#i only got $70 for my paycheck

[boilingheart]

that's it. im writing a suicide note on linkedin

[squintsintwink]

Cyberpunk 2077 is my favorite anti-capitalist game that I spent 70 dollars to play

[martyrbat]

oh tracy chapman we're really in it now....

[victory-cookies]

the devastating part of loving to give gifts is I have spent so much fucking money on every god damn thing ppl have asked for for Christmas. Today alone I spent $80 to buy kirby planet robobot for my friend. I am very glad I did. I now have zero moneys

[rubyvhs]

remedy (viii) — sam winchester

> prev, masterlist

summary: you find sam ten years later, or he finds you, and things change forever— tags: major character deaths, 70% angst, i broke my own heart, case-fic, grieving, mourning, slow burn, praying, very long 13k, though it’s extremely fast paced. general surgeon!fem!reader.

ten years later

“Hey, Miss Moseley,” you call out as the older woman smiles at you and Emmy, it’s the same warm gesture every end of the week as you and your daughter pick up the groceries.

“Hey, sugar. How’s my little angel?” She leans down to kiss your daughter's head, seeing as you’d made it clear to every living, breathing person that no one gets to kiss her anywhere but there. “Oh and how’s Mark? I heard about the promotion he got, that’s wonderful, truly.”

It was unexpected, but yes, your husband got the biggest promotion of his career working at the law firm in town. Obviously you’ve never been prouder (except maybe when your oldest said ‘mama’ first) but it has been with its ups and downs. He stays later nights and it’s a lot more pressure, though now you don’t exactly live paycheck by paycheck, even if you haven’t been doing that anyways, but now you really don’t and you’re grateful. 

“He’s great, thank you. You heard right, I'm proud of his hard work.” She shakes her hand around as if to tell you ‘who cares’ and you know the woman well enough to guess what she’s about to say next.

“And the pay?” Yeah, you were right.

“We’re grateful, Miss Moseley. Thank you for checking in.” You reply politely as the last of her things are ringed up and the cashier shops her away. She kisses your cheek as a goodbye as you ring your things up.

“She means well, you know.” The eighteen year old says from behind the counter and you can’t help but laugh. Not exactly at her, but, you know.

“Of course she does, Missouri is a sweetheart, we’re just not too sure about things ourselves. How are you doing in your senior year?” You deflect.

“‘M okay. Just passed my English final and Maths— Biology and Chemistry are what's left.” She replies, waving to Emmy. She laughs, waving back with an enthusiasm she saves especially for teenage girls. “Hopefully I can actually graduate this year.”

“You will, sweetheart,” you reassure, the nickname coming easy to you. It always did. “I’m sure of it. Call me anytime, okay?” She nods with a smile, handing you back your card and you carry the bags to the car. 

Emmy’s holding onto your blue dress, with little white flowers all over it, the one you like to wear most of the time considering how hot it’s been getting. Though your older daughter doesn’t mind the heat (for whatever unholy reason), the rest of you are minding it a whole damn lot, you begged Mark to let you change practically your entire closet and he hadn’t argued much. 

When the bags are in the trunk you strap Emmy in the back and turn on a country playlist Mark had made you a while ago. Though when you listen to it it reminds you of your days in Stanford. 

As you park your jeep, you can feel your throat constrict and the tip of your nose redden. It’s hard not to notice the shiny black impala in your drive way. And it is there. Just there. Who put it there? Why would the universe torture you like this? What the hell even kind of joke is this—

“Mommy?” Emmy whines out, clearly starting to feel the effect of the heat with the A/C working only halfway. 

“Yeah, baby.”

“Wanna show Daddy.” She says as she waves her iPad to show you the drawing she made. You should, in fact, go inside. And find out what the hell he’s doing in your house. 

When you take Emmy’s hand it takes everything in you to control your breathing. You’ve been better than when you were in college. It had been— a rough couple of years to say the least, but you powered through them with a determination you didn’t know you had in you. Then you started your internship and found Mark, you had dated for a year before he proposed and of course you had said yes. Now, he’s coming back and he’ll— God, you just know that he’s going to ruin everything you’ve worked so hard to bring together. 

Emmy runs through the door and straight to her dad with a yell. “Baby, no shouting.” You lecture loosely, shutting the door behind you as the three men in your living room stand up to greet you, Emmy already forgetting about her drawing and running up to her room.

And that’s when you decide how you should approach it. It’s the only way nothing will turn sour. “Hey, what’s wrong?” You eye your husband, leaning in to kiss his cheek. You haven’t even looked at them yet but their presence is all consuming that you actually gulp before Mark puts a hand in your back so you’re facing them.

You find his eyes first. And it looks like he hasn’t taken his eyes off of you the entire time. You don’t hear a single damn thing your husband is saying because you and Sam are staring into the other’s eyes in a way that makes you think you may be cheating right in front of him. 

Sam’s changed so drastically that it brings you to a violent halt. His hair’s the first thing you notice, it’s grown to just above his shoulder, and it’s tamer, no more of that shaggy haircut he had ruffled everywhere. It fits him with the black suit he has on, that and his height. You’ve grown maybe an inch, he looks so much taller. Maybe you’re imagining it, maybe he just looks that good, either way, it’s mesmerizing.

When Mark says your name twice you snap out of it, shaking your head with a hum.

“Agents Plant and Page.” Agents who the fuck now?

“Excuse me— what?” Your husband narrows his eyes at you, but when you don’t budge he lets out a small awkward laugh. 

“I’m sorry, agents, it’s the heat, really bad this week and she gets these migraines.”

Sam nods, completely professional and understanding as he talks to your husband, “We understand. I know how migraines can be,” yeah, ‘cause you used to have them, “it’s no problem. We should get going, we’ve already taken up too much of your time.”

“Oh. I thought you said you wanted to talk to my wife. I can go get the bags from the car, leave y’all to it.”

“That’s really not—”

Dean doesn’t hesitate to cut Sam off, “Yes, that would be good. Thank you.”

Mark kisses your lips this time and you’re stunned for a second before kissing back, but it’s brief and he nods at the gentlemen in politeness before leaving. You’re left with both of them. “Dean,” You announce shakily, “Sam.” 

“Hey, sweetheart.” Dean smiles, like it’s nostalgic to see you, and you suppose it is. You’re not angry with either of them, especially not Dean. Despite his flirty nature, he hadn’t been rude to you and he’d respected you every time you met him. He moves past the coffee table to take your hand but you, to your absolute fucking surprise, pull him in for a hug. 

Dean’s grown up too. He looks it, his voice is way lower, his stubble and those damn suits they're both wearing. He lets out a laugh, hugging back. “Haven't seen you in ages.” 

“Yeah,” he sighs, releasing your grip to place a quick kiss in your hair. When he moves away, Sam’s standing behind him. He looks— all 6 foot something of him— awkward and unsure and it might be the most heartbreaking thing you’ve seen. Sam’s changed in appearance, he’s grown up, sure, but at Stanford he was confident. He wasn’t cocky but he knew his stuff and didn’t back down, this Sam’s curling up into himself the second you came in the room (or when you first bothered to look at him anyway). 

“Hey, Sam.” You smile, repeating the same gesture you had with Dean, except it’s different, so so different with him. His hand’s on your waist, yours wrapped around his neck. The same way you hug everyone else. Then why does his embrace feel more intimate? And his cologne, God. 

He pulls away a few seconds later (maybe, who know, it could have been hours). 

“We didn’t know—”

“Yeah, I figured as much with the whole agents thing.” You’re not stupid, you’ve seen the news, Dean and Sam are wanted in some states, for a long list that you never bothered checking for the sole reason that you never thought you’d see them and you had such an exceptional picture of them in your head that you didn’t want to ruin it.

But the truth is, you also don’t believe that they would do it. Sam and Dean wanted for theft? Murder? you don’t buy it. Sam had told you how dangerous his job was, you know it has to come with consequences. 

“So why are you here?”

“We’re investigating something.” You frown. No animal attacks here as far as you know.

“Investigating what?”

“There was a girl. She died in the neighborhood last year, Carla.” 

Your face falls and you cross your arms in front of your chest. “Get out.” Dean’s eyes widen, clearly taken aback by your sudden change in tone. “Get out, both of you.”

“Hey—”

“No, you’re joking. You came in here to ask my husband about his dead niece. And you made him think you’re fucking FBI, which is illegal by the way, Mr. Stanford Lawyer. And for what? Is this all just for fun?” You’re praying your voice doesn’t get too loud but you can’t help the pit of anger in your stomach. They can’t do this. They can’t.

“That’s not what we’re doing,” Sam speaks up, his eyebrows furrowed together. Sam speaks in a much lower tone than he did in Stanford. It’s less urgent, more patient and understanding. He’s listening more than he is talking. It’s a noticeable change from the man you once knew, “we’re trying to find out what happened to her, I swear. We’re here to help.”

“Well, sorry to break it to you, but there haven’t been any animals around lately so this isn’t up your alley— which by the way, fuck you both.” You don’t remember ever being this immature but damn it, do the Winchesters get a ride out of you. “You’re both lying to my husband and expect me to do what? Welcome you with open arms?” The fact that you did goes unsaid.

There’s a deadly kind of silence that overcomes the three of you. You’re waiting for an explanation, they’re looking at each other like they don’t want to give one, and your oldest daughter just woke up from her nap and is walking down the stairs. She’s on the last step, rubbing the sleep from her eyes when she notices the two big men in suits and frowns. “Mommy…” she mumbles, clearly ready to go back upstairs.

At least the kid has good instincts. “Hey, sweetheart.” You smile slightly, leaving both of them in the living room to walk over to her, kneeling down. “What’s wrong? Why are you up?”

“Sound. Where’s daddy?”

“Outside. You wanna go and play with Emmy or are you gonna go back to sleep?” She shrugs, looks back at Sam and Dean then you, questions written all over her pretty little face. “Those are the police, they’re trying to help us. It’s okay, you can go back upstairs and I’ll bring you a snack, okay?” She nods and you get up, kiss her head, and let her run back upstairs.

When you face them, not moving closer, they both get the message. You want to say it’s easy, watching them walk to the front door, kicking them out, losing Sam again. But it isn’t. And you can’t help what you do next. 

“Sam,” it’s just his name. That’s all you said, but God, you can practically feel how tense he just got, standing in place. He looks at Dean who nods in understanding and walks out of the house. Sam faces you, you’re closer than you think you should be.

“I never wanted to hurt you. Or Mark. And— Dean and I, we had no idea this was your house or that she was your niece—”

“Mark’s niece.”

“Right. We didn’t know. We asked around and they gave us Mark's last name, we thought it was a coincidence. And there’s no pictures—”

“I don’t like hanging pictures in the house.” You cut him off, not sure why you’re confessing like it’s a sin, but the need to explain yourself to Sam has apparently not gone away completely. He nods in understanding and sighs. “I didn’t mean to kick you guys out, I just hate how much you’ve lied to me, and I don’t even know why, I don’t even know what it’s about.”

He slips up, “Baby, I wish I could tell you—”

“You don’t get to call me that.” Maybe it’s Stanford all over again. Have you really grown up? Have you really changed for the better? Will you ever be able to let go of Sam? You haven’t thought about him for a long time, but seeing him in front of you— in fact you haven’t thought of him since you two broke up. Maybe you’re not mentally ready for this.

But more than that, you’re not letting anyone get between you and your husband.

“I know.” He groans, rubbing a hand over his face, “I know. I’m sorry.” 

“Yeah, me too. I hope you guys find out what happened with Carla.” 

Sam’s about to say something. A rebuttal, probably. Maybe then you can both have an actual conversation. But he decides against it and opens the door, walking out. 

Wouldn’t be the first time.

You see him nod at Mark and Dean end the conversation with your husband to get back in the impala. You watch them drive off before shutting your eyes, grounding yourself. You need to calm down. Obviously, you told Mark that you talked to someone before, and had a brief relationship with them, it wasn’t a secret, but you don’t think he knows that it’s the same guy who just pretended to be FBI and talked to him about his niece. 

“What did they ask about?” Your husband asks as he gets inside, Emmy on his right while he's holding two hands full of groceries. 

“Carla. You didn’t tell them she was your niece?” Now that you notice it, they were surprised to find out Carla's in any way related to you and Mark. He shrugs and moves to the kitchen but you follow him with a frown. “Why?”

“‘Cause they wouldn't take it seriously. The police thought I was overreacting since we were related but the FBI actually listened, and they believed me. I don’t want them to think emotions are taking over.” And the mocking way he says the word makes your heart clench.

You fell in love with Mark pretty quickly— or, he fell in love with you. And you eventually did too, with the sweet gestures and the kind comments, he was an incredible man, an even better husband that you’re proud to call yours. But he also had some issues, and trouble when it came to his family. While you guys do live in the same neighborhood as them, he doesn't like them. And for good reason, they're assholes. But he does love them.

He isn’t actually an ‘emotional guy’ and to label him as such— well, Mark is old-school. He won’t do well with that. His manhood and all that— and you’re not even saying it in a condescending way, you know how he was raised, it’s the one thing he’ll never back down from. But he’s been so good to you over the past five years, you’ve had your ups and downs, of course you did, but you couldn’t think of a better husband.

Can you? Can you think of someone you’d love more and want to spend the rest of your life with more than Mark? The man who traveled all the way back to your home country to ask your father for your hand in marriage? 

“I’m— I’ll get started on dinner. They seem like good people, and they’re looking into it.” You smile slightly, leaning up to give him a quick kiss, putting the groceries away, your oldest daughter has come down to even help you and spend time with Emmy.

And maybe you shouldn’t. Maybe you should just take it to the grave, but God, you can’t help but call Gen’s number when it’s ten and you’re on your couch all alone. Mark is out with friends, your kids are in their room and you can’t stop yourself from calling a number you’d left abandoned for a year. An entire year. 

It rings once. Twice. And when you hear her voice through the speaker you bite back tears. “Hello?”

“Hey— hey, Gen.” A relieved sort of laugh comes from the other line and it eases you into the conversation if only a little.

“Hi, sweetie. I haven’t heard from you in a while, how are Mark and the kids?” You were ready for an argument, and maybe that’s why you called in the first place, to get what’s been coming for you. You deserve it after you abandoned her when she needed you the most. You didn’t expect this. You didn’t expect normal with Gen. You don’t deserve it.

“Yeah. They’re okay. How about you and Rue?” As if the universe wanted to make a point, Rue, you guess, stole her mother’s phone from her hand and ran around with it, asking you how you’re doing and that she misses you. Rue’s almost six, but she’s as much of a troublemaker as she was at four.

“Rue’s fine!” She yells across the room, then she takes the phone and you can hear her better. “She’s great, just got into fifth grade, actually.” 

You smile, the tears running down your cheeks without your consent. “That’s— great, Gen.”

She picks up on the crack in your voice and sighs. “Sweetie. Why’d you call now? What’s going on?”

“Nothing. Nothing, I feel so bad I haven’t called and I promise, I’m so sorry, Gen. You know I love her and I didn’t mean to do this.” you cut yourself off, scared you’re talking over her, but she doesn’t speak, letting you continue. “And I miss you and my little niece. I miss Rue and the kids, of course, they also miss her and I’ve been such a—”

“Nuh, uh. None of that here. You were grieving.”

You scoff, a hand slapping the tears away. “No, you were grieving.”

“Jess was as much of my girlfriend as she was your best friend. I’ve known her longer, but she was always your soulmate, and I never, for a second, held that against you.” It hurts knowing that what she’s saying is true. You don’t want to believe her because what have you done for her to love you this way? Unconditionally.

“I know. I wanted to be there for you but I couldn’t even say her name and I’m, I’m so scared. Even now, I’m always so scared, and I think about her all the time.”

“I think about her too…” you want to say you’re imagining the crack in her voice, that it’s a slip up that means nothing. But truthfully, Gen’s only ever cried with you. She’s not close to her parents and despite her multitude of friends, most of them had drifted after college. Not the three of you. Not you, Jess and Gen. 

You wish you could say it stayed the same after Jess passed away, but you did leave her. and you can’t find it in yourself to say that you’d do it differently. Because you used your grief to be a good mother this past year, you spent so much time with the kids. Even with Carla gone too. You and Mark kept it together.

You’re not sure how seeing Sam broke you the most of the events.

“She loves you. I think— we just have to remember her love, right?” Gen sniffles and you imagine her nodding her head, a hand running through her hair like she usually is when she’s sad.

“Yeah. Yeah, sweetie, but—” Gen breathes heavily through her nose. “But why’d you call? You haven’t— it’s been a year, what’s going on?” 

“I, uh, saw someone. Today.”

“Who?”

“Sam Winchester.” 

“The criminal?”

Explaining to Gen about Sam pretending to be FBI and how he came to ‘investigate’ Carla’s death after being ‘wanted’ in a few states almost gives her a heart attack. You want to share her worry about the safety of your family when he’s in proximity, but Sam looked all but broken when he was standing at your doorstep. 

“So I kind of threw them out and now they’re giving Mark hope again that they’ll find out what happened, but just— it sucks. He’s such a liar and I had no idea.” 

“Yeah, but, maybe you should report it to the police, you know?”

You frown, shaking your head. “Police? He isn’t even wanted in here. I think it’s in… I don’t know Tennessee?”

“Still. He could be dangerous and he knows where you live now.” You aren’t sure what to think. Is she right? Is Sam dangerous? He doesn’t look it. 

“Sure. Sure, Gen, I’ll see what I can do. I just, wanted to talk to you and maybe see if we can go out, you know? If you want, if you’re free.” 

“Yeah. Of course. Next Friday? We can go to Lilo’s Diner, if you want.“ Before Jess passed away when you got married, you couldn’t help but find an apartment next to here’s and Gen’s. In hindsight, it was an impulsive decision since Mark told you to choose the location, but you couldn’t help wanting to be next to her. But the real kicker was that before you settled down, you had completely forgotten that where you are right now, Lawrence, Kansas, is Sam’s hometown. 

“Yeah. That’s good, I don’t mind.” You both say your goodbye’s, and it’s a little tear-filled, but it gets the job done. 

You’re not completely convinced that you’ll give Sam in, but you know you need to consider it. If your daughters are ever in danger… you don’t know you’d do. You sigh, getting up and dimming the lights. “God, I wish you could— I need help.” You’re done crying, you just need help, “just— please, i wish I could just— I love him but I don’t even know if he’s it for me, I wish I could think without him in the picture, fuck.”

And if cursing while trying to pray isn’t message enough for you to just go to bed, you don’t know what is.

“Mommy? Mommy!” You stir from your sleep. It’s been forced upon you to be a light sleeper since you’ve had your kids, and one of them shouting your name alerts you. 

Emmy’s jumping on your chest, “Door. Mommy, door.” You groan, running a hand through your untamed hair and getting up groggily. At least she’s in a good mood for whatever reason.

You put on a shirt that you haven’t crumpled in your sleep and take a hair tie with you downstairs as you attempt to make it look decent, swinging the door open before you can ask who it is. 

Oh. “Sam?”

“Good morning.” There’s no Dean this time, just Sam. Just very tall and intimidating Sam looking at your with the most innocent look you’ve ever seen but you still can’t help clutching your daughter to your leg, mumbling about her going upstairs but she doesn’t listen. “I— I’m sorry, I came to tell you about… Mark.”

Your eyes widen, shaking your head in question and confusion because mark is upstairs, right? He’s in your bed, right next to you. You just hadn’t checked, that’s all. “What about him? He’s fine.”

Sam frowns, loosening his tie. Maybe you should loosen the collar around your neck. Where is Mark? He was just out with friends last night and you’d gone to sleep after praying, you must’ve missed his call telling you he’ll spend the night elsewhere. Except he’s never done that. Mark’s never spent the night anywhere other than right next to you since you’ve gotten married.

But it’s fine, you’re overreacting and Sam is here to tell you Mark was found drunk or something. He won’t get arrested. You need him. His kids need him. “Hey, hey, you with me? Mark’s— I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.” 

“What do you mean?” You’re out of breath even if you’ve just gotten out of bed, “what do you mean you’re sorry? What did you do? Where is he?”

Emmy’s tugging on your pants, even if you can hardly feel it, but you do feel Sam stepping into your house, his hands moving closer before you flinch a way from his touch, in a result Emmy’s hands is forced away from your leg. You apologize to your little girl, leaning down to scoop her in your arms. 

“Mark’s—”

“Shut up, Sam. Stop it. Where is he?”

You can see his heart breaking, you can feel it. Maybe from his eyes alone, even. But it doesn’t even register to you, because why is he sad? What does he have to be upset about? 

“They can’t find him. He’s… gone.”

“Gone where? Is he at work? It’s— only eight or something—”

“It’s eleven.” Your breath hitches and you shake your head. What does that even mean coming from a liar? Sam’s nothing but a liar, he always has been he’s— 

“Where are the police?” he says your name, soft and you shout, “Where are the police?” Your daughter flinches at your tone and cuddles her head into your chest. “Don’t— I’ll report you. You and Dean, if you don’t tell me what you did. What did you do?”

It’s futile. They didn’t do anything. Deep down you know that. 

But you’re not sure if you can listen to ‘deep down’ when your husband is not next to you. Calming and comforting you. 

“Sam,” you breathe, putting her down, “Sam, where is he?” He doesn’t step closer, brushes a hand down his face, “Sam.” You try, one last time before you’re sobbing, hitting at his chest. “Where is he? Where is— Mark, where is he! Sam!” 

He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t tell you that everything will be okay and that Mark’s only gone for the day. He holds your body close to his and you bury your head into his chest, your tears wet against your face as you fist your hands in his shirt. Your eyes burn, they’re hard to open. Maybe it’s for the best. 

Your world doesn’t spin often, but when it does, you have Mark. You quit your first job, Mark’s there. You’re low on money, Mark’s there. Your kids seem like they hate you, he’s by your side.

What are you supposed to do now? What are you supposed to do other than pray for him back?

Because you did this. You prayed yesterday and now look what happened, he’s gone. Just like you wished for, even if you’d don’t really mean it then. You mean it now, to have him back.

Sam lets go of you eventually, to get you a glass of water and coax your daughter into her room. You’re not sure what the time is, just that your eyes couldn’t get more swollen if you tried, and you will. 

“Here.” He hands you a cup and you don’t look up at him as he takes the seat next to you again making you briefly wonder if you’re having an out of body experience. You could be. You must be. 

“I should call the police.” You say through sniffles and Sam sighs. “You should… go, I guess. Since you’re not real police.”

“I’ll stay. We talked to them anyways and they think we’re FBI so— ”

“But I’ll tell them.” It’s low. Defeated. Sam doesn’t speak for a second and you don’t want to imagine the look on his face. You can’t. “Just go.”

His scoff shouldn’t be as comforting as it is. “No. You’re not pushing me away when you need me.” He tilts your head up, his finger hooking under your chin, “I’m not leaving you again. Never again.”

“It’s— it’s not like that, right now. Sam, go.”

“Tell them. Call the police, make them come here, and tell them I’m not FBI, tell them my real name, I don’t care, they can arrest me when I know you’re okay.” 

Is it fair to say you never want to be okay if it means Sam leaving? “My kids.” You whisper, as a thought. Something you put out there. 

“Dean can take care of them if you want us to go to the police.” You nod, touching your cheek to check if you’re still crying. Your eyes are so raw you can’t even tell at this point. Sam takes his phone out to call Dean but you hold his wrist. 

“Gen. Call Gen.” He gapes in surprise, is about to argue, but seems to see something on your face because he pulls up her number from your phone. You think she’s not going to respond as the phone starts to run out of rings but when she finally does you collapse with a sigh, one hand on your heart, the other holding Sam’s arm in support. And you’re fucking sat down.

“Gen. Hey, it’s Sam. Sam Winchester.” Shit. Shit. She doesn’t like Sam. Shit. “Yeah— oh. Yeah, she threatened already. Look, Mark’s gone and we can’t find him, she’s asking if you can come over and watch her kids.”

You don’t hear the conversation. You don’t hear except white static as you leave Sam on the couch and go to your kids’ room. Your oldest is on her IPad. The youngest is playing with her blocks. They both look at you expectantly for food and you give them a watery smile. “Aunt Gen is coming over. She’ll get you breakfast, okay?”

They both seem pleased, but your oldest isn’t stupid. She’s only four but Mark had been gifted as a child. Not enough to skip grades, but he was intelligent, both emotionally and academically. And apparently your oldest has inherited that because she walks up to you with a smile.

“You’re okay, Mommy.” You’re not sure if it’s a question or not but you wipe your face in case it’s showing anything other than that fact. “We will have fun with Genny.”

“No, baby, I’m going somewhere and then we’ll have fun with Genny, but you’re staying alone first.”

“I will take care of Emmy.” Your heart clenches as you nod quickly, taking her in for a hug so she doesn’t see the tears. 

“Good job, Jess.” Even saying her name. She’s your daughter, she isn’t even really Jess but saying her name… you can’t do this right now.

When you get back down dressed for the station, Sam’s in the kitchen cooking. “I’m dressed. we should go.”

He looks back to see you are, in fact, dressed. He hands you a cup of water, “drink this and we’ll go.”

You frown but oblige anyway. You’re a doctor, it isn’t hard to tell what he’s doing, with the amount of tears you’ve cried, you’d think you’re dehydrated too. “I’ll text Gen that there’s omelets. She can make sandwiches when she’s here.”

You acknowledge the words, handing him the cup. He locks the door behind him just as Gen parks her car and it’s the calmest you’ve felt all morning. At least your kids will be safe. You give her a hug that lasts about two seconds then walk to the Impala as fast as you can, certain you won’t be driving in this condition.

The police station is a whirlwind of screaming and yelling. No one’s telling you enough, you need to know now, and you might have accidentally called Sam his real name once, though you’re hoping no one caught it. Four hours later you’re crying and shaking your head in the lobby. 

The lady at the desk tries to calm you down while Sam talks to them inside, “Please, Miss, you need to remain calm while we—”

“My husband is gone, just off the face of the earth, how the fuck does that happen?”

“We’re not sure.” You look back hoping it’s Sam but find an older looking guy. Darker skin and maybe even a little taller than Sam? Though that must be impossible, they could be the same height. “His friends all say he was on his way home the last time they saw him and we found his car by a neighborhood next to yours but it was parked. He could have just went somewhere else.”

“I called him a thousand times on my way here and Mark never spends the night out of the house.”

“Have you considered a different possibility?” He asks, taking a step closer and you suddenly get intimidated by the demeanor if not his height, “maybe he did it on purpose. To spend the night somewhere else.”

“What on Earth is wrong with you? Are you all really that bad at your job that the only excuse you can come up with is him cheating? Who the hell gives you the right to—”

“We’re merely covering all our basis.”

“No you’re a bunch of—” Someone clears their throat so loudly it makes you jump. Jump right into their arms— into Sam’s arms.

“She’s worked up, considering.” The police, whoever the fuck that man is nods understandably and you’re ready to elbow Sam as you stare daggers at the one in front of you. “But she doesn’t make a point. It’s not likely Mister Davis is having an affair,” he moves your body out of the way to stand toe-to-toe with the man, “and even if he is, do you think it’s smart to threaten his wife with it?”

“Threaten? You’ve got it wrong, Agent.”

“Please don’t speak to Misses Davis again, it’s clear you can’t handle this case.” Sam places both hands on your shoulders to walk you out of the station and when you’re finally alone you slap his hands away. 

“What the hell? What about Mark—”

“They don’t have anything on him. We called everyone, we tried to track his phone but it’ll take a while. Me and Dean tried tracking it before I came over anyway and we couldn’t find it, they won’t have better luck. They usually put them in warehouses so I told them to check all the ones in the area. Dean is on it too. Look, we need to talk.” 

“Warehouse— what? Does now seem like the time for talking?” You scold. Even Sam's speaking in code.

“Did you… wish for something yesterday?”

Your heart slows. “Like what?”

“Like… wanting him gone.”

Your heart stops.

You tend to run things over in your head a lot.

“Mark? Mark, come back in, the kids don’t need—”

“No way. If my angel says she needs a cookie, we’re getting her a cookie.” You sigh affectionately, a smile threatening to split your face open. He’s been so good since you’ve gotten married, but you thought that would all stop the second you told him you’re pregnant. It couldn’t be further from the truth. He’s been more engaged, beautiful with your kids, even years later. 

He’s the best father you could have dreamed of. He’s a damn good husband too, but Mark is… complicated. His family is complicated. He grew up in such a toxic environment that during the first year of dating him, he’d cursed you out in front of his entire family. You got married anyways, he’s a good man, and you know he is. He’s changing slowly, trying to better himself because he has you. 

And it isn’t even something he’s just ‘saying’, you know that because now? Four years later, Mark would eat up anyone in his family that says one word about you, whether it be one of his sisters or one of his brothers’ wives.

Two hours later Mark comes back with Jess and two boxes of cookies. When you put Jess to bed he hands you a box of your favorite chocolate, the expensive kind. And it isn’t like you’re broke, you’re doing okay to spoil yourselves every once in a while, but you’re also saving up for when the kids grow up since you know they’ll be more demanding than they are now. So while it didn’t put a dent in anything, it was unnecessary. But he did it. He did it and he kissed you and you’re pretty sure that was the night Emmy came into your lives. Or would be coming in nine months.

Sometimes you wish you could stop ruining things over in your head.

“Come back to me, fuck, come back.” Sam’s saying your name over and over as your eyes flutter open. “Can you hear me?” 

“Yeah.” You groan, a hand coming up to touch your head before he stops you. “What happened?”

“You blacked out and fell on the concrete. They did an X-ray, it came back okay but you’re not eating enough. Don’t touch your head though.”

“Why?” you reply stubbornly though you're grateful he cared enough to get you to the emergency room as fake FBI. Speaking of, you guys should probably head out. “Doesn't matter, let's go home. I'll pay the—”

“I already paid, let's go.” you frown as he helps you up. Thankfully, you don't need any assistance walking, not that Sam gets the message, his hand on your lower back as he nods at the receptionist.

The car ride is as silent as you expected it to be with your multitude of questions. About Mark, Sam, your kids. About everything. The most important one is where the hell is Mark, but every time you think of that you're back to crying. The second is where did Sam get the money to cover your bill? Seeing as he's not a lawyer or anything. 

“You okay?” He asks, giving you a glance before his eyes are back on the road. He must realize how stupid the question is because he follows it up with: “We’re going to find him. I promise.”

“Yeah.”

“Dean’s already—”

“How? How are you and Dean— I don’t even know if Dean went to college,” no offense, he just doesn’t look the type, “and you all but dropped out of law. On what earth will the two of you find my husband?”

“Look—”

“Real answers!” You scream, slamming your hand down on your leg, the friction from your jeans sting as you take it back. “Real answers Sam, or I swear God…”

He sighs, parking on the side of the road. “You won’t believe me.”

“Try me.”

“You passed out.”

“Try me, because my husband is missing and I left my kids with Gen who I haven’t seen in almost a year and now I’m sitting next to Sam Winchester from Stanford—”

“It’s a curse.”

“What.”

When someone says something is a curse they usually follow it up with trying to sell you some oils for way too high that will ‘break the curse’. But that’s not what Sam is doing. Sam is talking to you like it’s logical. Like he’s sane. He’s telling you, with a straight fucking face, that monsters are real and that after he was born here a witch placed a curse on the town.

He’s not trying to sell you anything except that this is the truth. To him, this is real. And he’s looking at you like you’d be stupid not to believe that a witch placed a curse on an entire town so that whatever someone wishes, it comes true.

You wished for better mental stability everyday but that never came.

“Sam,” you sigh sympathetically, “look, I don’t know what happened before you graduated, but you’re a good man, you should not let—”

“What? No! What I'm telling you is real! Monsters and werewolves, vampires, witches, they’re all real. Now you need to think before you answer, did you wish for anything yesterday? Anything regarding Mark?”

“Wish? Are you— no! Of course not.”

“Please, you need to level with me here. Anything at all.” You should get out of the car, slam the door right in his face, and tell everyone that Sam Winchester— straight A student in Stanford— has officially gone crazy. And you’re witnessing it first hand. 

You don’t end up doing any of that except for slamming the door in his face. That, he deserves. For lying and for finding you and giving you hope about your husband when he’s obviously gone crazy and for making you leave your daughters when you could be with them right now. 

He gets out of the car, and when you glance over at him he looks like he’s going to try and convince you of something again but his eyes widen. When you face whatever it is that he’s staring at— it’s just Missouri.

“Missouri?” He asks, frowning and you start to notice that this is, in fact, his hometown. He probably knows a lot of the older locals. “What are you doing here? I thought we told you to stay inside ‘till we find whoever cursed the town.”

Now you’re really confused. Where on earth does get off playing with an old lady’s head? “I know you did not just call me old, sweetie.” 

What. The. Hell.

“See!” Sam can’t help but let out with a relieved sigh. As if that actually shows anything other than you’re seriously creeped out.

“No reason to be creeped, darling, but Sam’s right. Monsters exist and a witch did curse this godforsaken town.”

“How did you—”

“I’m psychic.” Right. And you’re Beyoncé. 

“I wouldn’t count on it. I heard you sing early in the morning and even the birds couldn’t take it.”

“Rude— and also how the fuck—”

“I can read minds. Though I don’t usually, it seemed like the only way to get you to believe poor Sam. He’s a good man,“ he seems to be getting told that a bunch, “and he only means to help. Him and Dean are hunters.”

Is the sun too hot? Probably, considering it’s the sun. Maybe you should sit in the shade. Or pass out. Passing out sounds better than finishing this conversation. Missouri sighs, a hand on Sam’s cheek. “It was good seeing you, sweetie. Get her home and tell her everything she needs to know. She gets migraines—”

“I know.”

“Good. Get her anything she needs but especially some cold air.” 

“To sum it up,” you gulp down the rest of your cup before facing Sam, “Monsters are real. You’re a hunter. Your dad died, and Dean never went to college?” 

“Sure, I guess. Is that all you got? That’s a very… random  summary.”

“Right but if Dean’s never went to college and Monsters are real, I think the apocalypse starting really doesn’t sound that far-fetched.” Apparently by monsters he also meant Angels. And prophets. And too many things he just told you— like Lucifer and Micheal the archangels and so so so many things. 

He chuckles, refilling your glass. “What is it with the Dean and college thing with you.”

You shrug, taking the cup with a small thanks. You’re probably going to need to go to the bathroom soon with how much he’s been keeping you hydrated. “I don’t know, he seems smart, I’m surprised ‘s all. can we call him and ask what he found yet?”

Sam’s face falls like you slapped him and he sighs. “The wish— I’ll tell you what I think happened, okay?” Not okay. “You wished for Mark to disappear or to go yesterday while he was coming back from the night out and the witch— the way her curse works is that she has demons working for her. Demons chained to this town to do her dirty work for her—”

“Sam, people wish for a million dollars everyday, they don’t actually get it.”

“These are demons, it isn’t ’you wish for something’, you get it. It’s ‘you curse someone out’, they get it.” You didn’t mean to curse him out. You hadn’t even really wished for anything, just prayed. And the praying wasn’t that serious. It wasn’t like you wanted Mark gone, you just wanted answers for whatever’s going on in your heart. “Carla,” Sam runs a hand over his mouth, like it’s paining him to tell you this, to explain to you why your niece died. “A teacher cursed her out in school the day before she was gone.”

No. No, there’s just no fucking way. Missouri is almost eighty something, why on earth would she lie, though?

“Please, I know it’s scary and it’s hard to believe but I need you to trust me. What did you wish for yesterday?”

“I— I don’t even remember—”

“Anything. Anything at all—”

“I wished he was out of the picture.” His breath hitches. Yours almost comes to a stop. “But— I wasn’t wishing, I was praying. I asked— I prayed that I could think clearly without thinking of him. I didn’t want him to go, Sam, I swear—”

His eyes soften as he pulls you to his chest, “I know. I know, sweetheart.” 

Maybe the crying won’t ever stop.

“Dean found the witch. Or at least he thinks. We can’t kill the demons until the witch breaks the chains so I’m going to go help him follow the lead, are you okay to stay alone?” Sam says when he comes back into the room after a short phone call with his brother.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You’re not fine. You’re nowhere near fucking fine. You’re the furthest point away from ‘fine’. But Sam is going to… go kill demons? Play dress up with Dean? Who knows anymore. So you let him go with a goodbye and ’stay safe’. As you close the front door, you give it your back and Jess is standing there with her school book in hand. 

“Where’s Daddy?”

Oh. God. You don’t even— you can’t possibly think of a way to tell your kids their father is gone. The entire time Sam had explained the supernatural thing, not once had he brought up that Mark might still be out there somewhere. 

How do you tell your daughter you killed her father?

“Jess, dad’s out right now. He’s very sick, and we can’t see him ‘till he gets better.” She frowns, tilting her head in question— you’re sure you have no answers to cover it. “but ‘till then, we’ll…”

Maybe you should be holding yourself together a little more for your children. They shouldn’t see you break apart because who will take care of them? But it hits you. You’ve spent the whole day looking for Mark and being so sure he’s out there somewhere that you believed Sam when he said he was taken by a demon.

But the fact of the matter still stands. Mark is gone. Your husband is gone. 

And maybe it shouldn’t hit you so hard when you killed him.

The next four hours go by in a blur. Your kids are fine, they’re drawing and coloring. They’re happy they get to miss school today and you’re pacing the halls, wishing you’d taken up Gen on her offer to stay with you. How did she get through this? How did she get through this alone? 

You haven’t even called your parents, or Mark’s. His siblings. A funeral. This is so real. It’s happening, you’re losing— you lost your husband. He’s gone and you didn’t even get a warning. Where was your warning? 

Maybe you should lay down for a few hours. Your starting to see things move around in the windows.

It’s officially freak-out-hour. Twelve AM. You call Sam twice before he answers.

“I think my house is haunted.” You’ve never found your voice that shaky in your life.

“You what? Are you okay? Are the kids okay?”

“They’re fine. In their room, but the lights keep flickering and I keep seeing something moving.”

“Shit. Do you have salt? A lot of salt?” 

“Some. Enough for food, I haven’t stocked up for a demon battle.”

“Get as much as you can and make a circle. Ghosts can’t cross salt circles.”

“What if it’s a demon?”

“There are— are you sure? Are you sure there’s something? Did you piss anyone off today?”

You think. Hard. “I don’t—” Oh. “The police station guy.”

“No, no. Fuck! Make the circle, get in it, I’m on my way.” He hangs up and the circle comes out uneven and sloppy. You’re shaking so much by the time you’re done you don’t notice it’s only small enough to fit your kids. When you go check on them, they aren’t in their room.

“Jess? Emmy?” Sam’s voice wakes you up from your nap against the hard wall. That’s why your head is pounding. “Hey, hey, where’s mommy?” That’s all you hear before his heavy steps run up the stairs and he finds you in the hallway. 

“Fuck. Are you okay? Are you hurt?” You shake your head, hoping to ease him, though that’s the least of your concerns. “Are they okay? Are Emmy and Jess okay?”

“Yes, yes,” he breathes out, leaning down to engulf you in a surprising hug that you return with no hesitation. You were hallucinating. You never thought you’d be so thankful for hallucinating. “Are you,” he’s shaking. His words anyways, his hands are too still for your liking. “Are you okay? I tried calling but you didn’t answer, and I came here as fast as I could. I thought something happened to you—”

“I haven’t eaten, and I’m so tired—did, did you kill the witch?” You sound crazy. You sound stupid and twelve.

And yet, the second his soft, “Yes.” Is out, you visibly relax in his arms. He’s holding you, your head on his chest, and it’s the calmest you’ve felt in the past twenty four hours.

“Sam?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“How do I know you’re real? How do I know you’re not… a monster or possessed.”

“Tests,” he sighs. Sam always looked like he wanted to keep his real life away from you, keep you at a distance, so the more you ask, the more he feels a part of him breaking. He wanted better for you. 

“Shapeshifters burn up in contact with silver, like your ring,” he interlaces your fingers together and his skin doesn’t sizzle. “Demons show themselves if you say ‘Christo’.” You look up but there’s nothing. He’s still there. “Ghosts will leave the person they’re possessing if you hit them with rocksalt.” 

“They can possess people?”

“Only really powerful ones.” 

“There should be a crash course on monsters.” You frown, leaning in closer, like maybe you don’t need a crash course. Just him. Just Sam.

He lets out a small laugh, a polite one, but you feel it against your head and it brings you so much relief, you’re scared what you’re going to do when he’s gone.

Because he will be gone. He will go and he’ll leave you and you’ll have to deal with—

“Hey, hey, calm down for me. What’s wrong?”

You take a deep breath, but all it does is run tears down your cheeks, “I have to tell Jess and Emmy. Emmy’s so young and she wouldn’t understand, she’ll just want Daddy, what am I supposed to say, Sam? And Jess… she asked about him. I killed—.”

“No, stop it, don’t. You were thinking. A thought, that’s all. I bet he thought the same thing a hundred times, it’s normal, you’re married, it’s just unfortunate a demon heard yours.”

You’re still scared, that doesn’t really comfort you. You’re sharing your earth with demons. Demons. That came from hell. Which means hell, heaven, they exist and mark is in one of them right now. 

You end up telling your oldest with tears in your eyes and Jess comforts you instead of crying. She’s telling you ‘it’s okay’ and ‘daddy loves you’. And you’re thinking what you did to get such a beautiful and inspiring daughter. She even brushes your hair out of your face like you do for her when she’s crying. 

You tell her the same. Her daddy loved her, and that she should tell you how she feels when she’s decided. Anytime Emmy asks about Mark you tell her he’s up in heaven and she frowns. It’s fine, you didn’t expect her to get it this young anyways, but… it’s unfair that she has to.

The past 48 hours have been hectic to say the least, devastating, too. Sam hasn’t left your side during them. Despite him being tall and somewhat scary if you look at it from a four-year-old‘s point of view, your kids have only asked a couple of questions. You don’t think they noticed that he went from ‘police’ to ‘mommy’s friend’, and you’re grateful. 

Gen ran over to your house the second you called her to tell her what you know. You don’t get into detail, just that Mark’s gone. He’s— God, you can’t even say it, he passed away. What kind of shit term is that anyway? Passed? To where, heaven? Hell? How are you supposed to know? 

Does Sam know? If Sam told you angels are real it must be because he’s met them… right? And he met the archangels, surely he has connections— what are you saying! You’re talking about Sam having connections with God? Who, by the way, Sam didn’t mention.

Gen holds you as you sob into her arms in your own room, Sam sitting with your children. They’re so innocent and fragile, you don’t want them to see you crying incase they think they have to, but the truth is, you’re severely dehydrated and you’re sure you’re losing your job at the hospital since you haven’t called to say you’re not coming in. 

It’s a gut-wrenching 48 hours. Who knows what the next will bring.

When you sober up from the frenzy you’re in, you call your parents, then Mark’s siblings. His father died years ago and his mother has amnesia so that’s one less conversation you have to go through.

You only call his second oldest sister, she cries before you finish your sentence and promises she’ll tell the others. You can’t. You know you can’t. 

Gen tries to talk to you about Sam, you shut her down pretty quick. “Can you take the kids during the funeral?” 

“Sweetie, I should come with you…” You shrug just as Sam makes his way to the kitchen where you’re both talking. Gen shoots him daggers as he walks over to you, hand on both your shoulders. “What—”

“The kids are asleep, I think. Dean needs me back at the motel so I’ll go check on him then come back, does that sound okay?” You nod absentmindedly. All you heard was that Sam’s leaving, and even if every part of your body doesn’t want that, he’s been your rock through all of this, you know you have to let him go. 

“Okay, I’ll see you in an hour.” He places a kiss on your hair that helps you relax, like most of his touches do, and when he leaves the kitchen, Gen is right on his heel.

You hear them raise their voice and argue before he leaves. All you can think is that you hope the kids don’t wake up.

You hope you wake up from this nightmare.

Who decided black was a good color for funerals? It’s so… depressing. As if you all aren’t already dispiriting the entire house with your tears, now you’re all blending in with the kitchen supplies too. 

You hold his sisters the most, or they hold you, either way there’s some type of holding going on and it’s therapeutic for both of you. The oldest looks like she hasn’t stopped sobbing since yesterday. Since you told them all about it.

The police announced that he’s dead when you went to check again, and said there was a serial killer on the loose, the same guy who killed Carla, and they found a body in one of the warehouses. Which is total bullshit because demons wouldn’t throw a body in a warehouse, they’d probably… take it to hell?

Sam told you that it’s him, since you didn’t want to confirm it yourself, and you told his family that you were the one who confirmed it. You’re not sure how much of a bad person that makes you since none of them offered to check for you instead. 

Sam stayed with the kids in Gen’s house with her kid so maybe they did figure something out when they were screaming at each other, not that you care. You trust Sam. 

He’s the only person you trust.

There’s soft music thrumming out the speakers, though you lower the sound so people in the house can talk. One of the siblings brings their mother and you break down at the sight of her. She knows she has kids, she knows Mark, hell, she talks about him all the time. But more than that she loves you. His parents loved you the most out of their in-laws and while it created a rift in the family, it never did anything but humble you. You loved his dad, you were the first to get to his house when you heard what happened.

But seeing his mum— that you couldn’t take. 

It’s a few hours before they decide to leave. His brothers, both of them, come up to you asking about burying the casket. They’re doing it right next to his other brother and father. It’s family ground, or whatever it’s called.

You tell them you haven’t made any arrangements. They tell you not to worry. You hug both of them even if they did nothing to ease your concerns, at least that’s one less responsibility.

Gen holds your hand as you pace from the kitchen to the living room. There are kids, his family's kids, his friend’s kids, they’re all walking around, and you shouldn’t feel like this, you know that, but you can’t help the apprehensive emotions circling your heart and squeezing tight. 

The brothers leave to make the arrangements and everyone who isn’t immediate family has said their prayers and goodbyes. You’re all alone. Not that alone considering he has seven sisters and each one of them has at least three kids (one of them actually has 5 kids and two grandkids), but alone enough that none of you feel like you should socialize. Everyone’s in their own circle, you’re lying your head on Gen’s chest, hoping this horror show will end if you just close your eyes. Maybe you’ll hear his voice again, but it doesn’t happen. 

Except you hear his voice with every breath you take saying you’re the one who killed him. You’re the one who murdered your husband.

One Week After

“Jess, I swear to God, if you’re not done with your spelling homework—”

“She’s done.” You hear Sam’s voice get closer as he enters the kitchen and you nod softly at him. He frowns at you.

And you know why. 

“I helped her finish it.” He continues, walking up to you to greet you with a kiss to your head, but it’s not genuine. As much as Sam tries, his movements are all strained and it’s your fault. You haven’t stopped wearing black. 

“When did you come in?” You leave your door open most of the time in case one of his sisters comes to check up on you, or… or if Sam does. It gives his sisters comfort that you’re leaving your house open for them. The brothers haven’t spoken to you much since the funeral, but you know they’re grieving. Mark’s older brother lost his daughter and his brother in the span of a year. 

“Just a few minutes ago. Are you cooking?” You nod, looking away to check on the pasta. It’s a simple dinner, most of them have been since last week. You finally called the hospital yesterday and just as you were about to get a lecture from your attending, you told her what happened. She gave you an extra week off and you couldn’t reject it if you wanted to. 

“Pasta and Chicken tenders— it’s stupidly basic. I used to make it when we first got married, you know,” you let out a small humorless laugh, “and he hated me for it. Told me he’s a man and that he would starve if that’s what I thought food was. I learned how to make every dish his mother knew right then and there.”

Sam chuckles at your memory and it gives you a warm fuzzy feeling that you wish you could push away. These feelings aren’t supposed to be for Sam. You suppose in a way they aren’t. A pet of them, the majority, belong to the story, the fondness behind it. Imagining him sitting on the sofa of your old house scolding you half-playfully about the importance of meals the second week of your marriage.

“So why’d you come over?” He shrugs, sits down on the chair in front of the counter that’s facing you. “You’re welcome to stay for dinner. Emmy already likes you. I don’t know about Jess.”

“Right. She’s a hard one to open up.” You smile at the description of your daughter, because it’s the truest thing you’ve heard. With the mention of that— maybe it’s time to address the elephant in the room.

You spin back, hands clasped together and you spit it out, “I didn’t see you at Jess’s funeral.”

His face drops, which makes your stomach drop but whatever. You have to talk about this. He probably has as many questions as you do, since you’re not aware of anyone keeping in contact with Sam.

“I didn’t attend. It was hard for me.” You furrow your eyebrows, unclasping your hands to fold them against your chest. “I mean… I didn’t talk to anyone after Stanford. I mourned. ‘Just didn’t see a point in showing up.” That’s a shitty excuse. And you hope he knows it too because you looked for him.

You searched for Sam at that funeral, you even asked about him when a few students came. God, even Brady came. How fucked up is it that Brady showed up and not her best friend. “Did you even keep in contact with Jess when you left?”

“She didn’t tell you?”

No. You were heartbroken when you and Sam split up. “We didn't really bring you up.”

“Right. We did, for a couple of years, but I moved around a lot and I got a new phone every few months. Eventually she got a kid and we just lost contact.”

“What about when you… you know, got convicted and stuff.” 

“I— not exactly, you know what Dean and I do, we’re trying to help people, but we can’t just walk around telling them we think there’s a vampire in the neighborhood. FBI, police officers, they trust those people.” You nod. It’s still not an answer. He notices. “Yeah, she still talked to me after, I’m not sure she even knew. I mean, you had to really be up to date with the news to hear our names.”

“No, you just had to live in Lawrence and give two shits about your surroundings. We’d be lucky if Jess even opened her phone to check for something productive, ‘s probably why she never found out. Gen got scared when Jess died, really paranoid for Rue, so she took it upon herself to stay informed. Your name came up a time or two.”

He sighs, scrubs his hand down his face and gives you his back to rest his elbows on the counter. You don’t mind, liking the silence as you stir this, taste that. Cooking’s been an excellent distraction for life lately. Even if it’s the most basic thing to exist.

Sam ends up staying for dinner but Jess stares at him with questions as she sticks to your side. She also has the biggest look of betrayal when Emmy asks him to hold her. She enjoys how tall he is and he doesn’t seem to mind it. By bedtime, you decide to talk to Jess about him.

“Why don’t you like Sam?”

“He’s a giant, and he made daddy sad.” 

Oh. “When he was here with the other police?”

She nods.

“He didn’t make daddy sad, sweetheart, he asked about Carla.” Who is also in heaven. Seems like they have a couple of slots open.

You speak to her a little more, about Sam, about school tomorrow, about daddy and how she misses him, you miss him too. He probably misses you two the most. You kiss her head before shutting the lights off and running downstairs to wish Sam a goodnight.

Until you notice him half asleep on your couch, his head resting on his own shoulder in a way that could never look comfortable. You bite your lip in anxiety. 

On one hand, you care for Sam and you don’t want him to drive tired. On the other, what if someone sees him spending the night?

What if one of Mark’s sisters comes unannounced? 

You decide to suck it up and be a good person, patting him lightly. “Sam, Sam,” he suddenly sits up straighter, slightly disoriented, “C’mon, let’s get you on a bed.” 

He pouts his lips like has more to say but ends up listening to you anyways. Halfway up the stairs he remembers his manners. “Oh. Oh, no, no—”

“You’re already halfway up the stairs, let’s just go.”

“I won’t intrude, I’ll just get back to the motel, I don’t know why I crashed like that.” You put a hand on his shoulders, looking him in the eyes intensely to give your best ‘no bullshit’ look.

“Sam Winchester, if I have to convince you not to drive half asleep, I will force feed you sleeping pills. Got it?” He lets out a laugh before pulling you in a hug. And he’s one step below you so your head fits perfectly in as you tuck it in his neck.

“Thank you.” You shouldn’t cry again. It’s already been one hell of a week without adding non-Mark related crying. You shouldn’t. But you cry yourself to sleep anyways. 

Two Weeks After 

“So, how have you been holding up?” You look up from the papers you’re filling to your co-worker. One of the interns that started the same time as you. You’ve gotten quite close with Sage, he’s been a great friend, no matter how little you both talk.

“‘M okay. Thank you for asking.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” You smile tightly before nodding and giving the papers to the nurse. 

“Thank you.” You walk away but he follows after you, considering you’re both heading to the same destination, the parking lot. Your first shift back finally  in over a week you couldn’t be more grateful.

“Do you want a ride home? I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to the funeral.” 

“No, thank you.” He’s being polite, you know that, but you’re not going to act the part of the widower. You’re fine. Your head’s still above water as much as anyone’s concerned. (Except Sam and Gen.)

Three Weeks After

Your mother is calling again. She won’t stop calling, and you can’t keep canceling. “Good morning, mum.”

There’s no one in the entire world that you love more than your mother. She’s your soulmate, she’s your best friend, she’s your biggest supporter. She’s everything you need and want in a person. She’s the only person who pulled you back from sinking when Jess died.

“Morning, baby girl. How are you?”

“I’m good, how about you and dad?”

She laughs as your father greets you, asking you where you’ve been. That you should call more often. That they’re there for you.

Yeah, that’s the problem.

Five Weeks After

“You’re… self-sabotaging. You don’t want to be happy, you don’t want to be okay.” The second the words leave Sam’s mouth, you try to kick him out with yelling. When that doesn’t work, you hit his chest with your fists, when that does nothing but make him barely stumble, you push  yourselves onto him in an attempt to throw him off his balance, instead he holds you as you cry.

What does he know? You’re grieving! You’re mourning. You miss him every single day and second and when his siblings gave you his inheritance you broke down so hard they were scared they’ll have to bring you to a hospital. 

He’s right. You’re going through the motions. Your kids ask you why they don’t go to the park on Friday. Your co-workers are worried for you. Gen cooks for you as much as she can. You killed him. You’re not— are you? You are.

“I don’t— want to. I don’t…” he shushes you, with reassuring ‘i know’ and ‘don’t worry, sweetheart’. When you’re calm enough to speak, you apologize for his tear-drenched shirt. And he gives you numbers for different therapists.

Later that week you tell Sam you won’t be doing therapy, but if he wants to help you, you’ll try. He says it’s enough compromise and he gives you a list of things to do. 

Make food that’s actually food. Work extra hours (you’ve been going under your normal hours the past three weeks). Friday park dates for the kids. Saturday lunch dates for you and Gen. 

Seven Weeks After 

You start wearing blue. Your favorite dress with small white flowers on it. You like how you look and it forces you to shave everything you’ve been neglecting lately. 

It’s time for you and Gen’s lunch date when you get a call from Sam. “I’m outside.”

You tell him you’ll be right down, spraying on perfume before running down to get your kids. “Hey, Jess, Emmy.” You capture their attention and they put down the iPad to stare at you. Maybe it’s your dress. “Sammy’s outside.” It’s the nickname Emmy’s given him and it makes your heart absolutely melt. “He’s going to drive you.” 

On your lunch dates you opt to leave your kids with your sister-in-law, the one you're closest to, anyways. She’s the youngest brother’s wife. But you’re running late and Sam offered to drive them himself. You’ve never left your kids alone with Sam anywhere other than in your house, where they’re comfortable. 

His car… It's worrying. 

You trust Sam completely and he’s been by your side every day for the past seven weeks but these are your children there’s just no way you’d neglect their feelings like that. But he convinced you that he’ll let them call you the entire time so they’re relaxed and you agreed.

You started locking your door.

Six Months After

“When’s Sammy coming?” You shrug, plating the Mac n’ cheese Jess requested. Today, Emmy is two whole years old.

It’s the first birthday you’re celebrating without Mark. And Sam offered to bring Gen and keep you both company. You’re still close to his family, you’re there once a week, if you can, but you’re slowly falling back to your routine, so you’re about to limit it to once every two weeks. The way Mark liked it.

The way you like it.

You’re picking up more shifts and making more elaborate dishes. One of your attendings told you if you keep putting in the work, he’s thinking of taking you in Cardiovascular. Your first choice would’ve been OBG-YN but if Cardio is what you’re the best in, you’ll take it.

Once all three of you are done and putting your plates away, the doorbell rings and you smile when Emmy runs over. You keep an eye on her as she waits for Jess to open the door. Sam and Gen are loud as they enter your house, hugging the kids. Sam picks Emmy up, teasing her about being two as they make it to the kitchen.

You lean in to hug Gen. Then Sam greets you like he always does, a kiss to your head. Emmy, being the adorable two year old, drops her face to do the same and Sam has to bring her back up with a smile to both your faces.

“Mommy they got velvet! My favorite!” Jess squeals, peeking at the cake and you look at both of your friends with a grateful look. 

Mark’s inheritance wasn’t even split upon you and anyone else, it’s all for you. And you’d been saving for a while too, so you’re set. Including your work, it’s going great, but they still insisted on being the ones to bring the cake. 

“Okay, we watch frozen first then cake, right, baby girl?” Sam asks Emmy and she smiles, hollering  in excitement. He puts her down so she, Gen and Jess can all go put the movie on, he holds you in place. “How are you?”

“I’m okay. Thank you for doing this, you really didn’t have to.” He shakes his head, taking a step closer to you, brushing a strand of your hair away from your face. And it’s weird that you know exactly what that means. “I’m better, I guess. Jess and Emmy still talk about him and— I made Mac n’ cheese today— but only because Jess wanted to—”

“Sweetheart, cooking was never about making it big, it was about what made you happy. And you’re happier when you make a big meal, I want you to feel that happiness again.” Maybe. Whatever. You still failed today, but it’s fine. “You did amazing today.” He tilts your chin up and you're forced to focus on his hazel-green eyes, “I’m proud of you. And you look beautiful.” He gestures to the pink top you have on, intricate lace design at your chest then it’s silk down till you tuck it into your jeans. 

A little dressing up was in order if you’re having a mini party. Even your kids and Rue are all in dresses. 

Sam walks you out to the couch, settles in next to you on one side and Jess on your other. Emmy alternated between all three of your laps.

Maybe you did amazing today.

One Year After

You call your mum as you practically bounce off the walls of your house, biting your lip so you don’t squeal like a five year old (no offense to Jess). 

“Mommy?” You jump the second she answers, “I got a job with Doctor Mendez!” And because you speak to her at least four times a week about him, she’s aware of who he is, the Cardiovascular Attending at your hospital. The one who’s due to retire any day now and is looking for a replacement. While he didn’t say it exactly, you’re the only student he picked to teach!

“Really? Oh, that’s wonderful, honey. Oh my God!” You gush over the entire thing to her in a phone call that lasts a little over an hour. Your dad congratulates you too and you run to pick up Jess from football practice so you can tell her too. 

She hugs you, although she doesn’t seem to care, and tells you all about her new coach. 

You pick up Emmy from the nursery and one of the moms with a son who’s taking an internship at your hospital congratulates you.

For some reason, you break down the second you’re home. “Thank you for— not hating me.” You smile through tears. “I don’t think I would’ve even cared to get this far if I thought you hated me. I love you, Mark, I love you so much and I can’t wait to see you and tell you everything.” 

But for once while you’re talking to him, they’re not hostile tears or sorrowful. You’re content. 

And not to some extent either. You’re fully content. 

Especially when Sam knocks on your door. Your Saturday dinner with him and Gen is tomorrow and you mentioned that you need new clothes to which he decided to make a day of it. Jess decides she wants to hang out with Rue and Emmy follows her sister wherever she goes. 

You dust yourself off and open the door. You don’t expect this many emotions when you see him. But they’re there. And they’re really really there.

“Hey.” He smiles, walking in. “Are the girls ready? I parked in the driveway but if they’re gonna take a while I can park it—”

“Why are you still here?” You see his face drop before you scramble to correct yourself, “I meant, you kept saying you move a lot and with Dean, hunting, whatever— but you’re here. It’s been a year and you’re still living in a motel, Sam.”

“I’ve actually, uh, bought an apartment. A while ago.” You can hear your heartbeat In your ears, “It seemed cheaper to just rent an apartment since… since I’m living here.”

“You’re living here— since when? What about Dean?”

“He’s settling down, too. Cicero, he’s living with his girlfriend and her kid.” You’re not supposed to cry again. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong? I’ll stop coming over if you—”

“No,” you smile, “no, that’s just. I’m so happy for Dean, he deserves it, you know? Sam, look, I don’t know him well, I barely knew you before you both showed up as cops on my doorstep, but you’re not the same men that I hung out with in Stanford, you guys look so— and I mean this in the most loving way possible— exhausted. I wanted to ask, but it never seems like the time, you know? Just know I want to know about everything. Anything you want to tell me, I want to know. You mean a lot more to me than I ever let on.”

Sam’s eyes are watery but you don’t think you’ve ever seen the man cry and he doesn’t start today, but he does bring you in for a kiss that you don’t expect. He’s slow as he brings you in, like he’s reassuring you you can pull away at any moment, but you don’t.

You let it consume you. You move in, standing taller with your hands on his biceps. It’s a strong hold, like you’re scared he’ll disappear, and maybe he will, who knows? 

It won’t stop you. 

Because losing people is the way of the universe and not getting close won’t stop Sam from leaving, it won’t stop your kids from hating you, and it won’t stop your friends from moving away. 

And maybe it took you a damn long time to get there, but you’re not stupid enough to keep repeating the cycle at twenty eight, especially not with Sam. Never with Sam.

You just hope Mark’s proud of you. You hope he supports you. Because he pushed you here. He’s the only reason you’re able to stand tall and put yourself out there, his love, his worry for you, it changed you.

Or maybe he’s half the reason, you’re pretty strong yourself.

End.

this was super new to me in terms of I did coloring??? on the pics?? look at me beating the non creative allegations (insecurities), and different writing style that I honestly really liked. thank you for reading if you've made it this far.

tag list:

@angzls @chxrrybomb22 @pinkpantheris @ang3ldool @iloveragdollcats 

@oohjana18294 @user-2538484747490203746579403 @wattpaduser200 @s0urw00lf @ashlynyyyyy

@strabarrybat @anu-piyakya97 @tranquilitybasegrunge @consistentreader578

[thoughtsforsoob]

just saw ur “txt as your younger brother” but now i NEED a “txt as your older brother” please 🫶🏻

a/n: hehe thank you for the request! i hope the little brother post was good. again...i am siblingless so i am going to try my best to make this realistic :D as always, requests are open!! please enjoy!!!

yeonjun

he is so incredibly protective as a big brother! i just wants to protect his little sister no matter what. it doesn't matter is you're 5 or 70, big brother yeonjun will come to the rescue. he is also the type of brother that will whine when you talk about boys because he cannot fathom his little sister runnig around with guys that probably aren't even worth your time! he always does his best to make time for you, especially when he becomes an idol. he always makes sure to go all out on birthdays and special occasions like graduations. oh my god...if you graduate from uni...baby will go all out and buy you a FUCKING CAR??? a fancy one too because 'only the best for my annoying little sister!'

soobin

he's mildly protective but that's only because your dad made him promise to always protect you. he has intentions of making god on his promise. you two are only a year apart but you two are basically twins because of how inseperable you are. as kids, you'd always play together outside and when you would get hurt, he would drop everything and run to you. he is also a big brother that would give you his share of something if you really wanted it. for exmaple, if your parents got you both ice cream and he got the one you wanted, just say the words and it's all yours. as you grow older, he makes sure to take you out and makes sure you know he cares even if he can't spend lot's of time with you. when he reveals his sistee to moa, they're all in love with you and he's scolding them, 'yah! that's my baby sister! she's mine!'

beomgyu

I know i always make beomgyu the silly one but he takes his big brother duties very seriously. like...so seriously that you questions wether he's your dad or big brother. when he becomes an ido, he spends a good chunk of his first paycheck to send you to study abroad because you'd told him you'd wanted to do that while at college. he constantly checks in on you and makes sure you have everything you need. he's also a very affectionate big brother and doesn't care when you're shoving him away, 'don't kid yourself! you love me, little sis!' and you do. in your childhood, he would always get in trouble for hanging off of you even though you were smaller than him. he still get's swatted with thenkitchen towel when you both visit home for the same reason.

taehyun

more protective than your own dad. not in a bad way but you know what I mean. he is there for you through everything. when you're sick, he brings the food your mom makes you and stays in your room to keep you entertained and to make sure you eat it all. when you’re on your period, he always comes to your room and makes sure you have all the chocolate and hot drinks you could possibly need. he’s also the type of brother who would prefer to drive you wehter you driving yourself. even if it’s for a date, he drives you and makes sure to meet the guy. you two have a look that he gives you if the guy seems like bad news. he’ll stay behind and make sure you get home safely. 

huening kai

a built in best friend. huening seems like a really sweet big brother and most definetly is a protector. he knows that as an idol, people online will criticize you and his older and younger sister but he always stands up for you three. he’s the type of brother that also says his friends are off limits but in reality, would probably prefer you date one of them because he alreay knows them well and trusts them. he makes sure you and his other sisters are always taken care of, especially if you decided not to persure a career in entertainment. if you’re the sibling who goes to uni to study, he will glady pay for all of your tuition and materials. he wants his little sister to be supported and cared for. 

[crackedpumpkin]

|| ʙᴀᴅ ɴᴇᴡꜱ || ᴘᴀʀᴛ ꜱᴇᴠᴇɴ ||

[ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 ] | [ 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ] | [ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ]

a/n: @uwukiity :))) i did it. also i changed the gif guys ! isnt it cute ??? hope u all enjoy this lolololol

“Awww, is our little barista feeling all better now?”

“Shut up before you have to make your own coffee, Hamada,” You snort, handing him his usual order. Hiro inhales deeply, taking a small sip of the piping hot latte you’d just made at his request.

His nose wrinkles, looking up as he swirls the liquid in his mouth. His lips purse, trying to place the flavour. “Is that cinnamon?”

“Yeap,” You answer, popping the ‘p’ as you clean the milk frother. “Is it good?”

“It’s enh,” He shrugs, propping his elbows up on the counter as he leans against it and watches you clean.

“And?” You prompt, awaiting a more elaborately put review.

“It’s decent.”

You plop the cloth down, stopping to stand right in front of him across the counter. “And?” 

“And what?”

It’s clear that he’s just messing with you now, judging from the little quirk in the corner of his lips as he suppresses his smirk. Taking a deep breath to calm yourself, you reevaluate your options. You’d have asked Tadashi to taste-test your coffees and experiments, but he’s constantly at SFIT. Cass was more than ready to try them, but she was already constantly busy running the cafe that you didn’t want to pile on more to her plate.

As such, that only left you with Hiro. 

“Is it too sweet? Too sour? Does it mask any bitterness or draw it out?”

He takes another long, drawn-out sip, smacking his lips together obnoxiously. “Kinda sweet, but I guess it’s okay. It could do with some more cinnamon to help bring out the fruitiness of the beans more.”

You grin, leaning back. “Thank you, my beloved guinea pig.”

“Anytime, psycho.” He says simply before continuing to sip away at his first coffee of the day. He’d been coming down more often lately, but it was usually in the afternoons. So, mornings like these were rare. 

“What’s got you up so early, anyway?” You ask, taking out the dishes and placing them where you’d be able to grab them conveniently when a customer ordered any of the pastries in the display case. 

He shrugs. “Wanted to get an early start to the day.” 

“Cool,” You toss a damp cloth at him, watching him scramble to catch it without letting it fall into his cup, “help me wipe down the tables.”

“You know, I’m technically your boss too.” He informs you but still does it anyway.

“Tell me that when you give me my paycheck,” You snort, opening the fridge to check on the cans of whipped cream and mentally counting them for the stock take. Once you've confirmed that all your things are there, you begin to make yourself a coffee. 

“Just you wait,” He comes back to the counter with his cloth and the spray bottle filled with cleaning liquid, placing them both away. “I’ll tattle to Cass.”

“Snitch. You can try, though I doubt she’ll do anything about it. She loves me too much,” You reply over the hiss of the milk frother. Kneeling down to grab a canister of whipped cream from the fridge, you shake it and start placing some on top of your hot coffee. You can feel his eyes on you, looking back up with a raised brow. 

“What?”

“Are you seriously putting whipped cream on your cappuccino?” He says in disbelief.

“Yeah,” You hum, taking a swing and letting a contented sigh slip past your lips.

“But it’s already like, 70 percent milk.”

“And gummy bears are like, 100% pure sugar. So, you’re just eating spoonfuls of sugar. What’s your point?” He’s stumped for an answer, knitted brows and pursed lips trying to find a retort. 

“I don’t like you,” He sighs in defeat, frowning as he takes a final sip from his cup and hands it to you expectantly. “More.”

You don’t take it, crossing your arms with raised brows as you wait patiently. He rolls his eyes. “Please?”

Grinning, you grab his cup and pour freshly brewed black coffee inside it. Five sugars and one creamer, that’s how he likes it. “You should really consider why you don’t have a social life.” 

“I have friends,” He says defensively, “And says you.”

“Where?” You ignore the second part of his sentence, placing his cup back down on the counter.

“...I dunno- look, I haven’t spoken to them in a while.” He says tightly, his lips pressed together in a thin line as he stares at his coffee. 

“Mine are pretty chill,” You hum, making the decision to change the topic. “I think you’d like Noah, though.” The thought of the two together makes you chuckle. Noah, whose carefree and easygoing nature with Hiro who’s incredibly reckless and irresponsible. 

“Who’s that?” Hiro asks curiously, intrigued by the mention of a new name. 

“He’s the other barista I worked with at my old job. He’s great and helped me a lot when I first came here,” You say with a fond smile, the both of you moving to sit down at an empty table. 

“Oh?” 

“Shut it, he’s like 19 with a girlfriend. I’m still surprised he even managed to ask her out.” You snort, sitting down opposite him and holding the coffee, letting the heat spread through the ceramic and warm your hands.

“I could have a girlfriend,” Hiro muses, looking offended at the way you choke visibly on your drink.

“You?” You splutter incredulously, coughing violently as the coffee makes its way down the wrong pipe and burning your insides in the process. You glance up through teary eyes, seeing him smile at your current state as he enjoys watching you suffer. Once the violent coughs end, you clear your throat, pretending that nothing happened.

“Aren’t you gonna get back to your work?” You question, glancing at the clock and realising it’s almost time to open the cafe. “Shoo,” You add, dismissing him with a quick wave. He shrugs, hopping off the seat and heading to the basin. You follow suit, wanting to quickly wash your cups so that you can give the table a quick wipe and unlock the door. 

You stare at his outstretched hand, looking back up at him curiously. He rolls his eyes, already having pushed up the sleeves of his hoodie to wash his cup. “Your mug, silly.”

You hand it to him with a bright grin, calling out a quick thanks as you leave to do your tasks. The sign on the door is the only thing left, and you take a moment to breathe, staring at the word ‘Open’ before you turn it so it faces the front. 

“What are we waiting for?” You flinch, surprised by Hiro’s sudden appearance. His sleeves are back down to his wrists, his hands shoved into his pockets as he waits for a response. 

“Nothing.” You clear your throat, quickly flipping the sign over and unlocking the door. You turn back around, about to ask him another question when you spot the back of his blue hoodie heading back up the stairs. Oh well. Looks like whatever put him in such a good mood this morning finally wore off.

The phone rings in the middle of your shift, vibrating strongly in the pocket of your apron as you hold the milk frother in place, narrowly avoiding a cloud of hot steam as you adjust your stance. You place it on the counter, checking the notifications to see a message from your brother.

Hiro catches you giggling when he rounds the corner of the counter, placing an empty cup in front of you. You put your phone away hastily, grabbing his cup and pouring some black coffee from the jug Cass kept aside for Hiro. He eyes the phone in your apron pocket suspiciously, taking the cup back from you and taking a sip. “What’s so funny?”

“Huh?” You’re momentarily confused, but you realise what he’s referring to upon following his gaze to your apron pocket. “It’s nothing, just a stupid picture Luke sent me.” The reminder makes you chuckle again, a bright grin on your lips.

“Hm.” He doesn’t say anything, taking another long sip and smacking his lips together, proceeding to chug the rest down. “What’d he send you?” He asks casually, eyeing the coffee stains on the inner rim of his mug. 

“I told you, a stupid picture.” You roll your eyes in amusement, leaning on the counter as you watch Hiro clear his throat, spotting the tips of his ears slowly flushing a soft pink. What a nerd.

“I wanna see it.” He waits expectantly, and you oblige his request, regardless of how sudden it is. You open your conversation with him, clicking on the picture and turning the phone around so he can see it. He leans in, not noticing that his hoodie strings are nearly in his own empty mug. You react, grabbing the string and moving it aside. 

Hiro blinks. “What is this?” 

“Told you it’s stupid.” You laugh at the picture of a forklift holding a tiny plastic fork, turning off your phone again after indulging his curiosity. 

“Who’s Luke, anyway? Your boyfriend? Can’t be. You’re too old.” He snorts in amusement, smiling smugly when your smile drops, eyes narrowing into a glare. 

“We’re the same age.”

He shrugs. “Yeah, but you’re an old soul at heart, so, doesn’t count.” You roll your eyes. You’re not getting anywhere with this idiot. “Another coffee?”

“You have a serious problem,” You mutter, filling his cup with pure milk. “Here, for the growing boy.” 

“I will have you know I’m almost 5 '5,” He says defensively. “It’s just taking a little time to set in.” You knew better. Tadashi had revealed in casual conversation that Hiro’s only 5’0. Oh well, it’s too early to crush the boy’s dreams.

“Yeah, maybe when you’re 25.” Your muffled chuckles attract the attention of Cass, who looks over with a curious smile from the cafe table a short distance away. Hiro scoffs, taking his cup and chugging down all of it defiantly, slamming it back down. 

“Wash it and bring it back to me afterwards.” He amends his sentence when you raise a disbelieving brow, using a fingertip to push it aside. “I mean, please wash it and put it aside, I’ll come back later to collect it.”

“That’s more like it.” You wink, taking the cup and setting it down in the basin to wash with the rest of the other dishes. 

“Still technically your boss!” He calls out as he leaves. You ignore it, starting on the rest of the dishes. 

You continue stacking the plates, putting them away in their respective places when you hear something being set on the countertop. 

“Hey sweetie, are you feeling better?” 

You smile at Cass, standing back up. “I’m fine, don’t worry. It’s gonna take more than that to knock me off my feet.” To prove your point, you flex your arm cheekily. “Built like an al-dente noodle, as my mom once said.”

A delightful laugh bubbles from her lips, your (actual) boss thoroughly amused. “If you say so. Just in case though, maybe you should rest up tomorrow.” 

“I’ll be fine!” Cass tuts, effectively cutting you off with a purse of her lips. “Boooo,” You complain jokingly. “But isn’t there anything else I can do?” 

She pauses, a hand on her chin as she thinks of a task to assign you. She smiles slowly, a slight chill running down your back. You didn’t like that smile. Not one bit. “On second thought, maybe I will take that day off…”

Cass hums mischievously. “Actually, the cafe isn’t that busy today, so I can handle it. Instead, I need you to drag Hiro out for some exercise. He’s been cooped up in his room or the garage. It’s like he doesn’t even know what sunlight is!”

A chime sounds through the cafe, drawing your attention to another customer who’s just left. It’s currently the late afternoon, and there were just a few customers in their respective seats. All the dishes are washed and kept, and Hiro’s mug sits cosily in the corner beside the cash register. 

If there’s anything you’ve learnt from working in cafes, it’s that times like these signal maximum boredom. You look at Cass who’s waiting patiently for an answer, grinning slyly. “All I have to do is get him out to exercise, right?”

She nods. 

That’s all you have to do, but she didn’t say how. 

“I’m in.”

— — — — — 

“C’mon Einstein, let’s go touch some grass!” You exclaim, happily slamming open the door to Hiro and Tadashi’s shared bedroom. The curtains are drawn shut on Hiro’s side of the room, a small desk lamp lighting the piles of discarded blueprints on the floor. The boy himself is sitting cross-legged on his chair, a single headlamp on his forehead as he frowns at the notepad he’s sketching on. 

“That’s you, Hiro,” Tadashi calls out as he puts on his cap.

“Where’re you heading off to?” You ask, noting how his side of the room drastically contrasted with Hiro’s. Sunlight spills past the window, dimming whatever items it can reach with a soft glow. The bed is neatly made, not a single speck of dust on any piece of furniture.

“I gotta go back to the lab.” He answers cheerfully, ruffling your hair with a grin. “Have fun, kids!” He calls out behind him as he leaves. Hiro stirs at the sound of his brother’s voice, turning around. His gaze lands on you, and he arches an unimpressed brow. 

“Is Einstein the worst you could come up with?” 

“What dentist died and made you their heir?” You counter. He pauses for a beat, mulling over your words. He gives you an acknowledging nod, swivelling his seat back around to focus on his work. You take a tentative step forward, avoiding the scattered cans of Red Bull and stray packets of gummy bears that litter the floor. 

“Forget about Einstein, I think he lived somewhere better than this pigsty,” You mutter under your breath, freezing when Hiro clears his throat. 

“I heard that.” 

“No, you didn’t.”

He shrugs, turning his attention back to his notepad. Upon closer inspection, you notice the corkboard perched against the wall, various tools spread across it. A stack of rewired motherboards and circuits remains unfinished beside it. Below his desk is a mini fridge that once you open, reveals a tooth-rotting amount of gummy bears, along with chewing gum and more energy drinks. 

He has everything he needs to stay alive and functioning in his room. With a side of a potential heart attack, of course. This realisation makes you scan his desk, hopefully looking for a way to drag him outside. Something catches your eye and you lean closer, staring at a bot with a yellow smiley face. 

You lift it up, inspecting every inch of it with intrigue. “Tell me this is your first-grade project without telling me this is your first-grade project.”

“Believe it or not, my project was a volcano.” He says, briefly glancing at the bot in your hands before continuing to write out formulas anywhere with empty space on his paper. “A solar-powered volcano. Had miniature animals and everything.”

“Huh. Did you get first place?” You ask, feigning disinterest, though you were very much invested in this never-before-heard childhood backstory of his.

“Yeah.” Somehow, the memory is enough to break him out of his trance. He grins. “The volcano worked a little too well. I still remember the looks on everyone’s faces when it caught on fire.”

“Y’know what, that actually increased my respect for you by a margin.” You say, unable to hide your impressed smile. “Then when did you make this one?”

He chuckles, finally setting down his notepad and taking it from your hands with a fond smile. “Like, two years ago? Megabot won me loads of bot fights.” You hum in thought, a seed of an idea growing in your mind and further watered by mischievousness.

“Guess I should take him for a spin then.”

“Wha-?”

Hiro doesn’t get a moment to react when you snatch the bot out of his hands and run out the door with a maniacal laugh. You can hear him chasing after you, footsteps thudding down the stairs. You put on your shoes with record speed, racing out the door. 

“What’re you-” 

“Gotcha.” You grin widely, taking a step forward to hand Megabot back to a panting Hiro. He takes it from you with flushed cheeks, trying to catch his breath after being forced to do unexpected exercise. “We’re going for a walk.”

“I can’t, I gotta get back to-”

You grab the hood of his hoodie, effectively stopping him from heading back inside his house. “And how long have you been stuck?” You ask, prompting an annoyed huff from him. He crosses his arms sulkily, Megabot dangling from his grip.

“If I’m doing this, I want ice cream.”

— — — — —

People tend to think that taking a walk is simple enough. After all, it’s just moving your legs one step at a time. The cool breeze, the warm sunlight, and even the bustle of the city are more than enough to stimulate their senses. Everyone’s happy and cheerful, socialising and being comfortable with themselves.

Clearly, these people have never had the pleasure of dragging Hiro Hamada outside.

“My ice cream is mine.” Hiro scoffs, swatting away your outstretched hand. You frown, drawing it back. “You wouldn’t have to deal with this if you just let me do my work, y’know.”

“I do know, thank you very much,” You sigh, scowling when he suddenly turns to look back and you withdraw your hand once more at the missed opportunity to get some of his ice cream. “I’m already regretting it.”

“Hey, you’re the one that decided to go all saviour on me.” He shrugs, using his spoon to scoop a large amount of ice cream from his cup, pointing it at you accusingly. “Can’t blame me for wanting a treat.”

“Wow. You’re really gonna use my hard-earned money on yourself.” You drawl monotonously.

He pauses with the spoon in his mouth, pondering in deep thought. “Yes.”

“You suck.”

He merely smiles, raising a brow at your finished gelato. “I thought you were lactose intolerant.”

“I eat what I want,” You reply defensively, watching him scoff down the rest of his ice cream in one go. He winces soon after, holding the sides of his head with eyes squeezed shut. “Brain freeze?”

He confirms it with a nod, and you wait patiently for it to be over. Once it is, he stands back up to throw away his cup and yours, waiting for you at the exit. The door jingles shut behind you, the bustling city greeting your ears once more.

You’re tugged to the side from a sudden grip on your arm, looking up with a scowl before realising that Hiro just saved you from being knocked flat on the sidewalk by a skateboarder. “Thanks,” You say gratefully, jogging to catch up with him. He simply shrugs, dismissing his good deed as nothing more than a passing action.

You force him to follow you to the park, taking a stroll around and waving to the little animals that either bark, meow, or caw back at you. Luckily, he hadn’t complained as much after the gelato. Otherwise, you’d be at each other’s necks by now.

“So, how’s your project coming along?”

It seems to be one of the few consistent questions you ask him these days, and for good reason too. Having the pressure of an older brother and his friends all in the same nerd school isn’t something most can shoulder on their own. You eye the way his shoulders sag when he exhales, sudden tiredness in his eyes. Yet, there’s a spark of determination, and stubbornness that refuses to let anything get in the way of his goal.

“It’s going good,” He hums, pulling out his phone and showing you a picture of various mathematical equations and nonsensical handwriting on what appears to be his tablet hooked up to his monitor. “Pretty sick, right? I’ve got all the backend stuff down, and I just need to keep testing and prototyping now for the neurotransmitter.”

“Right,” You say encouragingly, though the hesitance in your voice gives away how clueless you are about all this. Sure, you’ve done your fair share of research on your own, but it’s only surface-level. Who knows what’s going on in that head of his. 

He raises a brow, pocketing his phone. “What about you?”

“I’m working on this article about this new policy my school got put in place,” you grimace, “it’s mainly about how the administrators want the campus to be more ‘green’ and environmentally friendly.” 

“Huh.” He brushes off a leaf that lands on his shoulder, watching it slowly fall to the ground. “You don’t seem too excited about that.” He remarks offhandedly, observing your every movement.

“That’s because the actions they’re taking are ridiculous.” You explain with a roll of your eyes. “They’ve implemented bathroom break limitations, printers aren’t allowed to be used unless a teacher gives explicit consent…Sometimes a girl’s just gotta pee, y’know?”

“Well, what do the other students have to say about it?” 

You huff out a frustrated sigh. “No one’s happy about it, obviously.”

“Then use that,” He states simply, “you’re a journalist, aren’t you? The voices of the people have to be heard. Get their opinions on the changes, and with a voice that loud? The faculty won’t be able to just brush it aside.”

Your steps slow to a halt, pursing your lips in thought as you consider the idea he’s just presented to you as simply as saying the sky is blue. He’s right, of course, but why didn’t you think of that before? 

The student council will never let it pass. But it couldn’t hurt to try….right?

The phone in your pocket vibrates with a new notification. You groan, reading the text that Leo, your fellow aspiring journalist in the same club just sent you. Hiro looks at you curiously, having heard your sigh as you hang your head. “Speak of the devil. I gotta go.” 

“Gone so soon?”

“Don’t tell me you’ll miss me, Hamada,” You joke, grinning at the way he sticks out his tongue in playful disgust. “That article I told you about? The deadline just moved up to tomorrow.”

He snorts, chuckling in pure amusement as you begin to walk faster. “Good luck!” He calls out to your retreating back. 

You wave a dismissive hand without looking back.

— — — — —

@urfavarab @dee-zbignuts @frogindisguise @mangodamochiii @stars4won @whoisgami @nayleannn @millerworld @bodieohbo @1intrusivethoughts1 @randobeetlehouse @riritvt @louvredea

[literallyjusttoa]

Hey guys! I'm putting out a call for my commissions again for two big reasons: One, Emergencies have caused me to be low on funds when I wasn't expecting it, and that kind of sucks actually. Two, I have a project that I've been dreaming about for years but have actually been able to start working towards in the last couple of months, but to finish it I need to not be living paycheck to paycheck for like a month at the very least, which brings me back to point one :(. I will talk more about the big project under the cut, bc I think it's something you all might really enjoy!

But for now, I will link my commission sheet: Here (It's also my pinned post)

And my new Ko-fi!: Here for if you just want to donate, which would be literally incredible and I would owe you my soul actually.

Ok now for big Project Time!!!

I am in the process of editing and revising my first Youtube video! This has been an on and off dream of mine for like 7 years at this point, but I've finally taken the plunge and gotten to work on a channel. I wanna talk about all sorts of fandoms (including the riordanverse ofc) With videos ranging from plot and character analysis, to trends in fandom culture in general, to fun little ranking videos and speedpaints. All around, I just want the channel to be a fandom hive, where everyone can find something they enjoy.

I already have PNG's created of my sona to use as assets (And I have a sparkly new sona, the one in the pic above!) and I have two finished scripts, with the first one being fully recorded as well! One for my first video, which will be a retrospective on Gravity Falls, and one for a video about the Percy Jackson TV show, the inherent differences between TV and books as mediums, how I think the TV show could improve, and the things I think it got perfectly. I also have a bunch more ideas, such as:

BIG Trials of Apollo video essay, with a focus on how the books and the fandom have effected me over the years.

Ranking all of my favorite characters from all of the media I've been a fan of over the years (This would be over 70 characters)

Explaining the Iliad, but make it funny (with a side of Troy apologia)

Reading Lore Olympus and pointing out how it deviates from myth (the things I'm willing to do for you people /j)

Canon vs. Fanon, where I compare a characters canon characterization with their fanon counterpart and try to figure out how things turned out the way they did.

And more, but I don't want this post to be 5000 words long.

Now here's the big question. As I said in the part above, I'm struggling a bit now money-wise. And I really wanna make this project work, but there's also, you know. Tuition. Rent. Food. Stupid other adult stuff. So if anyone is amenable (and this is totally up to demand, I don't wanna pressure anyone into doing anything!) I was also thinking of maybe making a Patreon. Now, I'd have to do research for this, bc I wanna make sure anyone who signed up would get the right rewards and really get the bang for their buck. I'm pretty sure there's not gonna be much interest in this rn, cuz like, I'm not that big of a blog oof. But if anyone is interested! Here are some of the perks I would definitely be implementing! (sry it's another list)

Early access to videos, and behind the scenes looks at art assets and video creation

the ability to request topics for videos

Patrons names being shown in the videos. And higher tiered patrons getting custom chibis that will be shown in videos as well (and given to the patrons obv)

This ones a bit complicated, but I want to create a cover of a song that has to do with each video to play during their outros. So like, for the gravity falls video, I'm gonna record a quick cover of the Disco Girl song from the show. Only a small section of the song would be in each video, but patrons would get access to the full covers, and be able to request songs to be covered.

Discounts on commissions

A monthly speedpaint that would be exclusive to patreon. Patrons would be able to vote on what the drawing would be.

All of these ideas I'm 100% sure I want to add to a patreon if I make one, but obv there could be more that comes up later. I'm just gauging interest on this idea rn, so let me know if that's something you'd be down to sign up for! Maybe I'm jumping the gun here but I'm just really excited to create and give back to the community and aaahhhhh

Now, no matter what, I'm gonna have this first video out by mid-September at the latest. Because stupid money troubles are not gonna stop me from making this a thing dangit. So look out for that, I'll link the vid here when it releases! But I am just really stressed rn and any support would go a long way towards making this dream come true. And on that note, one more sappy real talk if I am allowed it?

If you've read this far, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. This community and fandom is truly incredible. My blog is about to reach 5 years old, and I've never seen a group of people so accepting and creative and just fun to be around. You guys have truly changed my life, and I wouldn't have the courage to try for this if I didn't have the support you've given me. I know this is super dramatic for just trying to make a youtube channel, but making a place where I could just talk about all the nerdy and overly specific things I care about and share them with the world is something I've wanted for my whole life. You guys gave me that with this blog, and if this channel works out, it'll be thanks to you, so you'll have given it to me twice. I don't have the words to express how much I love this community and all the incredible people in it. So even if you can't support, just know that being here for however long you have been, whether it's the whole five years or the last two days, has done more than you'll ever know. You guys are the best, thank you for everything <3

[those70scomics]

Fictober Day 9: "don't listen to me, listen to them"

That '70s Show Fanfiction

Hyde paced W.B.'s office at Grooves's headquarters. Angie was present, as was Jackie. She'd taken time off from her busy-as-hell schedule for this meeting.

"It's a dumb idea," he said. "I shouldn't have even brought it up."

"It's not dumb, and I'm happy that you told us about it." W.B. grasped Hyde's arm, stopping him near W.B.'s desk. "You're turning twenty-nine in less than two months. You're engaged. You should want more."

Angie's facial expression showed that she'd been waiting for this day. "I dreamt of running a record store since I was a kid. Then of running all of Grooves someday, and now I'm the company's senior VP of operations. You're allowed to pursue your dreams, too."

"I've already got more than I ever freakin' dreamed." Hyde glanced back at Jackie, who'd remained silent so far. "It ain't fair to to risk it all."

"You don't think creating Grooves was a risk?" W.B. said. I was married to Angie's mother, who was pregnant with Angie. We needed the security of a regular paycheck, but her mom wanted me to be happy. And my risk eventually paid off more than anybody could've imagined."

Hyde gestured in defeat. "I can't imagine this workin'."

Jackie stepped toward him and touched his hand. "Neither can I."

"Exactly."

"But don't listen to me. Listen to them."

Hyde stared at her. "Who the hell are you, and what've you done with my chick."

"Steven." She jostled his hand. "I'm redesigning my whole spring collection. I can't imagine that working either, but I'm doing it anyway. This time next year on October ninth, 1990, you'll have put out your first record on your own label."

"A sub label of Grooves Records, of course," Angie said with a smirk.

Hyde bowed his head and hunched his shoulders. "That's nepotism."

"That's expanding the family business." W.B. patted Hyde's back. "I'm not taking an opportunity away from anyone else. You've earned this. The demos you've played me, you have the ear, son."

Hyde sat in the closest chair. His legs were shaking from what was being said, being offered.

"You've been apprenticing under Frankie Branch to learn audio engineering, music production, for how long?" W.B. continued. "Picked up the guitar expertly in three years of lessons and learned as much by listening to songs. Taught yourself bass guitar. Became Cam's favorite drum student, and that's saying a lot."

Angie gazed at the high ceiling and shook her head. "Edna and Bud gave you no chance to realize you have perfect pitch. You didn't understand what you were capable of. You've had to play catch-up in your mid-twenties."

Jackie stood in front of Hyde and rubbed his arms over his long sleeves. "Your childhood was stolen from you. You once told me all the doors were locked for you but one. Your family, your true family, has unlocked so many. You've walked through a lot. Don't shut this door and walk away."

Hyde covered his face in his hands. His emotions were getting to him, breaking through his defenses. As a kid, Formans' folks signed Forman up for jazz guitar lessons, which he abandoned. Only the acoustic guitar remained, and Hyde played that thing every second he could at the Formans' house.

He used Forman's beginners' workbook to learn tabs that were printed alongside sheet music. Hyde couldn't read music for shit, but tabs he got. Songs on the radio, on records, stuck in his skull like recordings. He figured out how to play the guitar parts himself and, back then, had no clue why could do that.

He understood now.

"Son, are you all right?" W.B. said.

Hyde raised his head and wiped his eyes. "Yeah. Just ... when ya don't believe something's possible for you for so damn long -- and then it happens? Kind of a mind fuck."

"So you'll start your label?" Jackie smiled at him with such hope, such support, he would've fallen in love with her if he hadn't already fallen twelve years ago.

"Yup."

Jackie cheered, and W.B. congratulated him in a proud, fatherly way Hyde was still growing used to.

"What are you going to call it?" Angie said.

Hyde grinned. "Burn-Out Records."

[limplylimerent]

didn’t think I’d be making this the day i got paid but my paycheck was only 603, and 500 of that went to rent. I still need to pay 150 at some point for internet, 60 for electricity, plus other bills totaling 70, and that’s not even considering food. I really need around 200 to 300 dollars just to survive till my next paycheck. If you can help in any way, please do. Reblogs help as much as donations, and donations of any amount help. Thank you all so much, I’m trying not to have a nervous breakdown right now.

vnm: Aaron-Elijah

cshpp: aegib

pypl: Gibson123

[creepling]

here are my headcanons that clash with the lore [aka ronnie hobb's headcanons he just makes up on the spot me thinks] i have for tcm game characters bc i have writer's block and i need out of it FAST.

danny does not go to university, i'm sorry. i know i know the home gives him a scholarship but he is a blue collar guy. he has to make his own living, he's a hands on guy and he's got COMMON SENSE. no working-class person in the 70s is going to college, they know learning on the job is both sustainable for living (plus he's in a situation where he has to leave the home at 18, so he gotta pay city rent prices to have a roof over his head) and better to learn a trade while getting a paycheck. he was an apprentice since he was 18, and is a year into working as a car mechanic in austin. he does night/weekend classes at the university, probs something in humanities or art. he frequents the student bars when he has his time off, and that is when he meets maria + the gang. he knows leland from fixing his car from time to time, and when danny sees him at a bar one night, hanging out with maria, he knows right away he's asking him to introduce him to her.

leland is NOT the mf that gets the friend group together. this mf has a lot of misogyny to unlearn from growing up in a southern suburb. he took an elective in an art just so he can be in a class with "hot chicks". he doesn't even consider being friends with women at first bc he used to think girls = protential girlfriends/future wives. it wasn't until he found out sonny (the first friend he made, his bff) was close with maria, julie and connie that he warmed up to the idea of all hanging out together. sure... his crush on julie played a factor on him wanting to stay, but being around such open-minded people made him relax and unlearn the shitty traditions he didn't like in the first place. now they're like sisters to him and he lets maria braid his hair when stoned and makes attempt at getting connie out of her shy shell. watching julie from afar, remembering her off-hand remark about not wanting to be in a relationship, keeping his feelings to himself; because he doesn't wanna ruin the bond they all have.

the reason why julie is not wanting to date is because she comes to the realisation of her sexuality. she realises she likes men because, men tend to like her first, and it's easy to love someone who loves you back (typical fire sign move). and she's never picky, she says she doesn't care about looks; it's more the personality. and that is true but, for a guy if he has good style and funny -- she's settled. then she will see a lassie and think "she is the most ethereal thing i've laid eyes on". the intensity of her love for women compared to men hits her overnight. she lets her love for women shine through her platonic relationships; connie, maria and ana are her first priorities (especially connie). she likes sleepovers, having the illusion of living with a s/o while sharing a bed and making breakfast in the morning. she loves showering her friends in compliments, giving them makeovers, taking any excuse to be close to them and show her adoration. her subconscious desire to be in a relationship with a woman lives vicariously through the platonic relationships she has with her feminine peers.

the only person who can see right through it is connie, someone who has her sexuality figured out. she went through the same self-discovery, after all. but loving julie means moving on from her lover who she left behind, so connie is tied at both ends. does she take the risk, find new beginnings, even when there is no concrete proof julie is capable of loving her? or does she keep her promise, return to her lover back home, even if that meant witnessing the promise broken on the other side? what if she found another fate, got married, had kids, kept the feelings hidden. and when she sees how men look at julie, and how boys looked at her past lover, the insecurity prevails. why should they take the risk for her, a singular person, when there is the familiar option lining up to be her husband? *queue Good Luck, Babe! by Chappell Roan*

[aries-rising-on-an-aquarius-tide]

I think Rollins is going to blame Sonny for her boredom and her career ending - she’s always blamed and accused him of everything - they shouldn’t have got together, she only wanted him so he’d still be 100% attention on her as if he’s with someone else then she ain’t getting all his attention or him dropping everything all the time - they’ll divorce for sure I feel, and she’ll move away or something then a few seasons later or so, Sonny moves to be closer to his son (and her daughters) as he’s certainly the fittest parent out of the two.

Ok Anon. I have run out of patience for answering. Lol You can keep sending, and I will read 'em, but my opinions aren't going to change.

Rollins is not a bad character. In fact, Rollins is a fantastic character who fell victim to bad management and worse writing. As for Kelli, I don't really gaf. I don't know her and never will. What I do know is that she can act better than most actresses on TV in her age range, and DW fucked up hard by trying to get rid of her. It's a shame that in her coming back, she has to suffer through more lazy, destructive writing and boring bullshit. But really, the entire vehicle of a show is headed off that cliff, so, what can ya do I guess?

As for Carisi, I honestly don't care enough about him to bash him. As either a character or an actor. He can come, he can go, whatever. He adds nothing to the show so it means nothing to me.

I draw very distinct lines between characters and their actors. There is a huge gap between the two (despite anything Mariska says). So regardless of how much I may hate how a character is written, I'm not going to bash the actor for wanting a paycheck, or for acting the way it's written. Not in this economy.

And finally, always remember, every second interview that Mariska does she reminds us "Dick has the final say." If he wants to destroy his fan base, he's gonna. If he wants to hire and fire and then hire again, ditto. White male show creator syndrome means that no matter what his show means to others, no matter the legacy it has now, Dick Wolf is the one who decides if he wants to run it right into the ground. Anyone my age (I'm 40) will remember well watching Chris Carter do it in the 90s with The X-Files. It's like Icarus flying too close to the sun. Too much success with a good thing makes you think any change you make will be received just as well and succeed.

What really ends up happening is, the fanbase schisms worse than a white Baptist church and is left to pick up the pieces. Some write Rolivia fanfic, some write Rollisi fanfic, and we all reminisce about the days before the show went to hell in a handbasket.

There's a reason, anon(s) why TV shows in the 60s, 70s, 80s ended and never stretched on for a quarter of a century. Because culture, politics, comedy, current issues, etc. change too much to sustain that kind of cohesiveness. We all think that reboots and reunions are great, but most of them end up just reminding us that time marches on and nothing remains.

[rosesforwildwitches]

As someone who really likes Buzzfeed Unsolved and Ryan and Shane's later work on Watcher, I think that the watcher team has vastly underestimated how crucial the fact that YouTube is free is to their business model. I initially got into buzzfeed unsolved as a broke ass highschool student who didn't even have a job because I had an interest in true crime and goofy banter, but my mom's cable service was mostly filled with low effort shock bait. If buzzfeed unsolved had been initially a subscription service and had not been free to watch on the viewer end (with ads supporting it), I wouldn't have ever picked up watching it because I couldn't ever afford to. Even now that I'm almost a year out of college, at my most financially stable I was paying half of my paycheck per month for rent and couldn't afford to pay for my own car insurance and cell service without help from my parents despite being employed full time in a pharmaceutical testing lab that analyzed patient samples, and currently I'm burning through savings to not get evicted while job hunting and I just sent in an online application for food stamp benefits with my state last Sunday. I'm only subscribed to one service, Hulu, because I bought a 1 year subscription on a black Friday sale for 70% off all at once as a lump sum last November, and I only bought that because it has over 200 movies and shows I am actively interested in watching on the platform. I've enjoyed mystery files and buzzfeed unsolved greatly over the years, but that was only ever made possible for me by it being available for free on YouTube, and as of right now I sure as hell can't subscribe to a new service for one or two shows only. And while my situation may be particularly precarious, I'm going to bet based on everyone who I know who's also a fan that most of the fan base is in the same economic boat as me, as basically everyone I know who's a fan of the show is around my age and either still living at their parent's house or is surviving off of food banks at the moment. The Watcher team has greatly overestimated the financial stability of their viewing audience, and it's going to cost them so much.

[disasterarea-podcast]

Okay, so I wanted to give a bit of an update to everyone on where I’m currently at and what’s up with the podcast as of now. 😊

1. As you can see, the list of requests is down to two screen caps! *claps* I’m still trying to bust through everything as fast as I can, but I can only go so fast by myself. I unfortunately cannot afford to pay anyone to help like writers, researchers, etc., but even more so than usual my coffers are empty even for myself. (Which I will get to.) If anybody who’s submitted a request has any questions regarding this list, feel free to ask! Especially if it’s been a while and you’re wondering when your episode will come out. I can’t guarantee a specific date, but I can make a note to work on getting yours out ASAP. If you’d like to just note which is yours, also great! I can be a nitwit and forget to note whose request is whose sometimes, so I don’t mind a reminder. 😊

2. Relatedly, if you’d like to offer to do research for the podcast because any of these is a particular interest of yours, I would be more than willing to accept the help! I just can’t afford to pay for any assistance, but I am certainly not about to take credit for someone else’s research and I will make note on the episode of your assistance. (I do prefer to write my own scripts, but that’s my favorite bit.)

3. Okay, so the personal stuff. I tested positive for COVID on August 2nd. So I was completely useless for a good five days or so. (This strain is no joke - mask up!) I also missed out on one day at dog camp (not a worry) and a weekend’s worth of full time (BIG worry). This week, with the few hours of overtime work was able to use to put toward my COVID weekend, I got a paycheck that came out to a whole forty-five cents. Yeeeeeaaaah. So, if anyone is interested in helping out, the PayPal is disaster@mail.com, the Venmo is disasterareapodcast, and the CashApp is disasterareapod.

4. Oh, also! I was going to do this last week but … you know, COVID, *so*. I’m planning on putting out a bonus episode on the Patreon that’s just about based-on-a-true-story TV disaster movie from the 70s to the 90s. They’re terrible, they’re made in the Hollywood equivalent of five minutes, and I adore them. So if you’d like to join the Patreon, that’ll be coming up juuuuuuust as soon as my default setting isn’t SLEEP.

[nerdfighterwhatevernumbers]

things suck rn money wise- i managed to pay my rent, but my pay check hasn't hit my bank account yet, so I only have like $220 to my name. my hours are fluctuating big time, so the last two weeks got me a $1k paycheck that's supposed to hit idk when. the website says i was paid today despite it not showing up in my account. it was in my account last time, so I know they have the right numbers. and I worked like 70 hours in the last 2 weeks, but next week I'm only scheduled 9 hours. 9. at least I have access to my paystubs now so I can start applying for food stamps after the holiday weekend. but I'm afraid they'll see my increasing hours and not know they're going down again. if anyone wants to commission me for a crochet project hit me up

[pbandjesse]

I got some foot masks in the mail the other day and I am trying it and I have bags on my feet and it is so bizarre. But if it works that would be excellent.

Today was a super busy day. It was go go go from the moment I woke up until around 4. It was a good day overall. Even with some weird stresses.

This morning James woke me up and I said I needed the extra hour. So I went back to sleep until 8.

James was at work by the time I got up. And I made the bed and felt a little better. I love this wrap dress. So I was pretty comfy. I had a sweater on this morning but very soon I would take that off. It was strangely strangely warm. It was 76 degrees! Which makes me nervous for the summer but we did have one 70 degree day last February too. I checked the blanket. I have the data. I am sad we didn't have any snow.

I got to the musuem and felt good. Felt excited. I was training people and I had three needles programs! What an excellent day.

When I got there I just assumed the front door was locked but it was not and Jessica teased me for not checking. There were two new people! I would be with one of them today: Meril.

She's great. I think we will be fast friends because she's really sweet and easy to talk to. And super quick to learn.

When I first got there I would go start setting up needles with Del. And he's very specific and so I did what I needed to do for my stuff. Though I did get a little confused when he insisted on 4 cutters when I would normally do 6 or 8. But that's fine. Except we didn't have enough pockets?? Whatever. We made it work.

Like I said I had three needles programs. No breaks. And they were good kids but it's hard for 3rd graders to sew. But they all got it by the end.

One of the issues today was that O'Malley was leading after only seeing the program once and Audrey was leading it for the second time. So we were struggling a little. Everyone did good but there was no consistency. It's all fine but man. It's hard to reach someone when you don't exactly know what to expect. Meril was great though and quick to pick it up.

Rosia would also shadow for the middle programs. Which wasn't the best. Mostly because I couldn't go get her and she got lost in the musuem. And I didn't get to give her a brief explanation so I think she was a little confused at times. But it was fine. Like we handled it and the sewing went well.

Though the kids were a little focused on tech. They were taking videos and pictures a lot. Which is fine but it was on iPads so it was a little distracting. And then a kid in the front row took a phone call during Del's intro and that was just. Wild to me. And then later a child was watching a movie?? How to train your dragon 2?? No teacher stepped in and it was just so strange.

But I still had fun. I got to work on my embroidery. I enjoyed working with the kids. I felt happy. I had to just focus on the work though because as soon as I didn't I realized I was hungry. I only had a little bit of pretzels for breakfast.

After the kids left me and Meril cleaned up and worked on cutting shapes and cleaning up the kids work. It was super fun. And it was just nice talking to her. She is coming from a different historical museum and it's just really neat. She's a year older than me and we have a lot in common. A new friend I hope!

I would go to the back once we cleaned up and ate the egg salad I had with me and started shaking. Didn't realize how low my blood sugar had gotten. James was back there too and it was nice to eat together. And then we would go to the desk and I had a nice long conversation with Jessica about me going to work at Puhtok full time.

She gave me things to think about. Mostly what she thinks I should ask money wise. And from my research she is right. And if I base it off my camp pay it's not to far off what I already make there. Scary to talk about money but I will have to do it. It will make our life so much better if I have solid and expected paychecks. Even if it scares me.

I would stay a little later then I planned because the photographer that has work at the museum, Joe, came by and it turns out he worked at Puhtok back in the day and so me, him, and James talked about that for a while. About the good and bad and the changes I'm trying to make.

But at 230 I had to go. I have things to do!! So I said goodbye to everyone and went out to the beautiful day.

I drove the half hour our to Reisterstown to get my background check. And I was prepared for this to take an hour or more. But there was boy two people in front of me so it was like. Stupid easy.

The woman in front of me had a preschooler with her who became my best friend. We were making faces at each other and then she told me all about her pet hermit crab. Love little kids.

I got my fingers printed and was done in less then a half hour. So I decided I would go to the little goodwill to look around. The woman at the register was so sweet. We had some nice little laughs. And I found a very silly chrismas dress I couldn't pass up even if it's February. I will save it for next Christmas.

I also almost got a purse but I know I don't need another purse. So I said no to myself even if it was hard!!

I was planning on driving home after that. I texted Jess about how stupid busy today was. And she asked if I had gotten out pottery yet. I had completely forgotten. So I checked the GPS and I was 10 minutes form amazing glaze so I went there.

And our pottery was perfect. I think they both came out so stinking cute. I'm thrilled. My flowers and my worms are visible! I am super pleased. And Jess's pears are so nice. The woman there was super nice and said our pottery was super cool.

I went home next. Talked to my neighbors downstairs about the weather. And when I got upstairs James was basically right behind me. They said we should go for a walk. We open all the windows first. And I changed my shoes and James changed their shirt. And we went out.

We walked around the block. Took some pictures near the pretty flower trees. I love the flowering trees. Though it is still to early. Climate change.

We came back home and James made soup for themselves and pasta for me. And I basically stayed chilling on the couch all evening. James had their podcast but they had a guest in a central time zone so they would be recording until 9. But it was a nice evening. I went and took a bath. And James seemed to have had fun doing the podcast.

I just finished my foot mask. And James keeps laughing at me because I said I had wet plastic bags on my feet. But that's what it felt like!! And James rubbed the serum in for me because they are the best.

Now it is time for bed. I have two programs and a scavenger hunt tomorrow. I think it will be a good day. Fingers crossed. I hope you all sleep well tonight. Be safe!!