the one f****** building like the Washington monument

It's it's right in the beginning of the airport right in front of the airport that one building the Sears Tower and nothing but tiny houses around it

So if you're not tell me there's no other antecedence to Boston 50 degrees year round the way they made that ice chill right off of the water and my yachts banged back and forth and it was not one tiny 3/4 house and it said they can't hear you here because there's no tiny 3/4 facility and 3/4 is an accident a portable bathroom

And all they have to do is drop a bomb on the sewer the X right in the middle of the road and it destroys your entire house underground not the apartments the 3/4 apartments above it the house the architecture will still be fine but that bomb in the middle of the sewer the X spot is going to blow a hole in the tunnel and it's going to come crashing like like air and ruin like the half of your house down there

So this is not all about LAX 3/4 we're not we're not going to your New York

You're not going to rip me away from China the princess that I fell in love with that I asked for her hand in marriage because puck puck

Have you guys ever seen the Mexican girl act like a the Italian girl it's the same green and red and white for you to stick me into some some Mexican tiny City again with a bunch of Mexican black and white skin girls pretending to be Italian with that one picture

There's one thing you guys can't recreate that all these cities here 3/4 had one thing missing they had all trains even the snow cities had one thing missing zz THE VIRGIN STORY WITH THE GIRLS YOU CAN'T CHANGE A CHINESE GIRL'S FACE THERE'S NO WAY IN THE WORLD THE MEXICANS CAN RECREATE IT THERE'S NO WAY IN THE WORLD THE ITALIANS CAN RECREATE A CHINESE GIRL FACE WITH A BROWN EYES AND HAVE THE SLEEPING GIRL VIRGIN STORY

Other than gay son two men and sunlight sitting on the corner just dancing in front of circle K

[curious-minx]

The Art Patron (SHORT STORY)

Somewhere in between purchasing a full set of decorative Simpsons plates, a perfectly cromulent companion to my custard yellow walls, and generating writing prompts for aspiring writers to never do, I made a discovery that will change my life forever. 

My love language is tinsel wrapped gifts of the highest and personal order. I wanted my lady love to have a very special Kansas Day. She wasn’t from Kansas, nor did she care much for the Simpsons. She liked them just fine. Oh! A fellow is offering the artistic service of turning “ME!” into a Simpson! My walls could use all of the soggy rubber ducky yellow art it can get and seeing as the only pictures I have of myself are in the womb I think this would be one step closer to adulthood. Click, yes, sir please Turn Me into a Simpson button. Huh…$500. That’s really steep. I close the laptop and pace  around my small, growing increasingly smaller bedroom, and  I trip over a foam dumb bell. I am black and bruised. I have even made myself start bleeding. Dammit I guess I have no choice but to turn myself into a Simpson now. How else will I remember how I looked before I broke my face, but I don’t own any pictures of myself!

I have been grocery shopping recently at Sal’s Little Big Sega Bodega! She’s surely got me on camera. I huff down the thirty six flights of my storied building and tip my doorman handsomely. Listen to the heels click and clatter, Big City Blues are calling me. Sal’s Little Big Sega Bodega is one of the only approachable monuments to commerce on this fiscally icy block. I waltzed right in through the copyright infringing doors and blast a salutations to Sal herself. Sal puffs on a waterlogged stodgy and turns a page in a dirty magazine about Russian propaganda. There is a man dressed up in a Sonic the Hedgehog suit cleaning up a bloody mess pooling around the cramped store.

The man dressed as Sonic tells me,“Surf’s up, homie.” The gory puddle ripples and soaks. I step around armed with an armful of Clickers, a steady Shenmue stress ball and a  pre-wrapped Alex Kidd Enchanted Castle hoagie, I will have to pick out the pickled capers but it’s still a nice mayo dense sammie.

“Sal, fair clerkess I am hoping you are having a good day.” I am going to crack into the Sal safe one chit at a chat.

“Nope. Keep it moving, kid. Take your change.” She slides my change across the counter and even though I typically despise when people refuse to make hand to hand contact with lending of money I can accept Sal when she does this. She has clearly lived a life.

“I understand, the ToeJam and Earl flavored condoms don’t stock themselves.”

Sal snaps back, “Look-I know you appreciate all of this geeky shit, but this is my livelihood.”

“Sal, I really think you should take an improv class. You would learn not to start all of these customer interactions marinated in sea salt brine saltier than Ecco the Dolphin’s home...I will see myself out.” Damn I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t ask for a simple favor. An old woman with a brawny  pale tattooed man on leash has entered the store just as I am leaving. The old woman takes off her wig, revealing a bald shiny head and a pistol. She begins shoving the pistol at Sal. Sonic turns on the Jet Set Radio to full blast and slips in the bloody puddle.

I don’t want to call the police, but I call the police.

“Hello, I don’t like you.”

“911, what is your emergency.” The tone of the pig operator is harsh and accusatory. I try to swallow, but I am choking on my enchanted hoagie.

“Bang! Bang! Cops and robbers! 72nd and Pacific Ave! Be here or be square!” I hang up the phone and in my burst of adrenaline have to remind myself to not smash my own phone. I go around the corner and wait for the cops who show up. Hours go by and the Sega bodega burns, robbed and pillage. What a world. The cops finally show up when they finally feel like it and are asking Sal the typical useless questions.

“An old woman and her lackey robbed me blind and you’re just going to file some paperwork?!”

“Listen, sweetheart, this is a big bad world. Shit happens. Buck up.” Office Doomsdairy tips his cardboard hat at Sal and takes a Chocolate Milk that has one of the Super Monkey Ball Monkeys winking on the carton. The cop chugs the whole milk carton and slides Sal a twenty.

“Buy yourself something happy, you look like a miserable bitch. Also, I grew up in a Nintendo household you’re lucky I don’t arrest you for being on the wrong side of the console wars! God dammit! I hate all of these sexual harassment protocols! I used to have a partner I could wisecrack to! Thank you for calling 911, have a nice day.” The cop is leaving and I puff my chest like a mighty Maine puffin and say to the officer, “Wait!”

The cop responds, “Dude, I’m on break. Buzz off.”

“No officer, you should take a look at the security camera footage. You will see that Sal isn’t lying!”

“Yeah, sure whatever.” The filthy cop and I go back inside and now with the Wrong side of the Law by my side I can finally get my security camera footage.

“Why don’t you just take a picture of yourself? You have a phone don’t you?” Asks a nagging insipid voice that sounds rough and grainy against my thoughts. I shove the voice away and continue standing by the dirty Lawman’s side.

“So uh I think I need to see the security livestream. You do have a security camera right?”

“Yes, officer, I have security.”  Sal makes a throat cutting motion over to the Sonic man behind her who sadly puts away his Golden Axe. Sal lifts open her gate for the officer to step through and he immediately turns on the bathroom security footage and begins fast tracking and rewinding the footage stopping at every womanly shape. He does this for a while and clutches at his foam padded pants.

“Hey kid, this technology bewilders me. Maybe you should find the crime.” The cop stretches and scrolls through his phone while I fumble with this alien technology hoping to click the right video feed. I eventually stumble, click onto a feed of the main entryway and rewind to the robbery. I look over and notice that the cop is injecting himself with a violent red powder and kicking at Sal’s managerial locker. I rewind further and find a good headshot of myself prior to my accident. Seeing as I stop in every day it doesn’t take long for me to find yesterday’s beautiful face. I cringe and take out my own phone and take a picture of my image on the security camera display monitor. I fast forward back over to the unfolding of the crime. Another cop appears, Officer Wrathsberg.

“Fuckin hurry up Doom! What’s the hold up? You jerking off to potty pics again? And who the hell is this civilian? Get out of here!” I take my leave and hurry back home with a visage of myself in tow. I tip my doorman again and rush back up my thirty six flights of stairs. Back home. My plants are still wilting, my cat still isn’t back from her shopping trip, and my walls are still the color of Big Bird’s sperm. I upload a picture of a picture of myself and take another $500 out of my savings. I am going to be turned into a Simpsons.

The Simpsonfy me fill out form is of a considerable depth. They want to know a lot of personal information that I am frankly insulted no one has ever asked me about before. Some questions make me reconsider my entire worldview. I am going to be one terrific Simpson. I finish the survey and look for a way to tip the artist, but their cryptic Paypal does not offer a tip button so I add on an extra $25 to the $500. I wait. In the amount of time it takes for someone to open and close an app I get a response.

“Thanks. I will see you tonight.”

“Wait, what?” I say out loud and really wish I hadn’t. Going to take hours to get this kind of negative energy out of my house. I type up, “No thanks, please find attached the photograph of my visual likeness to assist you on what I am sure to be a lovely portrait. Thanks again and I hope you have a nice Kansas day!”

I close my laptop and masturbate because I am grateful for being an artistic patron. I feel what Walt Disney must have felt every time he flexed and brought a new animated confection to the world. The wait for the portrait will be excruciating.

My lady love, who is totally not my sister, Franchesca has returned home! I rush to the front door like a toddler puppy hybrid too cute for his own good embracing the warm glow of the Feminine return, and she grunts out a hello. She peels off every article of clothing off from her body and leaves it behind like a scorned Pompei cast away and excuses herself to the shower. I bend down and sweep up her sticky and sweet bundle of clothes and fold them into the clothing hamper. I wait for her shower and she joins me in the rhomboid rumpus (and rumble) room clad in nothing but her Parisian robe.

“So, how was your day?” asks Franchesca, and I look into the depths of her expansive molasses colored eyes.

“Pretty good! I got you a Kansas Day gift! Do you want to open it now or later?” I hand her the wrapped stack of decorative Simpsons plates.

“Um sure? Kansas Day? Is this because I told  you about that anime convention orgy I attended in Kansas? Either way, it is appreciated.” She unravels my gift which is wrapped in such a way to provide a user-friendly experience. She stares  at the top plate on the stack, Lisa and Bleeding Gums Murphy saxing together in the moonlight. The best plate. Franchesca puts it down, not even considering the other four plates in the set.  

“Thanks so much! I am sure one of these will look great hanging up on her walls the color of sick lemon. The purples will work real nicely. Now if you don’t mind me I think I will have a nice lie down for awhile. Wake me if you need anything.” Franchesca retires to her separate bed chambers leaving the pile of decorative plates and wrapping paper. I don’t bother picking them up. I don’t know what sort of reaction I was expecting, but this one left me cold. At the very least she could have dramatically smashed one against my head if she hated them so much. I slink away to the liquor cabinet.

I bend down to the  liquor cabinets’ sleepy filigree doors and whisper into them, “I will take one big and brown, please.” I take out a mostly full bottle of pre-made Whiskey Sour. Too many times I have gotten super sloshed making my own cocktails and making a huge mess in the kitchen, and as anyone who has ever met me always leaves with one and only one impression: “I can tell that he’s not the biggest fan of messes.” I messily chug straight from the bottle until I sputter out the synthetic 65% concoction. I pour another glass in a frosted novelty glass of a franchise I don’t even like and sink into my chaise beanbag lounge. At least when I wake up I will finally be a Simpson.

////

My throat is too dry to swallow. My eyes, too blurry and caked over to blink. My arms were too roped and bound to move. I try to speak but only weakness comes out. Every inch of my body feels like it is experiencing a tingly chemical burn. I produce a groan! That’s progress. The room isn’t spinning, but it’s not a stable clear image for me either.

“Congratulations Mister Branche, you’ve officially been made into a Simpson.”

“Dooough.” I am trying to ask what the hell is going on, but my mouth is also too heavily caked over in a rubbery mask to move. My vision is starting to reappear and I am not too sure I want to keep seeing what I am seeing.

“Hush, now do you want an official Simpson name? I was thinking Albert Sacksworth, but I am always open to my clients suggestions. No rush, but I will need a decision in less than twenty four hours if we are going to sign your official Simpsons birth certificate.

“Dooough.” I am trying to say that this is an outrage and as a fellow literalist I am sickened by this criminal negligence, untie me you scoundrel!

I am released into the world as a Simpson character. I only have eight fingers now. I will use all eight of these fingers to climb my way back into my lady loves’ arms.

The End.