#im barely active and YET i still had to choose violence

[videcoeur]

Lexi @muselexum casually waltzing in on my tumblr dashboard, expecting to take things slow and stuff

me: instantly sends some crockane angst to her inbox

[sirenofthegreenbanks]

8 and 17 of the weird writers questions!

8. If you had to write an entire story without either action or dialogue, which would you choose and how would it go?

my secret super weapon is that im incredibly good at rambling!!! monologues and internal narrations are my forte! and i love stories that tell things a little bit different that your usual conventional story. assuming by „no-action“ this question is talking about characters (choice of) action, not physical combat, basically anything that is not internal narrative, i would choose this if i wanted to challenge myself a bit. in the end, it is a little difficult to string a whole, cohesive story together that is not boring without characters doing smth tangible. i would choose no-dialogue if i wanted to explore dreamy, whismical, introspective storytelling (which i love!!!!) like in fairytales. the fairytales i grew up with have very or even no dialogue, and instead rhymes and poetic prose. both are good!

17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text

im not going to talk about the details of the WIP itself. i feel these things are very private, its not yet published and i want to keep it close to my chest a little longer. but im going to talk about what it means to me, writing this WIP.

so, basically, my family has a very personal relationship with dictatorship, propaganda, freedom of speech (and thought), silence (and the violence therein), unresolved trauma, and war. thus, im having lots of feelings for tyk that are stemming directly from this. my dad (not my real dad, but more a real dad than my actual dad) was a prisoner of war and a revolutionary, and we have reason to believe he still worked in the underground network even after his escape from the regime. my parents (all three, including my actual dad) are immigrants and refugees, my grandparents escaped the regime when it was still active, my grandpa experienced smth very similar to what zhang zhehan is going through, only as an official government-statuated example and without social media terror and identity fraud. as someone who grew up in the so called "nachwende" (after the fall of the berlin wall) generation, i can only imagine what it must have been like. tyk, to me, speaks about many of these things, and doing it in such a way i can stomach (but barely!!!). as a novel from a mainland chinese author, it was created in the context of censorship in a country that is keeping its citizen under tight wraps in a state of intentional illusion, dependence, anxiety, and normalized constant surveillance. here, too, i can only try to imagine what it must be like. now, it is debatable how much of what priest does (in both tyk and qiye) can be counted as "regime resitant" beyond the fact that its danmei, and i wouldnt be the right person to answer this question either; everything i know is researched, rather than lived. but i do think it has merit (is important, even) to be conscious of the wider context the text was created in, to be aware of it, as a fic writer. i know many fics rather "escape" and focus on positive things. i dont condemn not being political, everyone can do as they like. but unfortunately, im not like them. (im different. im other. do u see this stupid hat?)

not all my WIPs are like this (fortunately!!! i do need to relax!!!!) but this one is. im pretty sure its the love child of my own family's frustrating habit of not talking about the things that are important (i recently learned my grandma grew up door-to-door with a KZ, in the sense of "seeing KZ-prisoners bypassing her garden in a long trail" as a regular day-to-day occurence, and she never mentioned it ever, and i only learned of it because my grandpa shared it off-handedly but was immediately hushed back into silence), and my own habit of not talking about stuff i should talk about, probs. sometimes feelings are too big! experienes are too heavy! and ive always been better at finding answers in stories than in real life. so. this WIP!

im sorry, thats probably not the answer u thought u would get when seleccting this question! thank you for dropping into my inbox though <3 i still have your other ask and im staring at it everytime i open my inbox, feeling extremely guilty and happy at the same time

ask me weird writers questions!

[chaptersinprogress]

romeo this ain’t a tragedy, it’s a goddamn romance

The front door slammed open with a bang and a man in the Royal Thai Police uniform strode out.

“Stop right there boy!" he shouted, voice carrying clearly across the space.

Kongpob froze with his hand poised to throw the 10th egg. Fuckity fucking fuck.

Rating: M

Warnings: swearing, mentions of blackmail, violence, murder

Pairings: Arthit/Kongpob, brief Prae/Ting

Prompt: ‘im egging your house for a dare but your parent is a cop and they’re yelling at me so i told them that you were my ex and you wronged me and now you’re coming outside and please go along with this i don’t want to go to jail’ au - by @mraculous

an au of demolition lovers

Rage flooded Kongpob's veins as a laughing John and his friends displayed the damning photos in high-definition. Aim and Tew were frozen beside him, shocked and horrified by what they were seeing and the implications.

Photo after photo flickered by in a mocking slideshow - pictures of himself, Aim, Tew and Wad in varying states of undress in the university locker rooms, and some looking like they were picking fights with other people.

If the photos had been of Kongpob alone, he wouldn't have worried too much. There was nothing in there that could truly damage him irreparably even if they had been released.

Yes, his reputation would take a hit, but that could be easily cleared up. Besides, money talked, and he was fortunate enough to come from a family both financially and politically powerful. The whole situation could've been hushed up and action taken against the perpetrators.

But it wasn't just him involved.

Worst of all were the pictures of Prae and Ting. Plenty of candid photographs and selfies made it obvious that their relationship went far deeper than friendship. And some of them were very clearly meant to be private.

Case in point: the final picture - a sultry photo of Prae on a bed in the nude, sheets artfully draped over her curves.

If those pictures were leaked, the impact on Prae, her girlfriend, and their families would be devastating. Not only would Prae stand to lose her title as Campus Star, but the media would pounce on the scandal surrounding the heiress of one of the most prominent engineering firms in Thailand. That wasn't even considering the risk the company's position and the livelihood of their employees would face.

However, that wasn't what troubled him the most. The more pending concern was just how P'John and his goons had gotten their grubby paws on those last few photos. Because Prae and Ting were anything but careless. And since the probability that they could've gotten them from Ting was almost nil, that meant that they had a mole among their cohort.

Kongpob's lips curled over his teeth in a barely concealed snarl.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Tew shift slightly, subtly pulling out his phone and texting someone with one-hand, carefully concealing it behind his back. Some of the tension that had pulled his shoulders tight bled out.

Tew must've updated Ting on the situation. And if Ting knew, Ram would soon find out, and so would Duen. Savage satisfaction warmed his chest. Those poor idiots had no idea what they had gotten themselves into. He idly wondered if their bodies would ever turn up.

When the fools started talking again, he forced himself to pay a modicum of attention to them. He just needed to play along until the Chao Pho dealt with the photographs.

Except, the situation soon escalated far beyond his control.

Kongpob gritted his teeth as his hands shook, from anger or fear he wasn't too sure himself. The knife John's friend was digging into Aim's throat caused blood to drip slowly down the boy's neck, staining the collar of his shirt dark pink. Tew was pinned to the floor, John's other buddy kneeling on his back, twisting his arms at a painful angle behind him.

Their phones had been taken and smashed to pieces. In the dark of the alleyway they were all standing in, shadowed by the evening sky, they were very unlikely to get help from any passersby.

"What the fuck do you want, Ai'John?" Kongpob spat.

"I would suggest you think carefully about how you address me, Ai'Kong. I'm the one with the photos after all," said John with a smirk, shaking his own phone mockingly. He tapped his chin in mock consideration, "But you know what? I'm a nice guy."

He continued, "I just need you to do a very simple thing. You see that house there? All you have to do is egg it with these dozen eggs, one by one. But they must break open on the house itself; no dumping them on the lawn."

Kongpob narrowed his eyes. "And why would I do that?"

"I didn't take you to be a coward, Kongpob. Heard that you were such as hero standing up to your hazers, but you can't do this simple thing." John laughed. 

"Well if you do it, I promise to delete all these photos and we'll never talk about this again. If you're too scared, I can always just post them on the campus page. I have a lovely draft already set up and just need to press the button."

"Your problem is with me, John," Kongpob snarled. "Leave my friends out of it."

Shrugging, John replied, "I am. All you have to do is do as I say, and they'll be out of it."

Aim spoke up, "No, Kong! Don't -". He cut himself off as the knife was pointedly pressed deeper into his neck.

Helplessly, Kongpob took in the horrible situation they were in. Even if Ting and Ram had left the moment they got the texts, it would still take them at least another half an hour to reach their school, traffic violations included. And then they'd still have to track them here.

There had to be more to what John wanted. Egging a house in exchange for deleting the blackmail? It certainly wasn't an equivalent exchange, so there had to be a catch in the request somewhere. But there was no choice to be made really.

If it were between Kongpob alone getting into trouble or dragging his friends down with him, he'd always choose to be the only one in the line of fire.

He just hoped that Tew had managed to activate the signal blocker before their phones had been destroyed - just in case John decided to go back on his word and post those pictures anyway.

"Fine!" sneered Kongpob. "Hand the eggs over."

With a smug smile, John shoved the carton of eggs into his hand and waved him out of the alleyway. And like a condemned man walking to the gallows, Kongpob dragged his feet to the house and stood outside the massive gate. He scanned the area subtly, before sighing. There were security cameras covering the entire front of the house - which meant that his actions would be captured on tape.

Which was the point, he supposed. This way, John and his friends were safe since they were not directly involved in Kongpob's actions, should there be an investigation. And Kongpob, Aim or Tew couldn't breath a word about it without revealing the type of blackmail material John had, which was what they were trying to avoid in the first place.

Which meant this was yet another loose end for Duen's people to take care of.

The saving grace of this whole situation was that at least he wasn't in uniform. Or anything else too easily identifiable. He ducked down beside the wall, out of the sightlines of the cameras. Pulling out his sunglasses and a handkerchief from his pocket, he slipped on the shades before tying the cloth to cover the lower half of his face to further obscure his features. Then tucking the carton of eggs securely under his armpit, he boosted himself over the iron-wrought gate.

Dropping onto the grass below in a crouch, he froze - waiting for any sign that the people inside had noticed his presence. When nothing happened, he let out a harsh breath in relief, and crept forward till he was at the halfway point - a close enough distance to throw properly, but far enough to make a quick getaway.

(Hopefully)

"Ok Kong, in and out… easy peasy… just do it and run… yeah, ok," he tried to psych himself up.

Taking an egg out of the carton, he weighed it in his hand for a second before drawing his arm back and launching it. With a wet smash, it exploded all over the door. Immediately, he picked up more eggs and kept pelting them one by one. They crashed into the walls, the pillars, and the porch.

2, 3, 4, 5

As Kong let the 6th egg fly at one of the windows, a figure appeared behind it right before the runny liquid coated the glass. A high scream rang out.

"Oh shit," Kongpob cursed under his breath.

He hastily attempted to finish his task.

7, 8, 9

The front door slammed open with a bang and a man in the Royal Thai Police uniform strode out.

"Stop right there boy!" he shouted, voice carrying clearly across the space.

Kongpob froze with his hand poised to throw the 10th egg. Fuckity fucking fuck. He dropped the egg and the carton, spinning on his heel to sprint away.

"If you take one step from there, I'll bring you straight to the station kid! Don't test me!"

Kongpob's shoulders slumped. He hesitantly turned back around to face the furious officer striding towards him. The man came to a halt an arm's length in front of him and glared.

"Take those things off your face," he ordered.

Kongpob briefly considered protesting, but common-sense won and he took off the sunglasses and handkerchief without argument. The man's eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

"Aren't you Kerkkrai's son?"

Kongpob's blood ran cold. How did this man know him? He glanced between the name on the uniform and the man's face a few times before it clicked - the Commissioner! He'd briefly met the elder at a fundraiser while accompanying his father. The two adults had bonded over the fact that both their sons were both in engineering and lived in dorms, though the Commissioner's son was a third year.

And that meant that he was now doubly fucked.

"You don't seem to be the kind of kid who runs around egging people's houses," the Commissioner commented with a raised eyebrow, concern clear in his voice. "Are you in some sort of trouble?"

Think, think, think!

Kongpob flushed, "Erm, sorry Khun, I didn't know this was your house. I thought… I thought it was my faen's… well ex-faen's."

The man seemed stunned. "Oh?"

"I guess I'm at the wrong place," said Kongpob, rubbing his neck sheepishly. He crossed his fingers behind his back. Please let him believe it…

"What happened?" the Commission asked.

Fuck! What excuse could he give for being there?

Kongpob shifted his weight from side to side. "I… well, my faen is my head hazer. We've been keeping our relationship down low for his reputation's sake, but… there was a limit to how much I could take. And when I pushed the issue, he broke it off."

The man rested a consoling hand on Kongpob's shoulder. "He doesn't deserve you then. Do you want to share?"

Well he was already in this deep with his fictional relationship, it wouldn't hurt to embellish it with the truth.

Kongpob looked at his feet. "The hazing did get to me a bit. And it didn't help that I might have been pushing his buttons in return. So he was a bit of a… mean person. He had me stand on a table in the canteen and announce that I liked men, then ask 10 guys out. And at one point, ordered me to run 54 laps for talking back and also kinda flirting with him - though I didn't finish more than 7."

And now back to the lies.

"But it was him denying any closeness with me that was the limit. I guess he didn't plan on coming out anytime soon, and… I didn't want to be his dirty little secret forever."

He finally dared to glance at the man, trying to judge his reaction to the concocted sob story. A heavy frown decorated the Commissioner's face, though it didn't seem like he was angry at Kongpob.

"I think," the man finally spoke. "You might be at the right place after all."

Kongpob stared at him in confusion. What could he mean by that?

"Oon! Come out!"

Panicking, Kongpob shook his head frantically while trying to dislodge the hold the Commissioner had on his shoulder. "Khun, it's ok, you don't have to do this."

Who ‘Oon’ was and what at exactly 'this' was, Kongpob himself didn't have a clue, but he sure as hell wasn't planning on sticking around to find out.

The Commissioner merely tightened his grip, forcing Kongpob to stay in place. "OON!"

A boy dressed in an oversized T-shirt and basketball shorts, with a bird's nest for hair, stumbled out of the door. He took in the pungent smell of raw eggs, puddles of it dripping down the house, and finally the teenager firmly held in the grasp of his father.

"0062?" he gaped.

Kongpob's face visibly drained of all colour. "P'Arthit?" he whispered faintly, his entire life flashing before his eyes.

The harsh voice of his head hazer dragged him back to the present. "Did you do this?"

"Oon, come here!" the Commissioner snapped.

Arthit came to a stop in front of the two and wai-ed. "Por, I'm so sorry about this junior, I'll take care of this -"

"Did you make him stand on a table in the canteen and announce that he liked men, then ask 10 guys out?"

Arthit drew back, stunned. "What? What has he been telling -"

"I asked you a question, Oon."

Nodding stiffly, Arthit answered, "Yes Por."

"He's the one you ordered to run 54 laps."

"Yes Por."

"DOWN 50!" the Commissioner roared, causing Kongpob to almost jump out of his skin in shock.

Arthit scrambled into push-up position and began the punishment, counting the reps loudly.

"1! 2! 3! 4!"

"How dare you force your junior to say such things?! Do you know how dangerous that was?!" the man yelled over his son. “Did you think it funny?! I didn't raise a homophobic brat!"

"12! 13! I'm sorry Por! 14! 15!"

"What are you even sorry for?! Were you trying to humiliate him?! How do you think N'Toota would've felt - watching you mock his sexuality as if it was something to be ashamed of!"

"24! 25! 26!"

Kongpob stood as still as a statue as the Commissioner continued giving the head hazer a vicious tongue-lashing, the heavy weight of guilt lying in his stomach like a rock. He hadn't meant to get P'Arthit into trouble, deserved as it may be. His head began to pound, and he stifled a groan.

This whole day had been nothing but one mess after another.

"Get up!" the officer ordered harshly.

Arthit scrambled back up, his posture a perfect imitation of that of a military recruit.

"I expect you to make up with your faen, and once you're done, for both of you to come to dinner."

Arthit's jaw dropped. "Faen?"

His father gave him a sharp glare. "N'Kong has already told me everything. Don't try to fool me."

"But Por-"

"Enough Oon! I had expected better of you."

Arthit hung his head.

Kongpob winced as the man's glare shifted to him. "And you. Don't think that I've forgotten about what you've done here. Both you and Oon are going to clean up this mess."

Wai-ing, Kongpob replied remorsefully. "Yes Khun. I apologise for my actions. I know I was wrong and have inconvenienced you terribly. I wasn't thinking clearly, but it won't ever happen again."

"See that it doesn't. This is no way to resolve spats." The Commissioner's expression softened and he squeezed Kongpob's shoulder gently. "You will always be welcome here. Does Kerkkrai know?"

Kongpob shook his head. "No... we hadn't exactly talked about telling our families." 'Because there wasn't anything to tell,' he continued wryly in his head.

"Then we'll keep this between us for now," said the man, releasing his hold. "Make sure there's nothing left of this mess before you both come for dinner," he warned, before making his way inside the house.

When the door securely shut behind his father, Arthit turned to Kongpob, eyes boring holes into the other’s skull.

"What. Did. You. Do." he growled.

Kongpob began to slowly back away, arms lifted in surrender. "P'Arthit, I can explain!"

"KONGPOB!"

[chokememrstark]

A Dangerous Game // Samifer

Chapter: 3/15

Words: 2035

Summary: Sam comes across a very interesting book that describes a ritual in which one can play a game with the Devil. His curiosity is sparked and even if he doesn’t think he will ever actually do it, Sam soon finds himself face to face with this very entity. Things take a very unpleasant turn, but despite that, Sam is going back, as if something pulls him towards Lucifer.

abuse, violence, bullying, black magic, no hunter!au

Note: The chapters vary highly in words usually, I apologize for that. It’s my longest fic for a while, so I hope you like it ^^ Also, because I feel I need to add this: Dean is pretty much an ass in this story, so if you’re uncomfortable with that you might want to reconsider reading it (or tell yourself he is completely ooc, fine with me too xD)

Thanks to @sassysupernaturalsweetheart & @brieflymaximumprincess for their wonderful beta reading and keeping me company while writing this story ♥

Tagging: @spnyoucantkeepmedown @samlicker83 - if you want to be tagged, just drop me an ask or contact me via IM.

It was way past midnight when Sam finally put the book he had purchased in the morning down. He had spent the last few hours unable to take his eyes off the words, fascinated by what the book revealed to him. At first he was confused by the way the book was written - as if the author spoke directly to him and no one else - but after a while he got used to the style and devoured every single word he found. The book wasn’t about any real magic or spells or anything, but exactly about what the title promised: a game.

When Sam finally put the book down the thoughts ran wild in his head. He knew why the woman gave him candles and the red string now, but it made as little sense as what he had just read. Did she read the book herself and expected him to play the game? Or was she messing with him, daring him to do it? No, that couldn’t be. She couldn’t know if he would take the book seriously or not. Hell, he didn’t even know it himself yet. A game that allowed you to speak to the devil? How crazy was that?

Then again, it was written in a very convincing way and Sam wondered if it was something that worked or that some weird guy made up. After all, it was just a book, right? Even if it seemed very convincing, it was just written words in a book that he bought.

Sam would have reread the book again, if only to look for anything that didn’t fit the story, but it was already too late and his eyes barely stayed open, even when he tried to force it. So, he closed the book and shoved it under his bed, turned off the light and laid down to sleep. It was Sunday the next day, so he would have another day to contemplate about what he had read, but for now he needed some sleep or he would be a walking corpse in the morning - more than he was anyways, of course.

That night, for the first time in a while, Sam had very weird dreams. At first, he was on a field under the full moon, staring at the sky with its stars so bright that everything was sparkling. Then he heard Dean’s voice, taunting him that he was a baby and would always be one and that he would be better off without this emo brother holding him back all the time. Sam turned around, determined to tell Dean that he was not a baby, but when he did, there was no Dean. Instead, he suddenly stood in a church and stared at a huge mirror. It wasn’t his reflection he saw though, it was a shadow inside, with eyes glowing as red as gleaming coal. He was frozen in place when a raspy and dark voice spoke to him.

“Are you brave enough to play my game, Sam?”

The boy woke up, covered in sweat and with his heart racing in his chest. His breath went heavy for over a minute before he finally realized that he was awake and that the weird noise he heard was his brother in the other room, snoring. He laid back, closed his eyes and covered them with one of his arms.

“Damn…” he whispered weakly.

Sam was used to nightmares since he was a young child, but this voice was giving him the creeps much more than even the worst of them. It still echoed in his head, whispering his name over and over - creeping him out and at the same time luring him, which was much worse for some reason.

After a few minutes, when he realized he wouldn’t fall asleep again, Sam sat back up and looked at his clock. It was shortly after four in the morning, much too early to get up, but what was he supposed to do? No, tonight he wouldn’t get any more sleep, so instead of tossing around for a few hours, Sam decided to stop bothering.

As silently as he could, Sam got dressed and sneaked into the kitchen of the small apartment to grab something to eat and drink, before returning to his room. He switched on the light, got a notebook and pen from his desk, then crawled back onto the bed and pulled his new book out from under the pillow. Since he had a lot of time, he thought, he could use it to go through the book again and make notes. So far, Sam wasn’t sure why he even thought about doing this - after all he wouldn’t go out and break into a church to summon the devil, right? But, for some reasons, he still felt the need to do it.

His notebook quickly filled with words, ranging from the things needed for the game, to the individual steps to play it. It really wasn’t that difficult, now that he saw it all in front of him. He still had no idea why the woman in the shop gifted him the candles and yarn, but it would spare him another shopping trip, if he actually considered doing this. Apart from that he would just need salt, a lighter and a church with a full-length mirror. Didn’t sound impossible, especially considering that the town they resided in right now had an old church they abandoned a few years ago. It was about thirty minutes away from their apartment and the verger who usually guarded it, was sick in the hospital at the moment, leaving the church unattended. How he knew that? Well, coincidence or not, the verger was also the pastor of his school and they got the news the week before.

“That’s insane,” Sam huffed when he read through his notes again and shook his head. “Why am I even thinking about this?”

The answer came clear, but it came from a voice inside his head that wasn’t his own.

“Because you are going to do this.”

It was the voice from his dream again, but this time it sounded less raspy and much more real than before. Still, it sent a shiver through Sam’s whole body and he shook his head more determined.

“No, no I’m not gonna play a game with the devil,” he said, but his voice was not at all convincing, not even to himself. “I’m not that stupid.”

But was that the truth? Really? He had no idea. Sure, Sam wasn’t stupid and he knew that, but even thinking about something like this was a very stupid idea and he couldn’t deny that. Still, if he would be careful, he could do it and come out of it unharmed - if it even worked. Sam couldn’t imagine this actually working under any circumstances. Sure, he knew sometimes weird things happened, but talking with the devil? In a church, of all places? That was ridiculous!

When Sam was done with the book again, faster this time, because he was only looking for specific information, it was almost six. He carefully closed the book, when he noticed something that had escaped his eyes the first time. The last page of the book was not the actual last page - it was kind of glued to the cover. Sam lifted the book up and as careful as possible began freeing the paper. It took a little effort to not rip the page in half, but eventually he managed to get it off the cover and turned it.

To his surprise, Sam found a symbol on top of the last page, followed by a few words written in a neat and small handwriting.

For those who dare play this game, I welcome you to try your luck.

Maybe you are the one who will finally be a true competition.

After all, you are smart enough to not fall into any of the traps, right?

LCF

Again, those three letters. LCF. Sam had been a regular visitors of libraries all over the U.S. and not a single time he had seen any book written by someone with those initials - he assumed they were initials, because everything else made even less sense. Sure, he couldn’t have possibly found all authors in existence in the ten years he was actively reading, but he still wondered how he never stumbled across it.

“This is insane,” he eventually huffed and finally closed the book.

No, he wouldn’t play this stupid game, no matter how tempting it appeared. It was just a creepy book, words written by someone who wanted to mess with people or just did it for the money. People didn’t go out and crucified others because the Bible said it, so why should he go and try to talk with the devil because this book said it?

Determined to forget about all of this, Sam took the book and the notebook and shoved them into his backpack. He also put the candles and yarn into it to get everything out of his sight and then, finally, sat back and ate the food he had sitting next to him for two hours now.

After he was done eating and finished his coke, Sam was positive that he wouldn’t do anything crazy. He instead got up from the bed, went to his bathroom and decided to take a long shower to wash all this crap away, if only metaphorically. Sam took his time showering and washing his hair, almost stayed until the water was ice cold and when he eventually stepped out of the shower again, he felt much better than before.

It was almost seven o’clock when Sam was done drying his hair and began dressing. He choose his favorite black pants, the ones that had chains on the sides and was ripped at the knees, a plain, black shirt and his combat boots. For a moment he thought about leaving it like that, but then decided to screw his dad’s complaints and put on makeup around his eyes - mainly because it made him feel much better about himself and people usually left him the hell alone when he did. With a deadly look on his face after putting the makeup on, he nodded at his reflection and carefully let his fingers glide over his eyebrow piercing.

“At least he didn’t rip it out,” Sam mumbled to himself, remembering how Dean had tugged on it the last day. It was still slightly red where the metal pushed through his skin, but there was no infection and he really liked how it had turned out. With a little smile on his face, Sam left the bathroom and got his jacket from the wardrobe - a slightly too big leather jacket that he wore almost every day if possible - and shouldered his backpack.

It was Sunday, so no school or chores around the apartment had to be done, and Sam decided to see if he could find a quiet place somewhere to just sit down and think a little. Thinking was usually impossible at home on Sundays, because Dean would either bring some girl home or annoy him with loud music the whole day and his dad would ultimately get into a fight with his brother about it. Almost every time Sam was the one who had to pay for any of this, since when his dad was done with his brother, he often turned to Sam to punish him for stuff he never did - or Dean would pester him with annoying comments about his appearance or behavior. So, instead of waiting for this to happen, Sam rather spent the day outside alone than mess with his family. It caused much less drama.

Sam sneaked into the kitchen again and made himself some sandwiches for lunch that he put into his backpack, as well as two cans of coke and an apple that wasn’t spoiled yet - Dean and his dad never ate any sort of fruits, so they didn’t care if they were rotting or not. When he left the apartment, both of them were still asleep and Sam couldn’t have been more glad about that.