#john is in the back 3rd wheeling

[ionlymadethissoicouldleaveanask]

(They’re on a double date)

[ghouljams]

The Price of Fire (chapter 2) Rating: M Tags: John Price x f!OC(Lio/Witch), fae!Price, historic setting, magic, debts, witch oc, 3rd Person POV, slow burn, curses Summary: Something in the wind is drawing Lio to the forest, the man in the woods is still cursed it seems.

<-prev part

Master List

Yule comes and goes, the year wheel turns over. The moon is held low on the horizon, the sun’s rays reaching steadily out from behind the crest of the earth, chasing the moon off her watchful path. Lio walks through her garden with a short handled broom, and dust the fresh powder off her plants. She stops in front of her roses and crouches down, scooping snow off and pressing her gloved finger against the dried thorns. She hums thoughtfully before moving to the next plant. Certain herbs weather the winter well, but that doesn’t mean they’re always usable. She supposes there’s plenty in her dried stores, but if she can get them fresh, why wouldn’t she?

Something’s been tugging at Lio since the moon was high. She’s felt restless, on edge, her eyes darting over her shoulder to check that she hasn’t welcomed any unexpected spirits into her home. The chill in the air feels like the turn of a corner more than the turn of the year. It should be getting warmer, but the frost is as thick and white as it’s ever been. Parsley, oregano, rosemary, she plucks the withered green from beneath the snow as she counts her blessings. Lio pauses by one of the fence posts denoting the edge of her garden. A barrier between her and the forest’s residents. Dusting off the top reveals the heavy iron nail that’s been driven into the center. She checks it with careful fingers, her bare skin sticking to the bite of cold iron.

It hasn’t rusted yet, that’s good. She’ll want to replace it before spring though, which means a trip into town to see the blacksmith. Lio glances towards the forest, somehow the dark trees feel less foreboding than the thought of town. At least she knows the danger that lurks in the forest. The fae, at least, have rules that they must abide by. Humans are unpredictable. The people in town are kind enough, but their stares follow her even to her dreams. Of course they’re happy to seek her out when something ails them, but when she raises a hand in greeting around common folk they all turn away. They used to be kinder. Perhaps winter is chilling more than just fingers this year.

Another check over her bundle of herbs, counting stems and leaves as she walks back towards her door. Her fingers are having trouble circling the greenery, and there are spots of ice on some of the leaves, but it should work. She’ll get started on some fire charms, then she’ll have something to trade for the nails. Her eyes dart to the forest as she hurries inside, dart out the window as she works sawdust into sap, mix herbs and wax, shaping her charm into a brick that can be broken into pieces. She places the bricks to dry beside the fire, coaxing the element to hold itself in the runes she’d pressed to the surface. Another glance out the window. 

It’s so dark even as the sun rises. She doesn't like it. This feeling of missing something gnaws at her. An unseen threat perhaps, but even when she brushes the veil from her eyes she can’t find what she's supposed to be looking at.

The sun is high in the sky when Lio finally ventures out to the forest’s edge. She tugs her glove from her left hand with her teeth, and fishes a weight from her pocket. A brightly polished pendulum on a thin chain sits warm in her palm, her own magic wrapping itself around the tool. She slips her middle finger into the ring on the opposite end and holds her hand out to the darkness. With a single quick motion Lio flips her hand over and lets the weight drop towards the ground only to be caught by its chain. The pendulum rests perfectly still beneath her palm. Waiting. The same as she is.

The air is crisp and dead, her breath puffs in front of her as she stares at the space between trees. It feels right, she’s been drawn to the edge by this imagined pull, but no closer. The weighted pendant begins its path, swinging in small circles, a hunting dog sniffing for the rabbit’s trail. The ring on her finger moves with it, accommodating the changing weight until the pendulum stops dead, the chain shivering with the tension, like something grabbed it to hold taught. 

Lio tips her head to study it, and glances where it directs. There’s a twisting in the trees, a path changing shape to whatever is walking it. The forest parts, and pulls itself back like curtains, revealing a tall horned figure. With a flick of her wrist the pendulum is pulled back up into her waiting palm, and deposited back into her pocket.

“Price,” She smiles, tugging her glove back on, “I was just about to put the kettle on.”

The darkness seems to fall away for him. He holds a tobacco stick between his fingers, the air around him thick with smoke. That must have been what was obscuring her sight. Wonder when he picked up the habit. It suits him, in a strange way. She can smell something resinous and warm underneath the smoke that curls like fingers around him. It must help take the edge off his curse. Which means it must not have been solved by the salts she sent along last time. Something stronger this time then.

Lio turns back towards her cottage, assured that Price will follow. If only because he must. 

There’s a soft crunch of snow behind her, and the gentle wafting of his smoke curling through her hair. The magic of it is interesting, building up and off of Price’s own magic as it cards through her curls, attempting to twist itself in between strands of hair. That campfire smell is gone, replaced by the tobacco and resin that sloughs off the stick between his fingers. She almost misses the natural smoke of burning wood. The comfort of a fire has been replaced by a more focused smoke that lights up against her wards warningly. She holds the door for him, eager to get this done with so her wards stop itching at her. 

It’s best to talk business over tea though. Hospitality is important when dealing with the fae, and Lio can’t think of a worse fae to get on the bad side of. Not that she knows many, but there’s something about Price, a confidence that betrays power rather than a lack of it. He carries himself like he’s owed nothing less than everything he can pull a debt for. Best to keep the debt he thinks she owes him small. 

With a huff of effort Lio settles the heavy kettle over her fire and goes about making tea, her mind already whirling with potential cures. 

If the sachet only gave Price a few spare weeks of warmth then it must not have been reaching deep enough. The method of delivery must have been wrong. If it went a more internal route, then perhaps it would stand a better chance of tackling the problem at its source. She’d thought warming the whole body would do, but something more focused on the heart might do the job better.

“You’re quiet,” Lio mumbles, glancing over her shoulder at the man in her house. Just because she's thinking doesn’t mean she can neglect her conversational duties.

Price smiles, a tight lipped thing that barely reaches his eyes. There’s something charming in the grimness of it. He’s in the same chair he took last time. A creature of habit. She stores the information away, and finds herself smiling back.

“Waiting on the tea.” Price offers. 

Lio works the smile off her face. The fire is warm when she extends her hand towards it, stripping her glove off a second time to take some of the heat her hearth offers. She’ll give it to Price with the cup, lift some of the ice off his chest.

“You’ll want something strong I suppose.”

“Strongest you’ve got.”

“Oh no,” She laughs, “No, I don’t think that’s necessary.” 

She’ll give him something stronger, but the strongest she’s got? There’s no way his case is that severe. Besides, it’s still hard to know how fae magic will react to her own. It always feels so much different, more wild, than the magic Lio learned from her mother. Untrained, fluid, it exists within emotion rather than empirical laws. It feels like trying to hold a waterfall in her fist because she’s always been able to grip fabric like that. 

Lio’s magic is made by her, but for the fae? Magic that creates the creature, rather than a creature creating magic? It’s completely alien, like treating another species. Which, she supposes is true. It isn’t like the fair folk are eager to seek out witches to help her learn. Her experience with the fae is limited to this singular data point. She's flying blind, trying to rely on tricks that have taken her this far without actually knowing what will work.

A tonic might do the trick. Something to warm him from the inside, easily digested and stronger than a bath. If the salts were meant to work over a longer period the tonic would have to work in a single swallow. She closes her fingers around the warmth of the fire, feeling it sink into the bones of her hand. Warm the heart in one go, maybe two, that was the ticket. She’d keep an eye on Price to be sure it didn’t burn through his blood too quickly, but then she could send him on his way, and hope he never bothered her again.

“How are you with alcohol?” Lio asks. She casts a glance over her shoulder, watching Price spread his legs wide, his hips shifting on the chair as he leans back. The gentle motion, a single rock of his hips towards the sky as he makes himself comfortable, makes her cheeks warm. No, that must be the fire, the magical warmth now circling through her blood. 

“What kind?”

“The unpalatable kind.” 

Price hums, and somehow she can feel the smile behind it. Lio can feel his eyes on her, the way they trace over her face with something like amusement. She wonders if he can tell her inexperience just through observation or if she's hiding it well. Her magic swirls in the air, weighed down by the smoke he exhales and the smile on his lips. 

“A tonic might do the trick,” She reasons aloud for him, “something internal.” Another hum from Price. Agreement maybe. “I’ll start on it after the tea is poured.”

“You’re the witch.”

Agreement then. She nods. Her mind already pulls herbs from the shelves, sorting through properties and combinations as the kettle boils. She has to wave off the dried bundles that attempt to float closer as she thinks, tugging at their holds on the rafters and rattling their stems in annoyance. She focuses her mind on the tea leaves that seem to hesitate near the back, and coaxes the poor scared jar forward to tip its contents into the cups that drift from her cupboard. The dried leaves settle politely at the bottom and wait for their blanket of honey. Lio doesn’t have the heart to tell them it’s out of season. 

Lio pulls the boiling water off the fire and carefully pours it into the prepared cups. It takes minutes for the water to turn, the warmth soaking color and fragrance from the leaves at the bottom, but she doesn’t wait that long. The cups are taken over to her sitting area and she's careful to skim her fingers against Price’s as she hands him his cup, pushing warmth into his skin. 

His eyes close as it flows through him, the chill of his skin giving way to something closer to lukewarm. She smiles when he opens them again, and turns with her own cup to start her work.

The witch stretches to pull herbs from where they hang on the ceiling beams, plucking leaves before going to the jars that line her kitchen shelves. She pulls flowers from the jars, inspecting each petal as she carefully pulls them from their center. She measures out her ingredients on a brass scale, pinching more or less from each side with a sort of arbitrary measurement that Price can’t follow. Then a pour of red liquid, sparkling like rubies, into a jar and roots dropped in to soak.

She's sort of… pretty, Price thinks. Her eyes shine when she works, clear, and unencumbered by the usual veil that clouds human sight. Brown, with green cutting through the side of one iris like the first stalk of daffodil after the winter snow melts. Old enough to have more to worry about than tending to strangers, but there’s no sign of a husband, no pitter patter of children. A witch alone at the edge of the forest.

He wonders if anyone else has noticed, if any of the men in the nearby village have been too corrupted by the church’s new thinking to notice the pretty spark of fire that lives less than a day’s travel from them. What was it he’d read in that idiotic book? “Inclining the minds of men to inordinate passion?”

His eyes trace over the curve of her waist, the gentle rise and fall of her chest with each breath, the tuck of her fingers as she twists her copper hair up. Pretty, but he wouldn’t call it enough to inspire “inordinate passion.”

Price shakes his head, watches the fire instead. Witches are good for one thing: power. There’s no need to look at them too long. Still, this witch paid him a kindness. One he can still feel the warmth of tingling in the tips of his fingers. A witch that takes the edge off his curse with as little as a fire and some tea, and a small brush of her fingers against his is one to watch for sure. 

No, he chastises his own hunger. His eyes stray to watch the expansion of her ribs, his ears strain to hear the patter of her heart. It’s easy magic, a spark, a transference, nothing more.

The more annoying part is what such a thing means between you. This debt is starting to outpace the agreed upon favor. Price can feel the weight of it, the seesaw of power turning over. He wonders if the witch can feel it too, if her kindness holds barbs meant to trap him. What favors could she call on if the balance of power tipped too greatly in her favor? He doesn’t know her well enough to predict her wants. He hopes he doesn’t have to, humans are so fickle with their desires, but does he want to?

She’d sounded sure of herself, more sure than with the salts. It’s enough to assure him. But enough to keep him in debt?

She hums to herself as she grinds herbs in a stone mortar. The sound is soft, but it fills the house. Price rests his head against his fist, pulling heat from the steaming teacup. He’s not sure. There is something interesting about her. For a human to have so much raw potential is rare, rarer still to see them cultivate it. He almost feels bad wondering how she’s managed to avoid being eaten this long. Just the thought of having her power makes his mouth water. He’s sure she’d be sweet on his tongue, as soft on the palate as the brush of her fingers had been.

His teeth itch to sink into her skin, to feel the salt of her sweat on his tongue. He has to remind himself she's more useful alive. After all, a witch is better suited to removing curses than any faerie. Especially when they’re the ones that cursed him.

Hearts are only as good as the witch he’s pulling them from, and humans have always been too keen to sacrifice themselves for the group. 

He can still remember the bite of tainted blood constricting his throat.

Lio presses her hand tight against the top of the bottle she’d been brewing her tincture in. She holds the top as she swirls the contents, mixing the finely ground herbs and resins as her magic pours in an extra dose of warmth from her palm. The seal is air tight, letting her tip the bottle upside-down to inspect its contents. The whirlpool that churns the mix, finding itself unable to drain through her skin, grows hot in anger. The alcohol flashes a bright red before the ingredients swirling within it ignite with liquid smoke and cool it down to a bloody crimson.

She's quite proud of this one. Tipping her hand over to let it flow thickly back to the bottom of the bottle. Lio turns from her work to let Price know his cure is finished, and finds him staring. The blue of his eyes grown dark, like staring down into the depths of a lake whose ice is starting to crack. There’s a heat, a hatred, there that burns through her like fear. It catches in her throat and holds her where she stands. 

He blinks, shakes his head, and when his eyes open again it’s gone. The same ice blue his eyes always seem to be, unshakeable in their chill, takes the warming lake’s place. 

She brushes it off. 

She has to.

Her steps grow more confident as she approaches him, she even smiles when holding the bottle out to him. Silently, Lio notes the dusting of dark hair over his knuckles as he wraps his fingers around the offered bottle, and feels the pop of the seal against her skin coming loose as he pulls the potion towards him. There isn’t a thought to the way his eyes linger when she raises her palm to her lips, her tongue darting out to clean the wetness from her skin. Price’s eyes go to his own work as he raises the bottle to his mouth, sampling her work just the same.

Supervision is essential here. Lio watches carefully as he tips the bottle up and tips his head back, draining the concoction easily. The bob of his Adam’s apple feels proof positive that at least he’s actually swallowing all of it. That and the sweeping flush of red through his veins, a throb of conflicting magic that makes his shoulders tense, his teeth barred as he leans forward and clenches his fingers around the glass bottle. His eyes are ringed with gold circles, wild magic that spins around and around his iris as his body adjusts to the foreign magic.

She wonders if it hurts, wonders if she should hope it does. Surely any good person should hope it hurts a man like him, someone that lives on what he can take from others, but she doesn’t.

Lio holds his face instead. Watches the bulge of his veins, the shaking of his hands, feels the curl of smoke on each hissed exhale that he gives her. The gold spins faster, leaching into the blue, brightening it like lightning flashes. He holds her stare like a lifeline.

Both of them waiting to see if she’ll kill him.

She holds him like that until the golden circles stop spinning, until his eyes drop closed with relief, and the smoke he exhales heavily ripe with the tannins of damp wood. She's as relieved as he is, and makes a mental note to add this experiment to her grimoire before sending him on his way.

“It’ll stick this time.” Lio assures him, pressing her palm to his chest. She can feel the pump of blood unimpeded by frost. Even his skin is warmer, tinged pink from the fire flowing through his veins.

“If it doesn’t,” He smiles, “I know where to find you.”

She hopes it doesn’t come to that. Her own confidence must be bolstered by this little experiment, because she waves off his words with a smile. She won’t be seeing him again, she's sure of it.

That doesn’t mean she doesn’t lock her door behind him.

Lio tugs the leather bound grimoire from its spot on her shelf, thumb through the pages to find a blank one and record the ingredients she’d used. Part inventory, part recipe book, part experiment log. She sketches out the bottle, the herbs used, and makes a note at the bottom. A witch must always be an empiricist at heart, and who knows maybe there are other fae running into the same curse hers is.

Even if there aren’t, she supposes it’s useful information to have.

Like blood transfusions, it seems magic must be of a similar ilk to stop rejection, though fae seem to have a greater tolerance for magical contamination. Their bodies must be able to process it faster, or at least are able to balance for the foreign magic.

Or, perhaps cross magical contamination isn’t as deadly as I first thought.

divider by @/saradika

[kickingitwithkirk]

Winchester's Folly

Summary: When Dean gets into trouble John decides to hide the truth for his family

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader x Alpha!Sam

WC: 2007

Dark! Fic-don't continue if you are disturbed by the subject matter.

Warnings: A/B/O, dystopian au, canon elements, non/con, dub/con, incest, subjugation, pandemic, mentions of nudity, physical/mental abuse, mention of collaring/leashed, sexual/slavery, rut/heat, physical altercation, death/murder conviction, show level violence, parental dominance, trafficking, branding

*Additional warnings will be added

Square filled: @spnabobingo -Arranged Matings

A/N: Still working on reigning myself in, keeping each part reader-friendly length, and have no clue how many parts this will end up being.

*This is combined/edited together with part VII

A/N II: a few notes about designations in A/O sub-genders for this story.

Alphas-Dominant (head of the pack/family) Subordinate (obey Dominant) Breeders (rare & highly coveted by the government. Can challenge Dominant for pack/family leadership)

Omegas -Domestic (mostly wiped out by plague, few natural born left) Feral (government-supplied breeders sold commonly called O's) House O’s (3rd generation+ Feral/Dominant breed. Used as servants/sex workers) Pack (rare & highly coveted by the government)

*Divider by @firefly-graphics

*No Beta-all mistakes are mine

Part VI

John walks down the hallway and is met by his eldest's concerned expression, “Dad, what’s wrong? You were gone for a long time.” Looking at the young, almost grown men he’d raised affirms his gut-wrenching decision was correct. “Nothing but the usual bureaucratic BS that needed sorting. Grab the O, we’re leaving.”

John’s nostrils flared at Sam’s ‘they’re not going to let us go yet’ response. “And why n..?” His sharp inquiry was interrupted by the sound of wheels squeaking down the hallway and they all turned to see a male Beta pushing a cart with various metal implements lying on top. “Hi, I’m here to do your O’s branding.” John appeared confused, and Sam piped up again.

“That’s what we’ve been trying to tell you. This state mandates to prove ownership bought O’s have a brand burned into them like livestock.” John looks at Dean, demanding an explanation, and repeats what the register told him. 

John turns his attention back to the brander and asks how he would do it. Nervously, he details creating a mark out of the aluminum and applying it on the O. “If you’re not sure what you want, I can sketch an idea. Most people like to incorporate the first letter of their surname.” 

The brander quickly works. “Ignore my freehand. The brand will be clean.” John barely glanced as he held it up and nodded in acquiescence.

“Great. Let me administer the numbing agent; it needs a few minutes to kick in.” He picked up a vial of clear liquid, drew it up and walked towards the O when a deep growl reverberated off the walls making him freeze. Sam, instinctively flanked by Dean, placed themselves between the brander and the unconscious O. “Dean, take your brother out of this building now!” John commands in his Alpha voice, making Dean flinch.

Dean’s instincts tell him to follow Sam’s lead and stay with the O, but his designation forces his wolf to submit to follow their Alphas’ orders and wrestles his agitated brother outside.

“I apologize for my youngest; he’s recently presented and hasn’t yet learned to control his wolf.” The brander accepts, and John watches as the O’s rolled onto her side and injected the numbing agent into several places to deaden the area. Then, with deft precision, he bent the aluminum into shape and lit a propane torch, heating it before asking John, “Could you lay across its thighs? Sometimes, they still feel this. Don't want it moving and messing up the brand.” 

Sam was chewing on his thumb cuticle, the tell-tale sign of his wolf's nervousness getting to him, when it yelped, spotting John emerging through the clinic door carrying the O. Handing her back to Dean, they resumed their previous positions in the car as John drove back to the rental. 

Sam followed Dean down the hallway when their Alpha ordered, “Dean, take her to my room, set up an O sleeping mat, then move your stuff in. I’ll take the couch.” The brothers shared a look before Sam asked why, and John said, “I saw your reaction to her back at the warehouse.” Sam’s eyes flashed and John growled, “Right there is why. That O is here for your brother's use, not yours.  So, until its suppressant implant kicks in, you’re staying well away from it. I have an errand to run,” John picked up his truck's keys and walked towards the door. “Don’t forget to resalt the door.”

Sam spit out, “What’s so damn important you have to go back out at this hour?” John didn’t acknowledge his youngest sass, “Dean, I expect you to ensure your brother doesn’t go near that O.”

“Nothing changes. Heading to the nearest bar to get loaded as usual.” Sam snarled after John left and Dean gave him a look. “Can you stow the attitude for one night?” Sam peered at his brother with chagrin. “Sorry. I’ll leave that bedding for her by the door and pack your bag.” He proceeded towards their bedroom when Dean called out…

“Don’t touch my porn, you freak!”

John parked his truck in the darkest shadow he could find, flipped open a burner phone he’d bought, and dialed the number he’d gotten from Bobby. 

“I’m here.” The voice on the other end instructed him he'd have five minutes to accomplish his task. When he got the all-clear, John got out and began counting down as he entered the building's back door. 

Reaching the doctor's office, he sat at a computer and, following the voice’s instructions, found the pertinent file and opened it. In a blink, the previous information was deleted and replaced. John then clicked print, and as the new pages printed, he found the original physical file and began swapping them. 

Pocketing the originals, he stuck the file back in place and walked out. The voice instructed him to go out to the middle of nowhere, drive over the phone until it was in smithereens, burn it along with paper paperwork, and then hung up.

John destroyed the phone and was ready to flick his Zippo to incinerate the papers, but something told him not to. Instead, he opened his weapons catch and retrieved an unfinished curse box.

***

The sun had barely risen when John let himself into the rental carrying coffee and donuts. He found his sons already up: Dean was cooking breakfast while Sam sat at the kitchen table, slumped over open schoolbooks, catching up on his homework. 

“That smells good,” John says, placing the items on the counter. Dean pulls out a couple of the to-go cups, sipping on one, and hands the other to Sam, who immediately pops the lid off, adds milk and sugar, and asks suspiciously, “You take care of that errand?”

“Yes, I did. I’m going to grab a shower, and then we’re,” John paused, staring directly at Sam, “Going to discuss the ground rules concerning that O.”

Monday

Sam poked his head out of his doorway and, hearing his Alpha’s snoring, snuck down the hallway and let himself into Dean's room to find him kneeling next to the seated O. “Sam! What the hell? If Dad catches you…”

“He’s still passed out,” Sam frowned when the O cringed as Dean smeared the healing agent swapped from the clinic onto her brand. “Almost done, sweetheart,” Dean reassured her; she continued flinching until he finished. “Done. Okay, let’s get you dressed.” 

Dean slid his most worn flannel on her, and the O hissed when the super-soft material touched her raw skin, eliciting a viscous-sounding growl from Sam, causing Dean to shoot a look that said shut up or get out. Chastised, Sam comments, “Jeezus Dean, your clothes swamp her,” instantly regretting the thoughtless remark as a brief flash of shame crosses Dean's features. “Had those jail fines, and what was left barely fueled up my car.” Sam commented back, “My spare jeans should fit better since I’m closer to her size.” Dean rolled his eyes, “Sammy, remember what dad told us. The pamphlet clearly states that we shouldn’t confuse her by mixing-up our scents.”

“Oh, for fucks sake! We practically live on top of each other! She’s been exposed to our mixed-up scents for nearly two days! And who’s the one she’s skittering around? Dad!” Sam pointed towards the door, “He needs to stop trying to brainwash you into believing the bullshit in that pamphlet the clinic gave you. It's ridiculous nonsense! She’s not some dumb animal. You’ve seen it yourself!”

“Sam, just because she knows how to blink once for yes-two for no doesn’t mean she comprehends things like we do!” 

“Wow, could you sound any more like Dad?” Sam shot back loudly when a grunt echoed through the thin walls and they all froze. Dean slowly cracked the bedroom open, whispering, “Shit, that woke Dad up.” He exhaled and relaxed, “Good, he’s going to the kitchen. I’ll distract him ‘cause you need to get ready for school, I gotta drop you off early. Gonna meet with the lawyer before my hearing this morning.” 

“You need to make a good impression on the judge today.” Sam reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out some folded bills. “It’s not much, but it should be enough to get you something more presentable from Goodwill.”

“Thanks, Sammy, but I can’t take that. It’s not your responsibility to take care of me or her; that’s my job, always has been.” Dean reopened the door and almost stumbled upon hearing his brother's words.

“Dean, you’re not taking care of her. You own her.” 

Deans Hearing 

10:07

The judge slammed their gavel down. “John Winchester, if you do not control yourself, I’ll have the bailiff not only put you in restraints but also gag you!” The Alpha ignored the judge and continued arguing with the prosecuting attorney. “What the hell is this about Dean having to claim her?” 

“Your honor, I request a fifteen-minute recess to confer..,” The judge interrupted the public defender. “Councilor, you have five minutes to remind your client’s Alpha that he accepted this plea agreement. And make sure he also understands the consequences of outbursts in my court!” 

John was still fuming when the lawyer slammed the conference room door shut. “Your stupid, domineering Alpha crap is what got Dean into this situation!” Taking several deep breaths, the lawyer began explaining. 

“It’s the standard procedure in this state to include the claiming statute in cases like Deans. However, in ninety-nine percent, the presiding judge will not enforce it and instead accept the branding as the claim. If the prosecutor had pressed for it, I was prepared to show precedent that it wasn’t applicable since you're not a state resident.” They pointed a finger in John’s face, “If the judge doesn’t kick it, you have only yourself to thank!”

John quickly strategized. “What if I do a mea culpa? Say my wolf has been under extreme duress, and I reacted badly to the possibility of being unable to choose Dean's mate?” The lawyer shrugged, “It’s worth a shot because there’s nothing I can do now since you agreed to the plea deal without consulting me first for the record.”

“The court accepts your apology, Alpha Winchester.” The judge sat back. “As per the rules of the claiming statute, I have to consider the factors that led to your son ending up before this court. I have reviewed your family history obtained during the investigation of this case and, to be honest found your parenting skills atrocious.” The judge began reading a file out loud.

“Since the death of your mate, you’ve denied your sons a stable home life, constantly moving; the only paper trail of their existence is from the numerous state schools they’ve attended. Then there’s a multitude of notifications to CYF of suspected abuse, neglect, and exposure to unsavory elements in our society that, unfortunately, has led your eldest sitting before me, awaiting my decision on his future.” The judge stared at both Winchesters briefly before gesturing to Dean to stand. “This court finds that Subordinate Alpha Dean Winchester has complied with all but one of the requirements of his plea agreement within the time frame stated.”

“Because of the previously cited circumstances and, being unmated Alpha going into a rut, resulted in the death of another, I am obligated, per the state of North Dakota law, to ensure the defendant is not in a situation to commit such a heinous act again. Therefore, I order the claiming statute to be carried out immediately.” They bang their gavel and left.

Dean stood there in shock, half listening as John conversed with the lawyer about the logistics(?) of what this forced mating entails. The bailiff gripped his arm and led him out the prisoner entrance, down the short hallway, stopping in front of a door painted with an A/O symbol. When the bailiff opened the door, what Dean saw returned him to reality, and yelled...

“I CAN’T DO THIS!”

Part VII

SPN TAGS: @donnaintx @lyarr24 @flamencodiva @lassie-bird @nancymcl @spnbaby-67 @leigh70

Dean/Jensen: @thoughts-and-funnies @stoneyggirl2 @beabutterfly987 @smoothdogsgirl

Sam/Jared: @idreamofplaid

WF: @slamminmine @ladysparkles78 @deans-spinster-witch @ilovetaquitosmmmm @strawblueberrys @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @kazsrm67

[supernaturalscribe67]

Hidden Bruises

Words: 7,546

POV: 3rd Person

Pairing: Sam/Dean Winchester x Male!Winchester!Reader [Platonic]

Warning(s): Language, PTSD, Mention of past Rape, Trauma, Sexual Assault, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Mention of Character Death, Azazel

Summary: After the death of their father, Sam and Dean's older brother went missing for a couple of weeks. Eventually, he returned, and everything seemed to go back to normal. When the brothers follow a lead that takes them to an abandoned schoolhouse, Sam and Dean come face to face with the reality of what happened to their brother when he went missing.

Request:

Hello, hope you're having a good day/night

I was wondering if I could request the Winchester's (John/Dean/Sam) x Older brother finding out the Azaseal (yellow eye demon) s/a him and he's been keeping it secret intill they run into Azaseal and he gloats about what he did. (If you don't feel comfortable using yellow eyes that just some strong random demon is fine)

Maybe reader is someone who has always took care of all of them including when John was drunk or injured, took care of both his brothers doing whatever he could

@xweirdo101x

A/N: I'm not dead! Just stressed! These past several months have been horrible, but I'm happy to say I'm back in the groove of writing! This request has been long overdue and I'm sorry that it has taken me so long to get it out, I did not forget everyone who sent in a request! I hope you enjoy the story! Do NOT read if any of the warnings are triggering to you. Keep yourself healthy, keep yourself safe. Feedback is greatly appreciated!

~ Much Love

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

“Dude, are you sure you’re taking me down the right road?” Dean asked, brows furrowed as he looked in the rear-view mirror occasionally. 

“I’m sure.” (Y/N) confirmed, gaze focused on Google Maps, which he had cued up for the last thirty minutes of their drive. 

“We’ve been driving the backroads for ages. Never thought an old schoolhouse could be this deep in the countryside.” 

“A lot of people settled here at some point, Dean,” Sam said with a brief shrug of his broad shoulders. 

“Sam’s right. According to local history, the first group of settlers that arrived built make-shift houses deeper in the woodland areas for better hunting and fishing grounds. To accommodate, they built a schoolhouse in the middle of the settlements so all the kids would be able to make it to school a little easier. Once the years passed and all the people started moving away to start the nearby town, the schoolhouse was practically abandoned. There wasn’t any need for it anymore.” 

“Look at you doing your research,” Dean teased with a smirk. 

(Y/N) rolled his eyes. “More than you, asshole,” he mumbled. “Oh! There should be a small clearing up here to your left. Go ahead and turn in there, but we’re going to need to walk the rest of the way,” 

“Are you serious?” 

“Oh, grow up, Dean.” 

“Says the one sitting in the middle of the backseat.” 

“You’re so lucky I love this car as much as you do, otherwise I’d make you drive her into a tree.” 

“You wouldn’t.” 

“Try me, baby brother,” 

“Alright, that’s enough,” Sam waved his hands, cutting them off. “As much as I like seeing you two go at it, now’s not the time.” 

Both Dean and (Y/N) opened their mouths to object but stopped themselves. They each grumbled something incoherent under their breath. Dean returned to the road and (Y/N) looked down at his phone. 

“Are you going to turn here?” He asked. 

“Yeah,” Dean mumbled. 

Dean slowly turned the wheel and edged the Impala onto the beginning of a dirt path. A couple of feet ahead of the car, the path narrowed and was overgrown by trees. Even if the Impala would have been smaller, there was no possible way it would be able to fit down the path. It appeared to be more the size of a hiking or bike trail. Once the car was settled, Dean turned the engine off, the heavy purr dying to a low hum as the heat dissipated. The headlights stayed on for a couple of seconds before going out. 

“Let’s rock ‘n roll,” Dean grunted as he stepped out of the car. 

Sam and (Y/N) soon followed after, the three of them heading to the back of the car. Dean popped the trunk and lifted the cover, revealing their large array of weapons. Each of them took their respective weapons and sheathed them before the trunk was closed with a heavy bang that echoed throughout the trees. 

“Could you be any louder? We don’t know how close the schoolhouse is from here.” (Y/N) grumbled. 

“Bite me,” Dean mumbled. 

“Guys,” Sam sighed. 

(Y/N) held up his hand in surrender. “Fine, fine,” he turned away from his brothers and began to make his way towards the dirt path. 

“You sure it’s down this way?” Sam asked, following after him.

“Yeah, that is, if we assume the coordinates are accurate.”  

“And you’re sure you can trust Google with that?” Dean asked. 

“Same as we trust any other research material. All I know is that it should be in some type of field.” 

Dean nodded, satisfied with the answer. 

They began to make their way down the dark, dirt path, towards the canopy of trees, bent after years of surviving thunderstorm after thunderstorm. As they approached the trees, they pulled their flashlights out, illuminating the path ahead. The treetops were thick and heavy, the moonlight disappearing when they passed the entrance to the woods. 

Thirty minutes filled with dodging bulging tree roots and low tree branches, accompanied by some complaints from Dean about how far they had walked, moonbeams became visible through the upcoming branches. (Y/N) held up his hand, and turned off his light, before he walked towards the clearing. Sam and Dean followed suit, killing the light. 

Past the wall of tree branches, a field became visible. Sat in the middle, about twenty feet away from the group, was an old, dilapidated building. The building sat in front of them, tall and menacing, as if a dark aura circled the decaying brick exterior. It stood three stories tall, some windows broken, and glass surrounding the foundation. The steps out front were cracked with some concrete pieces scattered about near the bottom. The bold lettering that rested right above the front doors was faded, some letters almost invisible, but it was clear that it was supposed to read out the name of the school. (Y/N) couldn’t help but wonder how the interior of the building looked compared to the outside. 

One thing that struck the group as odd, however, was the fact that some of the windows were filled with warm lights, indicating power had been added to the ancient building. It wasn’t until they got closer that they realized a small hum was disrupting the evening crickets in their peaceful song. (Y/N) raised his hand, halting their movements. They got down low, the only cover they had being the overgrown grass that engulfed their bodies. 

“They’re using a generator.” (Y/N)’s voice was low and deep. 

Sam sighed. “And it looks like there’s only one entrance. I wouldn’t trust those windows either. No one knows how long it’s been since they’ve been opened.” 

Dean shook his head. “That’s gotta be against fire code to have one doorway.” He mumbled. 

“The fire code came around in the 1600s, but I highly doubt these settlers cared about it.” (Y/N) muttered. “I’m going to sneak towards the generator and turn it off. You two keep an eye out to see if there’s any movement inside. We can go in then,”

“Got it,��� they said in unison. 

(Y/N) gave a brief nod before he headed towards the building, keeping low in case of peering eyes from the windows. Rounding the side of the building, the humming became almost deafening. A dull light illuminated a small patch of grass on the other side of the school. With his eyes glued to the light, (Y/N) swiftly made his way around and to the back. The generator sat against the foundation, rumbling loudly and shaking the earth around it. He grabbed his flashlight from his waistband and shone it on the generator, furrowing his brows as he looked for a way to stop it. Finally, he saw the power switch, took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for the task ahead, and switched it off. 

The power died immediately, the once bright school house going dark in an instant. (Y/N) knew he had to be quick. He made his way back towards the front. Sam and Dean stood at the base of the steps, their weapons drawn. (Y/N) drew his before he joined his brothers. 

“Alright, let’s gank these sons of bitches,” he mumbled, taking the lead as they entered the school. 

It was a lot darker inside than they originally thought it would be. Despite the massive windows in each room, the decades' worth of dust covered the natural moonlight, engulfing them in darkness. They brought out their flashlights, illuminating the entranceway. Their dim lights skimmed over the walls and floors, taking it in as they took careful steps deeper into the school. 

The interior of the school was just as damaged as the exterior. No longer was it a place of learning, but a place filled with debris and graffiti. Artwork and random words riddled the walls in different colored spray paints and many wooden panels lined the floor that were covered in a ripped-up, faded green carpet. The three of them took their time navigating through the mess that was near the front door to get to the main hall. A room was located to the left, which would appear to be the location of the office and the home of the principal when the school was in operation.

A couple of feet away from the front door, there was an archway that led down a narrow hallway as well as a staircase to the right. The halls were a little more clean compared to the entrance. All of the debris was pushed to one side or the other, making it a little easier to navigate through. (Y/N) turned to his brothers and gestured down the hall. 

“You two take this hall and I’ll check upstairs,” he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper, yet booming in the dead silence that surrounded them. 

Dean furrowed his brows. “What? No.” Dean protested, his voice at the same level as (Y/N)’s had been. “We stick together.” 

“There shouldn’t be too many in here. I’ll be fine on my own. You two stick together, and shout if you need help.” 

“But-” 

“Dean,” (Y/N)’s tone was low. “I’m not arguing about this.” 

Dean shared a glance with Sam before he shook his head in disapproval and began to make his way down the hallway. (Y/N) watched them for a couple of seconds before he turned. He stalked towards the narrow staircase, caged in by cracked and deteriorating walls. Other than the small amount of concrete or wood that was scattered around on the stairs that he had to avoid, they were rather clear compared to the entrance. Gingerly, he placed his hand on top of the railing, an old wooden rod that had paint and wood chipped away at it. He used it as a guide as he made his way up and to the second floor. The stairs creaked under his weight, despite his careful steps. 

While he walked, he concentrated heavily on his sense of hearing. With his sight limited, he was relying exclusively on his ears to tell him if anyone, or anything, was near. When he reached the landing, he shone his flashlight down a hall that looked identical to the one Sam and Dean had wandered down. 

The second floor was in the same state as the first floor with scattered debris on either one side or the other of the walkway. Doors lined the walls, some fully opened, and some cracked ever so slightly. One by one, he took a step into every room, shining his light around all four corners. He whispered a quiet ‘clear’ following each empty room he examined. 

All of the rooms were dimly lit with the mixture of (Y/N)’s flashlight and the faded moonbeams begging to go through the dusty windows. Chairs and desks were strewed about, some toppled over, while others rested in, presumably, the same spot they did all those years ago. Those tables and chairs were unknowingly preserving the history of the once-active school. 

It was quiet. Too quiet. A part of (Y/N) wanted to believe that the intel they received might have been wrong, that no demons were haunting the very halls he walked, but the generator out back told no lies. Squatters wouldn’t waste what little money they had on luxuries such as that, nor would they put forth the time and the effort to wire the entire building. The other part of him, the logical side, told him that the demons were good. Sneaky. They knew how to hide and they did it well. He had to be even more focused than he already had been. 

He hoped Sam and Dean were doing okay. 

Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to split up. 

(Y/N) got to the last room, on the left side of the hallway. He noted that it was the only door that had been shut, making sure to be extra cautious as he reached a hand forward, grasping the splintered doorknob. As he opened the door, the aged hinges creaked, the sound echoing down the hallway, breaking the uneasy silence. The room was noticeably darker than the rest, not an ounce of moonlight visible. (Y/N) raised his light and shone it around the room. He took a couple of steps inside, broken glass crackling underneath his boots. When he shined his light on the window, he noticed that it had been completely boarded up, the remnants of a black trash bag that had once covered it hanging from nails lazily placed along the window sill. 

Just as he got to the center of the room, the door hinges creaked again, loud and eerie. (Y/N) was quick to turn around, but he was only able to catch the final seconds before the door closed. His breathing stopped, heart racing inside of his chest. He listened, closely, but he heard nothing. No footsteps. No breathing. Nothing. 

“Guess who,” A deep, scratchy, all too familiar voice spoke. 

The same voice that plagued his mind and haunted his dreams. 

He froze. 

Like a deer in headlights. 

Then, his world went black. 

*~*

The harsh light wasn’t good for his pounding head. A throaty moan slipped past (Y/N)’s lips as he awoke, vision blurry and eyes watery. He slowly lifted his head, groaning at the noticeable crick in his neck. He could feel that he was slouched in a chair, his back was aching from the posture, but he felt too nauseous and weak to fix it. When his vision cleared, he was able to take in some of the details of the room he was in. It was obvious that the room used to be one of the many classrooms, desks and chairs were pushed to one side of the room, stacked up to the point where they could topple at any moment. A single window stood across the way, the bottom half completely shattered with a puddle of broken shards resting beneath. The chill night air whistled and caressed his face. To his right were two massive floodlights, shining down on him. To his left, were Sam and Dean, bound to chairs the same as he was. 

Sam and Dean. 

(Y/N) quickly sat up, despite the throbbing in his head. In an attempt to move his arms, he could feel how tight the ropes were around his wrists and forearms. The demons were skilled, it seemed. 

“Well, look who finally decided to wake up,” Dean grumbled, his speech coming out slurred. 

He has a concussion. 

“What the Hell happened?” (Y/N) hissed. 

“They came out of nowhere,” Sam mumbled. His eyes were half-lidded, looking as if he was experiencing the same pain as (Y/N). 

“There were too many of them.” Dean finished.

(Y/N) cursed under his breath as he tried to wiggle his arms out of the binds, but it was all to no avail. He was used to being held captive by people who didn’t know how to tie a knot, but the way he was tied up was rather intricate. He wasn’t too sure he would be able to break out of it. 

“How many did you guys run into?” 

“I don’t know, man,” Dean answered. “A dozen, maybe more. You?” 

(Y/N) stopped moving, his eyes cast down to the floor. “Just one,” 

“One? You got taken out by a single demon?” 

“It was dark,” (Y/N) defended himself with a growl. “I couldn’t see anything, I couldn’t hear anything. It was silent.”

Don’t think about his voice. Don’t think about his voice.

“Still, to be taken out by one demon, geez,” Dean mumbled. 

“Look, I don’t have time to argue with you! I’m trying to get us out of here!” 

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about that,” a sweet, sultry, female voice echoed in the room. “You won’t be going anywhere anytime soon,” a demon came from behind them, a wide smile on her lips. 

She walked behind (Y/N), grabbed the knots connected to his wrists and arms, and tugged at them. 

“Did these myself,” she spoke proudly. “Wasn’t too difficult, really. Just seems as if people aren’t willing to teach themselves anything useful anymore,” she pursed her lips, crossing her arms underneath her breasts. 

(Y/N) snarled as the frayed ropes rubbed against his skin, scratching the surface. “If you’re done boosting your ego for five minutes, I’d really appreciate it if you let us go.” He spoke between clenched teeth.

The demon let out a boisterous laugh as she walked around the chair to stand in front of him. “Are you kidding?” She scoffed. “The Winchesters practically fall into our lap, and you think we’re going to let you go? Just like that?” She snapped her fingers. “Now, what would my boss think of me if I did that?” 

“And who, exactly, is your boss?” Dean asked. 

“Oh, you know him. Quite well, actually. He’s so excited to see you all again.” She walked over to (Y/N), the back of her hand brushing against his cheek gingerly. “Especially you.” Her voice was low, menacing. 

With that, the demon left, the click of the doorknob filling the silence. (Y/N) was tense. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest. Gooseflesh littered his arms, the hairs standing up. The panic began to set in. 

Have to get out. Have to get out. Have to get out. HAVE TO GET OUT.

“We have to go.” (Y/N) said, his voice barely above a whisper and shaky. 

(Y/N) began to frantically pull at the ropes, only resulting in them tightening around his arms. His muscles strained, shoulders shifting. Sam and Dean both tried to wiggle out of their confinements. Sam’s movements were slower and more thoughtful than his brothers’. 

“Do you know who she’s talking about?” Sam leaned his head close to (Y/N), voice hushed. 

“Doesn’t matter. What matters is that we get the fuck out of here.” (Y/N)’s voice was louder than it normally would have been, the anxiety flooding his words. 

Sam and Dean shared a look of concern but decided to say nothing. They had never seen their brother so frazzled. Dare they say, scared? If there was one thing that (Y/N) never experienced when he was on hunts, it was fear. (Y/N) was always the one who kept a calm and collected attitude, barked orders, kept victims quiet during stressful situations, and he was the one Sam and Dean always fell back on. It was as if the brother they were bound next to wasn’t the same person. 

They all worked on getting the ropes off of them. Sam and Dean weren’t struggling as much as (Y/N) seemed to, who, at first glance, one would assume had never gotten out of binds before. That was far from the truth. He was, normally, the first one to get out of the ropes, as if he was an escape artist in a previous life. It was rather evident that something was wrong. Terribly wrong. Sam and Dean, however, didn’t have the slightest clue. 

Have to get out. Have to get out. 

CLICK

The door opened, and (Y/N) froze. He was sure his heart stopped as well. Every muscle felt as if they were tying themselves together in intricate knots. The creaking hinges seemed louder than before, almost as if they were teasing him. Laughing at his pain. Mocking him. Or, perhaps, they were warning him. 

Please don’t be him. Please don’t be him.

“Well, well, well…” The voice spoke, amusement evident.

(Y/N)’s blood ran cold. In situations like that, when faced with immediate danger, our brain turns to one of three options; fight, flight, or freeze. You can defend yourself, run away, or accept your fate. Being tied to the chair didn’t give (Y/N) the chance for flight, and there wasn’t an ounce of fight left in his body. So, he sat there, frozen, eyes wide with fear. The last time he was filled with that much fear was when he last encountered the demon. Unfortunately, it hadn’t been that long ago. 

A hand on his shoulder caused him to jump. He knew that touch all too well. It felt as if fire was spreading from the hand, down his torso, and through the rest of his body. 

Azazel turned to stand in front of the three Winchesters, his deep, yellow eyes lingering over (Y/N)’s body. Sam and Dean tensed, their jaws clenched, noses scrunched as they stared down the demon. 

“Yellow eyes,” Dean said between clenched teeth. 

“Oh, come on, Dean, you know I’m much more than just my eyes,” Azazel smirked. “You know, me and my demons were having a fairly good night. Got a lot planned for you, Sammy. Of course, the plan has some kinks to work through, but what plan doesn’t? A peaceful night, nonetheless. Imagine my surprise when the lights turned off. Not only that, but imagine my surprise when I hear who turned it off.” 

Azazel’s eyes scanned over the brothers, but they always wandered back to (Y/N). Each time they did, it felt like he was getting stabbed in the gut. 

“You know,” Azazel continued. “I can’t thank you enough for showing up unannounced. I mean, that’s one less child I need to find,” he gestured to Sam. “Not only that,” Azazel turned to (Y/N), stalking over toward him at an agonizing pace. “But you brought my favorite little plaything.” 

This isn’t real. This can’t be real. Please don’t let this be real.

When Azazel placed his calloused hand on (Y/N)’s jaw, fingers trailing down to his chin, (Y/N) was faced with the brutal reality that everything was real. (Y/N) hadn’t realized how much he had been shaking until Azazel let out a deep laugh. 

“Still scared?” He teased, his tongue poking through his eerie grin. 

“Leave him alone,” Sam growled. “It’s me you want.” 

“Correction, Sam, I want both of you.” 

“Why? What is he to you!?” 

Azazel looked at Sam, then Dean, then back at Sam. His brows raised as a look of realization crossed his face. “Oh,” he cooed, tilting his head to the side as he bent down in front of (Y/N), their noses almost touching. “You never told them, did you.” 

“Told us what?” Dean questioned. “(Y/N), what the Hell is he talking about!?” 

(Y/N) couldn’t speak. He felt as if there were cobwebs in his throat, his lips and mouth dry, and no part of his body wanted to function. Azazel stared into his eyes. Correction: Azazel stared into his soul. The soul that he had left was damaged. Oh, did that fact fill the demon with pride. Azazel’s lips curled up at the corner of his mouth as he stood up straight. He sauntered over so he was standing in front of Sam and Dean.

“Months ago…” Azazel began. “After your dear old Daddy passed, your brother decided to go on a little manhunt, all on his own.” 

Sam and Dean turned their gaze to (Y/N). Sam’s eyes were wide with shock and betrayal, while Dean’s expression could only be described as pure anger. Their minds immediately drifted to the worst possible outcome from that hunt. Their first thought drifted to him selling his soul. Making a deal with Azazel. While that seemed like a possibility, it didn’t make sense, as Azazel still spoke as if he had plans for Sam. What could (Y/N) have done? 

Azazel began to make his way back over to (Y/N), his back straight, his posture intimidating. “After a couple of pathetic weeks of trying to find me, he was finally able to catch up to me.” Azazel stood in front of him. Slowly, he leaned down, his breath fanning over (Y/N)’s face. “Do you want to tell them all of the gory details? Or should I?” 

(Y/N)’s breath quickened, chest noticeably rising and falling at a rapid pace. The panic became evident on his face. Azazel reached a hand up and let it rest on (Y/N)’s knee. 

“Do you want to tell them how you quivered under my touch? How you were shaking and sobbing? How you were crying for them to save you?” 

As he talked, his hand trailed further and further up his thigh, getting dangerously close to his crotch. (Y/N)’s body began to convulse, eyes bulging from their sockets. Whimpers escaped his parted lips as he tried desperately to wiggle away from his touch. 

Have to get away. Have to get away. Get away. GET AWAY.

“Hey!” Sam shouted. 

“Get away from him!” Dean exclaimed. 

“Tell me,” Azazel continued, ignoring Sam and Dean’s loud protests, his attention solely focused on (Y/N). “Do you still hear my voice as you drift off to sleep at night? Do you still feel my fingers digging into your hips? Do you still feel my cock inside that tight little hole of yours?” He grunted as he gripped (Y/N)’s penis through his jeans tightly. 

“No! Please!” (Y/N) screamed louder than he had ever screamed before. Tears rolled down his cheeks freely, painting his face with their wetness. He desperately attempted to get away, not caring that the ropes dug into his flesh, rubbing it raw. His sobs echoed off the walls. 

“That’s right,” Azazel grinned wickedly, teeth and jaw clenched. Somehow, his quiet voice was the only thing (Y/N) could hear. Not the hum of the floodlights, not his brothers’ angry shouts, just Azazel. “Cry, my little pet.” 

“You son of a bitch! I’ll kill you! Do you hear me? I will fucking kill you!” Dean screamed to the point of almost instantly becoming hoarse. 

“Oh, I hear you boys loud and clear.” Azazel pulled his hand away from (Y/N). “And I must say, it’s getting rather irritating. I might just have to take my pet somewhere else to play.” 

“Don’t you dare,” Sam snarled. 

“Well, not now. I’ve worked him up a little too much for me to have a good time playing with him.” He glanced at (Y/N), licking his lips predatorily. “It won’t be any fun making him scream now. Don’t want him to lose his voice too soon. Besides, you two made a mess of one of our rooms, and I need to make sure that everything necessary is accounted for.” 

Azazel continued to stare at (Y/N), obvious amusement etched on his face. The tears continued to fall, but he was silent. His bottom lip wobbled. By the way his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, it was evident he was holding back cries he desperately wanted to let out. Azazel grabbed him tightly by the jaw, tilted his head up, and planted a rough, bruising kiss on his lips. Before Sam and Dean could resume their shouting, he pulled away. 

“I’ll see you soon, little pet.” He purred, fingers trailing over his wet cheeks before he stalked out of the room, not even giving Sam and Dean a second glance. 

Click

Creak

Slam

Silence

The three of them sat there and said nothing. (Y/N) stared off towards the window, head moving from side to side ever so slightly. His brain was foggy and dizzy from the overstimulation. Dean’s jaw was clenched, nostrils flared. His eyes glimmered with a murderous rage. He stared at his older brother - his broken older brother - before turning his attention over to Sam. Sam shared the same look of anger as he did. 

What no one had been aware of was that, while the chaos with Azazel unfolded, Sam had been working on the ropes around his arms. A couple of silent seconds after they were left alone in the room, Sam let out a grunt and pulled his arms apart. The ropes fell onto the floor with a light thud. With determination in his eyes, Sam turned and untied (Y/N) first before going over to Dean. Once Dean was free, he stood, stretched his neck muscles, and then turned for the door, eyes flooded with blind rage. Sam was quick to grab him by the upper arm, stopping him in his tracks. 

“What’re you doing?” He whispered. 

“I’m going after that son of a bitch, Sam, what do you think I’m doing?” Dean retorted. 

“We can’t. There are too many of them, and we don’t have our weapons anymore.” 

“I’ll take my chances,” Dean pulled his arm from Sam’s grasp and turned to leave, but was quickly grabbed by Sam once more. “Let go, Sam.” 

“Dean, I want the bastard dead just as much as you do, even more now, but we’re outnumbered. Plus, (Y/N) needs us.” 

Hearing his brother’s name snapped him out of the trance he was in. Dean snapped his head around towards (Y/N), who was still sitting in the chair. 

“(Y/N),” he breathed, quickly making his way over to him. Sam followed. 

Once they were in front of (Y/N), they could see just how much he was affected. His arms hung at his side lamely, his gaze still set towards the window. They were empty, devoid of any emotion. His cheeks were still stained, and his lips were slightly parted. They had started to swell. 

“Hey, hey, (Y/N),” Dean reached up and cupped his face, turning his head so he would look at him. “Hey, buddy, you’re okay. You’re safe. He’s not here anymore, but we have to get out of here. Can you stand up?” 

Silence. 

Dean slowly nodded. “Alright, Sam, you get that window open and we’ll get out of here. I’ll grab him.” 

Sam moved over to the window, scraping some of the broken glass away from it. He glanced out the window and let out a breath of relief when he saw they were on the first floor. He grabbed the top of the window, lifting it, but it didn’t budge. He cursed under his breath and took a deep breath as he hoisted the window open with all of his strength. The bottom half of the window slammed upwards, causing the wall to shake. He raised his brows and turned to Dean, gesturing him over quickly. 

Dean reached under (Y/N)’s legs and picked him up bridal style. He held him tight and close to his chest as he swiftly made his way over to the window. Sam was the first one to climb out, hissing as the splinters from the window sill embedded themselves into his hands. Once his feet were on the ground, he turned back to the window. 

“Pass him through,” he held his arms out. 

Dean glanced behind him at the door before he helped Sam get (Y/N) through the window. Once (Y/N) was through, Sam cradled him in his arms just as Dean had. Dean moved even faster to get out of the window. When they were outside, they could see, in the distance, the familiar sight of the sun peeking out past the horizon. They shared a glance, examined their surroundings, and then rushed back towards the tall trees at the edge of the field. 

They ran at Mach speed through the forest, hopping over roots and dodging protruding branches. Now and then, Sam would look down at his brother, still held tight to his chest, but the same, vacant expression was always present on his face. Sam was, admittedly, worried for him. He had never seen (Y/N) in such a vulnerable state. He was always the level-headed one, so put together. He was the one that Sam and Dean leaned on in times of trouble, the one that picked them up when they were down, the one to jump to their aid when they needed him the most without any hesitation. 

And here he was, carrying him in his arms, the broken shell of his oldest brother. Never, in a million years, would he have imagined this scenario. To him, it was always supposed to be the other way around, as it had been on multiple occasions. He felt so heavy, but, at the same time, light as a feather, as if Sam could carry him for hundreds of miles if he had to. He would in a heartbeat. 

By the time they reached the edge of the wood, the sky had turned a brilliant pinkish-orange, and mourning doves began to sing their elegant tune. Dean broke out into a wide grin as Baby came into view. 

“Oh, Baby, I am never leaving you again,” he mumbled as he ran his hand over her hood. 

“Dean? Keys?” Sam raised his brows. 

Dean slowly frowned. He patted his jean pockets, then his coat pockets. He grumbled, unzipped his coat, and reached inside. After seconds of searching, he let out a heavy sigh of relief as he pulled the keys out of an inner pocket. 

“Thank God for inside pockets.” 

Sam rolled his eyes. “Just get the door opened.” 

“Right, right…” 

Dean unlocked the car before he rounded the corner to the back passenger’s side. He opened the door.

“How is he?” He asked. 

Sam took a moment to look down at (Y/N). He was so focused on getting them as far away from the school as possible, that he didn’t even notice that he had fallen asleep. Sam felt relief wash over him, glad that his brother didn’t have to experience any more of those negative thoughts he must’ve had. At least, not at that moment. Carefully, Sam navigated his way to the backseat, laying (Y/N) on his side. He made sure not to wake him. With everything he had gone through and all the emotions that had seemingly piled onto him all at once, he wasn’t sure how easy (Y/N) would be to wake up. He must have been exhausted. 

“He’s fine, at least, for now,” Sam mumbled. 

Once (Y/N) was situated in the backseat, Sam stretched, not having realized the strain he had received from carrying him for so long. He closed the door as quietly as he could and took his spot in the passenger’s seat. Dean walked around the car and got into the driver’s side. He was quick to start the car, the rumble of the engine sending vibrations through the seats. Dean pulled off the dirt road and did a U-Turn, heading back into town. 

The first five minutes of the ride were silent. Not even the radio dared speak up. Sam and Dean’s eyes were glued to the road, both of them taking turns to occasionally look back at (Y/N). 

Dean was the first one to speak. 

“We need to get the Hell out of Dodge.” He said. 

Sam nodded. “You’re right. If Yellow Eyes is this close, he’ll waste no time trying to find us. I can go in, pack all of our stuff, and check us out. Then, I say we drive as far away as possible.” 

“I couldn’t agree more.”

Another deep silence. Dean was the first one to speak again. 

“How come he never told us?” 

Sam hesitated for a moment, considering the question himself. He tried to look at it from a personal standpoint. Why didn’t he tell them? They’re family. They tell each other everything. But do they? He tried to look at it from a logical standpoint. 

It was one thing the Winchesters were notorious for; their lack of communication when it comes to their emotions. It was preached to them when they were younger, that emotions were the reason hunters got killed. You had to go in, get the job done, and don’t let it get to you. Then again, a vast majority of hunters are alcoholics, so what does that say about them? They are human, after all. 

What happens when something serious occurs? Something so traumatic that they lose themselves at the first sight of the enemy? That was something neither the hunting life nor their father had prepared them for. At that point, they were lost. 

Sam shook his head. “I don’t know. I mean, you saw the way he acted when Yellow Eyes walked in.” 

Dean’s jaw clenched. “Yeah.” 

“I couldn’t imagine what he was going through, nor what he went through. I mean, if something like that happened to you, would you tell us?” 

Dean opened his mouth to speak but stopped himself. He clenched onto the steering wheel. “No,” he mumbled. 

“Exactly, I mean…” he trailed. “This is fucked up.” 

“Yeah, extremely fucked up. You have no idea how hard it is for me to drive away. I wanna go back there and kill him so bad.” Dean spoke between clenched teeth, his grip on the wheel so tight his knuckles turned white. 

“Trust me, Dean, I get it.” Sam nodded. “But right now, we should focus on (Y/N). He needs us right now, more than anything.” 

Dean looked over at Sam for a second before glancing in the rearview mirror at his older brother’s sleeping form. On that day, he vowed that he would kill Azazel with his own two hands. 

*~*

His vision was fading, black spots decorating his peripherals. Any sound had been replaced with a low buzz. His breathing was staggered and labored. Every inch of his body was on fire as if he was being burned from the inside out. The only relief he felt was the cool concrete that was pressed against his cheek. It felt as if his body weighed a thousand pounds. No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t move. 

Suddenly, the pain shot through his body like a bullet, his muscles and nerves tensing. He opened his mouth to scream, but nothing came out. 

“Aw, isn’t that cute,” Azazel growled from above him. 

(Y/N)’s fear-filled eyes shot towards the sound of his voice. Azazel’s deep, yellow eyes stared into him intently, filled with rage, lust, and desire. (Y/N) tried to scream louder, but, still, no sound came out. 

“Sam! Dean! Help me, please!” He mouthed, hot tears streaming down his face. 

“Look at you trying to call out for your brothers. Well, I hate to break it to you, little pet, but they aren’t here, and they’ll never find you if I can help it.” 

Azazel caressed his cheek before grabbing his hair roughly, yanking his head back. In a flash, a cool, sharp black was pressed against his neck. 

“Now, be a good boy and take it.” 

The pain intensified, lightning shooting through his veins.

Take it. 

Please. 

Take it.

Someone.

Take it!

Help me.

TAKE IT

*~*

(Y/N) gasped as he jolted upright, eyes wide and alert. His chest rose and fell with the rhythm of his pants. In an instant, Sam and Dean were by his side. Dean stood next to the bed while Sam sat next to him. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Sam spoke in a soothing voice, hesitantly reaching toward him. “You’re safe, (Y/N).” 

(Y/N) jerked away from his touch, and Sam was quick to pull back. As (Y/N) attempted to gather himself, he looked around the room. They were in a motel room, although it was different than the one (Y/N) remembered being in. What did he remember? The last thing he could recall was the look on Azazel’s face as he smirked down at him, the look in those deep, demonic eyes. Those damned eyes. He didn’t remember leaving the school, nor did he remember their journey to another motel room. 

“Where are we?” he asked quietly, his voice hoarse and broken.

“Chattanooga,” Dean replied. “A couple hours south of where we were.” 

(Y/N) nodded in acknowledgment. Then it was silent. No one said anything, the only sound filling the room was the electricity coursing through the air from the outdated box TV sat on the dresser. (Y/N)’s gaze was cast down towards the discolored comforter while Sam and Dean shared a glance as if silently urging one another to say something. Finally, it was Sam who spoke up. 

“Look, if you don’t wanna talk about it, we-” 

“He was right,” (Y/N) interrupted. 

Sam and Dean looked at each other before they turned their attention back to their older brother. Dean sat down on the bed opposite (Y/N), and leaned forward, hands folded. 

“Everything he said was true.” (Y/N) swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat. 

“So, after dad died…” Sam trailed. 

“When I went AWOL? Yeah. I, uh, I had found where he was. Didn’t take that long, at least, not as long as I thought it was going to take. I was so set on killing him that I didn’t take into account the fact that there might be other demons with him. It was like I was…blind by rage…” (Y/N) lowered his head and twiddled his thumbs. “I was captured pretty easily, I hate to admit. Then, he came in…you know the rest.” 

(Y/N) was unaware of the tears that had begun to form in the corner of his eyes. He refused to look at his brothers. What would they say? What would they think? Would they be disappointed? Disgusted? Betrayed? He didn’t think he could handle what they thought about him at that moment. 

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Dean asked softly. 

(Y/N) glanced up at them, brows furrowed with a look of confusion. Sam and Dean’s expressions conveyed a feeling of sadness. Of hurt. (Y/N) clenched his hands into weak fists and looked down. 

“I’m your big brother. I’m supposed to be the one to protect you guys, not the other way around. I’m supposed to be the strong one. How would you think of me knowing your big brother couldn’t even stop himself from getting raped?” (Y/N)’s voice broke, tears flowing more freely. 

Sam and Dean watched (Y/N) hug himself tightly. Slowly, they began to make their way onto the bed, not wanting to startle him in such a fragile state. With Sam on one side and Dean on the other, they wrapped their arms loosely and gently around his shaking frame. 

“(Y/N), I hope you know that we don’t think any less of you because of this,” Sam said. 

“Yeah, this isn’t your fault,” Dean agreed.

(Y/N) shook his head. “If I wouldn’t have gone after him…” he sobbed. 

Dean shushed him, reaching a hand up to gently caress his head. (Y/N) stopped what he was saying and just leaned against his brothers. The Winchesters were never good with comfort. Get over it, they were always told. Stop being so sensitive. Real men don’t cry, type of narrative. They all just sat there in silence, sobs continuing to fall from (Y/N)’s lips. 

He was always so scared about the way his brothers would react. He decided to take a page out of John Winchester’s book of dealing with his emotions. Bottle it up and everything would be okay, which was completely false. That much was evident back at the schoolhouse. (Y/N) wasn’t okay. Hell, that had been the first moment he had verbally admitted that he had been raped, and it hurt. 

Even though he felt a small sense of security in the arms of his brothers, he still didn’t feel safe. Knowing Azazel, his rapist, was still roaming the world in search of them always kept him on edge. He wasn’t sure he would ever feel peace unless he witnessed, firsthand, the life drain from those yellow eyes of his. After that, he wasn’t certain how he would feel.

“Hey,” Dean’s voice broke the dead silence. 

(Y/N) looked up at him, eyes red, but slowly drying. Dean gazed down at him with a look of determination on his face. 

“We got this, okay? As long as you’re with us, we won’t let anything else happen to you. You’ve been our big brother and protected us our whole lives. Now it’s our turn to protect you.” 

(Y/N) took a moment to look at Dean, then looked over at Sam. He gave a small, brief nod as he pulled them closer for a tighter embrace. 

“Thank you,” he spoke in a hushed tone. 

“Don’t even worry about it,” Sam shook his head. “You would do the same for us.” 

(Y/N) nodded.

“And if there’s one thing I can promise you, (Y/N), it’s that the next time I see that slimy bastard, I won’t hesitate to put a bullet between his eyes,” Dean growled, holding his brother close.

(Y/N) couldn’t help but give a small smile, because, while the Winchesters weren’t good at comfort or expressing their griefs with one another, there was one thing that made them stand out amongst everyone else;

When they promised to kill something, nothing on God’s green Earth could get in their way.

[rottingmanifesto]

16 or 36 for anything you feel like writing currently! :D

Trying out some different formats. Hope it’s legible. Fair warning that I got way too carried away with ‘total control’, so it’s under a cut.

16. in dreams

Journal, Lincoln, 1st person.

Keep havin’ weird dreams. Can’t explain them very well, all I know is I keep scaring the hell outta a few of the guys when I jolt up. Davis suggested I see the Chaplain ‘bout it. Pretty sure it’s not demons, so unless he’s got holy-water-melatonin, I don’t think he can help.

One of the dreams is about Danny and Nicki arguin’ over their old man’s body. Cancer or poisoning or something of the like. Not sure why I’m there at all, I just am. Both keep beggin’ me for an answer. I can’t. Someone’s cut out my tongue and noises don’t help. He’s dead, they’re arguing, I can’t do anythin’.

Father said something offhandedly in a letter about my nightmares being chronic. Happened when I was a kid, stopped for whatever reason, an’ now they’re back. Never told him I was having any, but that’s Father for you. He jus’ knows things. Didn’t tell Sammy or Ellis though, both seem to think I’m fine. Not sayin’ I’m not. Just don’t think it’s worth tellin’ them, worryin’ them over stupid shit like dreams. Got bigger issues than that.

36. total control

Script-ish, John and Connor, 3rd person.

J: You were supposed to die.

A: Yeah, firing squad. I remember. Hard to forget.

J: Would’ve preferred a hanging, actually.

A: Didn’t know the United States still used that method.

J: I’m sure they’d make an exception.

A: (mild discomforting laugh) Of course they would.

J: (faltering, lowering gun, searching for words)

A: Maybe you should set the gun down. Your hand’s twitching. Don’t want a misfire.

J: Shut the fuck up.

A: What, I can’t look out for you? What happens if you twitch and kill that friend of yours out there?

J: Don’t bring him into this.

A: Lincoln, right? Hear he’s taking after you very well. Brazen and theatrical.

J: Yes, because you’re a master at subtlety.

A: Comes with the job.

J: Jesus Chr—a fucking warhead isn’t subtle.

A: Neither is hanging a man from a Ferris wheel. Or, you know, (signaling to cheek with J’s given-cigarette) this.

J: That was self-defense.

A: Sure. Of course.

J: Can you just go one fucking sentence without being an asshole, or is that above you?

A: Give me a reason to, and I will.

J: I have a gun and you don’t.

A: That’s not enough, Johnny, and you know that.

J: Don’t call me that.

A: Sorry, I’m delirious from the blood loss. I thought you were that kid I helped so many years ago. He looked an awful lot like you, too. (painful cough, takes a drag to cover up whatever expression he has on his face) Forgive me, Mr. Donovan.

J: You know, I used to believe in you back then. (voice breaks, begins to pace, having his back to A) Thought you represented everything great about this country.

A: Don’t I still?

J: You don’t. You’re just as fucking greedy and selfish as everyone else. (wheels around to face A, pointing a quivering gun between his eyes)

A: Exactly. That’s the real America. The one that doesn’t care about drafted soldiers drowning in mud, or those who come back seeing shit and knowing they fundamentally aren’t right anymore. The one that doesn’t care about people like your friend out there. The one that would sooner hang you for being a homosexual than me for being a so-called “traitor”.

J: So you’re justified with selling a goddamn nuke, is that what you’re saying?

A: (still fucking smiling) Your comprehension has improved some. Congratulations.

J: (crouches down to be eye-level) So the money was just to sweeten the deal, huh? To ease your conscious— (he presses his hand into A’s wound as harshly as possible, causing A to jolt in pain)— when innocent people inevitably fucking die?

A: We both know I won’t be the last person to do so. If it isn’t the NVA, it’ll be someone else. It’ll keep going until the United States is destroyed.

J: (begins to pace again, silent, blinking hard to avoid tears)

A: I was going to end it, John. I was going to make everyone free from this bullshit. Including you. Including your friend. Including everyone else who is subject to America’s tyranny. I was going to do what you’re too cowardly to do! I was going to end it all!

J: (whips around sharply) Are you finished?

A: (panting, out of energy, the pain finally overcoming the adrenaline and pride, he realizes he’s no longer in total control.)

A: It appears so.

[missvelvetsstuff]

Where you goin, Star?

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Biker au

Summary: Reader meets Bucky when the truck hauling her show horses breaks down as she is trying to leave for an event and he works for the mechanic. Passionate, secret love affair ensues. After a confrontation with her father, Bucky decides she deserves better than a poor biker like him and leaves town with his friends Steve and Sam. Three years later, reader is trapped in an abusive relationship and about to give up hope of things ever improving, when Bucky comes back.

Chapter 8

Warnings: swearing, substance abuse/od, domestic violence

In the morning Y/N had Brock take her to the bank with a story about her mother's jewelry being in the safe deposit box. Since getting caught sneaking out a few nights ago she had been keeping her head down, going through the house and staying out of his way, so he left her alone for the most part and didn't question her.

The bank manager led her to the secure room and made Brock and Jack sit in the waiting area.

Y/N was so nervous about what she might find that her hands shook as she pulled everything out of the box. A manila envelope with Walker written on it, in her fathers writing. She opened the envelope and pulled some papers out, on top was an ultrasound picture which made her furrow her brow. She looked closer to read the name Hoskins, Olivia and the date was a few months ago.

Y/N shook her head, John cheating was no surprise but she couldn't figure out why her father kept a copy of the ultrasound. There was a regular envelope under that and she pulled the paper out of it, a DNA test proving that John was the father. She smiled as it clicked when she read the report. This would hurt his political aspirations and hopefully be enough to convince him to let her leave.

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

Bucky spent the next 2 days wallowing. He still took care of what needed to be done but when he wasn't busy all he could think about was everything Star had gone through because he ran away. He wanted to kill Brock and John. Unfortunately the person he was most angry with was himself. Even if Star was ever able to forgive him, he wasn't sure if he could.

He meant every word he ever said to her.

Bucky had never considered himself one for settling down or God forbid having a family. At least not until he met Star, he wanted everything with her. The house, white picket fence, kids, a dog, he wanted every bit of that American dream.

Bucky tried to keep himself busy so he didn't have time to think and dwell on her. Unfortunately the nights were long and too quiet. Steve and Peggy were looking for their dream house but Sam was out on the town. Trying to keep up with Sam's partying sounded almost as bad as being Steve and Peggys 3rd wheel. He wanted to go and grab Star, pull her away from Brock and John. Find a house for them, make plans for a wedding, maybe get a nursery set up and begin the life they were supposed to start 2 years ago. All he could do right now was stay out of trouble and wait for her to contact him.

He called Pepper Stark for a realtor that could help him get started.

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

Beneath the envelope with John's name was another large envelope with Star written on it. In Bucky's messy writing. She felt her stomach drop as she wondered if he had been telling the truth. Her heart fluttered at the thought that he hadn't just deserted her, maybe he really did love her.

When she opened it something small fell to the floor. She leaned down to pick it up, a ring. It felt like her heart stopped.

An old fashioned wedding ring set with a small diamond and gold vines holding it in place. It was attached to a band with tiny stones.

She felt tears filling her eyes and had to grab a tissue to wipe them away so she could read the letter enclosed.

'My sweet Star, my guiding light,

I know things seem bad but I promise it's not how it looks. I took the money your father offered so that I could go back to school and start my own business. Well with Steve and Sam.

I'm sorry that I have to leave but I promise I'll be back soon. Six months, maybe a year at most and I'll come back to marry you, Star. If you'll have me.

This was my grandmother's wedding rings. I want you to have them so you know I love you and will be coming back so we can be together.

Don't give up on us Star, I promise I never will.

Love,

Your Jamie'

Y/N felt the tears running down her face as she tried to process her emotions. First was relief and love, Bucky didn't desert her, he just trusted the wrong guy to give her the message. Then came anger at her father and John but mostly Brock. He betrayed Bucky and took advantage of her. Then a mix up of fear and sadness, she might have the proof to change things but she was smart enough to realize that neither John or Brock would just let her go so easily.

When Star was able to get her emotions in control she decided she needed a plan and some help. Thanks to John she didn't have any friends at all, he forced her to push her old friends away and only allowed her to associate with people who would be good for his career. Then it hit her, Tony and Pepper Stark. They knew Bucky and had offered to help. She fished the business card Pepper had given her out of her purse and grabbed her phone. She decided a text would be the most discrete way to contact them so sent a quick note

'need help pls. ~Star'

then quickly deleted the text and hid the card in her wallet. She took pictures of all the papers, texted them to Pepper and deleted that text then put them back in the envelope and hid them in the bottom of her bag.

When she walked out to the waiting area, Brock and Jack were waiting. Brock was pacing and looked irritated, like usual, but Jack was sitting playing on his phone.

Brock stopped pacing when he saw her, he grinned "Everything alright Mrs Walker? Took you quite awhile in there."

She dabbed gently at her eyes with a tissue "Of course, Brock. It was just some of my mother's rings, see." She showed him a small jewelry box with some fancy rings that she had put in her purse before they left the house, in case he or John asked.

Brock looked at them and then nodded. "Are you ready to go, ma'am?"

"Yes Brock. Back to my parents house. I have to put these rings in the safe and keep working on my father's papers."

When they got back to the house she locked herself in her fathers office so she could put the papers in his hidden floor safe. Then she checked her phone to see if she had any messages. There was only one, from Pepper

'Lunch tomorrow? There's a restaurant up the street from Stark tower. 1pm?'

Star smiled so wide her cheeks hurt as she replied 'I'll see you then.'

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

That night Bucky was stretched out on the bed in his hotel room, something playing on the TV but he wasn't paying attention. His phone buzzed making him jump.

It was from Tony Stark 'Pepper heard from Star asking for help, they have lunch tomorrow. I'll keep you updated'

Bucky fell asleep feeling more hopeful than he had in years.

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

Star dressed carefully for lunch. Even though she was working to get away from John she had to watch herself. There were always reporters following Pepper around and even a few following Star as the wife of an up and coming congressman. If she wasn't smart, John would become suspicious and ruin everything.

Pepper was already at the restaurant when she arrived and had ordered drinks and an appetizer. They spent 2 hours talking and plotting how to manage her escape.

Brock watched from the side, concerned. He hadn't seen Y/N that cheerful since before the wedding. He knew she must be up to something and contacted John to let him know something was up.

John instructed him to take Y/N to the penthouse in Manhatten, instead of her parents house, and meet him there.

When lunch was over Pepper gave her a hug "Don't worry, hon. We'll fix this for you."

Y/N smiled and thanked her, leaving the envelope on the table for Pepper to keep, before following Brock to her car.

Her smile faded when she saw they weren't going back to Brooklyn and her heart raced when she realized where they were going. She hated the penthouse.

"Brock? What's going on? I'm not done at my parents house yet."

Brock grunted "All I know is that Mr Walker told me to bring you here, so we're here."

Y/N laughed nervously "Oh, he must have something planned." And took the elevator up to the top, her nerves worsening with each floor that passed.

When the elevator doors opened she took a breath and walked in to see John sitting at the dining room table.

"Welcome home sweetheart, it feels like I haven't seen you in ages. Come sit down, I have good news. I poured you a glass of wine, dear."

Star looked at him suspiciously, John never thought to make a drink for her and he never used pet names unless he was angry with her. She sat down across the table from him and eyed her glass suspiciously.

John chuckled "What's wrong dear? You seem nervous."

She stammered "I I I'm f-f-fine." And took a deep breath to calm her racing heart. "What's up?"

John smiled at her but it wasn't a caring or calming smile, it reeked of malevolence, she could see it in his eyes.

"So. Brock tells me you went to the bank yesterday. What was that about?"

Y/N smiled nervously "I found the key to one of my fathers safe deposit boxes. It had some of my mother's rings, I showed Brock."

John nodded "I see. And what was the text you sent Pepper Stark about? What do you need help with and why didn't you ask me first?"

Her throat dried up and she tried to laugh it off "Oh that, I wanted advice on hosting fundraisers. She's put together so many lovely events, I thought she would have some good advice.

I didn't want to bother you with something so trivial. I know how busy you are."

"Right, fundraiser." John looked like he was about to get up and she almost let out the breath she was holding when he looked back at her "So, what was the envelope you gave her?"

Her throat tightened and she couldn't speak.

"Now sweetheart, you know I hate when you lie to me but if you spill the whole thing I'll go easy on you." He stood over her and grabbed her hair, jerking her neck back and spat in her face.

"Lets try again. What was in that envelope? What are you up to?"

"It was nothing John, just some pictures of me riding. From before."

He let go of her hair and she relaxed for a second before his fist hit her face and she was knocked to the floor. He stook over her "You little slut. Where are the papers you sent her?"

As he was ready to break her, his phone rang and he grinned "Look, it's Tony Stark. Better be good news. We aren't done here" And left the room as he answered the call.

He returned to the room in a better mood. "Looks like you've been spared. For now. Stark is hosting a fundraiser for me, he said you were the one who convinced Pepper." He kissed her on the forehead. As he left the room he turned back "Brock told me about you sneaking out. And your punishment. Sent me pictures too, I'm saving those for a special occasion. You really are a pretty little cumdump." He sighed "Brock will take you back to your parents house, I have company coming. Before you go I have something for you"

She looked at him suspiciously through her rapidly swelling eye and didn't hear Brock come up behind her. She felt a pinch on her neck and a warm feeling spread through her body before the black overwhelmed it.

Brock picked up the phone and dialed 911 "Please help, I think my boss overdosed." And gave her parents address as he raced through town.

Y/N was laying in the back seat, barely coherent. She heard him making another call "Tell Barnes his Star needs him, at her parents house. And he needs to hurry."

When they arrived at the house Brock carried her inside and dropped her on the couch, unconscious. He ran his hand down her body "What a fucking waste." And left her there.

Chapter 9

@pattiemac1

[pwblogarchive]

November 2007

November 2, 2007

"our smiles are just a commercial for how normal we are"

the idea of protecting would imply that there is some possession-

a toast implies change.

noone toasts normals days

or gutter heads.

i swear to god i have come to love some of you so dearly.

i count on you to get me by.

but i have begun to wonder about my contribution to life

i want to go to school.

i want to move far away.

im scared.

but only of god and a witness stand.

im not sure how much longer i want to do this if it doesnt mean anything-

i need a push a sign something that puts me back on course.

if i go for it you tell me i shouldnt have.

if i lay and wait you think i dont care.

i want to believe so badly.

morning is just a cold shower for dreams.

broke the little bone on top of my foot.

oh well i am so accident prone, i owed the universe some marrow.

not gonna back out on you.

3rd time in an mri this year.

there is no room colder or smaller.

there is something about the repetitive clicking that gives me visions.

i really feel for people who truly have to go through this on a daily basis or need crutches everyday of their life. honestly it is humbling for me.

and i probably needed that humility.

thanks for your understanding.

the painkillers and pride have my head in a bit of a tangle.

help me unwind it.

is there a song you count on every time?

i swear by the baxters

and the dropouts who only kept the books and the freshman fifteen

awake inside someone elses dream

alone in someone elses throne

gift wrapped wasp nest

blue ribbon jealousy contest

cant make everyone in the world unhappy all of the time

theres no glory on the road

its just a quick way to make you old

theres a new order

my disorders

i am just a sweettooth in the cavity search of life

Posted by xoat 1:24 AM

November 13, 2007

“this machine kills fascists”

after the pornstar john holmes career deflated he turned to showing up at LAX and stealing peoples bags off of the conveyor belt.

i watched someone do this to me at the airport today.

i am obsessed with the change that can turn in the world.

sometimes the message is more important than the art.

i need him more than he needs me, he needs her more than he needs me and so on.

theres nothing new under the sun

but were reading on existentialism in the shade.

i am so in love with the idea

if it werent for that i am not sure where i would turn.

i guess this is another halfhearted thank you. just because you keep tuning in.

"dont you think its insane how donald duck never wears pants?"

life is better when youre around.

but yes i do think its insane.

Posted by xoat 1:27 AM

November 15, 2007

“a sketch of Chicago in words.”

afternoon rhythmic no sleep dream.

body rigid.

mind convulsing.

i went scanning thru frequencies as my eyelids stuck shut.

reminds me of the first time the emt's gave birth to me.

or back to me.

whats the difference between a vision and a hallucination is simply whos giving the diagnosis.

the visions were so bright they burnt shadows on the inside of the room.

were a wagon party.

i see the world in slow motion.

theres shivering everywhere.

too cold outside, too hot inside.

fall has stolen the country from here.

sleep never comes naturally anymore.

boys playing men in flannel shirts-

homage or parody of what once was.

whos gonna be left when its all and done?

im exploding just too slowly for anyone to take notice.

Posted by xoat 2:19 AM

November 15, 2007

“maybe we should feed our jewelry to the sea”

from current occupation: selling fire in hell by xo

mid tour crisis got everybodys heads troubled.

new panic at the disco songs are settling.

cant sleep so we wrote a lullabye.

you probably wont ever hear it unless we end up at a campfire together:

honey is for bees, silly bear

besides theres jelly beans everywhere

its not what it seems, in the land of dreams

dont worry your head just go to sleep

doesnt matter how you feel

lifes just a ferris wheel

its always up and down, dont make a sound

when you wake up the world will come around

its just sweet weather and peacock feathers

in the morning itll all be better

dont worry your head just go to sleep.

November 17, 2007

“the only thing suicidal here are the doors.”

weve been indoctrinated to crave the idea of the extraordinary ordinary

we accept the blogs and camera phones as mediums, not as in the transfer of information, but more closely defined to the idea of the spiritual medium...- as the prophets, the eye and pyramid on the dollar bill

we are just flies on the wall watching a culture have a nervous breakdown.

everyone is born between may 22 and june 22, even if theyre not- we are a gemini generation. we love to hate everything in other people that we hate about ourselves.

arrogantly insecure and vice versa.

and life lately is just always about the spins and collateral damage.

sometimes the snow and ground frost shut us both down

in love with the idea of permanent impermanence.

so careful of stuttered over articulation, as though saying the word better would somehow make it mean more.

the worlds worst kind of diary.

i wish i could pull the pause button off of every electronic gadget in my home- i despise it so.

strangely fulfilled by the idea of loving strangers and hating my friends.

how there had to be an inkling in the head of neal armstrong to just stay on the moon and wait for the air to run out, besides the fact thats what we are all doing sort of in the long run only he'd have a better view.

Posted by xoat 1:49 AM

November 22, 2007

“i think this is a bit of an overestimation.”

ill need to take up gardening or something if im gonna be around this long.

Posted by xoat 3:22 AM

[theanticool]

Sergio Pettis took a UD over Patricio Pitbull.

Fell asleep before we got to the final two fights for Bellator last night and watched the fight I most wanted to see today so figured I’d post about it.

Barring Pettis’ ACL injury and layoff, was surprised by how many people thought he’d lose this one. Pitbull coming down to 135lbs looked himself to be fair, but this felt like the exact wrong type of fight for the style that Pitbull has in his late career. Pitbull has become a low output pressure fighter with age. He’s quick and powerful enough that up at 145lbs, that works as his opponents give him  a ton of respect. But also, none of them want to fight off the back foot. Some of them can do one shot instant offense from that position (McKee) or have had success in other fights (Borics) but they are not guys who can/will take initiative from a quick, powerful counter puncher like Pitbull.

Sergio Pettis will take a slow paced kickboxing match off the back foot any day of the week. It’s where he feels the safest. Especially against an opponent who is basically his size but slower (and less reach). His volume weapon is the jab, one of the hardest punches to counter. And we saw him keep that thing in PItbull’s face all night. Sometimes he even managed to double, triple, or quadruple to force Pitbull back and then rip to the body. Where we’ve seen Pettis struggle is when he’s forced to face a big strong wrestler or someone who can force him to run out of ideas with pace+dynamism (Benoit) or size (Caceres, Font). Pettis also can punctuate rounds with big moments of offense and we saw that here - the spinning back wheel kick that rocked Patricio at the end of the 2nd or 3rd. Point is, Sergio also likes to counter but he’ll take the jab all day if you let him. With PItbull’s ability to just pull out fight changing dynamic offense having waned so much in the past few years, this felt like a strong match up for Pettis as it was never going to get above a simmer unless Patricio really forced the action. And I don’t think that’s something he can do 20 years into his career. Guys like Patchy Mix or Raufeon Stots who are bigger + more dangerous but have less schooled kickboxing games might have actually been better match ups for Patricio.

Personally enjoyed the fight, but watching something at like 5:30 in the morning is probably preferable to waiting all day and staying up to like 11:00/11:30. Excited for Mix vs Pettis. Mix is a nightmare match up for Sergio so we’ll see how that shakes out for him. 

Also, it’s time to put respect on Sergio’s name. Man has put together a formidable resume that should be taken seriously: Patricio Pitbull, Kyoji Horiguchi, Brandon Moreno, Juan Archuleta, Joseph Benavidez, and John Moraga.

[bowtiesnmusicals]

Here is my recap of the Run It Back (Bad Reputation) episode of the podcast.

Kevin and Jenna were dreading this rewatch. Someone screened this episode for just the cast in the editing bay. Everyone was jarred by it.

Obviously all the songs are bad.

The scoring was weird. It was like a murder mystery.

This episode felt like Acafellas in a way. They were protective of the show even though they had no control of the creative side of things or how to promote the show. They just had to do what was written.

They were bummed and thought it wasn't great.

Jenna and Kevin actually ended up enjoying rewatching the episode.

The episode aired May 4, 2010.

The #1 song was OMG by Usher.

On May 5th Glee won a Television With A Conscious Award at the 3rd Annual Television Academy Honors for the Wheels episode. Cory, Chris, and Kevin accepted the award. Kevin doesn't really remember this event. He had a lot of parents with kids in wheelchairs come up to him and wanted him to tell Brad, Ian, and Ryan thank you for having a character like Artie on the show. It made their kids feel represented. (Kevin acknowledged that now we know better. We now know that just having a character exist is the bare minimum. This was the preamble to representation really matters.)

On May 8th the cast of Glee was featured on the cover of Billboard Magazine. They used promo photos for the cover. Even so it was a really cool cover.

During rehearsal for tours Amber came in and was supposed to be on vocal rest. There is a picture where she is sitting cross legged on the stage and it got to where she is supposed to rehearse Beautiful that she sings in Home. They told her not to sing it and to save her voice. She did the most perfect rendition of the song just sitting there. She did all the runs and didn't miss a note. Kevin went from being mad that this was irresponsible to being mad that this was so good. That she had something wrong with her voice and she was still that good.

They are going to talk about the first tour after the finish this season.

This episode was directed by Elodie Keene. She had directed two or three episodes by this point.

Stephen Tobolowsky is back. As is Robin Trocki (Jean). John Groff is still in the Glee club. Yet another guest star was Molly Shannon.

Kevin had no idea that Molly Shannon would be in this episode. Jenna had heard and was waiting for to come to set.

Jenna watched a seen between Molly and Jane. It was unbelievable to watch her especially since Jenna was a huge fan.

Olivia Newton-John was a huge guest star for this episode. She sounded great.

Kevin said he was glad he got to talk to Jane about how much she admired Olivia Newton-John.

Ryan basically manifested this by talking to the guy that wrote most of Olivia's songs.

Olivia Newton-John has a song and album named Don't Stop Believing.

Jenna told a story about how she booked glee and her roommate's boyfriend was drinking a beer while the roommate and Jenna were on the phone. The bottle cap that had a fortune on them. The cap said never flee from glee. The roommate saved the cap for Jenna. Jenna's dad made her a engraved necklace that says never flee from glee that they gave her at her going away dinner when she was moving to California for the show.

Kevin's dad called him when Kevin was testing for Glee to tell him he saw a license plate with Artie on it. He told Kevin that he knew. Jenna said it was meant to be. Kevin said they were supposed to be life partners.

This is the last appearance of Ken Tanaka. It is very brief. You blink and you miss it.

The whole crux of the episode is trying to rehab not only character things but some bad songs.

Kevin loves that Physical by Olivia Newton-John is in this episode. He loves that she was game to poke fun at herself. Kevin said it ended up being very visually stimulating and he's appreciative of that.

The songs in this episode are Ice Ice Baby, You Can't Touch This, Physical, Run Joey Run, and Total Eclipse Of The Heart.

Why wasn't Bad Reputation by Joan Jett and The Blackhearts in this episode? Kevin said maybe it isn't bad enough.

EW recap: A Madonna episode, sure, fun stuff but an episode that contains a mystery, a mega meta rift on a modern celebrity, a purposefully awful series of songs, not one but two high concept retro music videos, and some realistic forward motion on various romantic plotlines. Now we are talking.

As crazy as this episode was it gave us everything. It was all the fun and weirdness of glee and still had all the kids and the storylines happening. It was a great balance.

There are the student reputation and the teacher reputations that are trying to be reformed.

Kurt finds the video of Sue performing Olivia Newton-John's Physical. They decide to post it on Youtube.

Kevin was shocked that going viral on Youtube was a thing at the time this episode was filmed/aired. It was definitely a new concept at the time.

After this we are introduced to Molly Shannon's character. She fits right into the camp of the show.

There could have been so many spin-offs from this show. There was almost a Warbler spin-off.

Sue has a realization that she wants to help people and chooses Emma.

There were a lot of suspension of disbelief things in this episode.

Sue said she has hidden cameras in Will's apartment.

It was kind of nice seeing Sue giving Emma tough love but on the other side of thing is what is Sue getting out of this.

Jenna loves the scene where Emma calls Will a slut while he is talking to the teacher whose husband just died. Jenna thought the scene happened in a later season.

Kevin said he learned to speak up for himself by being all around the ladies in the cast.

The girls had to tell Kevin to stop taking steroids when he was sick and he was acting insane. This was on a plane to England. This is what friends do.

Jenna says this is the best slut shaming she's ever seen. He deserved it and to hear Emma say that is courageous and uplifting.

Kevin said he does thinks this was deserved however when Artie is slut shamed by Sam a few seasons later he doesn't think that was deserved.

There was some weird continuity issues, Emma's outfit changes but Sue's stays the same.

The costume department keeps track of how many days might take place in an episode. This is so they can keep track of what everyone is wearing. There was some sort of mix up in the scenes with Sue and Emma.

Kevin just wants to get to Physical. Jenna said we will get there.

Kurt is going to tell Sue he posted the video to help some of the Glee kids reputations. Sue says its fine and gets a call from the real Olivia Newton-John. Kevin wonders what the direct flight from Australia to Ohio is like because it doesn't many any sense. It's a little ridiculous.

Jenna said that scene was very funny. She said its so hard to not laugh with Chris. He's so funny.

The scene with them huddled around the computer was a new scene. It was done in a new set, the astronomy room which doubled for a lot of other rooms.

Kevin said that program looked like something from the early 90's. You could press any key on the keyboard and it would still type exactly what it was supposed to type. It felt like movie magic and Kevin was excited about it. Kevin can't type without looking at the keyboard.

Jenna remembers when they built the set for Physical. They weren't allowed in according to Kevin. The soundstage was closed off but they could hear it. Kevin wanted to see all the oiled up guys. Ryan directed the music video. He might also have directed all of the scenes with Olivia Newton-John.

Kevin had a crush on all the guys in the Physical music video. They were waiting and peeping outside the door trying to catch a glimpse of the music video being shot.

Kevin would like to know where Sue and the kids were recording their vocals for things like Vogue and Run Joey Run.

Scream checked off all the boxes for Kevin. He says he wishes he could have done the gimble box that Matt and Jayma got to use. Scream was everything. They got to do green screen, dancing, Michael and Janet Jackson.

Jenna got to live out some Brittany dreams. She would have loved to recreated Oops or Lucky. Kevin said she would have killed Lucky.

Jenna gave a tiny little snippet of Lucky.

Back to the episode recap and we get to the Glist.

Will lets this influence the lesson for the glee club and makes a lesson on bad reputations.

Ice Ice Baby is the ultimate Will Schuester song. It somehow works for Will.

Jenna said they put her with the dancers. Kevin said not to sell herself short.

RuPaul asked her when she was on Dragrace and she said yep. Jenna interpreted the question as being a professional performer not dancer. Kevin said nope, Ru, said dancer.

Jenna said it was hard to watch Kevin just sit there and not be able to dance. As has been said many times they put one of their best dancers in a wheelchair.

Kevin had a lot of fun because everyone was aware he was shoved in a corner. How does he make this fun? Who cares. This started sparked the beginning of Kevin trying to get as many shots in as possible of him doing ridiculous things when he had no right to be in the number.

Alexis Woodall, who was head of post production at the time, mentioned that if they needed more reaction shots they would look for Kevin because he would be doing ridiculous things. Elodie would egg them on to do ridiculous things. Kevin did not think the would use them and they sure did. They always used the crazy reactions. They created a monster out of Artie in this number with how they edited it.

Tina, Artie, and Kurt didn't make it on the Glist. Kurt is upset and this means we are nobodies. Worse then being hated is being invisible. Kurt coms up with the idea to disrupt their reputation and it's like no press is bad press. Which Jenna disagrees with. Kurt decides to perform in the library.

We get the scene with Brittany in the corner saying she took all her antibiotics at the same time and forgot how to move. She's upset she only made 4th on the list. She made out with Mr. Kidney the janitor. Laws were broken but she was also sort of dating a 7 year old in Madonna so I guess it's fine.

Artie gets scared and says he is getting cold feet. Brittany says can you even feel your feet.

Kevin had a question about the outfits. Where is the budget? These sort of look homemade. Is Mercedes still making the costumes? It is mentioned in the pilot and never again. This feels like something Mercedes could have done.

The jackets smelled horrible. The pants were handmade for them. Jenna loves the pants and this number a lot.

Kevin was really scared on the day of filming it. When they record the songs they have the lyrics in front of them. On the day they filmed the scene they didn't have the lyrics and Kevin couldn't remember them. The dancing was also crazy. In the bts Heather mentions needing her inhaler.

Kevin in front of the desk is funny and Jenna forgot he had all the vocals. Jenna was exhausted and sweating. It was so hot. Jenna loves watching this number. Kevin's goal was to facially looking disgusting. Artie had no awareness of his face and Kevin would just go there. The actress that played the librarian was just there to work and had no reaction just like the character.

Everything goes awry. The librarian loves it and wants them to perform at her church. This is when Kurt wants to tell Sue they posted the video.

Mr. Schue goes to apologize to Emma. After that he sees Quinn being pushed around in the hallway and realizes she made the list. It was a very sweet seen between Matt and Dianna.

Kevin loves the interrogation scenes and Kurt calling Mr. Schue out on it.

The other half of the club was doing Run Joey Run. She enlists Artie to direct the video.

Jenna had never heard the song before and was most jarred by this in the episode.

How did Artie go from making Vogue to Run Joey Run? Kevin thought what the real editors of the show did was brilliant. Kevin remembers that everyone was dying when they showed them episode and they got to this performance. Cory told them the blood was just ketchup.

Kevin thinks the fans like Puckelberry. Mark was very confused by it. They all thought it was weird. Jenna didn't hate it as much as the first time we saw that pairing.

Stephen Tobolowsky as the farmer was ridiculous.

Kevin doesn't understand why all the guys get upset over the music video. Jesse getting upset is fair but the other two is weird.

Jenna was upset that she didn't get to sing Total Eclipse Of The Heart.

Lea fudged knowing ballet for Total Eclipse. Groff was really lifting. Lea is tiny but still they were working.

Jesse and Rachel make Jenna giggle because of how serious they take their craft. It seems ridiculous but it feels quite true. Musical theatre people take things very seriously.

Kevin had logistical questions. Is this all in their heads. Who are they singing for? At this point it doesn't matter.

Tartie Takes:

Cringe Moments/Ouchies - Run Joey Run in the best bad way, Brittany making out with the janitor, and Molly Shannon's character talking about substance abuse

Worst Dance Move - Kevin not being able to dance in Ice Ice Baby

Best Song - Physical

Performance By A Prop - Jenna: Boombox in Can't Touch This, Kevin: The dancers in Physical not that they are props just when they prop Sue up.

Best Line - You're a slut, You're a slut, You're a slut! A second one is Sue telling Will she might by a diaper for his chin because it looks like a babies ass.

Shit We Found On TikTok:

They shouted out the Royal Voxhall Tavern in London. They have lots and lots and lots of dedicated performances of Glee. It's some good drag.

Next week is Laryngitis. Kevin forgot this episode was in season 1.

[wweassets]

Costume Contest anon here… HAPPY HALLOWEEN! It’s time for the first annual Halloween costume party organized by HBK at the Performance Center. Only the men were invited, so their costumes are allowed to include nudity. It’s an opportunity for the guys to hang out, show off the hard work they’ve been doing on their bodies. and have a relaxing night off at a private party. The PC is decorated for Halloween, similar to the Halloween Havoc setup. This year, HBK is judging the costumes with PC coaches J*son Jordan and On*y Lorcan. The guys are being judged by 3 criteria: Creativity, Physique, and Overall Presentation.

Let’s recap some of the highlights!

C*AMPA is Kratos from “God War,” body painted in white and sporting red stripes on his face and torso. He’s wearing a brown half-harness across his chest and a brown leather jockstrap.

TR*CK WILLIAMS is a Chippendale, shirtless and wearing the signature white collar, black bowtie, and white cufflinks. He’s wearing low-rise black tights; so low that they show the top half of his ass and the base of his penis.

R*COCHET has his face painted orange like a Jack-O-Lantern with yellow contact lenses. He’s wearing an orange jockstrap with his fat ass painted to be a giant orange pumpkin.

PR*TTY DEADLY are Adam and Eve, fully nude except for giant green leaves covering their penises and attached to their huge ass cheeks. Elton has a fake snake wrapped around his shoulders and Kit has an apple on his crotch.

CH*D GABLE is an Olympic swimmer, wearing medals around his neck and a tiny speedo, with his huge hamstrings and his fat cheeks hanging out.

NATHAN FRAZER is dressed as his mentor Seth R*llins from WrestleMania 2022. Wearing a long aqua blue fur coat, and tights that are fully black lace, showing off his dick. The guys are egging him on to lose the jacket and show off his ass, and he eventually caves in to take it off and reveal his wagon.

BR*N BREAKER is recreating Arnold Schwarzenegger’s famous nude rooftop scene from “The Terminator.” He’s walking around completely naked, with half of his face painted silver like a cyborg and wearing one black and red contact lens. He’s strutting around proud of his physique and not caring he’s missing an actual costume.

B*BBY LASHLEY is Jax Briggs from Mortal Kombat. He has his huge arms covered in silver sleeves, and he’s wearing purple tights that end at his quads, leaving his huge muscular ass hanging out. He’s covering his penis with a silver sleeve with the same material on his arms.

AUST*N THEORY is paying homage to John Cena’s nude scene in “Trainwreck.” He’s wearing nothing but a white towel around his penis. The guys can’t help but smack a handful of his fat ass as they pass by him.

L*GAN PAUL is dressed as the urban Ken from the “Barbie” movie, with a black bandana headband and a fur coat. The coat is cropped halfway down his torso. He’s wearing nothing below except for a black bandana wrapped around his thigh, covering his penis but leaving his fat ass completely exposed.

LA KN*GHT is doing a tribute to his catchphrase “YEAH!” He’s arrived naked with a different letter painted on the front and back of both legs and ass cheeks. Right quad has “Y,” left ass cheek has “E,” right ass cheek has “A” and left quad has “H.” He’s wearing a white sleeve over his penis that has a giant exclamation mark “!” on it.

S*TH ROLLINS finally arrives and is wheeled in on a platform. He’s come as Michaelangelo’s David statue, completely nude with his body painted in light gray. He has his curly hair pinned up, and while he’s normally very animated, he takes several moments throughout the party to stand and pose completely still like a statue.

So who are your 1st, 2nd and 3rd place winners?

oh my god you fucking you ate this as always. slays slays SLAYS all over 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨thank you for your service!!!!

now onto the results…

honourable mentions go to: Pretty Deadly, Nathan Fraser, LA KNIGHT and Ricochet

🥉

in 3rd place we have…

AUSTIN THEORY

i mean he’s literally naked. with just a towel. just that fat ass completely exposed. it takes nerve and it paid off

🥈

in 2nd place is…

LOGAN PAUL

little bit biased but that Ken look turns me on BAD and imagining Logan in it… yeah:/

🥇

and our winner…

SETH ROLLINS

i mean who else? the camp.. the theatrics.. the dedication.. the sheer sexiness. it’s always gonna be our fag icon and we are so grateful

how about everyone else?

[worldofwardcraft]

The wheels they are a-grinding.

September 28, 2023

Little noticed by a national news media obsessed with President Biden's age and Senator John Fetterman's shorts are the amazing courtroom successes Merrick Garland's Justice Department has been racking up against the January 6 insurrectionists. In the first year alone following the deadly attack on our Capitol, 716 people were prosecuted, with the US government winning all but 12 of those cases. And of those in which the DOJ prosecutors were not successful, five were because the defendants died and four because the accused fled. Only one was acquitted and two were dismissed.

To date more than 1,100 individuals from nearly all 50 states have been charged for crimes related to the breach of the US Capitol building, including more than 396 individuals charged with feloniously assaulting or impeding law enforcement. More than 650 defendants have pleaded guilty.

For example, Samuel Lazar of Ephrata, Pennsylvania, was arrested in July 2021 on charges that he came to the Capitol, dressed in tactical gear with protective goggles, and used a chemical spray on officers who were desperately trying to beat back the angry Donald Trump supporters. Lazar, who was sentenced in March of this year to 30 months in prison, had been in jail since his arrest and was released only last week.

The first of the J6 insurrectionists to be prosecuted was Texas native Guy Reffitt, who was convicted in March 2022 of obstructing Congress and interfering with police officers who were guarding the Capitol. Following the attack, he also threatened his two teenage children if they reported him to law enforcement. It took jurors less than four hours to convict him on all counts, and in August 2022 he was sentenced to 7 1/4 years in prison.

Of course, the biggest cases were against the Oath Keepers, 29 of whose members were charged and found guilty. The organization's founder, Elmer Rhodes, and Florida chapter leader Kelly Meggs were each convicted of seditious conspiracy in November of 2022 and sentenced this past March. Rhodes received 18 years in prison, while Meggs got 12 years.

In May, five members of the Proud Boys were found guilty of multiple felonies, including four for seditious conspiracy, for their actions on January 6. Earlier this month, their leader, Enrique Tarrio, was sentenced to 22 years.

The quote about the wheels of justice turning slowly, but grinding exceedingly fine has been attributed to everyone from 3rd century Greek philosopher Sextus Empiricus to Ecclesiastes to Sun Tzu. But the DOJ's J6 prosecutions amply demonstrate that whoever said it was right on the money.

[3s0t3ric]

Excuse All The Asides. We’re in an Adderall Shortage. 

Recently I have been diving into the habits I have. One of them being the fact that I indeed, am a post-it note girly. When it’s time for me to organize my ideas the first thing I do is sift through the compilation of time colorful papers that seem to remind me how to live my life. A note from me, to me. If only I always took my own advice. 

I’ve been doing this as long as I can remember. I’ll get a thought to add something to my grocery list, and I am certain if I don’t attempt to jot it down, it’ll be gone sooner than it came. I’ve learned my lesson a time or two, so I’ve gotten into the habit of writing things down. 

As a person with ADHD/ former student/ person who occupies planet earth I have been influenced by the bullet journal trend. The idea of having a guide to EVERYTHING about my life, my last dentist appointment, when I changed my sheets, my loved ones birthdays and my to do lists all in one place is INVIGORATING!!!!

Once. 

Well once it’s complete. It’s just, getting it done that I struggle with. Truthfully, the last thing I wanna do after I’ve wrestled on a fitted sheet (how does it ALWAYS seem to pop off the corner farthest from me???) is document in my 3rd grader handwriting the date of today in a page it probably took me forever to find. I’ll take the pillow breaking me out, thank you. 

I was surprised to find these devices for jogging the memory of it’s writers had a name. We really reinvented the wheel during the pandemic with bullet journals (I’ve been forgetful for years but I’ll give it to the bullet journal guys) the original conceptual bubble we are discussing is called a commonplace book. The idea being that all of your thoughts are in a Common. Place. (Really complex I know.) 

I instantly jogged over to the wiki page. The article I found this in was discussing Thomas Jefferson’s commonplace book, however the idea of common place books dates back to John Locke, and later Charles Darwin. What this tells me is people have been drawing graphic organizers and forgetting birthdays for centuries. Congrats, it’s generational. 

I next thought about all the quotes we’ve received from these important people from history. Were they the initial person having these ideas, or were they just wise enough to write them down? 

You see I don’t know about you, but I don’t know annnyyyone that can personally vouch for Locke’s “life, liberty and property” thing or Darwin’s “natural selection” thing with their own two eyes. For all we know it could have been notes taken from a conversation ages ago that’s gone untitled in Charles Darwin’s big ole book of ideas.

Applying this to my current habits, how much have I let breeze out of my consciousness to inspire others without writing it down myself. How often have I proposed an idea, just for someone else to get the credit just because they conveniently decided to have their posit notes handy. 

Ever since I’ve had this idea (5 days ago) I’ve kept my pen clicked and my post-its clear. The tumble weeds of post-it notes, pictures, and post cards from the people I love surrounds my intellect with the company it needs to produce greatness. My affirmations around me give context to my abilities and my to do list gives context to how I am going to do it. I am nothing if not capable and I SWEAR I will never miss another doctors appointment because those late fees are beyyyonddddd me. 

You know who go with the flow? Dead fish. Write it down. 

[rarealdcresults]

Onstage New York, in Pittsburgh (May 3rd - 4th, 2008):

Primary Mini Solo:

Chloé Lukasiak - “Princess Chloe” (Ballet) - 1st Place / Gold

Paige Hyland - “Little Jazz Bird” (Jazz) - Did Not Place / Gold

Advanced Mini Solo:

Brooke Hyland - “High Hopes” (Acrobatic) - 1st Place / 1st in Acro / Platinum

Sarah Restano - “Suppertime” (Acrobatic) - 3rd Place / Personality Award / Platinum

Taylor Breen - “Animal Jam” (Tap) - 10th Place / Costume Award / Platinum

Haley Grieco - “Going Bananas” (Acrobatic) - Did Not Place / Flexibility Award / Platinum

Katherine Narasimhan - “?” (?) - Did Not Place / Platinum

Natalie Secola - “Work Me Down” (Acrobatic) - Did Not Place / Gold

Olivia Ice - “Hit That Jive Jack” (Tap) - Did Not Place / Gold

Jordan Thomas - “?” (Tap) - Did Not Place / Gold

Maddie Brown - “?” (?) - Did Not Place / Gold

Advanced Mini Duet/Trio:

Jessica Restano & Sarah Restano - “Little Me” (Musical Theater) - 2nd Place / Gold

Paige Hyland, Chloé Lukasiak & Maddie Ziegler - “Eyes In The Back Of My Head” (Jazz) - Did Not Place / Gold

Advanced Mini Group:

“Winter” [Brooke Hyland, Gabrielle Casarcia, Haley Grieco, Natalie Secola, Jessica Restano, Sarah Restano, Maddie Brown, Katherine Narasimhan & Taylor Breen] - 3rd Place / Mini Critics Choice Award / Gold

“Pass The Pig” (Tap) [Brooke Hyland, Katherine Narasimhan, Olivia Ice, Taylor Breen & Jordan Thomas] - Did Not Place / Costume Award / Gold

Advanced Mini Line:

“Dr Beat” (Musical Theater) [Bella Saccomano, Brandon Pent, Chloé Lukasiak, Haley Grieco, Kassidy Leon, Maddie Ziegler, Maddie Brown, Paige Hyland, Makayla Paulone, Marina Paulone, Natalie Secola, Nia Frazier, Rylee Ireland, Sarah Canobbio, Sarah Restano, Shayne Coles, Taylor Reck, Tiffany Crosby, Trina Crosby & Wendy Jones] - 10th Place / Partnering Award / Gold

“Breakin’ Dishes” (Jazz) - Did Not Place / Gold

“The Name Game” (Musical Theater) - Did Not Place / Gold

Advanced Junior Solo:

Jessica Restano - “?” (Acrobatic) - 10th Place / Platinum

Jazmine Phillips-Acie - “?” (?) - Did Not Place / Showmanship Award / Platinum

Nina Linhart - “Let Me Entertain You” (Musical Theater) - Did Not Place / Gold

Gabrielle Casarcia - “?” (Lyrical) - Did Not Place / Gold

Elissa Berardi - “?” (Tap) - Did Not Place / Gold

Advanced Junior Duet/Trio:

Brooke Hyland & Brandon Pent - “One Dance” (Lyrical) - 2nd Place / Partnering Award / Platinum

Avery Coles, Jordan Thomas & Jazmine Phillips-Acie - “ABC” (Jazz) - 5th Place / Gold

Advanced Junior Group:

“Wheel Of Fortune” (Jazz) [Avery Coles, Gabrielle Casarcia, Olivia Ice, Stephanie Pittman, Jazmine Phillips-Acie & Elissa Berardi] - 4th Place / Precision Award / Platinum

“Fame” (Jazz) [Elissa Berardi, etc…] - Did Not Place / Costume Award / Platinum

Advanced Teen Solo:

Miranda Maleski - “Almost Lover” (Lyrical) - 1st Place / High Score in Lyrical / Technique Award / Platinum

Brittany Pent - “Indigo Haze” (Contemporary) - Did Not Place / Technique Award / Platinum

Josh Ice - “?” (Tap) - Did Not Place / Energy Award / Platinum

Stephanie Pittman - “Letter By Letter” (Lyrical) - Did Not Place / Costume Award / Platinum

Angelo Ragghianti - “Electricity” (Vocal) - Did Not Place / Platinum

Jesse Johnson - “?” (Contemporary) - Did Not Place / Platinum

Rachel Narasimhan - “Boyfriend Blues” (Musical Theater) - Did Not Place / Platinum

Rebecca Hudek - “?” (?) - Did Not Place / Platinum

Micha McGee - “?” (Acrobatic) - Did Not Place / Energy Award / Gold

Emily Burkhart - “?” (?) - Did Not Place / Gold

Hollie Brown - “Beauty From Pain” (Lyrical) - Did Not Place / Gold

Janel Moriarty - “?” (?) - Did Not Place / Gold

Natalee Bailey - “?” (Tap) - Did Not Place / Gold

Stephanie King - “?” (?) - Did Not Place / Gold

Advanced Teen Duet/Trio:

John Michael Fiumara - “Two Monkeys” (Specialty) - 3rd Place / Choreography Award / Platinum

Hannah Opalko & Stephanie Pittman - “Through The Glass” (Acrobatic) - 5th Place / Platinum

Janel Moriarty & Josh Ice - “Shall We Dance” (Musical Theater) - 10th Place / Partnering Award / Gold

Advanced Teen Group:

“Baby And The Dolls” (Tap) [John Michael Fiumara, Natalee Bailey, Nina Linhart, Rebecca Hudek & Stephanie Pittman] - 2nd Place / Style Award / Teen Critics Choice Award / Platinum

“Frost” (Lyrical) [Brittany Pent, Nina Linhart, Hollie Brown & Stephanie Pittman] - 7th Place / Platinum

“Snowfall” (Acrobatic) [Brooke Hyland, Erika Maruca, Hannah Opalko, Hollie Brown, Jessica Ice, Savanna Carrozzi & Stephanie Pittman] - Did Not Place / Platinum

“We’re Just Friends” (Musical Theater) [Brittany Tague, Jesse Johnson, Jessica Ice, Josh Ice, Matt Zagorski, Micha McGee & Natalee Bailey] - Did Not Place / Partnering Award / Gold

Advanced Teen Line:

“Where Have All The Children Gone” (Contemporary) [Brooke Hyland, Alyssa Giugliano, Brittany Pent, Chelsea Shott, Emily Burkhart, Erika Maruca, Hannah Opalko, Hollie Brown, Matt Zagorski & Stephanie Pittman] - 10th Place / Platinum

Advanced Senior Solo:

Kaitlyn Reiser - “Que Será Será” (Lyrical) - 1st Place / Highest Scoring in Lyrical / Platinum

Hannah Opalko - “This Little Bird” (Acrobatic) - 4th Place / Highest Scoring in Acro / Platinum

Jessica Ice - “All That Jazz” (Musical Theater) - 9th Place / Highest Scoring in Musical Theater / Showmanship Award / Platinum

Matt Zagorski - “?” (?) - 10th Place / Platinum

Leah Pivorotto - “Fly” (Jazz) - Did Not Place / Platinum

Advanced Senior Duet/Trio:

Kaitlyn Reiser, Leah Pivorotto & Miranda Maleski - “Friends Dance” (Lyrical) - 1st Place / Platinum

Advanced Senior Group:

“Sorry” (Lyrical) [Alyse Keim, Chelsea Shott, Gianna Martello, Kaitlyn Reiser, Leah Pivorotto & Miranda Maleski] - 3rd Place / Platinum

[capnsaveahoe]

Four Fictional Crushes:

Tagged by the lovely @belleyousra gracias 😘

There’s so many character out there, but these are probably my favorites so far. Plus one or two extras. 😂 The first two are my main guys. Everyone else is in no particular order.

Klaus Mikaelson

Just by this quote alone, nothing else needs to be said.

Stiles Stilinski

This quote…nuff said. 🥹 His “Lydia, i’ve been in love with you since the 3rd grade. And, I know, that somewhere inside that cold lifeless exterior, there’s an actual human soul. And, i’m also pretty sure that i’m the only one who knows how smart you really are. And, that once you’re done pretending to be a nitwit, you’ll eventually go off and write some insane mathematical theorem that wins you the nobel prize. “

Eddie Munson

“I mean, look at us. We are not heroes.” Oh, baby, but you were. You totally were. I fell in love with Eddie because he reminds me to not care about what others may think, and to just be yourself. Plus, he’s a D&D dungeon master—what’s not to 💜?

Frank Castle

Jaysussss, take the wheel and don’t give it back🫠 Frankie boi is 👩🏻‍🍳💋 this quote is everything to me “You have everything. So, hold on to it. Use two hands and never let it go.” He’s a little murdery, but what can you do. 🤷🏻‍♀️

One more…

Tommy Shelby

This man has no bounds, and I’m for whatever reason so attracted to him. It’s not even funny. The looks, the ambition, the ruthlessness, the intelligence…I can go on. 🔥

Okay, I lied, one more:

Enzo St. John

“Know this, love. I will never stop fighting. I will brave the oceans and sail past the sirens to find my way back to you.” You died too soon, my heart. He deserved sooo much more. The accent, the looks, the dimples—what’s not to love?

It’s safe to say that, I have a type. 🥸 Men who love a bit of craziness, mischief, murder, loyalty, and a strong sassy woman who takes no shit. Idk what that says about me…but I love it for me. 🥰

What about y’all?… @evilcare @rosedforbes @julyzaa

Four Fictional Crushes

Tagged by the sweet @idreamofspring1 thank you 🤍

I’m gonna keep it to american tv series, otherwise I will end up with more than a hundred crushes if I added k-dramas and mangas lmao. I don’t know if there’s a pattern here but LET’S GO

1. Klaus Mikaelson (The Vampire Diaries)

I’ve never simped so hard for a man in my entire life, that’s all there is to say. He’s on top by far. I want to hold this mf bastard tight and never let him go. I have way too much things to say about him and it would deserve a HUNDRED posts. I just love him.

2. Steve Harrington (Stranger Things)

I have a MASSIVE crush on him. I mean, a hot man baby-sitting a group of little shitheads? my weakness. I love the way he cares about them and his glow up is one of the best i’ve ever seen in a TV series. He went from a bastard to a literal green flag.

3. Michael Scofield (Prison Break)

He was my first TV show crush and he will forever make my heart flutter, he’s so precious AND a smart badass. His sensitivity, the way he hates hurting people but the context he’s in forces him to, and how he absorbs feelings surrounding him makes his character so intense.

4. JJ Maybank (Outer Banks)

I have a thing for broken characters, characters with daddy issues, and characters who’d do anything for their loved ones. JJ is all of that and he’s still such a little ray of sunshine. He deserves the world and makes my heart melt every time 🥹

This was so fun 🤍 tagging: @capnsaveahoe @chanyeollic @evilcare @lovelyandproblematic if you guys want to play and anyone else who’d like to join! No pressure!

[tillywhim]

A 12-MONTH RECONCILLIATION & OTHER SUBJECTS

When Harry and Meghan decided to "step back" as "senior working royals" in January 2020, it was agreed by HM Queen Elizabeth II and the then Prince of Wales, HRH Prince Charles and HRH Prince William that a 12 month review of this decision would take place in January 2021. The fact Our Lady of Perpetual Victimhood is letting it be known in the press and popular media that the Sussex family is willing to reconcile with the rest of the family following the death of Her Majesty, but giving it a time scale of 12 months is testament to her pettiness. Not for her a press release saying "times like this make you realise how important family is..."

Her shallow, peevish, point-scoring, one-upmanship, mentality practically screams out for satisfaction, for revenge. This is why the Montecito Moanarchy has put a 12 month timescale on the reconciliation.

Harry, his memoir and Netflix. Poor old Harry, hey. What's a poor, misunderstood, downtrodden, hounded Princeling to do? Fed up with life in the goldfish bowl/Truman Show world that is the British Royal Family, he ups sticks with his wife and baby son, and, with the blessings of his family flees to that well known bastion of privacy and solitude, California.

Yes, after a decade spent playing call of duty doing his duty as a serving soldier in HM's army, followed by a stint as the 3rd wheel to the Prince and Princess of Wales, Saint Henry of the Wounded Ego, fed up to the back teeth of the constant hounding of the press and paparazzi of himself and his beleaguered girlfriend/wife made the very wise and impossibly grown-up decision to do what she tells him and they returned to her home state. They wanted to get away from all the intrusions and as Meghan said, they don't have tabloids where she comes from!

So, Harry wanted his privacy, as did Meghan. On their terms. This is the story of their lives. Everything has to be on their terms. Meghan has no problem giving interviews to Oprah, Ellen and now it seems every cut-rate gossip mag masquerading as serious journalism. Harry is willing to invade his own privacy as long as the price is right. Worse, if the price is better than he was expecting, he is quite happy to invade the privacy of the family he left behind in the UK.

His paymasters at Netflix and Penguin Random House have shelled out multi-million $$$ for the inside stories of the "Standing Out With the Sussexes" and "Harry Windsor - How I went From Spare to Hero to Handbag" and they want their pound of flesh. As we've seen, Harry is learning self-promotion well, people are already talking about the book, it's being insinuated that a chapter here and there is being either heavily edited/rewritten or even taken out and allusions are being made to the affair that never was between William and Rose Hanbury. Simply by doing that, he's garnered interest for the book and conversely for the series.

Another year, another paid for "humanitarian" award? Meghan's jealousy really does know no bounds does it?

On the anniversary of the moon landing, 20 July 2022, Boston was announced as the host city for this year's Earthshot Awards. Inspired by President John F. Kennedy's "moonshot" challenge, it seems fitting to have the second award here in his home city. Working with The John F. Kennedy Library Foundation and the city of Boston, the awards will be broadcast to a global audience. Ambassador Caroline Kennedy (JFK's daughter) said, " “There is no more important Moonshot today than repairing the planet and no better place to harness the Moonshot spirit than the City of Boston.”

Which brings us back to Meghan because of course it does. It always does. Suddenly a few days ago, along with President Zelensky of Ukraine, the Duke and Duchess of Sussex were late announcements for the Robert F. Kennedy "Ripple of Hope" awards 2022. See? William is parterning with the Kennedys, America's answer to the royal family? Well, gosh, darn it! Meghan and Harry are going to do something with the Kennedy's too. So there!

Now, I'm not saying they paid for this award. I'm not 100% certain they could afford to pay for a table looking at the prices if the rumours of their financial situation is to be believed but, I'm also not not saying they paid for this award. They have a track record so, make of it what you will. Click on the photos of the other recipients and you get a short bio of who they are and the work they do (why they're getting the award). Click on the photo of the duplicitous duo and you get the photo credit. And yet, according to Kerry Kennedy, daughter of Robert F. Kennedy, the pair were made aware they had been awarded the prize back in March. To me, that speaks volumes.

[impala1967dwinchester]

Winchester Brother: Laundry Day

Pairing: Just the Winchester Brothers

Pov: 3rd person

Warnings: None, light cursing

Summary: Laundry day has come, which means boxers, and playing cards.

Word Count: 1.7k

A/n- @firefly-graphics for dividers. I came up with this idea after watching a video off of TikTok. Jensen and Jared were talking about how there should have been a scene somewhere in the show of the boys sitting in their boxer and playing cards while waiting for their laundry to be done.

Main Master List // Dean W. Master List // Sam W. Master List

"Come, dude!" Sam yells to his brother from the motel door. Dean and Sam have been doing the same process for years now. After a few weeks, the boys have to pack up all their dirty laundry and drive to the closest laundromat. To clean their clothes.

This is the story of today's adventure to the laundromat.

When Dean and Sam were still little, their father John would have to drop them off at the local spot, handing Dean a wad of cash before speeding off in the impala. In moments like those Dean took a minute to watch his father and then see that John wasn’t coming back any time soon. Dean at the age of ten was dropped off with his six-year-old brother to do the laundry for the past month.

This was the only time that Dean didn’t have to go hunt monsters with his father, and he could in a way be a child. Sam held his brother's hand as they walked into the laundromat. A few older women looked up from folding their clothes as they heard the business bell ring. Sammy had his backpack on, stuffed to the brim and Dean had his own bag draped over his shoulder while his father's bag was on his other shoulder. If not a metaphor for just how much Dean had on his shoulders.

This was the first time that John had left them there to clean their clothes. Dean exchanged the cash for coins and grabbed Sam's hand once again. Dropping the contents of their whole life into the rolling baskets, Sam helped Dean throw their dirty, smelly clothes into the huge washers. As months turned into years Sam and Dean went about once a month depending on where they were to go clean their clothes.

“Come on!” Sam yelled once again. Dean emerged from the bathroom. His dirty flannel hanging off his wide shoulders. “Alright, Sammy shut up about it,” Dean said, before grabbing his duffel and making his way towards the motel door. Sam was quick to make his way to the impala's door. Patience was never Sam's thing. Dean can remember sitting at the laundromat and having to keep Sam's attention by playing i-spy with him or quizzing him on the proper ways to kill a long list of monsters.

Dean makes his way over to the car. Opening the back door and throwing his duffel back there before jumping into the driver's seat. “Come on let's go, who knows if the cops saw us when he left that crime scene,” Sam says to his brother. Dean just rolls his eyes, revving the car up and driving out of the shitty motel.

The drive out the laundromat Dean plays his 80’s rock music. His fingers tapping along the wheel, as Sam gives him the direction to the laundromat. “Alright, make the next left after this light,” Sam says to his brother. Dean hums, turning into the necessary lane before turning the music down on what seems like to Sam only one notch, but in reality, it’s more like ten.

Before Dean can even park Sam is grabbing his bag and climbing out of the thirty-year-old car. “What bug do you have up your ass, Sammy?” Dean asks his younger brother. The glare Sam gives Dean makes him laugh, and Dean pulls the keys from the ignition. Taking his time to grab his duffel, Dean walks inside leisurely. The cocky look on his face made his younger brother frustrated to all hell.

“Dean if you don’t hurry your ass up I’m going to…” Sam tries to say to his older brother but fails. Dean rolls his eyes and starts to flirt with one of the other people in the laundromat. Sam can see the blonde chick, twirling her fingers through her hair, and winking at his older brother every chance she can get.

He rushes over to see the desperate girl that will get her heartbroken when they have to leave town in just a few days to keep under the radar of the cops. “ I’m sorry for my brother, he can be an ass sometimes,” Sam says to the woman before grabbing Dean by his forearm and dragging him over to the washing machines.

Sam used to think of his brother as the knight in shining armor, but as he grew up he realized that his older brother was a player of the other sex, and was all bark and no bite.

“What the hell Sam?” Dean whispers to his younger brother. “You were gonna flirt and then she’d ask for your number except something to come from it, and I’ve known you long enough to know that will never happen. So I saved her ass from you.” Sam is quick to say grabbing the washer handle before pulling the door open.

At this point, Dean and Sam have been coming to the laundromat for almost half of their life. Sam tries to make the laundry the fastest part of their day, but the drying of clothes always gets them. Sam has since the age of twelve separated his clothes. Into two different loads whites, and the colored, his socks loaded in with his whites, and his boxers loaded in with his coloreds.

The time Dean and Sam had arrived at the laundromat the sun was lowering, and the few people that were there were gone by the time that Sam had thrown the loads in and started his machines. Sam had even stripped down to his boxers. Needing most of his clothes washed before leaving the small town they were in.

Dean, on the other hand, had taken his time, stripping first teasing some of the women who were there late, before chasing them off with his over-charm. Dean never separated his clothes and half of the time he just threw everything into the wash including his duffel. Dean's clothes reeked of blood, dirt, and sweat from digging and running trying to hunt down those vicious monsters.

Dean had fallen in love with the idea of getting dirty, and not washing his clothes until the last minute. Until he had no other clean clothes besides the ones on his skin. Even his boxers that he wore now weren’t clean. Dean had a sayin’ ‘You can turn them inside out at least twice.’ Sam winced at the thought of nasty clothes and the way his older brother thought that was anywhere close to being okay.

“Gross dude, that’s just gross!” Sam exclaimed as he walked away from his brother. Dean threw his shirt and jeans into the washers before throwing the rest of his dirty, and smelly clothes in the washer.

They sat in silence for the first few moments. The washer took on average about an hour. According to what Sam had said long ago, Dean doubted that the time of how long it took for clothes to be washed was ever going to change. Not even half an hour into sitting there in silence, Dean started to hum an old rock song, Sam rolled his eyes and Dean caught it humming a little louder. Sam wished he had brought earplugs and his newest oldest book.

All of a sudden the beeping of their machines took Dean out of his humming session. “Hell yeah.” Sam's older brother spoke, jumping up from the table nearest to the window. Dean ran over watching as his clothes came to a slow cycle before stopping completely. Grabbing the wad of wet clothes Dean sprinted over to an unused dryer closer to where the boys were sitting just seconds ago.

Sam walked slowly over his clothes. His attitude for this process to be over was bubbling over. Sam grabbed his wet whites from their machines before walking over to where Dean was still standing now watching his clothes rotate in the machine. Ever much as a child Sam thought as he watched his four years older brother.

‘Sometimes I worry about you, Dean.” He said to Dean. Dean just scuffled and continued to watch the spinning cycle. Sam started his load of laundry, before going over to get the coloreds and starting them in the dryer.

They both went back to sitting at the table they were at. Dean started to hum again and Sam wished for something to entertain the both of them. Sam interrupted his brother on a daily basis, so interrupting him now was no different for him. “Dean? Do we have any playing cards in the car?” Sam asks his brother. Dean looks up from the imaginary drumming session. Brow furrowed, but a look of wonder on his tan face.

“Yeah I think we do, I think they’re in the glove box why?” Dean answered his brother, “I have an idea.” Dean rolls his eyes, that expression only meaning ‘oh great you’ve got an idea how bad will this end up’ but Dean decides to not say anything. Sam is quick to get up racing out to the impala. Digging through the glove box, and finding them before racing back inside the cold building.

“Let’s play cards while we wait,” Sam suggests Dean starts to laugh, but the serious look on his brother's face is confirmation that he isn’t joking. Dean rolls his eyes. “Why don’t you like my singing?” He counters with his brother. Now it’s Sam's turn to roll his eyes, throwing the pack at his brother.

An hour passed, and they played at least five games of go fish, at least two games of memory before Dean gave up and requested that they play a different game. So Sam suggested the greatest game in the card biz. “Let’s play war.” An arch brow showing just how competitive it could truly get between the two brothers. “Game on punk,” Dean said to his younger brother. Halfway through their third game, the pings of the dryer pulled them out of their game.

“You think you won?” Dean said as the brothers walked over to the dryers. “Yeah I do, Dean. It was quite obvious when I played an ace and you played a damn two.” Sam counters with his brother. That night they leave the laundromat beat from playing cards, but at least they both gained from fresh and clean clothes once again.

Completed on: 09/05/2021

Posted on: 09/05/2021

Deanie Beanie Tag List : @akshi8278//@deanswaywardgirl//@hit-meup69//@doctorlilo//@fofisstilinski//@wonderfulworldofwinchester//@ijustlearnedtolove-beep-bop-boop//@flamencodiva

Stanford Tag List: @wonderfulworldofwinchester//@samsgirl93//@ijustlearnedtolove-beep-bop-boop//@rach-12//@stoneyggirl2