#old punk chick

[invincible-selfxmade-punk]

Here's to the nect 53 years21

[vintage-tigre]

Debbie Harry, 1978

Photography by Martyn Goddard

[forfoxessake]

[invincible-selfxmade-punk]

I am trying so hard to read the Talisman but I think I would have enjoyed it far more about 38 years ago.

I just do not enjoy fantasy novels anymore -‐ not those set in medieval times at least. I think I read so many in middle school and early high school that I burned myself out for life.

This is why I love buying second-hand books (nonna Maria Vittoria ♡)

[calamitys-child]

Bought and sold and traded so many fantastic zines this weekend and honestly my favourite interaction I had was with a very shy but very very determined kid who asked politely if I'd like to trade them one of my angry political transgender poems for some drawings they did in class. I will treasure it forever it was so cute this kid has such a fun scrappy art style and I look forward to seeing them at future zine fairs with more little drawings. Weird queer accessible inclusive art fairs you have my heart always and forever 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖

[elitah]

u r the blood in my veins

[x-ladydisdain-x]

Yeah I love punk music <33 my favorite artist? Oh definitely Avril Lavigne. Yeah sk8er boi is the best punk song out there

[zepskies]

The Old-Fashioned Way

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: You and Dean are having trouble trying to start a family. What happens when you turn to a spell for a possible solution? [Soulmate AU]

AN: Happy Valentine's Day! ❣️ Welcome back to the Never Say Goodbye-verse, my first ever Soulmate AU! Feels appropriate to celebrate today with some soulmates lol.

Honestly, I have really missed these two. I can’t believe it’s almost been a year since I wrote this series! And I’ve been wanting to find a way to come back to it, so when I recently got this request, I couldn't resist:

The reader finds out she is pregnant and Dean’s reaction.

But of course, I couldn’t make it that simple… This story takes place five years after the Bonus Tracks (3-part sequel).

Word Count: 5,000

Tags/Warnings: Established relationship (marriage). Soulmates, angst, issues in pregnancy, hurt/comfort, fluff, implied smut.

❤️ Series Masterlist

Today marked five years that Dean had been an officer of the Sioux Falls Police Department.

After twenty-eight odd years of committing felonies of varying degrees…mostly for the greater good, he still found it strange sometimes.

He’d been partnered with his father-in-law, Jack, and by now, Dean had finally lost his sense of “imposter syndrome.”

Jody bought him a pie to commemorate the occasion, and while a little embarrassed, he wasn’t mad about it. The precinct employees now shared the dessert on paper plates from their respective desks and cubicles.

Dean sat in the bullpen with Jack (who was on a call), Jody, and even Jessie Deluca, the boy he’d once arrested for stealing candy and groceries from a gas station.

Well, Jessie wasn’t such a kid anymore. He was now their 18-year-old intern.

“How’s the boysenberry?” Jody asked Dean. Her lips curved upward when he turned to her with a crumb-covered smile. 

“Real good,” he said.

She couldn’t help but laugh a little. “I can’t with this. Come ‘ere.”

She grabbed a napkin and leaned over to wipe at his mouth the way a mother would her errant child. Dean just rolled his eyes.

“Really?” he snipped.

“You look like my five-year-old son after a round of SpaghettiOs,” she said.

“Makes you wonder how his wife deals with him,” Jessie muttered under his breath while he entered expense reports into his computer. Never mind that he had a purple berry stain around the corner of his mouth.

Dean shot him a wry look, along with his crumpled napkin.

“I don’t wanna hear that from a punk like you,” he teased. “You haven’t had a girlfriend since…what, junior prom?”

Jessie fended off the stained napkin with a grimace. But he also smarted at the dig. His arms crossed defensively as he leaned back in his chair.

“As a matter a fact, I’ve got a date on Friday,” he sniffed. “And no, I’m not telling you her name.”

Dean and Jody shared an amused look.

“Aww, look at him, pretending he’s got a date,” Dean said. He fought a deeper grin when Jessie threw the disgusting napkin back at him.

“Fine! Her name’s Annie. You happy now?” Jessie said.

Dean shared another look with Jody.

“Aww, he’s actually got a date,” said Dean. He smirked at the kid next. “Lemme know if you need to borrow some cologne. Chicks dig that.”

“Ugh,” Jessie groaned. He leaned his elbows on his desk and pushed the palms of his hands into his eyes. He knew he’d be catching flack on this for the rest of the week.

Dean chuckled, but before he had a chance to tease their intern some more, his cell phone rang. It was you, and he felt his good mood continue as he answered.

“Hey, baby.”

“Hey, how’s the day going?” you asked.

“Good,” he replied. “We’re on lunch break. Jody got me a pie for my five-year mark at the PD.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet…literally. She knows you too well,” you laughed.

He nodded in agreement. “Yeah, she really does.”

“Tell her and everyone else I said hi.”

“Will do,” he said with a smile. “You just callin’ to check up on me?”

“Well, that, and…when are you getting home tonight?” you asked. The smooth, leading note of your voice had Dean’s lips curving into a smirk.

“Ah, well…” He pushed away from his desk and stepped away from the bullpen for a little privacy in the hall. “That depends. What’s going on?”

“Let’s just say…I have an idea,” you replied. It had Dean’s brows raising. You’d been having a lot of ideas for the past year, and he’d been more than ready and willing for most of them.

“Oh, yeah?” he intoned. While he leaned against the wall in the main hallway of the precinct, his arm crossed under his elbow as he continued holding the phone to his ear. “What’d you have in mind?”

“You’ll just have to find out,” you said.

It only took his brain about a moment and a half to compute.

“All right. In that case, I’ll try to be home promptly at six, barring there’s no shootouts at the 7-Eleven,” he quipped.

“Ugh, please, don’t even joke about that,” you said, your tone sobering.

Dean realized, without even having to read his soulmate’s thoughts, that you were reminded of the last time an explosive incident happened at the local gas station, just two weeks before their wedding day. He dimmed as well. 

“Yeah, ‘m sorry,” he said, swiping a hand over his mouth. “Uh…okay. I’ll see you tonight, sweetheart.”

“Okay, be careful,” you said. You always said it—in the morning, whenever he left for work, whenever you two managed to talk during the day. It was routine, but it also wasn’t. 

And you still wished him a good rest of his day before you hung up. Dean pocketed his phone and returned to the bullpen, where Jody was putting away the rest of the pie. He eyed her just to know exactly where she was setting it down in the kitchen, for future reference.

Jessie peered up from his computer and asked if that was you on the phone.

“Yeah, she says hi,” Dean replied.

Jessie smirked. “‘Course she does. I’m her favorite.”

Dean shot him a look, knowing the kid liked you probably even more than he liked Dean. You’d become like a big sister to Jessie…but it didn’t stop Dean from occasionally being annoyed. 

“Shut up and eat your pie.”

Dean arrived that night, more or less on time, to find that you’d cooked up a feast. It was laid out across the dining table: steak, scalloped potatoes, carrots and broccoli, and even freshly baked cornbread with butter. 

“Is it my birthday again?” he asked, despite it already being February. 

He ventured into the kitchen where you were getting two bottles of beer. You looked up at him with a smile when he came over and held you from behind. You enjoyed the warmth of his body pressed against your back, while his hands found your hips.

“I cook all the time, Dean,” you pointed out. He pressed a kiss to the side of your head in greeting.

“Hmm. Yeah, but now my spidey senses are tingling,” he said.

You set down the beer before turning in his embrace and twining your arms around his neck. Already he could feel your anticipation through the soul bond, but that was all you were letting him sense. You were keeping your walls up a bit, to stop him from hearing your thoughts. In this case, it felt like a tease.

You tilted your head, a smile playing across your lips. “Oh, yeah?”

Dean smirked down at you. “Oh, yeah.”

You laughed and let him greet you properly with a kiss. You returned it, affectionately caressing his cheek, but you stopped him before he could start pressing you harder into the counter. You held up a placating hand against his chest.

“Wait, wait, the food’s gonna get cold,” you said. And all too quickly, you’d extricated yourself from his arms and went to finish placing the silverware on the table. Dean begrudgingly followed suit by helping you with the glasses and plates.

Dinner was delicious. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a steak that good; you two had been scrounging and saving to get out of this apartment and buy a house, along with other things you and Dean had been planning for your future.

By the time the leftovers were put away and the dishes were put in the dishwasher, he started to sense that you were ready to come around with the real reason you’d called him at work today, let alone made such a nice and expensive meal. You went over to where he stood at the kitchen sink and rubbed his arm.

“Hey,” you greeted.

Dean tried to stifle his knowing smile. “Yeah?”

But when he looked over at you, he realized you seemed nervous, not flirtatious. You were serious, and now, he was concerned.

“What?” he asked.

You sighed, hesitating for a moment. Then you went over to a nearby drawer and got some rubber gloves you always kept at work and at home—the kind doctors wore.

You went for your large work bag that normally stored your laptop and files, and instead, you pulled out an old book. Dean’s brows raised of their own accord, considering the last time you accidentally trifled with a book like that.

“What the hell is that?” he asked, with some trepidation. You laid the book out on the kitchen counter.

“It’s a journal of some kind, written in Latin, dating back from the late 1500s. Can you believe that?” Your head raised from where you were examining the cover and spine, but Dean was incredulous.

“What’re you doing with that?” he asked. Your lips pursed, and he felt a tendril of your guilt.

Most likely, you’d taken it from the museum where you worked without permission. You were in charge of the growing library of ancient texts that were stored there, and most of them were too old and valuable for exhibition, even behind glass. He doubted you were even allowed to open this book, let alone “borrow” it from the museum.

You sighed and held up a placating hand. “Okay, Dean, just hear me out.”

You opened the book to a page you’d placed a strip of paper in for bookmarking purposes. You pointed at a page filled with scrawled words that Dean didn’t really understand. Sam was always better at reading Latin.

“That is a fertility spell,” you said.

The weight of that fell between you for a moment, rendering Dean speechless. It took a few seconds for his brain to register what you were saying, followed quickly by a sad, contemplative frown as he stared back at you. You were serious about this, even hopeful. 

“Sweetheart, we don’t need that,” he said, shaking his head. Your expression firmed, though it became touched with melancholy.

“It’s been a year, Dean,” you said. “We’ve been trying for a year, and I’m still not pregnant.”

He blew out a breath. “The doctor said—”

“We’ve done everything the doctor said,” you snapped. “Fertility treatments are either going to take too long or are too expensive, and they still carry risks.”

“And this isn’t a risk?” Dean shot back, gesturing at the book. “You don’t know if this will work, or what the hell it’ll really do to you.”

Your brows furrowed, but you didn’t back down. You held your hands to your hips.

“Uncle Bobby said it’s legit,” you said. Dean blinked in surprise. He shifted back on his heels and crossed his arms.

“You ran this by Bobby before me?” he said. You could feel the small lance of his upset, as well as see it across his face.

You bit the inside of your lip. “I just wanted to make sure!”

Dean took in a deep breath. He mentally counted to five.

“What exactly did he say?” he asked.

You paused at that. “…Well, he said it was a real spell.”

His brows rose. “And?”

“And…that magic is unpredictable and we should talk about it first. But that’s why we’re talking now!” you reasoned. 

Your husband’s gaze lifted heavenward as he threw up his hands in aggravation.

“Dean—” you tried, but it didn’t stop him from snatching up the book. Despite your protests, he took it with him into the master bedroom you shared and shoved the book into his nightstand. You had followed him this far, but you stopped short when he turned around to face you.

“I will check this out,” he said, and his tone boded no argument. “But for the record, I’m against this. Magic is unpredictable at best, and not for nothing, it always comes at a price. I’ll be damned if you’re gonna pay it again.”

You paused. Hearing the vehemence in his tone, feeling the force of emotion behind his words, and your own circling memories of being possessed by a magic-wielding goddess…it had you nodding in agreement, even as tears welled up in your eyes.

Dean faltered a little inside. Always the damn tears. He gathered you into his arms and held you close in comfort. He pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“We’ll figure this out. I promise,” he said.

You tried to believe him.

Late that night, however, you couldn’t help yourself.

Once you were sure Dean was asleep beside you, hearing his deep, even breaths, you made your move. Dressed in just an old college shirt and some pajama shorts, you slid out of bed and tiptoed over to his nightstand to get the book.

You took it into the kitchen and started assembling the ingredients Bobby had reluctantly helped you translate. (He didn’t know that you had taken a couple of items from his house for the spell.) 

You prepared them in a bowl. The resulting liquid looked brown and disgusting. You mixed it around, grimacing at the smell, and carefully poured it into a glass. The last thing the spell required was a few drops of your blood, and then you were supposed to drink it. 

God, this is terrible, you thought. Part of you couldn’t believe you were going through with this, but…you grabbed a kitchen knife in order to make a shallow cut on your palm. 

The steel was poised against your hand. You took a fortifying breath, but before you could cut into your skin, Dean grabbed your wrist with a strong grip, startling a gasp out of you.

“What the hell are you doing?!” he said, or more like shouted. He was irate, his voice bounding off the walls of the apartment.

You knew he had every right to be, and you didn’t have a good answer for him. Shock had stifled you into silence.

Dean let go of you and took the glass next. He peered in disgust at the concoction inside, but he quickly dumped it into the sink and ignored your protests. He threatened to burn the damn book next.

“Dean, stop! Please,” you said tearfully as you stilled his hands on the book. “If there’s some kind of price to the spell, I’ll pay it!”

“What’re you talking about! Are you crazy?” he asked, through furrowed brows. You squeezed his hands.

“Believe me, I love what we have. I love our life, my job, all of it,” you said. “But I want a family, and I want it with you.”

Dean started to soften at that, when you met his eyes. You paused, taking in a shaky breath.

“It should be simple, but it’s not," you said. "I just can’t understand why it’s so impossible. Why…why there’s something wrong with me.”

Dean’s anger broke down, bit by bit the more you spoke. He let go of the book and reached for you. He held you against his chest, rubbing your back as you quietly wept. You tried to stifle it, but that just made your body tremble even more. He did his best to steady you, rocking you back and forth. His eyes closed for a moment.

You both knew that the expensive fertility doctor hadn’t found anything wrong with either of you, even after a month of testing.

“In certain cases, it just takes longer for some couples,” she’d said. But clearly, you had just been blaming yourself. Dean couldn’t abide that.

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” he said firmly. “Believe me, I want that too. But I also want to make sure you’re safe.”

Emotion clogged in his throat when he thought about what might’ve happened if he hadn’t stopped you. And in turn, you sobered even more when you managed to pick up on his thoughts.

“If something would’ve happened, and I was too late to stop it,” he said, clearing his throat. “…I just can’t, okay?”

After a moment, you nodded. You allowed yourself to rest against his chest and try to calm the racing of your heart. All the while, you tried your best not to resent him for stopping you.

The next day was a Saturday. You slept in because your body needed it, after the stress of last night. When you woke up, Dean wasn’t beside you. His keys and the Impala were gone, but he’d left you a text: he’d gone to your uncle Bobby’s place. 

And you saw that he’d taken the book as well. Predictable. 

You felt bad for how you tried to go behind your husband’s back, but if you were honest with yourself, you were still upset at him for stopping you, even if you understood why he did it. 

You sat on the edge of your bed. Not for the first time since you and Dean were separated by miles of roads and his family’s mission to find the thing that killed his mother, you found yourself praying. 

Please, God…or if there’s even anyone up there…please help me.

For a while, there was silence in the room. 

But even if your eyes were open, you wouldn’t have seen the being that was standing in front of you. He stared down at you with a tilted head, finding himself a bit too curious. Hesitantly, he reached his hand out and touched your forehead. 

You didn’t completely register the feeling that washed over you. It was like the tingling of a breeze across your skin. You took it for a chill in the room as you shivered a little. Then you opened your eyes, and resigned yourself to starting your day. 

Castiel left the room with but a thought and a flutter of wings. 

He knew he was only supposed to observe Michael’s vessel, not his soulmate. And yet, with one touch, he had sensed the rare genetic defect your doctor had missed.

Your mother had unknowingly suffered the condition as well. Your father never told you this, but she’d nearly lost you in the early stages of her pregnancy. It had been a miracle that you were born at all. 

Castiel fixed the problem. 

He knew what Uriel, or even Naomi would say. Perhaps they didn’t need to know, in this case. They were both far too busy for worldly trifles. Even so, Castiel knew he wasn’t authorized to heal you.

Still, it felt…right. And so, he did it. 

It confused him.

…Maybe it isn’t something to be closely examined, he thought.

With that agreement within himself, he resolved to leave that decision behind him, and continue watching from afar. Those were his orders, after all.

Visiting Bobby Singer wasn’t as productive as Dean wanted it to be. The men had been arguing in Bobby’s living room for close to an hour.

Dean was upset with him for translating that goddamn spell for you, but the old man didn’t have a good answer. They both knew you were like a daughter to him.

“She came in hot, all damn stubborn and sass up to here,” Bobby said, holding a hand up to his forehead. “But you try sayin’ no when the waterworks starts.”

…Dean could concede that, but he rubbed his face in frustration. 

“What do I do here, Bobby?” he asked, holding up the spell book in question. Apparently, it was more like a journal; it was rumored to have belonged to a sixteenth-century witch named Rowena. “I don’t trust this thing. Deep in my gut, I know it.”

Bobby considered him for a moment. In fact, he gave Dean a long-suffering look that made him really see Bobby’s age. 

“Then trust your gut, son,” was all he said. 

Dean returned home with a peace offering: some apple crumble pie. You were lying on the sofa watching mindless TV, still in your pajamas. Your mental walls were down, so Dean could both see and feel how miserable you were. 

He took out the pie from the small bag of groceries he carried and held it up so you could see.

“I come bearing sugar,” he said. He also set down a bottle of wine on the dining table. You were focused on the pie, however.

“Who’s that for, me or you?” you dryly remarked. 

“I got ice cream too,” he said, shaking the grocery bag. 

You smiled a little, but he could feel through the bond that you were still sour at him. He sighed and went over to you. He set down the bribery on the coffee table and settled a hand on your pajama-clad thigh. 

“Sweetheart, I am sorry.” 

Sighing, you turned off the TV and sat up against the other end of the couch. You eyed him with a frown.

“You’re not sorry about chucking the spell,” you accused. Or for stealing the book you’d eventually have to bring back to work, lest your boss notice something amiss in the inventory.

“No, I’m not,” said Dean. “It was dangerous. I felt it. And that gut feeling? That’s what’s saved me more times than I can damn count.” 

You were still upset, you couldn’t deny…but you understood his point. When he beckoned you over, you were more willing to go to him. After you scooted closer, he wrapped an arm around your waist and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Look, I’ll go to whatever doctors you want, try whatever treatments, however long it takes,” he said.

You sighed, but you eventually agreed with a teary nod. “Okay. Thank you.”

Even with that, Dean wasn’t convinced that he was getting through to you. He was picking up on a thread of hopelessness that you were trying to hide.

He’d just have to change that.

“But…” He earned your attention by squeezing your side. His lips formed a grin. “I still think we can do this the old-fashioned way.”

He slowly rubbed a hand up and down your back. With the other hand, he reached for your face, tracing your lower lip with his thumb. You smiled slightly at his teasing. Part of you wanted to heed the suggestion in his eyes, and the familiar warmth and promise in his touch. The other, more vulnerable part of you hesitated.

When you caught sight of something over his shoulder, you had to smile a little more.

“I see you got a bottle of Merlot,” you said. A notable upgrade from beer. You couldn’t remember the last time Dean had willingly bought some “bougie-ass” wine.

“A little pie, a little booze…” you noted.

Dean grinned. “I’m thinking we have a not-so-quiet night in.”

Your brows rose, and you hummed in surprise. “Is my husband trying to butter me up?”

“Nah,” he said, tilting your face back up to his. “Your husband’s trying to seduce you.”  

You giggled at that…at first. But it seemed he was serious.

You accepted his passionate kiss. Closing your eyes, you reached blindly for his shirt and held on while his lips moved ardently against yours. Through the bond, you felt his desire like it was your own.

In the five years you’d been married, and the years you were together even before, there were often moments where it was impossible to discern what was him and what was you. 

The beautiful thing about it was, that part didn’t matter too much. Especially not when you and Dean became a tangle of limbs, lips, and tongue on the couch. He ridded you of your threadbare pajamas, and you helped him halfway out of his shirt and jeans before he yanked the rest of it off himself.

And all while he drew lusty moans and sighs and pleasure from your body in the comfort of your living room, the ice cream slowly melted in its container on the coffee table—completely forgotten, along with the pie.

That night, you lied awake in his arms for a while. Round one on the couch had migrated to rounds two and three in the bedroom, and you were almost too exhausted to sleep. 

It had been months since you and Dean had sex without thinking of calendars and timing, optimal positions and ovulation.

This felt right, you thought, as you stroked his arm that was wrapped around your waist. Even though your skin was sticking to his under the sheets and your frizzy hair was probably tickling his neck, he didn’t seem to mind.

Dean? you tried through the bond, seeing if he was awake. He felt like he was still in-between wakefulness and sleep. At your prodding though, he slipped back into the former. 

“Hmm?” he replied. You let out a sigh in the dark. 

“I’m sorry I kind of tried to take matters into my own hands, with the spell.”

He hmphed in response. “Kinda?”

Your lips twitched upwards. 

“This is a ‘together’ thing,” you said. “I made it all about me.”

Dean shook his head at that. He responded through the bond. No, you didn’t.

I did, you insisted. You were right to stop me. I didn’t care about the consequences…but that’s not fair to you. To either of us.

He took that in with a deep sigh of his own.

“It’s okay. We want the same thing,” he said. “And we’ll get there, baby. Don’t you worry.”

“What makes you so sure?” you asked.

“…I don’t know. I just am.”

You closed your eyes, and once again, you tried to believe him. You let his heartbeat and the sound of his steady breathing lull you to sleep. 

Nine weeks later…

You were alone in the bathroom at seven in the morning. After almost a month late on your period, you were also staring at two positive lines on your last pregnancy test. 

Ho…ly…shit.

Dean was already at work. This wasn’t something you wanted to tell him over the phone, however. 

How the hell am I supposed to keep this from him all day? you thought.

But then again, maybe this was a good thing. You had time to make sure.

So you called out of work for a personal day, and you immediately called your doctor on your way out to the closest pharmacy. You were going to need a few more tests. 

When Dean eventually got home that evening, there were two pizzas waiting for him. The smell was already making his mouth water. He peeked under the hood of each box and rubbed his hands together. 

“Ooh, awesome.” Pepperoni, sausage, and double cheese. His favorite.

You appeared then from the kitchen with a strange smile on your face. 

“Hey!” you chirped, but you seemed a bit distracted as you pulled out a sheet pan of cookies from the oven. You nearly dropped them when the corner of the pan banged against the oven. 

Something was off with you. Dean knew it intuitively. He went over and tried to steady you with a hand on the small of your back. He could see that you were frazzled, but he realized, with a frown, that you had your walls up again. He couldn’t pick up on what you were thinking.

“You okay?” he asked. “What’s going on?”

“Uh…well, something,” you nodded and wiped your hands after you peeled the oven mitts off. “And I need to tell you about it before I bake everything in the house, including the expired bran muffins.”

Dean was growing more concerned by the moment. He knew for a fact he’d hidden that bran muffin mix deep in the pantry, so you wouldn’t force him to eat a “healthy dessert.”

“Okay, what?” he asked.

You paused, steeling yourself with a breath.

You then took his hand and led him to the bedroom, into the adjoining bathroom. Across the entire counter were no less than seven pregnancy tests. 

All positive.

Dean’s breath caught in his lungs. Slowly he turned back to you with his widened eyes.

“Surprise?” you smiled, a little nervously. 

Dean grasped the counter and had to sit down hard on the closed toilet seat. 

“Yeah, I did that too,” you said. You couldn’t help but giggle as you caressed his face. He grabbed your hip, both to bring you closer and for added stability. You two had been trying to make this happen for over a year, but the gravity of this being real was finally hitting him. 

He stared up at your face with a growing smile. “This is happening.” 

You nodded, smiling through your burgeoning tears. 

“Yeah. It is,” you replied. “Dean, you’re gonna be a dad.”

That realization had him nodding, swallowing hard and blinking past a sting in his eyes. 

He wrapped his arms around your waist, bringing you in between his knees. You threaded your fingers through his hair, and his head came to rest against your stomach. He pressed a kiss there, over your shirt. 

After a moment to gather himself, he rocked back onto his feet. Then he enveloped you in a secure and warm embrace. He kissed the side of your head, and you felt his smile there.

“We did it, baby,” he said.  

“And that was the easy part,” you quipped, making him laugh. Yet the holy shit of it all hit him in a new wave—one you felt through the bond. You had to take a deep breath to steady yourself as well.

“Oh my God, this is happening,” he repeated.

You uttered a tearful laugh. “Uh, yeah, Dean.”

He was still smiling, but it started to dim a little. 

“We’re ready, right?” he asked.

You chuckled, wiping at your eyes. “We better be.”

Dean nodded and pulled back enough to see your face. You met his gaze. Maybe you’d just had more time than him to process it all, but you finally felt a sense of peace.

“Together, right?” he said.

“Yeah,” you smiled. “Together.”

Dean let out a deep breath. “Shit, I gotta tell Sam.”

Your smile brightened and you squeezed his arms.

“Let’s call him!" you said. "Hopefully Eileen’s there too.”

The two had moved in together a couple of years ago, after Eileen officially retired from hunting. But she often had long shifts at her job, just like Sam did at the law firm he started working for after he graduated from law school, near the top of his class.  

While you and Dean went into the bedroom to call Sam together, an angel watched from a distance, unseen by human eyes.

He found himself smiling.

AN: Ahh I'm soft. 🥰 I hope you all enjoy this as much as I had fun diving back into Never Say Goodbye.

And I won't say that I'll never come back to it in the future...for obvious reasons. 😉

Series Masterlist

Dean Winchester Series List

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Series + Dean Tag List (Part 1):

I did my best to get everyone who was tagged in the original run of the series first, then my normal Dean tag list.

@curlycarley @chubby-teddybear @jamerlynn @iprobablyshipit91 @globetrotter28 @deamus-liv @deans-spinster-witch @my-proof-is-you @vera0124 @deans-baby-momma @lacilou @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @theonlymaninthesky @spnexploration @itzabbyxx @cevans-winchester @imagineteller1

@icequeen1371 @tiredqueen73 @bitchwitch1981 @abbigaleelizabeth @ohgodthebogisback @where-the-river-bends @loveprof6 @shadowcrowsworld @thespnlover @this-is-me19 @stevenknightmarc @leigh70 @syrma-sensei @brain-has-left

@hobby27 @ashbatz @saranghaey @jori21 @lillyrob @adoringanakin @agirlwithdemonblood @mimaria420 @nephil-with-a-gun @writethrough @iamsapphine @definitelymentallyderanged @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer

[brodygold]

Boyfriend, BROfriend

Asher sulked as he laid back on the couch, too upset to notice the television was displaying static. His girlfriend had just dumped him that morning and his best friend Thorn was completely MIA. He'd gone to investigate the local sports legends, the "Gold Troopers" or something like that. Thorn often lived up to his name, being a thorn in Asher's side, but he still wanted his support in these rough times. Asher had invited him over to rant about chicks like they usually did after a breakup but he hadn't even read the damn message. He'd already drunk several cans of cheap beer waiting for the guy and was starting to feel the buzz.

Asher was pulled out of his buzzed state (well, slightly at least) with a knock on his door. "Finally," he thought, "took the asshole long enough to get here." He threw himself off the couch and walked over to the front door.

Opening it, Asher could tell something was a bit off. Thorn's usual wild and spiky hair was tamed, giving him a sporty look.

"What's with the hair, man? Where's your wild side?"

Thorn let out a little laugh. "Oh, don't worry about that, bro. I still have my wild side. Just trying something new."

Asher looked Thorn up and down. Nothing else seemed off about him. Besides maybe him saying "bro." He still had that characteristic smirk on his face, and the leather jacket on him screamed "punk." He was too drunk for this.

"If you say so, man. Get in here so we can gripe about Maya."

"Thanks, bro. I got just the thing for you actually." He held up his hand, holding a golden DVD. "One of my new bros gave me something to help you get over your ex."

Asher looked at him suspiciously, his hands in his jean pockets. "What's a movie gonna do for me?"

"Trust me, bro. He showed it to me when I met him and it's almost life-changing in a way."

"If you say so. Can you put it in? I'm a bit drunk."

"Sure thing bro."

Thorn put the disc into the player, turning the TV off the static. In its place was a shiny golden spiral, drawing Asher in instantly. The gold swirled in his eyes, mixed with a bit of white and brown. Images of naked women appeared in the background behind it.

Asher lost himself in the spiral, staring at it mindlessly. His mind went completely blank. All he could do was stare at the spiral. Stare, and obey.

Thorn removed his leather jacket, revealing a shiny golden soccer jersey underneath with "Trey" on the back. He smirked looking at Ashter's blank stare. "That's it bro, just stare at the pretty spiral. You'll be a true bro soon."

Ashtor reached down into his jeans and started stroking, just as the spiral commanded him to. As he continued, his clothes started changing. His black t-shirt glowed gold, transforming into a shiny gold soccer jersey with his true name on the back. His jeans turned into a set of golden shorts, giving him more room to stroke as he pulled them down further. His wild and crazy hair got tapered down into a classy, sporty look that matched Trey's.

Ashton's mind was being rewritten at the same time, his old self going into his balls with every stroke. His name change was solidified first, the first piece of his new identity. The images of women changed into men stroking themselves just like he was, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He found himself admiring their forms and their strokes, eyeing the big packages. Thoughts of being with women and loving their bodies head to toe vanished completely. Only men would satisfy him now.

Trey leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Ashton could feel himself blush as he continued stroking. Memories of being with Trey as boyfriends, serving the Golden Army together both on and off the field. They sure knew how to party together in the locker room...

"Cum for me, babe"

The spiral finally ended as Ashton came, spurting his old self out onto the floor in front of him. Trey would be sure to clean that up later.

"Come on babe. We have practice in 30 minutes!"

Ashton looked up at his boyfriend and smiled. "Sure thing babe. Let's get going. But first..." He walked over, placing a hand on his shoulder and smiling a sinister smile.

"How about a quick round 2?"

[the-kr8tor]

Carnival date with Hobie! Going on the arcades (that are definitely rigged) enjoying cotton candy together and the Ferraris wheel!

- 💗

Thank you for the lovely prompt, angel! 😘

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.2k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (Hobie is mentioned taller though), cw food mentions, Fluff

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

You take a giant bite of your cotton candy, the sugar bursts into your mouth like fireworks. The bright neon lights make your eyes shine, all the beeps and boops from arcade machines are reminiscent of the time when you were younger. It's cold out, an evening breeze passes by, fluttering your lashes in the wind. It's freezing but Hobie's arm around your shoulders warms you through your bones.

“Don't eat it all, give me some.” His breath fans your cheeks, it tickles you a bit. “Oi, stop gettin’ distracted. Ahhh” he opens his mouth for you, waiting for you to feed him like a baby chick.

“Get those pinchers out of my face.” You giggle, quickly feeding a dollop of the sweet treat before he chomps down on your fingers. You've learned your lesson.

“Thanks.” He says through a mouthful. You wipe the corner of his lips clean of candy. He sticks his tongue out to the side with the intention to lick your finger.

“Nope, too slow!” you quickly move your hand away to his dismay.

“I will bite your hand off, you'll see.” Hobie says with a smirk.

“Uh huh, sure. If you can catch me”

“You better start running then”

Before you could sprint through the crowd, Hobie's arms are already around your middle, lifting you a few inches off the ground effortlessly. You giggle, trying to not get a lot of attention from the public.

You blame the candy for making Hobie more hyper than he already is.

“Give me your fuckin' hand” he cranes his neck down to try and catch your it, you cross your arms on your chest, tucking your hands inside.

“Nu uh!” Hobie squeezes you, continuing to walk like he's not carrying you. “So you're just gonna manhandle me the entire night?”

“No, I'll throw you in one of those duck ponds.” He laughs loudly as you wiggle your elbow right on his abdomen. You didn't know he's ticklish there, you are definitely gonna use that information in the future.

Your eyes light up, looking at the gigantic patchwork teddy bear hanging on to one of the arcade booths. “Look at that one!”

“D’you want that? I'll get that for you, yeah?”

“No, it's fine, it's probably rigged anyway.”

He nuzzles your neck, “I'll bet you a kiss that I can win that ugly bear”

“Deal.” You kick your legs out to try to walk on your own but he doesn't let go so you let him carry you the entire way to the booth, laying your entire weight on him.

He stops in front of the milk bottle tossing booth, an old man with large glasses mans the it, he picks up fallen balls, placing them neatly inside a small bucket.

“How much, bossman?” Hobie asks, his arms still carrying you.

“Five pounds per bucket. Looks like you've won a much better prize though” he chuckles.

“Yeah, ‘m lookin' for a replacement though” he points at the bear with his chin. His comment doesn't fly over you though, you huff, kneading his stomach with your elbow. Hobie yelps, letting you go. “See that, bossman? Need that bear more than ever.”

You make a mocking face, Hobie suddenly has an intense urge to pinch your nose. But he doesn't, maybe he'll do it once you two get home.

He hands the old man the bills in exchange for the bucket.

“You've got four tries to bring the three pyramids down. You do that and you get the bear.” The old man explains.

“That easy?” Hobie says smugly.

The man chuckles, the same smug smile on his lips. “That easy. Good luck.”

Hobie turns to you as he's weighing the baseball in his hand. “Kiss for good luck?”

“I thought that was for after winning my prize?” despite you declining, you lean to press a chaste kiss on his cheek. “Good luck and don't overdo it or you might give the man a heart attack.” You whisper close to his ear.

“And here I was preparing my arm to rocket this ball out of here” he chases your face, capturing your forehead in a quick but tender kiss.

You poke his side, smiling as he takes aim. His arm extended like he's a professional, his muscles tensing through his shirt. You'd be lying if you said you weren't ogling him. Before Hobie throws the ball, he winks at you all suave, waking the butterflies in your stomach.

Clang!

The first pyramid bottle falls loudly. Hobie looks at you with a mischievous smirk, wordlessly saying. ‘I've got this’

He takes another ball, preparing to launch it. As you predicted, he turns his head towards you again but you're prepared this time, winking at him sweetly before he could do it.

He almost misses the bottles.

You tamp down your laugh when he looks back at you with a ‘how dare you’ face. You look at him innocently, fluttering your lashes.

After all that though, one after the other the bottles fall easily, the old man shifts uncomfortably, scratching his head. He surrenders, handing Hobie the bear.

“Told you I'll win it for you” the bear gets squished in the middle as Hobie tries his best to embrace you with the fluffy wall in between.

“I knew you had it,” you lean up so he could claim his prize. “You have super strength, cheater.” you say against his lips, he could only get a fraction of a second of your lips before you pulled away. He blinks, shaking his head.

“Thought we had a deal?”

“Claim it in the ferris wheel?”

“You cheeky fucker”

—

After lining up for the ride and numerous bites of a shared funnel cake, you and Hobie hop on to the pod, the capsule shakes as he pushes in the bear to fit inside. The worker manning the ride sighs exasperatedly.

Hobie sits it across from you, scooching to make way for him, he sighs, all tired out from the labour.

The worker closes the door, the ferris wheel starts up, slowly moving your pod up.

“Your bear is on thin ice” He glares at the toy, the fluffy head tilting comedically. You laugh while Hobie casually snakes his arm around your shoulders, bringing you Impossibly closer to the already small space.

You don't mind it though, laying your head on his shoulder, reaching blindly for his hand, he half hugs you, bringing your knuckles to his lips.

“You good?” his voice muffled by your skin.

“Better than good. Happy” you inhale his cologne, relaxing your muscles. You swear you're melting on the spot. “You?”

“You already know the answer, lovie” he cranes his neck closer to you, ignoring the ache in his nape. Hobie then presses a handful of kisses on your temple, each one sweeter than the last. He holds off with his joke about pushing the bear off the ride.

The ferris wheel halts to a stop when your pod reaches the top, you cling tighter to Hobie. The view takes your breath away, the shining lights below look like stars, the skyline looms on your right, just seeing it makes you crave web swinging with Hobie. Maybe you'll ask him about it later.

The ride starts back up again with a sudden lunge, a mechanical whirring in the background. You yelp, Hobie grips your shoulder, circling his thumb over your skin comfortably.

“I've got you.” He reassures.

“I know you do” You squeeze him, moving his face downward by his chin, guiding him closer to your lips.

[invincible-selfxmade-punk]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!!

[vintage-tigre]

Debbie Harry, 1970s Jetset style

[red-lights-of-doooooom]

a guide to: what i call the characters from the show "arcane"

(a.k.a. A massive list of all the nicknames I have called each character, either when I was sober or when I was drunk)

Vi: Pink girl, punk fighter chick, cartoon Hailee Steinfeld, Step-on-me, punk girl who could kick my ass, the fighter, the lesbian disaster, The Fister, Girl in Pink, main girl, god-she-is-so-hot-and-i-am-so-gay, Vi

Jinx: Blue hair and pronouns, blue girl, Smurf Hair, Powjinx, Powder, Powder Blue, Crystal Methanie, meth hair, tumblrina, get jinxed, the-hot-but-crazy-one, etc.

Jayce: Genius Zac Efron, Hobo Zac Efron, golden boy, token straight guy, the normal one (I've stopped calling him that last one since s2 happened)

Viktor: Slavic science nerd, the smart guy, Genius Twink, Cosmic Hobo Jesus, End of Evangelion, Darth Vaper, me-in-college, the quiet one, Galaxy Brain

Ekko: Teen genius, Groundhog Day Junior, Time-travel teen, Riley Rewind, guy with a weird tattoo on his face, "the boy saviour"

Caitlyn: British woman, British cop, the clueless lesbian, "cupcake", purple woman, purple hair, the Violent Femme, gun woman

Vander: Big dude, werewolf dad, DILF, best dad, sad man

Mel: Politics Woman, pretty lady, space opera, Captain Marvel, Sailor Moon, Sailor Sun.

Ambessa: Warmonger Mom, Warmomger, War Mom, Hardened Battle Grandma

Sevika: Auntie, Drug Dealer Aunt (earlier on), Jinx's unofficial mom

Heimerdinger: Token Furry Mascot, fuzzy old guy, fluffy hobbit, the guy who's super old and knows things, mini Dumbledore

[rose-tea-and-strawberries]

DEUCE SPADE BRAINROT

Masterlist

Warning: I write reader as female

Imagine Deuce Spade going grocery shopping and doing his best to suppress the flinch he feels coming when he passes the hair dye section

Imagine Deuce looking at the scars on his arms and remembering when he would wear his bruises like badges of honour, his nose scrunching in disgust when he recalls how foolhardy he’d been

Imagine Deuce finding his old leather jacket during winter break and questioning whether or not he should burn it to ashes before ultimately burying it deep in the corner of his closet

Imagine Deuce having to stop himself from cursing whenever he gets annoyed because that’s not what honour students do

Imagine Deuce embracing his new, softer image. Imagine him doodling eggs and baby chicks in the margin of his notebook, imagine him trying and failing to learn how to bake cupcakes or sew a rip in his blazer

Imagine him watching romance movies, listening to love songs and reading romantic poetry and suddenly every line reminds him of you

Imagine Deuce spending every night telling his mother how much he loves you and wants to marry you and spend his future with you

Imagine Deuce treating your stuffed animals with the same amount of respect that he gives you and telling them to do their best to protect you from your nightmares whenever he’s not there

Imagine Deuce spending half an hour before every date panicking over which flowers to get you because he knows that boyfriends usually get their girlfriends roses but that’s so ordinary and your so special to him and he wants to do this right and so he just stands there, looking at all of the floral arrangements with the most harrowed yet intensive expression. It doesn’t matter if you invited him over only to study or watch a movie or play a game. You’re the girl of his dreams and a true gentleman always gives a lovely lady the most beautiful flowers he can

Imagine Deuce spending every day carrying your bags and books, imagine him always walking on the side of the hallway or pavement that is closest to the traffic, imagine him scanning the cafeteria for the safest spot to sit before guiding you there with an arm around your waist and your body pressed close to his

Imagine Deuce’s face blooming an adorable pink as he blushes in embarrassment when you coo over a small injury on his body. Imagine his soft smile as he gazes lovingly at the childish pink plaster, which is decorated with baby bunnies, that you had tenderly wrapped onto the papercut on his index finger, knowing for sure that he wouldn’t be caught dead wearing such a thing a year ago. Imagine him thinking in awe about how every time he thinks that he could never love you more, you do something and he falls even deeper

Imagine every day being a struggle to keep his savage side at bay, his delinquent switch teetering dangerously at every possible moment and he often finds out a second too late that his hands have already curled up into fists and it’s an effort to keep them still, it’s a battle to bite back the snarl that threatens to pull on his lips

Imagine Deuce still feeling awestruck after every kiss, still looking like he can’t believe that it just happened even if he’s been dating you for months. Imagine him growing bolder after the first one, though, and ultimately being the one to take the lead, letting his inner id out for a few seconds so he can have even more of the touch that he craves so much

Imagine Deuce being just as adrenaline hungry as he was back when he was a punk in middle school, yet whenever he sees you all of his unruly thoughts vanish into thin air and all he can think about is how you became his salvation

Imagine Deuce doing everything he can to atone for his past and being so thankful that he has you by his side, supporting him the whole time and giving him your full trust and loyalty even when his antics get you in trouble as well

Imagine Deuce wanting to be better not just to make his mother proud but also to make you proud - because you deserve so much better than some violent thug

But imagine all of that going to hell the second he sees you get hurt

Imagine some older students going too far with his taunts and insults and picking on just the wrong nerve. Maybe you even get nudged a little. He looks at you but you laugh it off and smile at him, telling him that you’re fine. But he sees how watery your eyes are, he hears the sniffle hiding behind your words, and the second he registers a stray tear rolling down your face - all he sees is red.

Imagine him coming to when Ace shakes him out of it. The red head’s voice is frantic. He looks down and sees his hands stained red and your tormentors are groaning in agony across the floor, their faces masterpieces of blue and indigo. You are nowhere to be seen.

Imagine the look of absolute regret on his face when you find him in the infirmary after getting his bleeding knuckles patched up, his head hung low and his eyes refusing to meet you. Imagine how he would have spent the entire time beating himself up, just knowing that you for sure were going to break up with him after witnessing just how brutal his aggressive side can be

Imagine his surprise when you gently take his bandaged hands and place loving kisses on every fingertip and knuckle, asking him if he was alright in the softest voice imaginable, your eyes shining with concern

Imagine his shock when you whole-heartedly thank him for sticking up for you, when you look at him so gratefully as you explain how safe you feel to have him by your side, how you know that he would never let you come to harm, how you left to get a teacher to explain your side of the story so that he doesn’t get in trouble for being so noble and how worried you were to hear from Ace that he was admitted to the infirmary.

Imagine him feeling so loved after learning that you still love him despite seeing that the part of him that was drawn to violence still existed - in fact, maybe you love him more after learning that.

Imagine Deuce thinking that maybe his shameful past isn’t as shameful as he thought it was since it gave him the skills he needed to protect you

(Imagine Deuce using his past to teach you self defence and how to fight and making sure that you always have a can of pepper spray on your person because he knows how dangerous the streets are and on the extremely off chance you find yourself in danger and he’s not there, at least he knows you’ll have some form of protection)

[letbenfuck2021]

I think dinner in america is great for a lot of reasons but I really like the way it deals with sex and consent. We see all these very different...interaction surrounding sex that really emphasize consent. The track assholes sexually harass Patty everyday. They humilate her and insult her but are clearly sexually attracted to her. Simon is also attracted to her and engages in discussion around sex multiple times "how come every time I bring up fucking, you clam up." Simon himself is shown denying sex while also expressing that it isn't that he's not interested, just tired and sore. Its not some noble "oh I would be taking advantage" thing he just truly is too sore to "even get hard" as he puts it. Also this is one of the few movies Ive seen that is unapologetic about showing a neurodivergent adult woman being interested and enthusiastic about sex.

Ive seen ppl call Patty and Simon manic pixies but...I feel like that term is already overused but doubly so with Patty and Simon. For me, you cross into manic pixie territory when it causes characters to be inconsistent to the point of being inhuman. But Simon and Patty are....painfully human. To Patty flailing around her bedroom to her favorite punk band, clapping her hands and then taking a picture if her privates mid masturbation session to Simon getting his ass handed to him by jocks. Like...they both feel like real people. Simon is the one I see labeled a manic pixies dream boy but I...really don't see it. Sure, he is this hard drug-dealing punk rocker who uses blue language to shock and offend, but he also has one single patch on his jacket (quite the statement if youve met many punks, they usually have a bunch) and its a boy scout patch. Yeah, he is a punk rocker but he is also a boy scout that lets old ladies sit next to him on the bus and gets pissed on behalf of some weird chick he just met when she gets called the r word. Like...I know ppl who are EXACTLY like that and I would argue a lot of punks are like this.

[namis-namis]

Monday Night Raw WWE analysis ( as a first time goer )

Spoilers ( as recommended ) because I went to a double taping and didn’t even know it.

WWE wrestlers mentioned:

Jey Uso, Rhea Ripley, Liv Morgan, Iyo Sky, CM Punk, Seth Rollins, War Raiders, Judgement Day, Damian Priest, ‘The Incredibly Attractive Scottish Cultural Themed Wrestler’ aka Drew Macintyre, ‘The goth wrestler’ aka Dexter Lumis, Sami Zayn

When was the last time you had it raw?

4:30pm: I come in and am already impatient. It’s who I am as a person. I mean, standing in the cold does that to a person. But it’s interesting to take in whose here. What a wide and diverse community! There’s even a clown themed familt! My family is incredibly liberal but I would never think we would do such a thing. Unless it was for halloween. Then again, my parents are divorced, so, we aren’t doing much of anything together.

5pm: we all get stuck waiting to scan our tickets. I have taken note of the fact there is a big disability community within the wwe fandom. They aren’t given a separate line, only if they ask to be wheeled in a TD garden provided wheelchair. I think this is the closest to equality we have gotten, but, it’s not quite reaching equity.

5:30pm: I have secured myself a truly wild berry. I have only just realized how close I am to the stage. I will see everyone running out and exiting, as well as getting all the blood, spit, etc. On my face. I think I’m assimilating quite well. I just wish I hadn’t worn my Aryton Seena shirt! Now they know I am a Formula One fan in disguise ( i’m kidding, they don’t. ) A friendly man strikes up conversation. And I mean this genuinely, he’s a friendly guy. We talk a bit, I admit this is my first WWE event ever, he says he has been to several. I text Megan, one of my best friends, and facetime my mom to show her my seats. Seat Floor, Section C, Row 6, Seat 7.

5:50pm: I think long and hard about Jey Uso. I take a walk around TD Garden and think of buying some Jey Uso merch. I look at them. I think it’d look far better on my 12 year old cousin who suffers from Chronic Brain Rot ( Yeet seems to be popular terminology in this generation. ) And… Jesus, 35-40 dollars for Merch?! It’s December 16th!! Christmas is in 9 days. I do not have the money for that. I buy m&m’s instead. I hope my Noyz perfume I drenched myself in to have my ‘Y/N’ moment is not too obvious to the people around me.

6:00pm: the children are howling at each other. It’s so interesting. This community is so stereotyped as hillbilly rednecked. But the reality is, these people have such an innate sense of community. No one is pushing to get to their seat. If you want to be closer to barrier, people make way so you can make your pictures. Any imposing on your space is accidental. And is that… no way… is that… a man blowing his nose? With a disposable tissue? And not just hacking into his arm or my space? These people have been stereotyped for far too long! I will be the voice that shows people that they are different!

6:10pm: the children continue to howl. T-minus 20 minutes until show.

6:20pm: I assume the reason the seats are open are because most of the fans are stuck in like buying merch or food. Though, I am hopeful to get closer to barrier. It’s the slimmest of chances.

6:30pm: the grand entrance. The movement. The theatrics. It’s like being at the ballet. The men fighting right now? Beautiful. I want to scream, not their beautiful faces! Spare the beauty!

7:04pm: The grand entrance of CM, ‘Chick Magnet’, punk. Now, this man is a silver fox if I have ever seen one. 47 years old, retired from WWE briefly only to return, large arms littered completely with tattoos of all colors, chocolate brown hair slicked back to reveal his scratchy-looking facial hair that has hints of grey hairs between each brown facial hair, and ravens foot that emphasize the soft brown eyes that seem to be perpetually stuck with a glint in them.

7:15pm: WWE, I was not aware of your gay subtext game. I feel as though every sports community has this happen. It might be mostly due in part that men are not typically allowed the intimacy of friendships like women are and, thus, when they are able to bridge that gap and express their unity in the same way women do, they simply crave more. It’s like when someone gets into a relationship for the first time and all they want is more time and affection with the other person. They have what they want, but, simply desire more. Seth Rollins has appeared, and he is not tolerating CM Punk’s claims and, in fact, is willingly to stand alongside with the audience. Oh, because he is actually physically in the audience… By the way.

7:30pm: i almost ran into another person in the bathroom. Advice kids: do not chug your wild berry truly. First of all, it’s carbonated nightmare. Second of all, you need to piss badly. And third, you can’t figure out if you’re typing in English or French!!! All you can remember is you love jey uso and the first introduction wrestlers were hot. And women are so beautiful. Rhea Ripley… Liv Morgan�� Iyo Sky…

8:12pm: i wonder if anyone else noticed this is softcore porn. Also, people keep yelling ‘count faster’ to the ref. I wonder if people realize this is scripted? They have to, right?

8:30PM: War Raiders versus Judgement Day. Now. Do I feel bad for the War Raiders throughout the match and cheer for them more? Of course. But I would feel wrong to lie and claim I didn’t secretly cheer for Judgement Day. ‘Why would you cheer for them?’ You may ask… Well… Some people just love villains. Besides, War Raiders don’t need my support… They have Damian Priest on their side, securing them as World Champs.

9:01pm: The incredibly attractive Scottish cultural themed wrestler begins to make a commentary about how no one bothered to check in on him when he was healing from his injury. It’s quite insightful and thoughtful, especially when you do look up the injury photos and find the images of staples on his head and blood shielding his face. It’s met with boos and negative attention, though. Perhaps from moreso insecure men or because it’s what the WWE network wants us to believe.

9:11pm: HE’S HERE! Jey Uso is HERE!!!! Yeet, Yeet, Yeet.

9:45pm: I have noticed very quickly that there is really no time to sit or think at these events. Everything is very quick and, yet, they are able to jam pack multiple fights and promos in. You will be thoroughly entertained, whether you like it or not.

9:57pm: the goth wrestler has charmed me. Please beat the shit out of whoever you please.

10:15pm: The incredibly attractive Scottish cultural themed wrestler is back again. And may I just say sir, your pecs are enormous and your leather kilt is stylish. However, your scream and fire did frighten me for a moment. Perhaps you don’t know this, after all you are from Scotland where this is not a major problem and as a main event you travel all over the world, but as an American when I hear an explosion… I tend to assume i’m already dead before i’ve realized the reality of the situation.

10:37pm: OTC just beat the shit out of Jey Uso and Sami Zayn. What a moment. And what a lovely red turtle neck! Fashion-Sports intersection is quite interesting to see. I never wrote this earlier, but I should now: Seth ‘Freakin’ Rollins, I commend you for your stylish nature and committing to fashion before practicality.

11pm: and that concludes Monday Night Raw at TD Garden. I am grateful and pleased to say that I got a fist-five from Sami Zayn, despite the fact he seemed to be struggling from a back injury sustained during his fight. And to this newfound space I have made my way in, I am grateful to have experienced it in real time.