#ulysses tells her she thought it was dumb back then too

[malwaredykes]

funnily enough a lot of Chris Avellone Writing™️ sucks in this exact manner as well. like "i can tell this was the first thing that popped into your brain and because youre so in love with your own mind you viciously resisted the idea of going back and really thinking about it and maybe editing it and just making it coherent" vibes. both in fo2 with a lotta stuff honestly, and in fnv with cass and lonesome road in particular

like with cass for example, i wanna make it clear that i Dont Mind that shes a hypocrite and kinda stupid and overall flawed, i like those things about her actually i like a flawed woman. i like that shes messy and stubborn and judgmental (and homophobic) and says completely bizarre things. companions dont have to be Nice People to be likeable. but good god some of it is just like. chris you didnt really think about this for long enough did you. about writing a companion that actually yells at you and then leaves you if your karma falls below true neutral, because youre a Dangerous Ruthless Asshole, who like, two seconds later tries to murder you in broad daylight if you make a dumb remark about her family as she's leaving. theres the fact that she asks for your help killing two people as revenge, which in itself does fit within the sensible bounds of "oh okay, shes a hypocrite, she harshly judges you for things like stealing too much or doing drugs or doing a first degree murder but shes then eager to pull some dubious deeds when it suits her, and gets annoyed when you suggest doing things by the books instead", except that in most likely scenarios, unless you're sneaky, it'll involve the two of you mowing down all the employees of two companies. i mean i guess being sneaky about alice mclafferty isnt Mad Difficult but good luck with the van graffs. doing a bit of a mass shooting at the silver rush. like you can say that since the van graffs are corrupt their employees are no saints either for following their orders but like McScuse Me who made you the judge jury and executioner here. cass we dont do that here this aint new reno. i thought you didnt like me being an asshole. id say walking into an establishment and lighting em up because their boss slighted you is more than just an asshole move. and theres also the fact that, evil business practices notwithstanding, fucking up the crimson caravan company seriously disrupts supply lines between new cali and the mojave which does not bode well for much of new vegas in its current state. so. you know? like at the end of the day a lot of Cass Traits would be alright on their own, and would also mesh together well if they got some edits. if one were to go back and look at the entirety of her character and really think about it. tone it down a little in some aspects. think a little harder than "well shes Kinda Dubious so she would do the bad thing". please just Think.

and then the whole premise of lonesome road... i feel like ive ranted about this before. but imo giving courier six this extremely contrived backstory was like. groundbreaking levels of bad. like ok so youre telling me that instead of being this refreshing blank slate nobody who very organically gets dragged into the big game, we had, unknowingly, basically created the setup of the games main conflict, because the ncr was just about to kick the legion out, but then we accidentally fucked things up. and youre telling me we were making deliveries of Secret Enclave Doodads for the ncr and theres just no mention of that afterwards, no further implications until ulysses brings it up. and because of all that, ulysses, who has a grudge against you over things you didnt do on purpose, cancels on making the platinum chip delivery when he sees your name next on the list--he knows your name--because he gets this hunch that itll end badly for you, so he lets you do it instead, and thats how you end up getting shot. like. Like. am i going mad. this is so bad. this is rise of the skywalker tier in terms of contrived and unnecessary. this is the kinda stuff you write down on a whiteboard as a very readable tree chart and start editing because its obviously too much. Like. Okay. Alright. Listen Man. not everything has to be about the main character. ulysses life doesnt have to currently revolve around us for there to be an interesting connection. ulysses also being a fellow courier but one with the skills he had acquired as a frumentarius and knowing you from work and then seeing you do some crazy shit around the mojave is already plenty good enough reason for him to take interest in you, especially with your potential to reject both [ulysses voice] The Bull And The Bear. it is reason enough for him to become your foil and project his own trauma and grief onto you. like controversial opinion maybe but that wouldve been enough. the rest of his backstory stays as is, he's consumed by grief and disillusionment, he loses parts of himself as he tries to cling to the remains of the few good things in his life, he wants to press a big reset button because hes so sick of the same mistakes being constantly repeated--and all of that indeed makes it fully plausible that seeing a former coworker he knows by name and face get killed and resurrected and do all that crazy stuff and get so entangled in mojave politics, would make him go Oh I Really Need To Mess With This Person, There Might Be A String Of Fate Connecting Us. They Dont Know A Tenth Of What I Know About The World. you know????? like am i going crazy? the game was rigged from the start yes but that doesnt mean literally every aspect of it has to have had several bizarre layers of events and actors all orchestrating it in various ways. then theres the fact that a lot of ulysses dialogue really is just avellone jacking off. i appreciate that ulysses has a lot to say, and has a particular way of speaking, but some dialogue lines are just straight up redundant and repetitive for no good reason and just. yknow. Edit, Man. sit down, reread everything carefully, and edit things. tone that shit down.

i mean to be fair, You Didnt Even Try Man is the common denominator of pretty much every part of fo3 that i didnt like. like straight up "you couldve spent an extra 15 to 45 minutes putting some thought into this and it wouldve turned out alright" type stuff. fully "okay now sit back and read the whole thing. the whole questline/scene/plot that youve written start to finish. the whole thing. yeah youre gonna have to do a couple major edits on this one this shit straight up doesnt make sense" mode. some real "okay this doesnt work though. this seems like the first idea you had for this that you didnt really expand on or really thought about whether its actually any good. please spend more time on this and consider a bit more than whatever first thing pops into your mind" moments. absolute "this is lazy. this is really lazy and you know it. i want to trust that you could do so much better. theres no way you think this is good enough" situation

[collecting-stories]

Ulysses - JJ (Outer Banks)

Request: hi! i’ve never asked on tumblr before but i love your blog so i thought i’d give it a shot :) i love all of your obx imagines! could i please request something with jj where it’s just really fluffy and cute and general good vibes! i totally understand if not and i’m so sorry if requests are closed i’m still new to all of this! thank you so much xx

A/N: Basically JJ has a crush on an especially bookish girl and tries to impress her by tackling the novel Ulysses. 

///

“Give me like...I don’t know, what do you talk about when you’re flirting with a girl?” JJ asked, standing beside Pope and Kiara outside the small beach front bookshop. He kept pulling on the straps of his backpack and then loosening them.  

“When has Pope flirting with a girl ever worked in his favor?” Kiara teased.  

“Thanks a lot Kie.”

“Well like,” JJ sucked on his vape, trying to calm himself down, “what do smart people talk about?”

“Can I ask why we’re here?”  

JJ had texted Kiara and Pope that he had an emergency and needed them ASAP. Both of them had rushed through getting dressed and gotten all the way to the address he had given them only to realize JJ was standing outside of the bookshop. It wasn’t three weeks ago that, at a party on the beach, he’d seen you. JJ knew you from school, he’d seen you in classes. Once in ninth grade when everyone had to give presentations in front of the whole class he’d sat in the back listening to you talk about America in the 1960’s and told John B that he was going to date you. It never happened but he’d had a crush on you since then. And when he saw you at the party he thought it was some kind of crazy fate. He’d tried every dumb party trick he usually did and whatever jokes he could possibly think of but nothing seemed to work. You laughed but not in the way that suggested you were remotely interested in him or thought he was cool. And then yesterday he’d seen you in the window of the bookshop by chance when he was headed down to meet up with John B.  

“Her.” JJ pointed to where you sat behind the counter, reading.  

“I’m sorry, you called us down here to stalk some girl?” Kiara laughed.  

“You don’t get it Kie, I pulled out all the stops last time I saw her and she was totally uninterested.”

“What’d she say?”  

“Nothing really,” JJ replied. “It was what she didn’t say.”

“Invite her on the Pogue or something.” Pope offered.

“Do something, we look like creepy stalkers.” Kiara said, grabbing Pope’s sleeve and yanking him to the side just as you looked up, “JJ!”  

JJ’s usual fight or flight instinct seemed to malfunction when you looked up. He just froze, standing there with his vape hanging out of his mouth, staring at you with wide eyes. You looked startled for a minute before you offered him a wave. You remembered the party on the beach, he’d been funny and you had thought that he’d been interested but then he’d gone to refill his cup and never come back. Now he was standing outside the bookshop you worked in, looking like a deer caught in headlights.

“JJ!” Kiara hissed. She stood just out of view with Pope. “Go in.”

He looked at her, still wide eyed, “what?”

“Go the fuck inside before she thinks you’re a creep.”  

“Right. Right.” JJ sucked on his vape, blowing smoke out of his mouth and nose before heading inside. He could do this, he could manage this.  

The bell above the door chimed as he walked inside, trying to play off his unusual level of nervousness by thumbing through books as he passed them. He couldn’t tell if any of these were smart people books. What did smart people read? What had their English teacher that year been harping on him to try and read? Something about an island.

“Can I help you find something?” You asked, watching him bump into a stack of books near the self-help shelf.  

“Yeah, yeah,” JJ nodded a little too enthusiastically, taking his cap off to run a hand through his hair before fixing it back on. Play it cool. “Hey, do I know you?” Good.

You frowned. He hadn’t come back from getting a beer but you had done a fair amount of self-preservative talking, reassuring yourself that you weren’t completely unmemorable. “I was at the party a few weeks ago.”

“Oh yeah, cool cool. Uh, what are you reading?” He asked, looking at the closed book on the counter.  

“Walden, by Henry David Thoreau.” You held it up for him to see the cover. “So, did you need help finding a book?”

“Uh,” JJ looked around the area he was in, scanning titles on the literature shelf. Something had to sound smart right? What sounded the smartest? “This one.” He grabbed a book and set it down on the counter.

“Seriously?” You had known ‘of’ JJ for a while. You went to the same school and on the days when he did show up for class nothing about him suggested that he was doing some heavy reading in his spare time. “Okay.” The party was the first time he’d ever actually spoken to you and, as much as you had enjoyed hanging out with him, you still didn’t think he was on the fast track to reading complicated literary works.  

“Cool, thanks.” He nodded. Over his shoulder, outside, Kiara and Pope were standing at the window watching the two of you. Neither of them looked hopeful about the interaction. “I’ll see you around or something?” He asked once he had the book in hand.

“Yeah, I’ll see you around.” You smiled, hopeful that he might actually mean it.

-

JJ kept the book in his backpack for two weeks before he finally took it out and tried to read it. After a day of surfing, when he couldn’t sleep, he’d gone outside and sat in the hammock in John B’s yard, trying to read the book. It was almost too dark to see and he held a flashlight between his chest and chin as he tried to make sense of the story he was reading. When John B had heard about the encounter he had ragged on his best friend for days. JJ, reading? What was the world becoming?  

He looked for you at other parties over the course of those two weeks but he didn’t see you. He knew he could find you at the bookstore but he didn’t want to until he could understand what he was reading. If he could impress you, prove that he understood the stupid book, then maybe you’d go out with him.  

“You’ll have to read more books. She isn’t gonna listen to you sparknotes that book forever.” Pope had explained when JJ had told them his plan.  

“It’ll be fine.” None of the words even felt like they made sense at this point.  

On Tuesday, after two weeks of having the book and not understanding it he went back to the bookshop. If he wasn’t so frustrated by his own inability to comprehend something so stupid he would have been more nervous. You were reading something new this time and didn’t even look up when the bell chimed.  

You did look up when someone dropped a book on your counter. Buried in the sand, accidentally dropped in the marsh, bent up to loosen the spine, thumbed through while eating, and stained from a beer spill, the book looked like it had spent two weeks in hell and you almost had a panic attack at the sight. JJ stood there, looking almost as bad as the book.

“I don’t get it.”

“What?” You asked, bewildered.

“I tried...I read it twice. Front to back and I have no fucking idea what this guy is supposed to be talking about. Like what the fuck!” JJ exclaimed, voice louder than necessary.  

“I mean-”

“I only got this stupid thing because I thought if I could fucking read it than I wouldn’t sound like such an idiot talking to you and if I didn’t sound like an idiot, you’d go out with me.” JJ confessed.

“What?”

“None of it makes sense.” He groaned.  

“JJ, what?” You repeated, “you want to go out with me?”

“Yeah. And you were totally not interested at the party.”

“What are you talking about, I was too. You told me that stupid joke about penguins or something-”

“That's a funny joke.”

“No. It’s not. It doesn’t make sense.” You replied, “but I laughed. Then you left to get beer and never came back.”

“I did too.”

“No...you didn’t.”  

“Fuck! So, I read this stupid fucking book for nothing?” He asked as he realized that he’d rushed to conclusions.  

“I mean, if it makes you feel better, I’m super impressed you read Ulysses twice. Even if you didn’t get it.” You laughed.  

JJ ran a hand through his hair before shaking it out and looking at you, “so you wanna hang out?”

“I have two more hours in my shift, but after that I can.”

“Okay.” He nodded, looking around the small bookshop before settling on his torn-up copy of Ulysses, “so, do you understand it?”  

“I read the study that Stuart Gilbert did on it so, yeah.”

“Like a cheat sheet?”

“I guess.”

“Fuck!” He groaned, leaning over the counter and placing his forehead against it. “I fucking can’t believe I wasted two weeks on this shit.”

You laughed, reaching across to rub his back, “It’s okay. I can explain it to you if you want?”

“Please do.”

“Seriously?” You asked, surprised that he wanted to actually understand it.

JJ stood up again, hands pressed against the counter, “yeah you look super hot when you explain stuff. That history assignment in ninth grade was like, the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

You laughed, “You are a weird person.”

-

I’ve always wanted someone to read a book to impress me. It’s weird but...oh well. 

taglist: @poguesrforlife @freckled-and-daydreaming​ @jolomez​ @calumhoodsbuckethat

If you want to be tagged let me know!

[thetypedwriter]

Midnight Sun Book Review

Midnight Sun Book Review by Stephenie Meyer 

Oh my god, you guys. 

Just. Oh. My. God. 

This book took ten years off of my life. 

As a heavy reminder, these book reviews are entirely subjective and my very personal opinion. I don’t need the hoards of Twihards coming after me with pitchforks and pretend fangs from Party City because I didn’t fall head-over-heels with this canon spinoff like my fourteen-year-old self would have. 

With that measly disclaimer out of the way, let’s move onto the actual book review. If you haven’t heard of Midnight Sun or don’t know what it is, then I don’t know what to tell you except that you avoided 600 plus pages of stream of conscious ranting. 

For those of you that would like to be enlightened, Midnight Sun is the retelling of the infamous Twilight book-yes, that Twilight, Robert Pattinson as Edward Cullen Twilight, complete with vampires, not so-stellar acting, and the more than notorious forest scene of Edward demanding she say… “vampire!” Gasp. 

But no really, like most women in my now mid-20’s, as a teenager, I was obsessed with the Twilight saga and everything it had to offer, especially the dreamy, chivalrous, too good to be true Edward Cullen (fuck Jacob). 

I voraciously devoured the books while I was in middle school, attended the midnight book premier for Breaking Dawn, and stayed up way too late for each and every movie screening that followed, a loyal fan to the end. To give you some perspective, I even joined the Twilight club my freshman year of high school. 

Yes, if you were wondering, I was indeed that cool. 

I was obsessed and in love and outside of Harry Potter, it’s still one of the few book fandoms and series that I was truly enveloped and consumed by. Whether that was due to my age, the experience of the fandom, the cultural phenomena that was following the movies and new releases, or for other reasons, it was an experience I look back on now with simultaneous fondness and slight embarrassment. 

I wasn’t embarrassed by my involvement or my experience in the fandom, like many other people, I made great friends through Twilight (including my best friend, whom I met in college when we mutually bonded over our love of Twilight), read countless fanfiction that, to this day, I still remember and cherish with my heart, and it was one of the series that cemented my love of reading and book culture as a whole for me. 

However, like everyone else, I inevitably grew up, matured, and my reading tastes changed and became more refined. As an avid re-reader of books, I have tried going back to re-read the Twilight saga multiple times... 

...and failed. 

The books had simply lost their magic for me. 

The story seemed dull and nonsensical, Bella had become the epitome of a Mary Sue, the writing was now apparently mediocre, and Breaking Dawn’s lackluster climax angered me to the point of speechlessness (it still does). 

So, I gave up re-reading the series and while I deemed that it was perhaps not as wonderful and life-changing as it had been for 8th grade Melissa, I still appreciated what it had done for me personally and the experiences that I had gained through the books. 

Speaking of 8th grade Melissa, the original Midnight Sun, that being twelve chapters of the original manuscript that had been leaked back in 2008, had been put up on Stephenie Meyer’s website for all to enjoy. 

Like the good, whipped fangirl I was, I devoured all 12 chapters with ease and lamented the loss of never getting more than that snapshot of Edward’s thoughts and musings. 

Now, twelve years later, the full book has been written, published, and released to the delight and downright shock to many age-old Twilight fans that had believed that series to be dead and buried, myself included. 

So, when the book came out this August, I swallowed my trepidation, knowing that my love for the characters was now long gone, but I believed that the sentimentality of 8th grade Melissa’s obsession would long linger, making this a pleasant blast from the past to lift my mood. 

Unfortunately, this wasn’t the case. 

Now, that I’ve told you my whole life story in an effort to explain why I have the feelings I do and to justify that I’m not just being negative for the sake of being negative, this book did not hold up to any of my expectations. 

One, it was so freaking long. 

Holy shit, was this book long. 

As I have said countless times on this blog, I like big books (and I cannot lie). It’s the best feeling in the world when you get into a story and you realize that you have many days ahead of you of being engulfed within this new world that you’ve fallen head-over-heels for. 

It’s the opposite, sinking feeling of dread when you feel like you’ve been reading the book for weeks and are getting nothing out of it. 

Midnight Sun was a lot like that.

It was too long to be good, especially considering the length was not generally driven by plot, but instead driven by Edward thinking of every fucking thing to the nth degree and driving me crazy in the process. 

Homeboy needs to take a chill pill, he overstresses, overthinks, and overanalyzes everything to the point of irritation as a reader. 

Meyer’s editor really needed to step in and say, “Hey, Stephenie...is all of this really necessary?” and then proceed to cut out at least 300 pages of nonsense. 

But that didn’t happen, probably because first and foremost, the book was already going to sell no matter what changes or edits were made, and this seemed like a book more for Stephenie than anyone else. 

It was very much stream of consciousness like I’ve already said, a style of writing defined as a literary style in which a character's thoughts, feelings, and reactions are depicted in a continuous flow uninterrupted by objective description or conventional dialogue. 

It wasn’t on the level of James Joyce’s Ulysses or other notable works, but damn was it close. 

This writing style I found abhorrently repetitive and exceptionally dull. 

Perhaps my fourteen-year-old self would have felt differently and would have sucked up anything about Edward Cullen eagerly considering he was the fictional love of my life. 

Or perhaps this book would have made me go running and screaming in the opposite direction as Edward is...kind of awful?

One positive thing I can say about this book is that it paints Bella Swan in a very rosy light, which was actually very refreshing. One of the most famous criticisms that Meyer’s has received is Bella’s lack of character, development, and attributes. 

Seeing Bella from Edward’s perspective instead of vice-versa actually showed how kind, thoughtful, and selfless she is, all things that I had never really picked up on before. 

I still find her inexcusably dumb sometimes, but much of time during this book, Bella was actually far favorable to Edward or any other character, a blasphemous statement of irony if I had ever heard one. 

The payoff, however, is Edward’s reveal as not chivalrous, not gentlemanly, and not as wonderful as I remember. He’s arrogant, selfish, obsessive, and honestly? Downright creepy. 

The stalking reaches new levels of not okay, often with him trying to justify his less than criminal activities with the notion of her “safety” as the priority, which I found complete bullshit. 

I found Edward domineering, cold, aggravating, and lackluster, statements which would literally have made my old self sob, which I honestly did when Edward left in New Moon. 

I used to be an avid Jacob hater and lover of Edward to the extreme back in the day. Now, I would weep for joy if he left, root for Jacob all the way, and hope that the horrible name of Renesmee never needed to come to fruition in the first place. 

Oh, how the turns have tabled. 

Other than the atrocious length, my other large criticism came in the form of well...the book was naturally boring in my opinion. Meyer tries to create tension and moments of suspense, but...we already know what happens. 

We know the next few years actually. We know they get married, have a baby, and Bella gets turned into a vampire. So all moments of tension and suspense are unceremoniously tossed out the window. 

You might say, typedwriter, that’s unfair! We didn’t read this for the tension and suspenseful plot that we already know! We read this to get new information and insight into the Cullens and Edward especially. What do the Cullens do at home? How do they interact? What does this juicy insider insight look like?

Well, I still don’t know because we hardly saw any of it. 

I was the most curious about the Cullens as a family unit and more information into how they functioned, interacted, and cohabited. I even wrote a fanfiction back in the day about what freaking Esme did home alone because I was so intrigued by the idea, but nope! 

Edward was always stalking Bella 24/7 so almost no new information was gleaned about the Cullens, sucks for you. 

There would be little nuggets here and there, little bouts of cool information (Apparently Esme just stays home all day every day doing….nothing?), but not nearly enough to justify a 600+ page book of a recycled plot that we were already familiar with. 

I needed more from this book, craved all the little moments in between, and it was a letdown to the most extreme proportions. 

Recommendation: I didn’t really enjoy this read despite my past involvement with the series, my lingering fondness for the movies on a cold, rainy day, and the still sporadic delves into Twilight fanfiction that maintains its reputation of quality and characters. 

Twilight will always have a special place in my heart for what it did for me and the people it brought into my life, but I wish I had remembered Midnight Sun as the 12 chapters I read on Stephenie Meyer’s website when I was fourteen and infatuated instead of 26 and uninterested and unforgiving. 

Score: 4/10

[schrijverr]

The Great Whale Fight of 326,501

Some of the crew doesn’t believe that whales exists, when this comes to light a fight starts between the two sides, ending in flat-planeters and fun Tshirts.

On AO3.

Ships: none

warnings: none, but tell me if I missed anything or if you want me to tag something!!

I blame @assyer for this whole fic and will deny any responsibility in the creation or origin of this fic.

~~~~~~~~~~~

A whale.

It is a normal animal that most on this earth are familiar with. Hardly anyone has seen one in real life, but almost no one has never heard the word.

But the mechanisms are not from this world, except for Tim, who will tear his own hair out if you mention a whale in his presence.

Tim does not hate whales, of course he doesn’t. Whales are great, sweet animals that he cannot picture in his mind because they’re so big. Tim used to love whales. Used to until the Great Whale Fight of 326,501.

It had all started with Brian getting fished out of the sun. He had been there for a few centuries while the other were exploring the rest of space until the narrative would let them near Camelot again.

When Brain was out of the sun The Toy Soldier asked concerned: “Are You Alright, Old Chap? Not Too Lonely In The Sun?”

“No, no, I had the whales to keep me company.” Brian answered.

“Brian, are you delirious? Is your mechanism failing?” Jonny slapped his face, trying to snap him out of whatever daze he was in, “We both know whales aren’t real.”

“According to my books whales are gigantic seas creatures native to the planet earth documented during the human era.” Ivy told Jonny.

“Of course there are whales, they were in the books.” Tim backed Ivy up.

“Books are rubbish and full of myths, you can’t trust them. Whales aren’t real and even if they were they’re apparently sea creatures, not sun creatures.” Jonny said.

“No, they were there, in the sun. They had puppy eyes, very sweet.” Brian insisted.

“Yeah, okay, Brian is broken. Where is Nastya?” Jonny let go of the lapels of Brians coat, how it had survived he did not know, as the drumbot fell back to the floor.

“I’m here.” Nastya replied distantly from where she was standing at the observation deck, desperately looking to the sun.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Jonny asked.

“Trying to see one of the whales. I miss whales.” Nastya replied.

“I just said they aren’t real.” Jonny threw his hands up.

“And since when do you get to decide that?” Tim asked, “You are not really the one I would go to for facts. Whales are real.”

“I’m with Tim here.” Ivy said.

“Hey! When I showed up and said whales were my favourite animals you all didn’t want to believe me, but now we’re defending them?” Marius exclaimed.

“Because it was funny, Marius.” Tim replied, “Besides, whales don’t prove you’re a doctor.”

“I didn’t even say that!” Marius’ yell was ignored.

“I don’t think whales are real.” Ashes said, picking a side despite not having an opinion just for the chaos of it.

“Yeah there are.” Nastya frowned, “There are space whales and water whales. I saw them when you left me after I sunk on that one planet.”

“You mean that time on earth, before any interesting evolution had happened?” Jonny asked, “That was ages ago, you probably don’t remember it right.”

“Exactly, whales aren’t real. They’re made up by not real scientists.” Raphaella mixed herself into the conversation as well.

“See, the scientist agrees. I’m right.” Jonny said smugly.

“You never believe Raphaella, why are you starting now?” Marius protested.

“Because you believe her, so why not now, von Raum? Wanna explain that?” and Marius wanted nothing more than to punch Jonny in the face, especially when Raph send him an inquisitive look and Ashes grinned: “Yeah, Marius, why won’t you explain that one?”

He clenched his fist and then just went for it, sucker punching Jonny right in the face with his metal hand, enjoying the crunching noise his jaw made.

“Whale side started!” Ashes yelled, before charging at Marius.

After that it was every man for himself. Ashes was chocking Marius while Tim was trying to fend off Raphaellas wings, while Ivy was trying to save herself from Jonnys attacks, who was getting help from TS after a quick order. Brian laid forgotten on the floor, still trying to heal, and Nastya smartly heaved herself up into a vent before anyone could drag her into it.

There was no clear winner, even after the whole thing had dragged on for three full days, so each side declared themselves the winners.

In the following days there was no fraternization between them. If before you were friends with someone who did or did not believe in whales, depending on which side you were on, now you weren’t.

Raphaella and Marius no longer did science together, Brian and Ivy were no longer invited to The Toy Soldiers tea party and Jonny was giving Nastya the cold shoulder, while Ashes refused to play cards with Tim.

This went on for a long while, about four months, but it was getting annoying, so Jonny knew that he would have to stoke the fire before it ended.

Taking inspiration from Ulysses he proposed a truce by giving Nastya and Brian both the same shirt that read: ‘I was lefd on a plannet end al I saw was a wale’

The two in question were ecstatic, both with the shirt and a reason to leave the fight that had broken out. Brian didn’t like fighting and Nastya just didn’t care enough, she only wanted to see some more whales. Brian was easily convinced to fly closely past a sun in an attempt to spot them.

Ivy, however, was not at all amused at the shirts. When she saw the two wearing them, she immediately found Jonny and yelled: “A sun is not a planet and there are no whales in the sun!”

“Why not, it’s also flat and in space?” Jonny shrugged, “Besides, Brian and Nastya seem to think otherwise. Thought they were on your side?”

“They were, uh, they are!” Ivy said defensively, “You’re just trying to win them over.”

“And I feel that is going pretty well.” Jonny stuck out his tongue.

“Wait, Jonny, did you just say that suns are flat like planets?” Marius asked, from where he was sitting on the couch. Beside him Ashes smelled Jonnys bullshit they and innocently said: “Yeah, duh, who doesn’t know that?”

Marius gaped like a fish and looked like he was about to explode as Ivy screamed: “We literally fly past planets every fucking day! How the fuck do you not know they are round not fucking flat!”

“Because I have common sense, Ivy.” Jonny told her, basking in the chaos he was creating, “If I stand then the ground around me is flat. There is such a thing called being level that can’t happen if a planet is round, it has to be flat.”

“Yeah, how can you debunk that, eh, Ivy.” Ashes grinned.

“Planets are big, okay? They can be round with a slight slope that you don’t notice and therefore feel flat, but they are not flat, just look outside, just look through any of the windows on Aurora and look at any planet ever.” Ivys cheeks were beginning to match the color of her hair as she got angrier.

“And how do we not fall off then, someone has to be on the underside.” Ashes asked, phrasing it like they were telling her something and she was dumb.

“Because gravity!” Marius exploded, “Tell me you know fucking gravity!”

“No, I don’t believe in that.” Jonny said calmly, backing Ashes up without a blink.

“First whales, now this, what are you going to say next.” Ivy screamed frustrated.

“Fucking nothing if I have anything to say about it.” Marius said, jumping Jonny to kill him so often it would take a month to reform.

And with a cackle from Jonny a new fight broke out again. The animosity from this fight lasted about a year, but was never fully resolved.

The terms whale and flat in combination with planet were banned, with Aurora shooting anyone who brought it up again.

So yeah, Tim used to love whales, Marius too, but the Great Whale Fight of 326,501 kind of ruined it for everyone that wasn’t Ashes or Jonny as well as Brian and Nastya, who now spend about an hour every week together trying to spot some whales out there in the vastness of space.

[spine-buster]

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 9

November 14th, 2019

Aberdeen Bloom was looking at herself in the mirror.  

She wore a beautiful, shimmery navy blue dress she thought completely colour-appropriate for the occasion and used the same pair of heels she wore to prom to complete the outfit.  She’d taken an Uber though the walk would have only been seven minutes (she didn’t want to do that in heels) to the Ritz-Carlton Hotel on Wellington Street, where the dinner was taking place in the Wellington Room.  Many of the official guests were already there: Kyle and his wife Shannon; Peter, his assistant; Brandon and Laurence and their wives; Cliff Fletcher; Brad Lynn; Leanne Hederson; Hayley Wickenheiser; Mike Babcock and his wife; all of the Leafs community representatives who just happened to be Leafs alumni.  Then, all the big wigs from MLSE there: the entire Board of Directors, Larry Tanenbaum included; and the entire “Leaders” team anybody could see on the official website.  The people that she didn’t recognize she could only assume were the major donors – the reason they were all there.

John and his wife Aryne thankfully saw her almost immediately and hugged her, keeping her company until Brendan arrived.  He had texted her that he was two minutes away, and when he did, she went to meet him at the door.  He exited the town car with his wife Catherine, looking absolutely glamourous.  Lou waved at her from the front seat.

“Hello Aberdeen,” Brendan smiled as he approached her, his wife’s arm tucked into his.  

“Good evening Mr. Shanahan.”

“Brendan,” he quipped.  “Aberdeen, I’d like you to meet my wife, Catherine.  Catherine this is Aberdeen, my executive assistant.”

“Hi Aberdeen,” she smiled widely, extending her hand to shake.  “It’s so nice to finally meet you.  Brendan has told me so much about you.”

“Only the good things, I hope,” she joked.

“Brendan can only say good things about Etobicoke girls,” she winked.  “You look fabulous, by the way.”

“Oh, thank you!”

The three of them walked through the foyer and up the stairs together, with Catherine almost immediately seeing someone she knew, letting go of Brendan’s arm and going over to say hi.  “Do you want me to get you anything?  A drink maybe?” Aberdeen asked.

“Not right now.  I just need to know where my wife and I are sitting.”

“We’re at table one, just to the right of the stage,” she informed him.  “We’re with Kyle and Shannon, Peter, Masai and Ramatu, and Larry and Judy Tanenbaum.”

“Perfect.  Thank you.  And the prizes are all here?”

“Yes sir.  If you go into the Wellington Room they’re all along the wall like you requested.”

“And my speech?”

Aberdeen tapped at her clutch – a borrow from Kasha.  “Right here.”

“Good thing I always keep an extra one,” he said, tapping his chest to where his inside pocket was.  He let out a breath.  “Everybody here?”

“Seems like it, but I know we’re still waiting for a few more people.  I haven’t seen some familiar faces.”

“Okay,” he nodded.  “Well, feel free to mingle, Aberdeen.  This is a good opportunity for you to meet people.  When we’re all seated for dinner, I’ll let you know if you need to do anything – if that.  Just enjoy your time.”

She was a bit taken aback by that statement.  “W…what?  But I’m on the clock.  You said so yourself.”

Brendan laughed.  “I want you to mingle and have fun.  Network a bit.  I know all of these people.  I don’t need to be reminded of who they are,” he explained.  “There’s only a hundred or so of them anyway.  The Night With the Blue and White in January – that’s much bigger.  This is child’s play.  So have fun,” he smiled at her.  “Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to go find my wife.”

“Okay sir.”

“Brendan,” he looked over his shoulder slightly as he walked away from her, approaching his wife who was chatting with an equally glamourous looking woman.

Aberdeen didn’t know what to do with herself.  He wanted her to network?  Not work?  Really?  She tried to find a familiar face in the crowd, but John and Aryne were speaking to another couple, and even Peter, Kyle’s assistant, was engrossed in a conversation with Leanne Hederson.  She felt awkward approaching them even though she knew Leanne and spoke with her on multiple occasions.  Being in an office was one thing, but in such a formal setting like this, the vibe was much different.  

“Girl Friday?” a voice asked from behind her.  

She closed her eyes and immediately cringed.  Turning around, she saw Ethan Baker standing behind her.  She tried not to vomit in her mouth.  “You really need to stop calling me that.”

“You got an invite?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” she asked.

“I thought this was only for important people,” he said.

She rolled her eyes.  A waitress approached them with some flutes of drinks, and Aberdeen took one, knowing she’d need alcohol to get through whatever conversation she was about to have with Ethan.  Ethan took one too, taking a quick sip.  “Thanks, Ethan.  I can always count on you to bring me back down to earth when my head is getting too big,” she quipped.

“You look good though,” he said.  

She furrowed her brows; she didn’t know a compliment was capable of coming out of his mouth.  “Uh, thanks?”

He gave her a very obvious up-down, taking her all in.  This was getting more awkward by the second.  Was he already drunk?  He focused in on her arms.  “You have tattoos?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Why haven’t I seen them?”

“I guess you weren’t looking.”

Ethan furrowed his brows.  “Has Brendan seen them?”

“Of course he has.  It’s not like they’re offensive.  They’re lines from poems,” she said, almost immediately regretting it.  She knew she was going to have to explain them at one point or another, but she wanted to prolong that as much as possible.

“What are they?” he asked, turning his head to the side as if that would give him a better look.

She sighed.  “The one below the right elbow is the last line from the poem Ulysses by Alfred, Lord Tennyson – ‘to strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield’,” she said, flashing the delicate ink quickly.  “And the one below the left elbow is from the Roman philosopher Seneca – ‘we are waves of the same sea’.”

He squinted at them, taking in the information that she was telling him.  “They’re a bit dumb, Brendan Girl.”

Aberdeen’s breath hitched in her throat.  She didn’t need stupid idiot Ethan Baker to approve of her tattoos by any means, but even unacknowledging them or changing the subject immediately afterwards would have been nicer.  He had no idea what they meant to her; no idea about their significance.  And now, he even gave her another stupid nickname.  Even stupider than the last.  “Wow, you really know how to charm a girl, huh?”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

“And all this time I thought you just watched video playback all day.”

“More important than getting coffee, wouldn’t you say?”

“Hey, Aberdeen!” a voice suddenly called out from across the foyer.  Both Ethan and Aberdeen looked to see Jason and Jennifer Spezza approaching them.  Aberdeen had never been so happy to see his goofy smile in her life.  From behind him, she saw William wearing a perfectly tailored three-piece blue suit.  God, they fucking matched.  Of all colours he had to wear tonight��

“Hey Jason,” Ethan said, trying to take over, even going so far as extending his hand so Jason could shake it.  

Jason completely ignored him as he leaned in to give Aberdeen a quick kiss on the cheek.  Aberdeen eyed William standing behind him as he did so, who was looking down at Ethan’s hand.  “Aberdeen, you’ve met Jen at the SBA,” he said, motioning between her and his wife.  

“It’s so nice to see you again, Aberdeen,” Jen smiled as she gave her a kiss on the cheek.  “I love your dress.”

“Oh, thanks Jen!” Aberdeen smiled, patting it down slightly, suddenly a bit self-conscious.  Much like Aryne Tavares and Catherine Shanahan, Jen looked absolutely glamourous and flawless.  Aberdeen, on the other hand, felt like she stuck out like a sore thumb.  She was appropriately dressed, but these women just exuded a confidence and elegance she was sure she didn’t have.  At least yet.  She eyed William patiently waiting for a greeting and decided to indulge him.  “Hi William.”

“Hey Aberdeen,” he said, leaning in and giving her a kiss on the cheek.  “Do I look good?”

“You look like you should be in an Abba tribute band.”

Jason, Jen, and William laughed at her comment; Ethan did not.  He had never been in on the joke.  “Well, we match,” William commented, eyeing her body in the dress.

“You know what they say…great minds,” Jason quipped.  

***

The dinner was going off without a hitch.  She sat in between Brendan and Peter at the table, looking out onto all the guests seated at theirs.  Brendan made a nice speech before dinner, as did Larry Tanenbaum.  They had a champagne toast and were served a delicious appetizer.  Aberdeen was looking forward to the incoming filet.  She excused herself from the table to go to the bar, wanting to grab a ginger ale before the main course.  She wouldn’t drink in front of Brendan, despite his insistence that it was okay.  

As she waited, she saw Ethan approach the bar too, but she tried to ignore him.  He ended up standing right next to her, so interaction was inevitable.  She truly wondered why he wanted to interact with her so much if all he did was put her down.  It was clear he had a sick ego, and that putting people down fed that ego.  But why did he pick on her?  And did he pick on anyone else?  Maybe people in his own department?

She decided not to say hi to him – not to start an interaction at all.  Maybe he’d ignore her and be on his merry way.  But as with every interaction with Ethan, that would not be the case.  “You having a good time at the table with the big boys, Brendan girl?” he asked, leaning one arm against the bar.

“It’s fun,” she nodded her head, trying to say as little as possible.

“I still can’t believe you’re in that position.  That he hired you over some of the more qualified people that applied,” he shook his head.

How the hell did he know?  How the hell did video analyst Ethan Baker know any of the other candidates who applied to the posi—oh my God.  ‘Oh my God’ Aberdeen thought to herself.  He applied to the position.  He knew who the other candidates were because he applied to the position and didn’t get it.  Brendan hired her instead.  That’s why he was the way he was with her.  “Why is it so unbelievable?” she asked, now having to mask the fact that she knew why he was always being a dick to her.

“Do you even know, or did you even hear of who Larry Tanenbaum was before you worked here?”

“I’m sorry, but did we all not watch him lift the Larry O’Brien in June?” she asked.  “Do you honestly think I’m that dumb?”

“I don’t think you’re dumb.  I just think you’re unqualified,” he clarified, because that made it so much better.  “It’s a great job.  I just hope you know how lucky you are.”

“I do,” she said.  That was all she heard since she started this job.

“And besides – it’s a good thing that your friends with the guys now, you know,” he said, the jealousy coming back in his voice.

“Why’s that?”

He shrugged his shoulders.  “It makes the job easier.  Maybe one of them will take pity on you.  You’ll never survive Brendan,” he said matter-of-factly.  

Her mouth dropped.  She’d been surviving so far, albeit with some hiccups along the way…what made him think she would never survive Brendan?  “E…Excuse me?”

“You seem nice…smart,” he said.  “You can’t do that job.”

The bartender finally placed her ginger ale in front of her – and thank God he did, because she’d had enough.  Fuck him.  Fuck Ethan Baker.  “Gotta go,” she mumbled, turning on her heels to leave.

“Bye Brendan Girl.”

***

“It was so nice to see you, Aberdeen,” Jennifer Spezza hugged her one last time as Jason waved at her from the curb.  She was still inside, keeping warm; he was out on the sidewalk, hailing a taxi.  “You’re getting an Uber, right?” she asked.

“Yes ma’am,” Aberdeen nodded her head, flashing her phone.

Jen looked towards William.  “And you’re staying with her until it comes?”

“Yes ma’am,” he nodded his head.

“Good,” she said definitively.  She pushed the door open with William’s help.  “I’ll see you soon, Aberdeen.  Stay safe!” she called out as she ran as quickly as her heels could let her towards the taxi.  Jen sent one final wave as the taxi drove away, leaving Aberdeen and William alone.

Will was, of course, the first to look at her.  “How far away is the Uber?” he asked.

“Two minutes according to the app,” Aberdeen said as she glanced at her phone.  

“And you don’t…I mean, you don’t want to walk home?” he asked, a glimmer of hope in his voice.  

“Not in these heels,” Aberdeen giggled.  “My feet are already killing me.”

“I could carry you.”

Aberdeen gave Will a look.  “We’re not going to do that to your back.”

“Come on,” he smiled mischievously.  “I bet I could do it.”

“Too bad we’re not going to try,” she said, glancing down at her phone again.  “We should go outside to wave the car down.”

William opened the door for her, and they walked out together.  Aberdeen looked to her left to try to see if the car was coming.  William was only looking at her – how she looked between the street and her phone to see if the car was getting any closer.  How her hair blew in the wind of the night.  “Tomorrow’s going to be the last time I see you for two weeks,” he said, his voice low.  He tried to imprint how she looked right now into his mind so he could remember it on the road trip.  

“I know.”

“Did Brendan tell you why he wasn’t coming with us?” he asked.  

“No.  But it’s probably because it’s too long to be away from his family,” Aberdeen said.  “His kids are his life.  He wouldn’t miss a school function or any of that.”

William watched as she waved down the Uber, who pulled up to the curb.  He wanted to get into the car with her.  He wanted to go back with her to her building, no matter how short the ride was.  Just to be able to stare at her a little bit longer.  Just to spend more time with her, since he wasn’t able to spend all the time he wanted to spend with her tonight.  “I’m going to miss you,” he said.

He could see her bite her lip.  She looked up at him, her hand already on the handle.  “Will…”

“Aberdeen?  Aberdeen is that you?” a voice rang out suddenly, interrupting the moment.

Aberdeen and William looked to their left.  A man was standing in a stylish peacoat, his group of friends continuing to walk ahead of him at a slower pace.  He had a bewildered look on his face, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.  William looked down at Aberdeen.  She looked like she’d just seen a ghost.  “Zane.  Hi.”

“Oh my God.  Didn’t think I’d ever catch you outside the Ritz Carlton,” Zane smiled, approaching closer to them.  “How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been good,” she gulped, trying to clear her mind of all the memories that were popping up.  She felt William’s hand on her back and it brought her back down to earth.  “William, this is Zane.  Zane, this is William N—”

“Zane Kennedy,” he interrupted her, shaking William’s hand almost too enthusiastically.  “Aberdeen and I dated in university, but we’re friends now.”

Aberdeen wanted to protest.  They weren’t friends.  They were the furthest thing from being friends.  They’d barely spoken since the breakup, since he was such a jackass about it and broke her heart.  She hadn’t been with anyone since – well, besides William.  That’s how much it affected her.  And she was sure William was the only person capable of helping her get over him.

“You don’t say,” Will said, his tone slightly sarcastic.  He looked down at Aberdeen and didn’t see any friendliness in her eyes.  He only saw contempt for the statement Zane just made, which made William know he was lying.  

Zane focused his attention back to Aberdeen.  “What are you doing out here?”

“I…I just came from an event,” she said.  She felt William’s arm snake around her waist even more, making her shiver.

“An event?  With the bank?  Or did you finally figure out what you wanted to do?”

Now she was getting angry.  She always knew what she wanted to do; he just didn’t think being a writer was a serious career choice.  She mustered up all the confidence within her.  “No, not with the bank.  I work for the Toronto Maple Leafs.”

Zane was taken aback at the news.  “The…Toronto Maple Leafs?” he asked.  “Like the hockey team?”

“That’s why she was going to introduce you to William Nylander before you interrupted her,” William piped up, smiling slightly.  

Zane was smart enough to get the hint William was making.  He smiled.  “You know, I thought you looked familiar,” he told William.

“You’ve probably seen me on TV once or twice,” Will quipped.

Zane could tell where this was going.  There was a lot he could have said to Aberdeen, but with William there, he decided against it.  He did have to admit one thing, though.  “Well, you look good Aberdeen,” he said, licking his lips quickly.  

William could feel a rush of irritation and impatience coursing through his veins at Zane’s comment.  “She does, doesn’t she?” he asked rhetorically.  “She looked even better inside without her coat on, but only us lucky ones got to see that,” he said, staring directly into Zane’s eyes.  “Now if you don’t mind, I have to make sure she gets home safe, or else I’ll have to answer to Brendan Shanahan and to Jennifer Spezza, and, well – between you and I – I’m more scared of Jennifer Spezza.”

“That’s cool,” Zane said, backing up.  “Have a good night, Aberdeen.”

William opened the car door behind her as she watched Zane rejoin his friends who had been looking on at the interaction.  She shuffled into the backseat, watching as William waved dramatically at Zane before getting into the backseat beside her.  “It’s a very quick drive, I know.  But I promise I’ll tip you a lot,” she said as the driver signalled to merge onto the road again.

She looked over at William who was still seething slightly at the comments Zane made.  She was realizing a lot of things lately, and here was yet another one: no matter how hard she tried to suppress what was happening between them, she would still have feelings for William, and he would still have feeling for her.  It was inevitable.  Nothing could stop it.  She could say anything, do anything – it didn’t matter.  William was competitive.  William was persistent.  William was determined.   William was…William.  It would be hard, she’d give him that – because absolutely nothing could happen while she was working for Brendan and the Leafs – but she could finally admit to herself, at least, that there was something there.  Something that William absolutely refused to hide.  And in him refusing to hide it, it just made her own feelings bubble slowly towards the surface, like lava oozing out of a volcano.  

But nothing could happen.  Not now, if not ever.  Regardless of how William felt.  Regardless of how she felt.

“You dated that guy?” William asked, his voice breaking her thoughts.

“Yeah.  For most of third year university,” she admitted.

“He’s a bit of a dick.”

She laughed.  If William could ascertain that after a minute long conversation, she could only imagine what opinion he’d have of Zane after an entire conversation.  “You’re telling me.”

“Why’d you guys break up?” William asked.

She gave him a look.  He just had to know.  He just really had to know.  “We outgrew each other.  He also didn’t think writing was a serious career path.  He told me I should consider a Master’s, or go to law school like him,” she explained.  “He was the one who initiated the breakup, saying that he wanted to take the last year of university to, like, be one with himself and figure out if law school was really for him.  But a month after we broke up, he was hooking up and dating this girl we knew, Alessia – a total smokeshow but dumb as a rock.  Anyways, judging by his pretentious jacket, he got into law school.”  She paused, considering the timeline of the events.  “I think it was just three weeks, actually.”

“You deserve better than that,” William said after a moment of silence, digesting her words.  He wanted to stop the Uber so he could run back to Zane and punch him in the face.  He couldn’t believe someone would have the gall to treat her like that.  And then to see her in the street and approach her like an old friend?  How dare he.

“I know I do,” she said as she looked out the window.

William took a few deep breaths as he looked at her, wanting to say so many things but unable to decide exactly what to say.  She still looked so beautiful and he didn’t know how to use his words.  He was so desperate; so desperate to touch her even though he knew she’d flinch away; so desperate to kiss her even though he knew it was wrong.  He didn’t know how he was going to last two whole weeks without seeing her when she’d become such a staple in his life.  He had to physically restrain himself from placing his hand on her arm.  “Can we FaceTime when I’m gone?”

Aberdeen whipped her head to look at him.  From the look on her face it was as if he just proposed they elope in Las Vegas.  “Will, no.”

“Aberdeen, please—please—”

“No way William.  No way.”

“It’s not like you’re going to be at the office when we do—”

“Will, that’s…that’s really inappropriate.”

“Aberdeen—”

“William—”

“Can’t you tell by now I don’t care that it’s inappropriate?” he asked.  His hand had inched towards hers and was merely centimetres away before he had the wherewithal to pull it back dramatically.  Not being able to hold her hand was absolute fucking torture for him and he didn’t know how he was going to survive it.

“Well can’t you tell by now I do care?” she retorted.  “It can’t happen Will.  There’s no way.”

He admitted defeat.  There was no way he would win this, no matter how much he begged.  No matter how much he tried to explain himself.  “I’m just gonna miss you, Aberdeen.  And I’m gonna want to see you.”

“I know you will,” she said.  “But it can’t happen Will.  I’m sorry.”

The Uber driver pulled up to the curb outside Aberdeen’s building, where William had dropped her off at almost the same time last night.  Aberdeen thanked him, getting out of the car.  William slid towards where she had just been and rolled down the window.  “I’ll see you tomorrow, right?” he asked.  They were facing the Bruins tomorrow.  She needed to be there.  

“I’ll be there,” she said, unable to hold her smile.  “Get some sleep, Will.  You’ve gotta score tomorrow.”

“Only for you, minskatt.”

[jackandthesoulmates]

Innocence Lost

Author: jackandthesoulmates / tintentrinkerin

Title: Innocence Lost

Created for @winklinebingo

Squares filled: Teen Rebellion, Dating Apps, Virginity

Pairing: Winkline [SamJack], [dysfunctional] Destiel mention

Warnings: Attempted Non-Con

Additional tags: Identity Crisis, Sexuality Crisis, Roofies Mention, Canon Divergency, Original Characters, pan/demi Sam Winchester, Swearing

Word count: 15,691

COMPLETED [READ ON AO3]

Inspired by “Gods and Monsters” (Lana Del Rey)

I Was An Angel

She’s a pretty girl. She really is. 

Long curly, glossy hair and she always smells like flowers. Or cherries. Sometimes bubblegum. Jack is very sensitive to sweet smells and tastes and this girl is just a bouquet of the sugary and most flowery things. He likes smelling her and he likes her voice, it always sounds like she’s singing or telling a fairytale. She even has a princess name: Aurora. 

Her eyes remind him of Castiel, intense blue with yellow speckles. Jack has read some love poems before, by Shakespeare and Wilde and Rilke and he thought of this girl when he read them. She is love poem perfect.

But, look. Thing is, yes she’s cute, she’s stunning, she’s like a spring breeze and a lot of boys would probably sacrifice a hand to be with her. And Jack is her boyfriend. For about two weeks now. 

Jack has no idea how to do this whole relationship thing. He met her when he was about to go buy some bread and pie. He had gone out with his pajama shorts still on and he didn’t even notice. Aurora was behind him in line and when they both were done buying their groceries, she stopped him and whispered in his ear, “You’re still wearing your pajamas!”

The whole which-clothes-when issue was still new to him, that’s why he messed up. And he apologized to her, but she only laughed. And her laughter made him feel better. She made him feel better all around. 

Jack didn’t know much of the world. Of course, he already knew a lot. He knew about hunting and friendships, about family and good and evil. He had experienced a lot already.

In theory, he knew about love. He asked Dean about love and sex. The answers haven’t been all too satisfying and there was no intrinsic feeling, no urge for Jack to go out there and find love. Or sex. He’s found Aurora now, that sweet girl, that perfect girl. She liked him a lot, he knew it. Two weeks are enough to fall in love, it seems. 

Jack isn’t in love. He knows it. Love feels different. Dean and Castiel both have described for him what love feels like. Their wording has been totally different but it was clear they mean the same thing. And they love each other, despite their differing descriptions. 

Why is he with her then?, he asks himself a lot. Because she is nice? She is pretty? She makes him smile? She laughs with him, not at him.

To her, Jack is just a quirky shy boy. He’s not the Spawn of Satan, or a Nephilim, or a Time Bomb. He’s not a tool. Not a weapon. Not an abomination.

He’s just that kid living with these three middle aged weirdos who live in a bunker outside of Lebanon. She never judges. 

What is love then?

Jack has an answer to that. He feels butterflies in his stomach, but it took him a while to understand it was a figure of speech. There were no actual butterflies in his stomach. But it was a tingling, a pull, heart pounding in his chest. Sweating. Shaking. Becoming super dumb all of a sudden, because Jack would confuse words, form abstruse sentences and just completely messes it up. He feels all that. He has dreams about this person and his underwear is wet the next morning. He had googled it and it seems to be a normal thing to happen to boys. But he feels embarrassed every time and hates it when someone else does the laundry. He doesn’t want other people to touch his dirty laundry. He also daydreams about kisses, and hugs, and heavy breathing, of noises that sound like Jack’s in pain, but he clearly isn’t.

Sometimes he would stare at the wall for solid minutes before he snaps out of daydreaming or someone catches his attention. Either by door slamming, “Kid, you there?” or - what Dean likes to do - throwing chocolate bars at him. Jack has angel reflexes, nothing ever hits him. Dean knows it. 

Jack also has been exposed to “adult magazines” already. Dean seems to hide his magazines all over the bunker and it was just a matter of time til Jack found one and took a close, very close look. He was confused about the nudity first, he was told nudity is for showers, bedrooms and birth apparently. He’s been born naked and Sam told him, babies were born naked. And people got naked when they ‘made love’ but that was something Sam didn’t talk about. Jack had asked, but Sam denied telling him how one ‘makes’ love.

The nudity wasn’t the only thing Jack was astounded about. What these people did looked very, very peculiar. And Jack put the magazine back, when his body from belly button down felt tingly, hot and somehow itchy. Even his ‘down there’ started growing. It got hard. It confused him for a while but when his crotch grew soft, he felt relieved and never looked at something like this again.

Later he found out there was a way to make it go soft ‘down there’ again. He just needs to touch himself and what happens then is bombastic. And messy.

This feeling, love. Was he ‘making’ it? But according to Sam two people were needed to make love together. Feeling it all by his own couldn’t be the same then. Jack was confused. 

To add to his confusion, when he was at a case with Dean, Dean had talked about courting and ‘the sex’ and Dean has made fun of him when he came home two weeks ago and announced he had a girlfried. 

“Which base? First? Second?”

Sam gave Dean a scowl and a slight punch against the chest.

“Don’t listen to him, Jack. We’re happy for you.”

When he was in his room at night, he barely slept. As a half angel he didn’t need as much sleep as a human. And he knew that Castiel never sleeps. Sometimes they met in the library to talk and play chess or Go. On some other nights when Castiel wasn’t in the bunker or with Dean, Jack would just read whatever came in handy. They had a large library, but Jack was a fast reader and soon he had to download books to his eReader that Sam gave him for his first birthday. But also, this tiny piece of electronics didn’t have enough capacity to download all the books Jack would read in a week, that’s why he asked Sam for a new microSD card for his smartphone. Sam didn’t say no to Jack very often. Jack read Victor Hugo and Jean-Paul Sartre, also Marcel Proust and he had a great time reading Finnegans Wake and Ulysses. He wished James Joyce was still alive, because Jack wanted to tell him what a great and funny piece of literature he had written.

He asked Sam to summon James Joyce. 

Sam thought he was messing with him, then said ‘no’.

Jack doesn’t like it when people tell him ‘no’ and that makes it even harder now for him to say no to Aurora. 

It’s their second week and she’s so in love with him. Well, that's what she tells Jack. And he likes her pink lips, they look like flower petals and he wonders how they feel. 

Exactly what Aurora wants him to do, outside the waffle’s place. She wants to kiss him and she looks pretty, her closed eyes, a tiny raindrop caught in her long eyelashes and she smells of vanilla and there’s still powdered sugar on her chin. 

Jack backs away. Her pouty lips look nice and he wants to feel them. With his finger.

When she realizes Jack isn’t leaning in to kiss her, she opens her eyes. She looks hurt.

“Did I do something wrong?”, she asks. 

Jack feels incredibly bad about the situation and he doesn’t even know what to say. He can't explain why shies away from a kiss. 

He hasn’t been kissed ever before. And he thinks of someone else when he closes his eyes at night, hand under the cover, rubbing himself through the fabric of his pajamas.

“I’m sorry, I…I have never kissed someone before, I’m…I’m nervous.”

That isn't a lie, he tells himself. It’s not a lie. Lying is bad.

“Oh”, she mouths. A perfect O shape with her lips. 

“Are you mad at me, Aurora?”, he asks, feeling very bad and guilty. 

Jack hates disappointing people and he avoids it at every cost. Usually. But he can’t kiss her, it wouldn’t feel good. He knows, deep down it won’t feel good at all. It won’t be catastrophic, but kissing someone he doesn't like that way is wrong. Sam told him he shouldn’t be physical with people he doesn’t know well. Sam told him he should be physical with someone he really really likes and that more than just as a friend. 

Aurora feels like someone more than a friend, but there’s no nocturnal pining for her. That’s for someone else. That’s why he has to go home now, before he makes it even worse with Aurora.

“No, Jack, it’s okay, I didn’t know…I thought…I mean you said you’re 21, I kinda just thought you already have…you know, kissed someone. Or even more.”

Jack raises an eyebrow. 

“Even more?”

Aurora hides in her pastel pink scarf. 

“Yes, sex, you know?”

With a sigh, Jack looks away and he can feel his face start burning. He has no idea how to have sex, he doesn’t even know exactly what it should be. It was a part of relationships, like Dean and Castiel’s but…all Jack can think about in regards of ‘making love’ and kissing and sex was…Sam.

“I’m not experienced”, he replies, slightly trembling. “I never did it.”

-

Later in the bunker, Jack is sleepless. He would like to sleep this time, because he feels exhausted and hurt. There’s something Aurora said. She said, if he kept people at distance he would never experience love and sex. Even a kiss was a problem already. This view on things was very weird to him. He doesn’t have a problem with kissing or finding out what love is. He just doesn’t want to kiss her. It feels wrong.

She didn’t text him since they departed on unknown terms.

And another thing creeps in his mind. Maybe the problem is that he doesn’t just not like Aurora, maybe he doesn’t like girls at all? And Sam is a man. Maybe he likes men, like Dean does? Dean often talked about women, he seems to like both. Men and women. And Castiel doesn’t even raise a brow when Dean talks about ‘casual sexual encounters’ how Castiel calls them. It’s still unknown territory for Jack. 

There are people who like girls, there are people who like men and people who like both…and what if their body doesn’t matter at all?

Jack doesn’t know where the difference should be, except that a man looks different from a woman. 

The whole sex thing is driving him up the walls. 

He gets up, puts his slippers on and goes to the library. Dean is there, a bottle of whisky in front of him. He doesn’t look deadly drunk, but drunk enough. Sometimes Jack is afraid of Dean when he had too much of this stuff. He can be very mean, aggressive and violent. 

Jack braces himself and joins him at the table. Dean looks up. His green eyes are glassy and his face is red. 

“Can’t sleep, kiddo?”, he asks, wrapping his gown tighter. 

Jack nods.

“No. I was naughty. And now I’m upset.”

Dean’s head jerks up, now Jack has his full attention. The smirk gives it away, Dean will make fun of him for sure.

“Naughty? As in, you finally did sweet lovin’ to her or?”

Jack shakes his eyes, frowning. 

“Now, she wanted to kiss me but I didn’t want to.”

He sighs, sinks back in the chair, looking at the ceiling. There’s silence, Dean just chugs down the rest of the whisky, but he has another already on hand and opens it.

“Need a sip?”

His first instinct is to say ‘no’, but then he agrees and takes a drink directly from the bottle. Whiskey tastes like paste. He hates alcohol and it doesn’t make him drunk. He could drink ten of these bottles and still wouldn't feel a little thing. He knew that Cas also could drink immense amounts and he never feels even dizzy. 

“How do I know if I’m gay?”, he asks and avoids eye contact.

Dean bursts out in laughter. It takes a while for him to calm down again. Jack feels very embarrassed. 

“I shouldn’t have asked”, he murmurs and attempts to get up again but Dean stops him.

“Ey sorry. I’ll give you some advice okay? You will know when a man or a woman drives you crazy. Just, I don’t know. Try it. Get Grindr or whatever, chat with some guys, meet up. And try it.”

Dean’s eyes are really teary now. That was maybe a little too much. 

“Are you okay, Dean?”

“Ya, ‘m fine. No worries.” 

Dean is not okay, but Jack has learned his lesson. Dean will always say it’s okay, there’s no problem, I’m fine. 

Sam is a lot different from him. He’s strong and calm, his hands are so big and his broad shoulders would be perfect to lean on. 

Dean is different. Never at peace, restless. Always on the run from whatever is going on in his head. 

“Is Sam…is Sam gay?”

Jack is shocked by his own words. Dean freezes. And then slowly, very slowly turns to Jack. There’s nothing friendly in his face, it’s a grimace.

“No, he’s not, Jack. Never was. Never will be.”

His heart feels like it’s sinking down to Jack’s groin. It hurts. He gets up.

“I should go to bed. Good night.”

“Sleep tight.”

Tonight Jack cries, hugging his moose plush toy.

*

“Grindr or whatever.”

“Chat with some guys, meet up. And try it.”

Dean’s statements from that night stick with the poor innocent boy. He rolls these thoughts in his head and they roll from one corner to the other, like marbles. He also dips his tongue in them, tastes them. Makes them slide from his teeth down to his throat. But he never swallows them. 

Sam is not gay.

“Never was. Never will be.”

Sam doesn't like men. He doesn’t like boys. And Jack is a boy. Does that mean he has to give up on what he feels? But, what if Jack isn't gay himself? He has no experience. Not with girls, not with boys. He only knows it feels wrong to kiss Aurora. She is one girl of billions. And Sam is just one man of billions.

Maybe, even when Sam is not interested in men, Jack is an exception. He is half angel!

Grindr. Or whatever.

What is Grindr?

Jack didn’t eat this morning, because he  heard Sam and Castiel fighting over something Jack didn’t want to be part of. It was enough to see Dean drink so much, but he wouldn’t participate in any of the tensions that his behaviour caused lately. Dean had told him, he would kill him. Well, maybe he won’t do that anymore now since Jack helped to save the world more than once. He said Jack isn’t family. Maybe he still thinks so. It hurts Jack, because he loves his three father figures and he looks up to Dean. He’s a strong hunter, a leader. He’s the muscle of this team. Sam is the brain. Castiel somehow is the heart. But what is Jack? Always willing to sacrifice himself to make Sam and Cas and Dean love him. 

These thoughts are dark enough and going out there and witnessing another fight wasn’t Jack’s favourite start of the day.

He rather hid in his room after showering. 

Dean has offered him some breadcrumbs like the ones Hansel and Gretel left to find their way back home from the forest. But he needs to go the other way. He doesn’t need to find his way out of the forest and away from the witch’s gingerbread house. Jack wants to find exactly that. 

Wrapped in his towel he sits down on his bed, takes his smartphone and opens a search engine tab. Aurora has texted him but he doesn’t want to reply right now. He feels bad about how he let her down and didn’t kiss her. 

He isn’t sure what he is supposed to search for, he just types grinder. Several online shops appear. Obviously it’s a name for a tool to crush herbs and marijuana. Did Dean mean that? He should grind some herbs and perform a ritual? Nah. Dean was drunk, he surely didn’t think that far.

Next step is to look it up in an online dictionary.

It says a lot of things about molars (pressing together with a rotating motion), grinding as a verb to pulverize material, and then something caught Jack’s eye.

to rotate the hips in an erotic manner

Now, that makes sense in a way, that makes Jack blush deeply. It’s a motion he sometimes imagines when he’s hot and aroused. When his body works up, his cheeks hot and his spine tingly. He imagines sitting on Sam’s lap, both kissing and sighing, and then Jack would...grind. 

Jack has to put the phone away for a second. Thinking of this clouds his judgement. 

After a minute of breathing in and out and trying to tone these thrilling images down Jack is ready to now search for: “Grinder gay men”

The search engine reports “No results for Grinder gay men found. Do you want to search for Grindr gay men instead?”

Jack is irritated about the missing “e”, that’s a typo, right? but he presses the tab ‘yes’.

What pops up now is an article from an online encyclopedia and describes Grindr as a mobile app for gay, bisexual and trans men to chat and meet other men of the same interests. 

The second article is a link to his smartphone’s app store, which Jack opens. 

Dean wanted him to find this app. To meet other men. Try it. Now it all makes sense! Jack is happy about this. Dean wouldn’t be so mean to him after all!

He downloads the app Grindr - Chats, Meeting and Dating for Gays. The app’s icon is black with an orange mask in the middle. Looks plain but also makes Jack curious.

To use the app Jack has to sign up. Since Castiel once has given him permission to sign up in a social network he just thinks it applies to this stuff too. 

There’s a lot of text about privacy, which he just accepts to go further. He signs up with his e-mail address and password. He struggles with his birthday. He tells people he’s 21 years old, which makes his birthday for official purposes May 18th somewhere in the nineties. He has to do some funny verification procedures, the last one is verifying his phone number. 

The app wants him to upload a picture of him, and because he doesn’t have any he just takes one. He doesn’t mind that he's naked except the tiny towel around his waist. The first step is easy. He’s Jack, 21 and looking for Chat, Dates, Meeting up and Friends. He wonders why there’s two options for meeting people. One sounds like it’s for impatient people and the other one is for people who are patient. Like Sam. Sam would be patient. 

He’s now transferred to the next page. And he now sees a lot of other people using the app it seems. A lot of very muscly men are there. They all like to show their body, but Jack doesn’t really like this. Their nudity even makes him feel icky. 

Some men have nicknames like “BigTrunkBear” or “LikeItRough” or “Creamlover”. Jack’s confusion is growing. 

There’s also a lot of men having no photo at all, but how should Jack know how they look? Also the photos of legs irritate him. 

The app notifies him he needs to complete his profile. There’s some multiple choice questions but also dropdown menus and input masks.

It’s easy for him to type a few sentences about himself. 

Jack is as blunt as it could be. 

“Hello, I’m Jack. I like nougat, my fathers and shadow show.”

Age and height are no problem, but he has to google what ethnicity is. His skin is pale, then he must be white. 

Every question after that is confusing to him. He doesn’t know what “position” (Top, Bottom, Vers) he is, is he a “Bear” or a “Twink”? What is all that?

The confusion grows and Jack closes the app for a moment. He thinks about googling all of it. But then his phone chimes and there’s a text message in the app from a man with the nickname “OralPlesaurer”. Which is funny to Jack, because it’s a typo. And no one’s name in real life is OralPleasurer or Creamlover.

Cream is cool, yeah, whipped on pie. But Jack’s not a lover in the sense of the word. Weird people there.

Jack opens the message, it’s a simple “Hi”.

Jack sends a "Hi" back.

What happens then can only be described as…unexpected.

Shinin’ Like A Fiery Beacon

Sam has no suspicions what’s happening in Jack’s mind, but he notices he’s shy around him. Maybe even a little uneasy. The last months have been rough and Sam knows Jack has gone through a lot. Mostly he tried to gain Dean’s trust again, make him and Dean forgive him. But Sam was never mad at him. He couldn’t. 

There is a lot in Jack that reminds Sam of himself and that makes it hard for him to look at the situation objectively. 

Jack was destined to be a weapon for his father, Lucifer. And Lucifer was a special kind of topic for Sam and it has granted him a very twisted satisfaction that Jack helped to kill him off permanently. Three times. Jack’s struggle with his heritage was something Sam totally understands and yes, of course he also understands why Dean is angry and hurt. 

But why does he treat Jack like that still? 

Why is he so determined to stick to his anger and his grief? It doesn't even seem like he is trying to get over it, to forgive Jack. 

There’s something else on Dean’s noggin’ and Sam knows it, even when Dean doesn’t talk about it. The empty whisky bottles, all the sex with nameless strangers and his risky behavior aren’t new to Sam or Cas. 

But that Cas puts up with Dean’s bullshit is astounding. He wouldn’t let that happen. And Sam fights a lot. With Cas. About Dean. With Dean. About Dean. And Cas. And how he treats Jack.

Lately Sam noticed a feeling deep inside of him, flourished for Jack. A gentle, fragile feeling and he didn’t dare to touch this topic. Not even when he was in his room alone at night, rolling around in his bed. It’s a special kind of affection mixed with a frustrating amount of attraction. Sam hates himself for feeling like this. It’s just not right. Jack is nothing like his father, yes, but that's also not the problem. He’s barely 4 years old by now, he came into the world in the body of a young man but little knowledge and childlike naivety. How could Sam take advantage of that? Jack clearly wants to gain his friendship and maybe a platonic kind of love. It’s wrong of Sam to wish for more than that. And that’s why he keeps it hidden and rather tumbles into new fights about Dean’s alcoholism.

It’s his turn to do the cooking today while Cas and Dean are on an investigation and he’s alone with Jack. Sam notices once more that Jack hides in his room a lot, he won’t come out unless Sam calls him to lunch or dinner. Mostly he skips breakfast. So far there’s nothing weird about it, maybe Jack needs some privacy. Sam thinks of his youth with Dean and Dad on the road and how he hated to never be alone. 

Taking ‘long showers’ was always suspicious and a lot of things he and Dean did were blurry to him now in his late thirties. When Sam fled to Stanford and finally had a room for himself, actual locks and actual keys for them, doors he could close...it was better than heaven. That’s when he finally could explore what it meant to be a teenager and deal with the rampaging hormones on his own. Also, he could finally be away from Dean’s hypersexual behavior. Maybe Dean thought it was cool to be like this in front of Sam, especially when they as brothers became a little too close and it was his way to dodge the bullet. 

In the light of his own memories Sam knows what is happening.

And he’s sure Jack’s kind of blossoming at the moment. 

With his super cute and lovely girlfriend, Aurora.

Sam hasn’t met her yet and he has no idea how to react. Of course, he’d be nice and polite and make her dinner and ask her all the nice and polite things for small talk and tell Jack how lucky he is but there’s something primal inside of Sam. Jealousy. He hates being jealous and he has no right to feel that way. One more reason to just let this blooming feeling die and not feed it with anything. 

Not with his weird daydreams or the thoughts at night that keep him bothered and not the moments he’s alone in the shower, rubbing one out. Afterwards he’s just more frustrated, instead of feeling any relief. 

Sam needs another cup of coffee, a strong one. Before Cas and Dean went out, there had been another argument. It was hurtful. Things were said and then taken back, Cas’ puppy eyes all over, Sam's yelling and Dean almost breaking shit. Like always. Maybe after this one they’d calm down, all of them. Dean and Cas were alone for a while, maybe doing some reconciliation. Sam would be happy for them if they could get over whatever was going on. 

In the meantime Sam is just happy with cooking, doing laundry, generally cleaning the bunker and reading. It may sound boring for some people but for him it’s heaven. They’ve had too much going on for fifteen years, some peace is pretty nice and just what he needs right now.

Jack’s an active reader too and he reads the good stuff. Sam educates him about most things he’s comfortable with and he knows he should’ve given the kid ‘The Talk’ already, but Dean kinda started it and Sam is a bit of a chicken regarding this topic. Sex isn’t his favorite thing to talk about. And so far, there seems no reason to rush it, even though Aurora is there. Dean told him about a week ago that Jack has refused to kiss her and if there wasn't anything else going on Sam was unaware of, that was the sexiest thing Jack had achieved so far. A kiss from a girl.

Sam burns his tongue on his coffee because he chugged it too quickly. With a curse he bangs the mug on the table and that’s when Jack walks in. Lately he abandoned his adorable pajamas and wears some of Dean’s and Sam’s old shirts and flannels he grabbed out of the sacks for the clothing drive. That looks wrong in all the right ways, but Sam can’t really say anything about it without letting his guard down. And he won’t let his guard down. Never. 

“Morning, Jack”, Sam utters, trying to cool his tongue with a sip of water. “I didn’t expect you to be up that early. Want some porridge?”

Jack looks up at him and there’s still a sleepy veil surrounding him. He seems to be just woken up. He is wearing one of Sam's old shirts, which is too big for him and the sight makes Sam gulp. A little.

“Yes, sounds good.” Jack sits down and yawns in his hand while Sam gets him some porridge and a cup of coffee with a lot of milk in it. 

Now Sam notices that Jack carries his smartphone with him, which is unusual. Jack mostly uses it for chatting with Aurora or doing some research but he never carries it around like some other teenagers do who are maybe a little too attached to it. It vibrates a couple of times before Jack takes it and mutes all notifications. He looks…guilty?

“What is it? Is Aurora chatty today?”

Jack looks up and puts a spoonful of porridge in his mouth, shaking his head. 

“No, it’s um…it’s nothing.”

Sam is suspicious. Does Jack talk to someone else? Would he need to give him a talk about keeping options open? He doesn’t want to approach the issue by himself, so he rather sits down and eats his breakfast too. Jack seems a bit nervous, always throwing stolen glances at his phone and the screen lights up every couple of minutes. Jack doesn’t reply to any of these messages, he just turns the phone screen down on the table and keeps eating. 

The day goes by, Sam just gets cosy in the library. Dean messaged him it’s a vampire nest and he and Cas will hunt them down tonight. Which is a good sign. Sam also told him to take some time off after it, maybe go to Vegas. Dean hasn’t replied yet. It’s a bit selfish but Sam likes the quiet peace in the bunker. They have thought of moving out a couple times but none of them could really think of somewhere else to live. They were hunters after all and so far they didn’t think about retiring. The bunker was still the core of their family. A home. Dean’s and Sam’s home after years on the road or couchsurfing at Bobby’s, the only home Jack knows. Sam even started to make his room look like an actual bedroom. It had been bare and clinical for years when he still couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea to settle down with Dean. He thought the bunker would maybe one day be taken away from them again. 

His phone chimes and Dean promises to be back in a couple of days. Couple of days. That could mean they’re back tomorrow or in a week. But he’s happy that Dean takes the chance anyway. 

Sam is totally sucked in by the book he’s reading and he jolts when Jack appears in the library, a hot chocolate in his small hand and a slight disturbed look on his face. 

“Sorry, you scared me a little bit”, Sam says and feels bad about it. 

Jack only smiles and takes a seat across the table.

“It’s okay. Sam, can I ask you some questions? I wanted to ask Dean, but he’s away and not replying to my texts…” 

“Of course. What’s the matter?”

Jack looks up to him, big blue eyes piercings through Sam’s skin. He hates when that happens, Jack has an unsettling effect on Sam. He’s not used to feel like this. 

He squirms in his chair now and then with a sigh, Jack takes the phone out of his pocket to place it in front of him. Okay, so there is something up with the phone. Sam was right about it. 

“How do I know if I’m gay?”

Jack doesn’t look at Sam, he stares at his phone. Sam can see his ears getting red and Jack just blushes so easily… and also very intense. His face is burning red, Sam would bet his ass on it. 

The question itself is nothing Sam would classify as weird. It’s obvious Jack’s going through a phase of finding himself. Contemplating his own sexuality is part of it. Thing is, it makes Sam slightly uncomfortable talking about it. It’s partly because Jack is so young, the other part is that he’s attracted to Jack. Sam didn’t feel attracted to anyone for years and he hates labels. He loves who he loves and he wants to sleep with people he has a strong connection to. And a life as a hunter doesn’t provide much space for a romance to unravel.

How is he supposed to talk about it when he has no idea where to start?

He isn’t a good measure after all.

“Oh, that is as simple as it is complicated”, Sam starts, folding his hands on the table. He takes deep breaths, before he starts to speak. 

“First of all, I can only speak for myself and I don’t know if I'm for much use. In regards of sex you really better ask Dean, but since he doesn’t seem to look at his phone at the moment, I will try.” 

He has already told Jack about making love instead of sex and Sam has thought about his choice of words and regretted some of it. It sounded way too much like purity culture and Jack shouldn’t think sex was bad. Sexual attraction isn’t bad at all.

It just doesn’t fit for Sam.

“Does your question have anything to do with how you feel about Aurora?”

Jack nods. Slowly, a little unsure.

“She wanted to kiss me but I didn’t want to. It didn’t feel right. And I wondered if it has something to do with- I mean- maybe I like boys and not girls?” 

His face is so red by now, Sam could swear he feels the heat radiating from the boy.

“There could be several reasons for it, it doesn’t mean you’re gay. Most people kiss and make love because they’re attracted to each other. Attraction is a very tricky feeling. It feels like butterflies in your stomach, heart pounding, you maybe even feel dizzy. That’s when most people say they’re in love. Do you feel that when you are with Aurora?”

Jack shakes his head.

“No.”

“Then maybe, you’re just not in love with her, and that's okay. You will fall in love with another girl in the future. Or you fall in love with a boy, which is also totally fine. Also you can feel attraction to people who don’t fit in the girl/boy categories. It’s all just about how you feel around them and if you want to kiss them. Or go further.” 

Sam rubs his hands. He really feels uncomfortable educating Jack about love and sex. Now would be a great moment for Dean to show up and take this conversation.

“You know, Dean likes both. Cas is an angel, I don’t think a concept of gender applies to him at all.”

This is when Jack looks up. 

“And what do you like?”

Sam now leans back in his chair, his heart aches a little and he feels heat creeping up his neck. He hates that question.

“Well, Jack…” he sighs heavily, “I don’t care much about gender too. I’m not gay, but I’m not straight either. And I’m also not bisexual, like Dean. It’s hard to say. When I like someone, I like them and I don’t see gender. Boy, girl, queer, it doesn’t matter.”

Now Jack takes a long, careful sip of his hot chocolate. His smartphone chimes again and Sam just has to ask.

“Do you think you’re gay, because you didn’t want to kiss Aurora or is there something else on your mind?”

He knows it’s not his business but he also takes it very seriously to be a good role model, be a father figure to Jack. When Jack needs help, Sam will provide it. Same goes for Cas and sometimes even Dean has his bright moments of fatherhood. 

It’s obvious Jack doesn’t want to answer right away, he looks like he is tasting words in his mouth, rolling them over his tongue, putting them in his cheeks for a moment, before he says something that surprises Sam. 

“There is something else. A man asked me out, but he asked me things I don’t understand.”

Sam stiffens. 

“A man? How old?”

Jack shrugs. 

“Couple years older than Dean maybe?”

Now Sam leans forward, skeptical and on alert. 

“What do you mean, he asked you out? Where? How?”

Jack now shows Sam his phone and Sam recognizes the push messages. The icon is black with an orange mask in the center. 

Oh no, that’s not good. Like absolutely bad.

“On this app. He lives close and he asked me if I like bareback? But I don’t know what he means with that. Does he want to go horse riding with me on a date?”

Sam can’t help but laugh. It’s a diminished, unhappy sound. 

“No, he doesn’t want to go horse riding with you, Jack. He wants to have unprotected sex with you.”

You Got That Medicine I Need

“What do you mean by… that he wants to have unprotected sex with me?”,  Jack asks. 

He was utterly confused about this statement and how Sam came to that conclusion. There’s so much he doesn’t know and so many things he got wrong. Sam also doesn’t help much with his shooting questions and… things like this. Jack furrows his eyebrows, tilting his head. 

“You have to delete this app and stop talking to these creeps.”

Sam looks very upset and Jack doesn’t get why. 

“Answer my question please, what is bareback then? Sam, why do you think he’s a creep? He seems actually nice, he says he likes my eyes and my lips, look!”

He shows his phone again to Sam and he just takes it. Then Sam gets up and starts fumbling on the screen, his eyes narrow. Jack knows this kind of facial expression, he usually sees it when Sam is upset with Dean. Should Jack maybe tell Sam it wasn’t his own idea to install the app? Would that help? Would he then be mad at Dean? But Jack doesn’t want that either, he wants Dean to like him. 

“Jack, it’s gay slang. And this guy”, his voice rises in irritation and suppressed anger, “he looks fishy. Why the hell do you use these apps anyway? You’re with Aurora and… you have no idea about sex yet, casual dating shouldn’t be something you … you like. What is this all about? Jack?”

Jack feels like he’s shrinking to a tiny puddle of shame under Sam’s piercing eyes, his sharp voice and how his chest heaves. He’s also annoyed at the same time. It’s his fathers’ fault he knows so little about sex and how to court people, no one really feels responsible to help him with it, except Dean! Jack looks up to Sam, even when it hurts right now, he hates it so much when Sam is angry. And he feels like he was a dog that took a shit on the carpet and now has to feel utterly guilty for… having essential needs? 

That it’s Sam who tells him to stop makes it even worse. He’s trying to figure out what he feels for Sam, it’s hard enough to see him all day and feel this tickly, hot and cold feeling all over his body and only be able to release it in the silent darkness of his room, quietly moaning and thinking of Sam kissing his tummy and thighs… and even more. Jack feels all the heat building up inside him, it makes his skin crawl and his eyes tear up.

“I want to know if I’m gay or not!”, he says, way louder than intended. “And Dean said it’s a good idea to meet up with men and find out what I like!”

Sam stiffens, chest heaving even harder when he drops his hands and bangs them on the table. 

“Dean told you to install this app?”, he asks. Voice dangerously gentle.

“Yes.”

Jack crosses his arms, defensively. 

And then Sam nudges the smartphone back to Jack. He looks so angry while appearing so calm, apart from his deep breathing. Jack can see the breath vibrate in Sam’s chest and he wishes so badly to lay his head there and hear Sam’s heartbeat, feel his pulse and how his chest moves while breathing. 

Sam’s mouth is a firm little line before he speaks.

“I guess Dean didn’t think his advice through, Jack. This app and many others are made for casual sex and hook ups, and I wouldn’t let you meet any of these guys you’re talking too. You could get hurt”, he then combs through his long hair, fishing for words, “You know that there’s people out there who want harm. It’s too dangerous. Delete it.”

Jack doesn’t attempt to take the phone again, looking at Sam, angry himself.

“No. I need to find out who I am and you keep on handling me with kid gloves!”, he says, voice raised and aggressive. 

This is when Sam slams the table with his fist. “It’s because you are a fucking kid and I don’t want you to be whoring around!”

Wow. 

That feels like a punch in the guts. Jack knows what a whore is. He has googled it after Dean has told ‘whore stories’ at the dinner table when Sam was out with Cas once.

His eyes tear up heavily and there’s a choked sob before Jack grabs his phone and gets up. 

“I’m not a whore, Sam. But good to know you think of me like this.”

Sam's frozen solid for a couple seconds, can’t act on anything but wants to. Jack fumbles on his phone with shaking hands and then shows Sam.

“See, app deleted. No ‘whoring around’ for me.”

And then Jack storms off. Sam calls out after him “Jack, I’m sorry, please come back!” But Jack doesn’t come back. He grabs his jacket and goes outside. He needs some time alone.

*

In the evening, alone in his room, Sam is extremely downhearted. He tried to talk to Jack later, when he came back into the bunker. He even came up to Sam himself to show him the app was still gone, but didn’t talk anymore. Of course Sam apologized every time they saw each other, but Jack didn’t react. 

Damn, he has fucked up so hard this time. And he can’t even lie to himself saying it was just a stupid thing he said. That he didn’t think. Well, he really didn’t think at that moment. There was just … that moment, that hot red moment of possessiveness, of jealousy. And this fata morgana of pure, asexual Jack that Sam could protect and nuture, versus this dark fucked up desire to kiss him, ruin the literal angel. Be the one to show him love. 

To show him how Sam could make him feel, make him come in thousands of ways. Sam’s so touch starved and drawn to Jack and he is so endlessly ashamed of it. It’s not right, he keeps telling himself. It’s wrong to feel attracted to a child. To the child of his rapist. Even Sam cries in bed sometimes, like today. He cries about his stupid words, about how he hurt Jack and how filthy he feels all the time in contrast to the pure and utter arousal picturing the nephil in his bed, sweat covered and hot and willing and moaning Sam’s name when he spills all over his firm stomach. 

Fuck. Holy fuck. This is so bad. 

*

Jack retreated in the forest for a while, listening to angry music on his phone, kicking sticks and stones around till he reached the pond where he just sat down, stared at the glistening surface for an hour or two. He cried a little, too. Sam’s words have hurt him incredibly. Sam is Jack’s role model and the person he wishes to be closest with. And that Sam, especially Sam implies Jack ‘whored’ was so excruciating, that his half human body even threw up the rest of dinner. With his knees pulled to his chest and his face buried in his eyes he cried and cried, before the childlike side in him started rebelling again. Sam has hurt him, but Jack still wants to know what’s wrong with him. Why he feels for Sam, and if it’s because he’s male… or because he’s Sam. 

The feeling hurt even more now, it even hurts now when he’s in bed, staring at the ceiling, still listening to angry yelly music. His body is terribly worked up again, but now Jack reinstalls the app, his profile is still there. He doesn’t know what to do with the old guy who wanted to ‘bareback’ him but he had googled it while staring at the pond and Sam was indeed right. But this old sack wasn’t the only guy Jack was in touch with, there was also Hunter, 25, from Gilead, Kansas. Jack likes the name hunter, because him and his fathers are hunters and hunters are mostly good people. He also likes the name of the city where he’s from, Gilead. It refers to a mystical place in the Bible, which he read a couple times already, but also was the name of the USA in the novel The Handmaid’s Tale by Atwood, which he loved too. And Hunter is nice, very nice and when Sam demanded Jack to delete Grindr, Jack was afraid Hunter would be mad if he didn’t reply to his last message.

But of course Jack wants to reply to Hunter, and there’s two new messages from Hunter which he answers quickly. He gives Hunter his phone number and then decides to delete the app really, just in case Sam wants proof again. Which Jack would maybe deny next time, he is so sick of being treated like a child. Because he’s not. His body is fully developed, and he knows a lot about the world. He knows facts, but it’s hard to find out about all the social stuff. Jack feels alien most of the time, because he has intimidating powers and his angel self works different from his human self. He just has too little experience in human and social interaction and Sam even tries to take away the chances Jack could have to be better at being a human being, which is the side he picked long ago. He wants to be human. Normal. And he wants to be accepted, respected and loved. Not patronised and cared for like a baby. Of course, he knows. He’s defiant and petty but he’s tough and brave enough to learn more about the world and love. 

Aurora isn’t forgotten, he feels bad when he thinks of her, but she also didn’t reply to his last message. Which makes it easier to attach to Hunter, who says in his profile he’s a “vers bottom” (and since no one seems to care about giving Jack a proper talk he googled it and now is indeed in the picture what that means), wants to find true love and relationships. His favourite movies are Star Wars and Lord of the Rings and he likes novels like Lord of the Flies and Fahrenheit 451. He sounds so intelligent and nice, Jack trusts him already after a few days of texting. He seemed able of critical thought and he liked books Jack also liked and they spent a day just talking about religious imagery in The Great Gatsby. But yeah, Jack was totally whoring around. Surely.

Tonight he’s too hurt to let his usual thoughts of Sam go too far, instead he opens his messenger app and he doesn’t have to wait very long after messaging Hunter to get a reply.

Jack smiles when Hunter asks if he is in bed already and what he’s thinking of. Jack texts back he thinks of a certain dark haired, brown eyed man he likes. Hunter looks a bit like Sam and Jack can lie to himself casually here. The texts turn hotter with every turn and Jack’s heart starts pacing, his hand sliding under the seam of his underwear while he reads Hunter’s latest message, describing how he would undress Jack, kiss him and let his hand wander where Jack wasn’t touched by anyone else than himself so far. 

In the morning he feels way better. Hunter’s messages have given him some very nice moments of pleasure but he also feels a little guilty. He hasn’t replied to the hot messages because he’s a total newbie and doesn’t even know what he likes himself. When he told Hunter in the night he’s a virgin, Hunter was very nice and understanding and told Jack he doesn’t have to reply if he feels insecure. 

This sort of validation is something Jack wants to have from Sam but after what Sam said and how deeply it impacted Jack’s trust in him, he tried to let go of this hope. Sam thinks he’s a child. Or a whore. Or both. Jack knows about Nabokov’s Lolita and wonders if Sam thinks he raised him to be seductive to old creeps like the bareback guy. 

One way or the other, Jack is hurt and pissed off, but overall he feels better and steadier today, his ego is petted very thoroughly by Hunter. Maybe one day Jack won’t need Sam’s approval and affection anymore. Seems a nice thought today.

When Jack gets dressed he sneaks up to the kitchen and he can hear from across the floor already Sam is talking to someone. He’s loud, his voice full and usually Jack likes how deep, low and growly Sam can sound when he’s in some kind of situation he’s passionate about, no matter if positive or negative. 

But this sounds like he’s yelling at Dean and that’s never good. 

“Why the actual fuck did you tell Jack to install a gay hook up app, are you out of your rotten mind? He took your word for it and now I am the one who had to clean up this mess!... Yes, he used it and a guy he talked to wanted to meet up and bareback…. Jesus FUCKING Christ Dean that’s not funny-- stop fucking laughing! He could be hurt! You’re such an asshole. I wonder why you fucking hate the kid so much, after all he did for us!... No, I didn’t forget about mom, never will. But you know it wasn’t him. I don’t give a fuck about your feelings right now... Leave the child alone or I swear you’ll regret it!”

A long silence. Jack counts from 50 downwards and stops at 7, when Sam’s voice rises again. 

“Yeah you better. Gimme Cas, I need a word with him.”

Jack has heard enough. “The kid”. “Clean up a mess”. “The child”.

Mary Winchester.

He’s suddenly not hungry anymore and retreats to his room, where his smartphone vibrates the moment he closes the door. It’s Hunter, of course.

Looking To Get Fucked Hard

It takes Jack a day and a half after the phone call to make the first move towards Sam and accepts his apology, which is very well-considered, diplomatic and remorseful. He still feels very hurt by Sam’s words and the fight over the phone with Dean also didn’t help him look over the fact that Sam has a certain edge in his voice when it comes down to explaining ‘adult stuff’ to Jack. Jack, who is naturally curious and eager, but also blunt and innocent, doesn’t quite understand what his problem is. When Jack hears Dean talk about sex with several people, sometimes at once, it doesn’t sound like something he feels ashamed of. He’s even proud of it. 

But Sam is so much more secretive and retreats from any question Jack has from now on. Is sex something bad? And why does he think Jack is acting like a promiscuous person for talking with people online?

It takes another five days in which Jack secretly talks to Hunter over his messenger app and Jack avoids looking at his phone when Sam is around. He doesn’t want to get in another argument again but he also likes the way Hunter makes him feel. Even though Jack is a virgin and inexperienced, Hunter takes him seriously. He treats Jack like an actual adult, with adult needs and adult opinions and an adult body, that is longing for another human’s touch. Jack kind of came to the conclusion that being in love with Sam won’t go anywhere good, not after all the things Sam has said to him. And how he thinks of Jack. As a child, something he has to protect and nourish but for God’s sake don’t touch it. 

Jack doesn’t want protection. He wants to be loved as a man, even though he’s barely a man now. 

Sam’s apology doesn’t change his way of thinking about Jack. 

Damn, why does he have to be in love with Sam, from all people? Maybe it would be even easier with being in love with Dean. Scruffy, grumpy, spiteful, asshole, loyal, troubled, vulnerable Dean?

Is that maybe any better?

But even Dean doesn’t take him seriously as someone who has needs. He gave Jack this damn idea about the app and he probably knew it would cause Jack trouble when Sam found out. 

Over the next days Cas and Dean don’t show up and Sam is worried even when he tries to hide it behind research and angry texts and treating Jack even more than a kid. Makes him his favourite food and drinks, even lets him drink some beer. 

It makes Jack feel even more like someone you need to treat like a timid fawn.

Does nobody see that Jack is no fawn anymore? That he’s ready to grow, that he has intimate, sexual urges. He is prospering for everyone to see, but Sam just squeezes his damn eyes shut and Dean makes fun of him.

And Castiel probably doesn’t even know what it all means because he’s a full grown celestial angel, or an ‘eldritch horror’ as Dean sometimes puts it. 

Time to sow his wild oats.

After a week of absence it seems clear, Cas and Dean are either having a good time or they’re getting lost somewhere in a brothel or a casino or whatever humans do in Las Vegas. Sam doesn’t tell Jack where exactly they are, but Jack thinks they got somewhere to also let off some steam. 

Jack decides to meet with Hunter, after they had some very thrilling conversations at night. It’s mostly that Jack still imagines Sam when he touches himself but Hunter is giving him a lot of things to think about. He doesn’t feel that naive and innocent anymore, now that someone tells him he’s hot, he’s cute, he’s desirable. He is equal. 

No more thinking of ‘down there’s and that kissing is oh so sacred. It’s a change that would scare Jack if he wasn’t so eager to show off to Sam he was mature enough to be treated equally. Hunter presses the right buttons. And all of them at once. 

Jack wants to know how it feels to kiss, to be touched in places, he even wants to touch someone else. And if he keeps telling himself it’s Sam, while he’s with Hunter, he might even enjoy it more. They look so much alike, or at least how Jack thinks Sam looked when he was way younger. Maybe Hunter’s smaller, and what Jack saw from his body wasn’t that defined and muscular, but he can dream. His imagination is going strong. 

His hormones and his contact with another man who shows interest in him make Jack cocky.

They set the date already two days after the fight with Sam and today is the day. Sam and Jack still don’t spend much time together and in the morning Sam announced he will be doing some inventory in a room he was able to unlock with a smell Rowena left him. He told Jack about shelves full with old scripts and mason jars labelled with ‘icky stuff’ and he thinks that in no way the Man of Letters Cuthbert Sinclair would’ve left such a mess and vague labels. Icky could mean a lot. 

Jack doesn’t mind and tells Sam he wants to read The Magic Mountain by Thomas Mann.

“That’s a piece of work, Jack”, Sam says, a little proud maybe. “I never made it through it.”

“Well I read some articles about it already and I’m very interested about the portrayal of eroticism, life and death.”

He can’t leave it. He has to tell Sam about the sex stuff he’s interested in. The protagonist of the novel is said to be bisexual and Jack would really like to read it. 

But not today, he will drive to Gilead to meet Hunter, as soon as Sam will drown in his inventory. 

“You also should focus on the motif of time and its correlation with life and death”, Sam says, ignoring the eroticism. He’s unapproachable with the issue at all. It drives Jack up the walls, since his hormones, hurt ego and the cockiness took over his thinking.

“Thrilling.”

Jack means it sarcastically and catches a glance from Sam that he can’t quite ignore. The tension between them grows weirder every day instead of resolving. 

He gets up now, he needs to shower and get ready soon. 

Jack doesn’t know why, but there pops up a thought in his head. About making love.

He wouldn’t do that today. In his nightly thoughts he still couldn’t wrap his head around the difference. 

Of course he’d never admit it, but Jack still knows nothing about love but that he feels something for Sam that comes pretty close.

Sam knows something’s off. That something is still off. Jack is reserved, but sometimes also irritating. Passive aggressive. Mopey. Yes, of course, Sam has apologized as often and honestly as he could but nothing seemed to help Jack and him to find a common ground again. He understands Jack wants to be treated differently, like something he isn’t just yet in Sam’s eyes. It’s his need for being the guardian that doesn’t let him treat Jack like an adult. Let him drink whiskey, watch porn, have sex. The contradiction of his own sexual attraction to Jack and the need for control and guidance drives Sam up the walls too and he has no one he could talk to about it. Dean is distant in his own manner, he’s fled with Cas and after Sam had yelled at him over the phone about letting Jack use this sex app there’s radio silence. Just a quick heads up from Cas now and then. Sam feels like the trip for just the two of them isn’t helping the way he wished for.

This is why he needs to do the damn inventory. Keep himself busy. Think about something else than Jack being a little jerk all of a sudden, Dean’s whiskey consumption and Castiel’s helplessness. Is Castiel even helpless? Or does he just pretend he doesn’t see something is terribly off? Being alone with Jack makes it really rough. Either Jack’s too close, or he’s too reserved, there’s no balance at the moment, and in his mind, it’s also either Jack grinding on his lap or Jack, far away with Aurora or that nasty creep from the app. 

Gladly he’s deleted it and they didn’t need to have a talk about it again. Sam would be furious if Jack lied to him. Furious, because he’s jealous, helpless and sexually gone rogue. 

Why is it so wrong to feel this way? 

In the storage room there’s utter chaos and Sam will probably spend two days in here. Today, he embraces chaos. Chaos is good, because he can break it down and bring it into an order. His order. His system. He even brought instrumental music to have something to drown his own dark, sorrowful and horny thoughts. It will get over soon. He won��t be crossed in love with Jack forever. He can push through this.

But does he really want to?

Sam is so busy with tidying up that weird room that he doesn’t notice anything else is going on. Jack can hear faint flute music across the halls when he sneaks around. He has put on his best shirt, ripped stone washed jeans and a leather jacket that Dean inherited to him. Involuntarily, because he actually wanted to throw it away and like some old shirts, Jack just picked it up and kept it. 

He also did his hair the way Sam said once, it looks good on him. Then maybe Hunter would like it, too?

Jack takes one of the keys for the Volvo in which Sam had taught him to drive. 

Ironic. Sam lets Jack drive, but God forbid he does other adult things!

With the key in his shaking, sweaty hands Jack sneaks off to the carpool garage. The Volvo is purple and has two scratches (long ones) from Jack’s driving lessons, but Jack owns the shame about it now. He unlocks it, gets inside and opens the navigation app on his phone. It says he will be on the road for around 90 minutes, which is okay. He has brought an audiobook, three bottles of water, some protein bars and a charger for his phone. Better to have a fully charged phone, Sam says. Not everything Sam says is bull, even when it feels to Jack like it. He’s gone through a lot of feelings for Sam lately, one of them was anger because he also felt like Sam would patronise him in the most hypocritical way. As if he didn’t try stuff out when he was younger! Dean has told a story or two. But Dean also said Sam’s not gay and that’s not completely true, he found out. Sam is about the person, not gender. So, yes, he’s not gay. But he’s also not straight. If he was just in love with Jack, too. It would be so easy and Jack wouldn’t be so worked up about it.

Jack tries to shoo the thoughts away when he texts Hunter that he’s on his way, but of course he can’t. Sam is always on his mind.

*

If Sam knew he caused a moderately severe teenage rebellion and a sexuality crisis, he probably would’ve never said such bad things to Jack, and he would’ve tried to reconcile even harder. But this way he’s wound up in his inventory distractions, trying to shut the whole issue out. 

Sam jerks up when he hears a noise from the hall. It’s probably just Jack walking around. Maybe the damn Magic Mountain and its discourse about damn eroticism was too much for Jack and he looks for something else to read. Sam sees him with all the heavy stuff actually. He read the Iliad, the Odyssey, the complete works of W. B. Yeats and the baroque geste The Fairie Queene by Edward Spenser in the Middle English original and he wouldn’t shut up about it for weeks. Sam has a hard time reading this epic poem, it’s complicated and he feels like he needs to have graduated in literature or linguistics to make sense of it. The problem is, Sam is maybe smart, but Jack is a fucking genius. Sam hates to admit it but the kid is so smart, he outwits Sam vertiginously.There’s not much Sam can actually teach him but what he can teach he doesn’t want to. Sex for example. But Dean is a shitty substitute and maybe, yeah, maybe Sam should do it. It will be embarrassing and awful but Dean would drag Jack to a fetish club or something and he can’t let that happen. It’s enough that his three father figures all are a bit weird, Jack could end up like a vanilla type of person and do something remotely decent for a change. 

Maybe he should consider giving Jack some sappy romance novel, some light fare. Something that won’t stimulate Jack’s curiosity about the deep endless pits of the human mind, or human sexuel desires. Something that would scratch surfaces but not go too deep. Nora Roberts maybe, but when Sam thinks about it he remembers her novels as repetitive, and not without a problematic approach of gender dynamics, masculinity and love.

Damn. Now he’s thinking about Jack again. 

It will never stop.

Sam considers a break. Just to get himself a sandwich, maybe sit together with Jack and give him another honest and more straight forward talk about how and why Sam is the way he is and why he is so different from Dean. He’s pretty sure he’s given very honest and clear answers to Jack’s questions before they had that stupid fight. Labels really aren’t Sam’s jam, but maybe Jack feels better to know labels and then decides they fit or they don’t. And Jack should know that Sam has been vulgar, unfair and downright wrong with his wording and with patronising him like that. It was not his place to send him to his room like a stubborn kid. He kind of realizes now, that Jack is so much more. He deserves a chance to understand the complex dynamics of human interaction in any kind and Sam should let him.

On his way to the kitchen he hears even more clanking of plates, a running coffee maker and sizzling. It smells like steak. 

This is weird. Jack doesn’t like coffee. Jack also doesn’t know how to make a steak, that’s Dean’s thing.

Dean’s thing.

Oh no. Sam hurries to the kitchen, before Jack maybe sets something on fire and when he appears in the doorframe, calling out for Jack a very confused Castiel and Dean are in the kitchen, Dean almost drops the hot pan. Cas jerks in surprise and burns his hand with hot coffee.

“Jesus Fuck, Sam! You scared the living shit outta me!” Dean exclaims, looking confused. 

Cas wipes his burnt hand clean of the spilled hot coffee.

“Why are you here?”, Cas asks and looks at Sam. 

Sam is just as confused as they are at that point.

“Better question is, why are you two here? I thought it was Jack in the kitchen.”

He doesn’t even have time to be relieved about seeing Dean in good condition. He really looks good and relaxed. But at his brothers’ question he raises his eyebrows and turns off the stove. 

“I, uh, actually sent you a message a couple hours ago we’re comin’ home Sammy. Enough Vegas. You didn’t reply and then when we parked Baby in the garage, the Volvo wasn’t there. That’s why we” - Dean gestures to Cas - “deduced you and Jack are maybe going somewhere and you didn’t check your messages.”

Sam’s confusion grows. “No, we didn’t go anywhere. I unlocked a secret storage room right on the way down to the pool areas and I’m doing inventory. Jack is in his room. He reads some old dusty Thomas Mann novel, because he’s into phalluses all of a sudden.”

Dean coos a laugh and Castiel clears his throat. Then all three get a glimpse on the fact that something may be wrong here.

“Well, if we’re all here, who took the Volvo?”, Cas asks, silently healing his burn.

Sam could swear Dean mumbles a “son of a bitch” under his breath before he says: “Well, not everyone is here. We should look for Jack.”

Jack isn’t in his room. His shoes and his shoulder bag are gone. The Volvo keys are missing. The situation is pretty clear. Jack has gone somewhere and didn’t tell Sam.

Son of a bitch.

Screwed Up, Scared, Doing Anything That I Needed

The date doesn’t quite go as Jack imagined it to go. Hunter is indeed the man he texted with, but he’s only ever seen the chest or his face and now Hunter looks distinctively older than he claimed on Grindr to be. Jack is too shy to ask him about it, he feels like it’s maybe rude. Hunter has used an old photo on Grindr, that’s for sure. They sat down in a bar anyway, it’s fall and it’s dawning already. Hunter offers to buy Jack drinks and given the fact Jack wouldn’t get drunk he accepts. 

But Hunter seems weird. The conversation stops a couple of times and he asks a lot about Jack’s love life, but Hunter knows already, he’s inexperienced, right?

After an hour and two cocktails Jack retreats to the toilet to wash off the weird feeling he has. Hunter is nice to him, there’s no reason for him to be more suspicious. Maybe Hunter was just embarrassed because he’s lost some hair already, and the started balding on the back of his head. When Jack turns around, he gets stuck at the restroom’s stalls door and his phone nosedives in the sink where the water is still running.

“Oh shoot!”, Jack cries out. That can’t be real right now!

He tries to dry off the phone best as he can but he knows it will be best to turn it off and put it in rice. He has no idea about how to get home though and he kind of wants to go home soon. There’s no connection to Hunter as he wished there would be. 

Back in the bar Hunter awaits him with what he calls a Gin Tonic. Jack chugs it down and he doesn’t like the taste at all.

“Oh you can take a lot!”, Hunter says and Jack gets the idea that he isn’t amused about how much Jack can drink. 

“Yes, I umm, maybe it’s my very fresh liver”, Jack says, but he doesn’t go any further.

“Look, Hunter. You are a nice person, but I don’t feel a real connection. I’m very sorry”, Jack says, being very guilty of wasting the man’s time. 

Hunter shrugs it off. “Don’t worry about it, Jack, we just wanted to meet and find out, right? But would you be so kind and ask the barista for his number for me? He seems to be flirting but I’m shy, as you may have … noticed.” 

Jack is a bit irritated, but he wants to do the man a favor and agrees. “I wanted to order a coke anyway”, Jack says, getting up. “Do you want something more?”

The older man just gives him a crooked smile. 

“Nah, I’m good, champ.”

Champ. Who says champ?

Jack goes over to the bar where the barista (tall, handsome, eyeliner and old school tattoos, maybe as old as Jack passes with). As innocent as he still is in his rebellion he asks him about his name and number.

“Who do you want that for?”, the barista asks him, pouring him a glass of coke.

Jack hates lying, that’s why he points over to Hunter with his thumb. 

“My date over there.”

The barista huffs and shakes his head.

“No, but if you want my number I’ll give it to you.”

Jack declines.

“That is very nice of you, but I’m already in love with someone and I think I won’t be with anyone else very soon.”

“I’m Baz, if you change your mind”, that’s when the barista gives him a slip of paper with his instagram URL on it. 

“Thank you, Baz”, Jack smiles at him and waves when he takes the coke in his hands and goes back to Hunter. 

He’s on the phone, texting someone and Jack just remembers he maybe needs to get a phone call or some maps print to find his way home. His phone shouldn’t be turned on again and he should maybe call Sam to pick him up. That’s really a dumb situation he’s in. Hunter doesn’t look up at first but eventually does and Jack sits down.

“I’m sorry, he’s not interested”, Jack says and takes a sip of his coke. 

Hunter sighs but he kind of doesn’t look all too disappointed. “Thanks for the effort though.”

“Hunter, I have a little problem, my phone got wet in the restroom and I need to print a map or call my dad to fetch me here.”

That’s something he seems to like hearing and Hunter relaxes. 

“Not a problem, you can come home with me, it’s not far. You can use my printer if you like and I can give you a bag and some rice to put your phone in. It’s no big deal.”

Jack sighs in relief and relaxes a bit. It’s dark outside already, the kind of darkness, that’s not all consuming, but creepy enough. Jack doesn’t like being outside alone for too long and he’s glad Hunter is willing to help.

He wants to pay for himself, this is why Jack gets up and pays his drinks at the register. When he’s back he exes his coke, that tastes strangely bitter this time and maybe it’s just some residual from the cleaning agent. Hunter smiles and gets up too to pay. Jack buttons up his jacket and they leave the bar together. 

The air is crisp and there’s a hint of rain. Jack can taste the drops already. 

The walk is a little longer than expected and when they arrive at the house, Jack finally gets suspicious. Hunter claims to live on the second floor, and there’s light in two of the rooms. Did he leave his lights on? That is wasting resources and Sam doesn’t like it when Jack would leave the lights on. 

Jack doesn’t give it any more thoughts. Somehow Jack feels a bit icky now, there’s a bitter taste in his mouth and his sight is getting a tiny bit blurry, frayed on the edges. Hunter lets him in. 

“If you like, you can wait here for a second, I uh, I think I didn’t tidy up very well, I didn’t think we’d come home”, Hunter says, giving Jack a crooked smile. The apartment is tiny, the fitted kitchen just has a small fridge and two hot plates. There’s a microwave and an electric kettle, a toaster and a coffee maker. All in all it looks tidy, but worn, the wallpaper of the corridor looks yellow-ish and it smells of cigarettes. Jack doesn’t like it when people smoke and he’s glad none of his dads do so. Hunter hurries to a door that maybe leads to the living room and sleeping room. Jack has very good senses and he doesn’t feel like he’s alone. There’s footsteps and breathing and the smell of something clinical. 

Jack needs to lean against the counter of the kitchen unit and close his eyes. He feels uneasy, something is wrong and he knows he should go. His body feels heavy and his thoughts delay.

And that’s when Jack can hear another man as clear as a bell saying something to Hunter.

“Dude, why did you bring him here? He’s still conscious!”

Then Hunter.

“I had no choice, I gave him the whole bottle. That shit could kill an elephant but he’s still walking straight. I had no idea what to do!”

“You fucking retard!”

This is so loud now, Jack would even hear it if the men didn’t whisper. Jack knows he should react much faster but he feels like he’s walking through water when he reaches for the door and opens it.

And what he sees is nothing he expected.

Jack’s phone is dead.

“What do we do now?”

Sam is clearly panicking and Dean is moderately concerned now, too. Cas kind of holds his shit together, but he also worries. 

The angel also is the one to make first assumptions. 

“Every of our cars has a GPS tracker, right? We can find him like this, we just have to consult the app.”

Sometimes it sounds like Cas thinks there’s a breathing person on the other end of the line looking the GPS signal up for him, but neither Sam or Dean really bother to make fun of him for a change. 

“This is my fault.”

Sam of course blames himself. He has been unfair to Jack, he even insulted him. Something that Sam would never do. If he was still a bit sane, but he seems like his feelings for Jack just turn him inside out. But then he looks at Dean, who really makes a guilty face right now and Sam has an idea.

“No, actually it’s your fault, Dean. You told him about the damn app. We had a fight about it and a couple days later he sneaks out? He must’ve kept contact with someone.”

Dean frowns and crosses his arms, defensively. 

“Well I didn’t expect him to pull it off, I mean the boy is clearly in love with you, Sam. I thought that would help him enough through his identity crisis.”

Sam just ignores Dean’s suggestion, Jack would be in love with Sam. Sam would know that, right? He would notice, if Jack was seeking his attention? And given the nature of their relationship that would be absolutely inappropriate.

As inappropriate as his own feelings for Jack.

“Stop making fun of him, I swear, I’ll strangle you myself if something happened to him.”

“Whatever.” Dean says and shrugs. “I know I’m right about that. You should’ve just, dunno, give him a hand or so.”

“You’re unbelievable!”

Before Sam could really reach out and knock his brother unconscious, Castiel interferes. Physically and vocally.

“Sam, Dean. This isn’t helping. It doesn’t matter whose fault it is that Jack is gone, we need to find him. The GPS app says the car is parked in Gilead, Kansas. That’s about an hour and a half away from here. I turned on angel radio, but Jack isn’t responding. Something has happened. We need to go. I’ll zap us to the car and from there, I can maybe sense him. We have no time for rituals. Let’s hope, he’s okay.”

Sam feels like he is about to collapse and cry his heart out. Jack is out there and maybe he’s in danger. 

Life Imitates Art

What is irritating Jack the most isn’t the camera on a tripod in front of the bed. It’s also not the three strange guys surrounding the bed or Hunter’s surprised and frightened face. It is the tarp spread over the mattress. A black shiny huge tarp and Jack doesn’t have a single idea why it should be there. His vision shifts slightly and there’s a distant ringing in his ears. 

“What is..?” Jack wants to ask but the sentence won’t leave his mouth completely. 

Of course, even he gets now he’s been tricked into something. He’s been so incredibly stupid.

“Come on, boy, just relax”, one of the men says and Jack recognizes the voice. 

It’s the one who called Hunter a retard and complained about Jack still being conscious. That’s why the coke tasted like soap. Hunter tried to drug him!

The man comes closer now, Jack smells his sharp and heavy aftershave and his head is spinning. Gladly, Jack is half angel and the drugs didn’t knock him out. That’s why Hunter gave him too much it seems. He isn’t going to faint or something but Jack is clearly handicapped and when a second guy also comes closing in Jack looks for a way out, but Hunter behind him locks the door. He looks around, panicking, but all he sees is an XXL bottle of massage oil and sex toys. Oh holy shit.

“Don’t come near me!”, Jack says, retreating, but nudging Hunter with his back and Hunter grips his arms. “Don’t touch me!”

Jack knows how it is to be afraid, but this is a whole new level of fear. He fears for what these men will do to him if he doesn’t manage to get out. The familiar sensation of his powers start tickling. First in his stomach, then his arms and then a piercing pain behind his eyes.

“I said, don’t touch me!”

The men won’t stop but one of them is looking at him like he’s a ghost.

“What is happening with his eyes?”, he yells. “Shit, something’s wrong with his eyes!”

This must be the moment Jack’s eyes start glowing golden, like they do when Jack is in a state of emotional distress and he does good so. Because the next thing Jack feels is like his chest is erupting. 

“No one touches me!”

And then the world turns red.

Castiel drags Sam and Dean across the city, all three of them panicking. The Volvo is abandoned, parked in the city but no sign of Jack. They have no idea where to look first and Cas’ doesn’t receive any signal from Jack, and, well, you can see he’s trying very hard to get even a tiny bit of information.

Dean and Sam are still yelling at each other, like that’s helping anyone right now! But Cas is too focused, too worried to care about the mortals fighting like children. 

When Jack’s powers surface, Cas can hear Jack’s enochian voice in his head and it’s shrill, it’s blinding but he knows exactly where they have to go now. He grabs each Winchester and says, following Jack’s call “Shut up, you two. I got him!”

Jack feels dizzy and sick, and he vomits all over the floor. It’s coke and alcohol, gastric acid and the drug Hunter gave him. Everything’s coming out in spurts and Jack is happy to get rid of the poison. The dust in the room settles, three bodies are scattered around him, all of them still breathing but bleeding but one of them, the fourth is crawling towards the door. Jack wants to stop him, because he thinks the man might hurt another boy just like this and he can’t let him get away with it, but his human body is cramping and throwing up bitter fluids. 

The man wails when Sam shows up out of nowhere, sided by Cas and Dean. Jack sees them through a veil of tears, but he can’t get up, all he can do for now is whimper. There’s distant grunts and yelling, hectic moving. Cas helps him sit up and his warm healing light helps Jack regain some conscience. 

“They’re all blacked out”, Jack hears Dean say. “God damn, look at this, Sam. Camera, bed, latex bed sheets, dildos, lube….”

“Gang rape”, Sam just says and Jack can hear his voice shake with anger. 

Then - sounds of plates clashing on the floor and Sam yelling at Dean. And then yelling at Jack who’s still held by Cas to be healed. 

“For fuck’s sake, Jack! What did you do?!”

“We need to leave”, Cas says, “we can’t stay, the eruption didn’t happen unheard. Police will be here soon.”

“Sam?”, Jack moans. “Sam?”

Sam crouches in front of Jack and places his hand on Jack’s cheek. There’s no smile in Sam’s face, which Jack would die for. There’s disappointment and anger. So much anger. 

“I didn’t mean to…”

Jack regains his strength and gets up. “I’m okay, Cas. I can walk.”

It’s no difference if Jack wanted it or not, it happened. He has almost been assaulted and videotaped because he trusted the wrong person. Because he wanted to show Sam he’s an adult, he can make his own decisions. He’s mature enough to date. 

The bitter truth is, that Jack was just a brat and it almost cost him something important. His innocence.

On the way home, Jack and Sam don’t talk much. Dean and Cas zapped back home, but they needed to get the car away from the parking lot and Jack doesn’t want to be zapped, he still feels sick. It’s not only because he threw up all of his meals and drinks today or that he used his powers to defend himself. It was the look on Sam’s face that was utterly sickening. Jack could live with Sam yelling at him again, even calling him a whore or whatever. Call him stupid, childish, bratty, cocky. But the silence is gnawing on Jack’s nerves like a hungry rat. But there’s not much he can say, because if he just told Sam what’s gotten into him he would maybe spill he’s in love with Sam. That he wanted to know what is going on with his body and mind and why he desires Sam of all people on this planet … that Jack wanted to know how it feels to be taken seriously by someone who desires Jack. And if there was a way to forget about Sam with someone else. It didn’t work with Aurora, hell it didn’t work with Hunter. 

Jack wonders if he’ll just be in this state forever. Seeing Sam and immediately daydreaming of his big, strong hands all over Jack’s body. 

Sam doesn’t talk to him for the whole ride except necessities, he doesn’t talk much when they’re home. There’s another very nasty fight between all three of his dads, when they think Jack is already asleep. Cas looked after him half of the night, helped him shower, brought him sandwiches, water and anti nausea pills. He even attempts to talk about what happened but Jack just can’t. Not yet. Not with Cas. How could a seraph, a celestial being, understand Jack’s human nature? And his failures? He tries and Jack is happy about it. He apologizes to Cas more than once but Cas just says, it’s okay, it happens, we all make mistakes. 

But the yelling of Sam and Dean is deafening.

Sam accuses Dean of getting Jack willfully in danger. Dean yelling at Sam for being a fucking coward. A hypocrite, a prude. A liar. 

Dean is a drinker, an asshole, a narcissist, relationally disturbed and overall a bad person. 

If you believe what they say to each other, which Jack doesn’t. 

He doesn’t know what or whom to believe these days.

It takes Dean two days to come up to Jack and apologize. There’s a lot of words being said, all saying the same. That Dean was a prick for saying that, he didn’t mean Jack to get in danger. And somehow Jack thinks, no, he didn’t want Jack to get hurt. He wanted to teach Jack a lesson, whatever that lesson was. Jack wasn’t getting behind it and Dean just manipulates sometimes. He maybe knows the answer and Jack would’ve done a lot to be able to read minds. He could also make all of them stop lying again, but the last time ended in so much chaos… Jack better doesn’t act up at all these days. He’s just happy his fathers found him on time. 

Put Your Hands On My Waist, Do It Softly

It takes Jack three nights to finally go up to Sam’s room and knock. He knows Sam is awake, he may not be able to read minds, but he senses Sam’s distress. 

“Yeah?”, Sam calls.

“Sam, uh, it’s me, Jack. Can I come in?”

A loud sigh, creaking of the bed. 

“Sure. Come in.”

Jack feels like the damn newborn fawn he didn’t want to be mistaken for in this moment when he worms into Sam’s room and closes the door behind him. Sam is in his shorts only, Jack in his pajamas, but when Jack is honest, he didn’t sleep a single minute since they got back to the bunker. He is afraid of the dark and the loneliness and he misses Sam around him so damn much, he cries until his eyes burn and his face is swollen. 

“Sam, I wanted to say, … I am sorry, I shouldn’t have lied to you about the app. I shouldn’t have snuck out to meet a shady guy so far away. I’m really sorry.”

Sam looks up. 

“Jack, what you did was stupid, rash and irresponsible but I’m not the one you should apologize to. I should apologize to you, but all of this won’t make it undone, you know?”

He tears up again when he sees the hurt look on Sam’s face.

“Look, I know I was mean to you and I was overprotective, rude and I didn’t even tell you why I’m not telling you everything about love and sex you want and need to hear. I should have because I’m your caretaker and I should’ve known better. I don’t blame you even half as much as I blame myself.”

At first Jack wants to protest, but Sam is right. There’s been mistakes on both sides with a hint of Dean spicing things up. 

“Can I sit down?”, Jack then asks, still standing in the corner at the door. 

Sam gets up and puts his laundry away from the only available seat. Except his bed. 

Jack sits down, rubbing his face and squeezing his legs together. Damn tears. He even has a headache. 

“I wanted to understand”, Jack mumbles, looking down at his lap. “Why I feel certain things for certain people-”, he looks up, Sam’s face is still a stiff grimace, “... why is it all so confusing?”

“Love?”, Sam asks.

“Yes, love. Sex. All of it.”

There’s a minute of nerve wracking silence, before Jack has the guts to say it.

“I only ever wanted to know how it is with you.”

It’s so quiet now, Jack imagines he could hear a pin drop at the gas station out of Lebanon. He knows he dropped a bomb right here, but he overheard another fight with Dean calling Sam a hypocrite -again- and ‘having the hots for the kid’. Apart from being called a damn kid again, Jack checked what that means. Having the hots. And well, yeah, Jack himself has the hots for Sam and he doesn’t want to live with the uncertainty anymore. He won’t meet anyone else he wants to be with, not in a very long time and if Sam doesn’t reciprocate his feelings, he can still try to move on. But there’s no moving on in a vacuum. Like now.

“Dean is right?”, Jack asks carefully, his voice is thin.

“Dean is right”, Sam finally admits and buries his face in his hands. “But it doesn’t mean it’s right. You know?”

“I know.”

Another second passes.

“No, actually I don’t know, Sam. I don’t think it’s wrong. You said you’d never judge. But why did you do so when I needed your approval the most?”

Sam looks helpless, wringing his hands. 

“Because I was jealous and I shouldn’t be.”

“I would’ve liked your jealousy more than being insulted by you.”

It’s visible how uncomfortable Sam is, he’s fighting emotions. Jack is, too. But he’s crying already. What happened to Jack was terrifying, but what he really, truly fears is Sam’s rejection.

“I’m sorry, Jack.”

“Stop being sorry and start being honest with me… Don’t you think I deserve it now? I know I’ve changed very radically. I used to go to town in my damn pajamas. That’s barely four weeks ago and it feels like years already.”

Sam smiles now. Even a little sad.

“Yes, it was actually very adorable. Seeing you like this.”

“I’m not adorable anymore. I’m not that naive anymore. Why can’t you just… see me like Dean sees Cas?”

“That’s a very bad example and you know it.”

Now Jack laughs and wipes away some cold tears from his face. 

“And I already see you like this, Jack. But I feel guilty for it. I’m here to keep you safe. I want to be the person you turn to when you’re lost, I want to guide you, but also be the person that’s your safe haven. Can I do that when we… Jack, when we get together, our relationship will change. We will get to know each other in ways that might scare you. Or even scare me. I’m afraid of that. And if I’m afraid, you should be, too.”

When Jack gets up and sits beside Sam on the bed, without asking first -- it feels like a very bold move for Jack. He likes being close to Sam and feeling his body radiate warmth and safety but also desire and a pull that’s hard to resist, Jack knows it’s the right thing.

“I’m not afraid. I’ve been afraid in Gilead, but when I’m with you, I know nothing bad will ever happen to me.”

Sam’s face yells OBJECTIONS but Jack ignores it.

Jack leans on Sam’s shoulder, the touch feels electrifying and at first, Sam stiffens, but then relaxes and puts his hand around Jack’s shoulders.

“I’m not afraid”, Jack says again. 

Sam nuzzles his nose against Jack’s hair and kisses him right behind his ear. Jack feels violent hot shudders all over and that is the most intense thing he’s ever felt for anyone.

“It feels good”, he mumbles, turning his face to Sam. 

Sam is close, incredibly close and despite the hot shudders Jack gets goosebumps all over. It feels like that one time he had fevers, when he was dying, but in a good way. The best possible way. 

Jack doesn’t receive a kiss on his lips, as he wished for, Sam kisses his cheek and his jaw. Just slightly. But to Jack it feels like he’s a dying sun out there in the universe and he’s being eaten up by heat and flares of light. 

And then Sam’s hand reaches for Jack’s.

“I still need time…”, he whispers, “we both need some time. To be sure.”

“I’m very sure.”

“Give it a minute”, Sam says, hot breath lingering over Jack’s face. “Just a minute…”

Even Sam can’t wait the damn minute before he kisses Jack. Gentle and soft like a hummingbird.

"This is Heaven, what I truly want."

[tintentrinkerin]

Innocence Lost

Parte One of the Series ‘Hedgehog Dilemma’

Rating: Mature Pairings: Dean/Castiel, Sam/Jack eventually Tags: Dysfunctional Relationships, Virginity, Dating Apps, Sexting Mention, Teen Rebellion, Attempted Noncon, First Kiss, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse, Dean has issues, short Jack/OFC, Date Rape Drugs/Roofies, Angelic Powers, Alternative Canon, Canon Bending Summary: Jack is curious about love and sex but none of his foster fathers are helping. Created for @winklinebingo Squares filled: Virginity, Teen Rebellion, Sexting, Dating Apps ~Inspired by Gods and Monsters by Lana Del Rey, but in the version of AESTHETIC PERFECTION~ Seriously, listen to it. It’s amazing.  Word count: 15.6k Read under the cut or on AO3

I Was An Angel

She’s a pretty girl. She really is.

Long curly, glossy hair and she always smells like flowers. Or cherries. Sometimes bubblegum. Jack is very sensitive to sweet smells and tastes and this girl is just a bouquet of the sugary and most flowery things. He likes smelling her and he likes her voice, it always sounds like she’s singing or telling a fairytale. She even has a princess name: Aurora.

Her eyes remind him of Castiel, intense blue with yellow speckles. Jack has read some love poems before, by Shakespeare and Wilde and Rilke and he thought of this girl when he read them. She is love poem perfect.

But, look. Thing is, yes she’s cute, she’s stunning, she’s like a spring breeze and a lot of boys would probably sacrifice a hand to be with her. And Jack is her boyfriend. For about two weeks now.

Jack has no idea how to do this whole relationship thing. He met her when he was about to go buy some bread and pie. He had gone out with his pajama shorts still on and he didn’t even notice. Aurora was behind him in line and when they both were done buying their groceries, she stopped him and whispered in his ear, “You’re still wearing your pajamas!”

The whole which-clothes-when issue was still new to him, that’s why he messed up. And he apologized to her, but she only laughed. And her laughter made him feel better. She made him feel better all around.

Jack didn’t know much of the world. Of course, he already knew a lot. He knew about hunting and friendships, about family and good and evil. He had experienced a lot already.

In theory, he knew about love. He asked Dean about love and sex. The answers haven’t been all too satisfying and there was no intrinsic feeling, no urge for Jack to go out there and find love. Or sex. He’s found Aurora now, that sweet girl, that perfect girl. She liked him a lot, he knew it. Two weeks are enough to fall in love, it seems.

Jack isn’t in love. He knows it. Love feels different. Dean and Castiel both have described for him what love feels like. Their wording has been totally different but it was clear they mean the same thing. And they love each other, despite their differing descriptions.

Why is he with her then?, he asks himself a lot. Because she is nice? She is pretty? She makes him smile? She laughs with him, not at him.

To her, Jack is just a quirky shy boy. He’s not the Spawn of Satan, or a Nephilim, or a Time Bomb. He’s not a tool. Not a weapon. Not an abomination.

He’s just that kid living with these three middle aged weirdos who live in a bunker outside of Lebanon. She never judges.

What is love then?

Jack has an answer to that. He feels butterflies in his stomach, but it took him a while to understand it was a figure of speech. There were no actual butterflies in his stomach. But it was a tingling, a pull, heart pounding in his chest. Sweating. Shaking. Becoming super dumb all of a sudden, because Jack would confuse words, form abstruse sentences and just completely messes it up. He feels all that. He has dreams about this person and his underwear is wet the next morning. He had googled it and it seems to be a normal thing to happen to boys. But he feels embarrassed every time and hates it when someone else does the laundry. He doesn’t want other people to touch his dirty laundry. He also daydreams about kisses, and hugs, and heavy breathing, of noises that sound like Jack’s in pain, but he clearly isn’t.

Sometimes he would stare at the wall for solid minutes before he snaps out of daydreaming or someone catches his attention. Either by door slamming, “Kid, you there?” or - what Dean likes to do - throwing chocolate bars at him. Jack has angel reflexes, nothing ever hits him. Dean knows it.

Jack also has been exposed to “adult magazines” already. Dean seems to hide his magazines all over the bunker and it was just a matter of time til Jack found one and took a close, very close look. He was confused about the nudity first, he was told nudity is for showers, bedrooms and birth apparently. He’s been born naked and Sam told him, babies were born naked. And people got naked when they ‘made love’ but that was something Sam didn’t talk about. Jack had asked, but Sam denied telling him how one ‘makes’ love.

The nudity wasn’t the only thing Jack was astounded about. What these people did looked very, very peculiar. And Jack put the magazine back, when his body from belly button down felt tingly, hot and somehow itchy. Even his ‘down there’ started growing. It got hard. It confused him for a while but when his crotch grew soft, he felt relieved and never looked at something like this again.

Later he found out there was a way to make it go soft ‘down there’ again. He just needs to touch himself and what happens then is bombastic. And messy.

This feeling, love. Was he ‘making’ it? But according to Sam two people were needed to make love together. Feeling it all by his own couldn’t be the same then. Jack was confused.

To add to his confusion, when he was at a case with Dean, Dean had talked about courting and ‘the sex’ and Dean has made fun of him when he came home two weeks ago and announced he had a girlfried.

“Which base? First? Second?”

Sam gave Dean a scowl and a slight punch against the chest.

“Don’t listen to him, Jack. We’re happy for you.”

When he was in his room at night, he barely slept. As a half angel he didn’t need as much sleep as a human. And he knew that Castiel never sleeps. Sometimes they met in the library to talk and play chess or Go. On some other nights when Castiel wasn’t in the bunker or with Dean, Jack would just read whatever came in handy. They had a large library, but Jack was a fast reader and soon he had to download books to his eReader that Sam gave him for his first birthday. But also, this tiny piece of electronics didn’t have enough capacity to download all the books Jack would read in a week, that’s why he asked Sam for a new microSD card for his smartphone. Sam didn’t say no to Jack very often. Jack read Victor Hugo and Jean-Paul Sartre, also Marcel Proust and he had a great time reading Finnegans Wake and Ulysses. He wished James Joyce was still alive, because Jack wanted to tell him what a great and funny piece of literature he had written.

He asked Sam to summon James Joyce.

Sam thought he was messing with him, then said ‘no’.

Jack doesn’t like it when people tell him ‘no’ and that makes it even harder now for him to say no to Aurora.

It’s their second week and she’s so in love with him. Well, that's what she tells Jack. And he likes her pink lips, they look like flower petals and he wonders how they feel.

Exactly what Aurora wants him to do, outside the waffle’s place. She wants to kiss him and she looks pretty, her closed eyes, a tiny raindrop caught in her long eyelashes and she smells of vanilla and there’s still powdered sugar on her chin.

Jack backs away. Her pouty lips look nice and he wants to feel them. With his finger.

When she realizes Jack isn’t leaning in to kiss her, she opens her eyes. She looks hurt.

“Did I do something wrong?”, she asks.

Jack feels incredibly bad about the situation and he doesn’t even know what to say. He can't explain why shies away from a kiss.

He hasn’t been kissed ever before. And he thinks of someone else when he closes his eyes at night, hand under the cover, rubbing himself through the fabric of his pajamas.

“I’m sorry, I…I have never kissed someone before, I’m…I’m nervous.”

That isn't a lie, he tells himself. It’s not a lie. Lying is bad.

“Oh”, she mouths. A perfect O shape with her lips.

“Are you mad at me, Aurora?”, he asks, feeling very bad and guilty.

Jack hates disappointing people and he avoids it at every cost. Usually. But he can’t kiss her, it wouldn’t feel good. He knows, deep down it won’t feel good at all. It won’t be catastrophic, but kissing someone he doesn't like that way is wrong. Sam told him he shouldn’t be physical with people he doesn’t know well. Sam told him he should be physical with someone he really really likes and that more than just as a friend.

Aurora feels like someone more than a friend, but there’s no nocturnal pining for her. That’s for someone else. That’s why he has to go home now, before he makes it even worse with Aurora.

“No, Jack, it’s okay, I didn’t know…I thought…I mean you said you’re 21, I kinda just thought you already have…you know, kissed someone. Or even more.”

Jack raises an eyebrow.

“Even more?”

Aurora hides in her pastel pink scarf.

“Yes, sex, you know?”

With a sigh, Jack looks away and he can feel his face start burning. He has no idea how to have sex, he doesn’t even know exactly what it should be. It was a part of relationships, like Dean and Castiel’s but…all Jack can think about in regards of ‘making love’ and kissing and sex was…Sam.

“I’m not experienced”, he replies, slightly trembling. “I never did it.”

-

Later in the bunker, Jack is sleepless. He would like to sleep this time, because he feels exhausted and hurt. There’s something Aurora said. She said, if he kept people at distance he would never experience love and sex. Even a kiss was a problem already. This view on things was very weird to him. He doesn’t have a problem with kissing or finding out what love is. He just doesn’t want to kiss her. It feels wrong.

She didn’t text him since they departed on unknown terms.

And another thing creeps in his mind. Maybe the problem is that he doesn’t just not like Aurora, maybe he doesn’t like girls at all? And Sam is a man. Maybe he likes men, like Dean does? Dean often talked about women, he seems to like both. Men and women. And Castiel doesn’t even raise a brow when Dean talks about ‘casual sexual encounters’ how Castiel calls them. It’s still unknown territory for Jack.

There are people who like girls, there are people who like men and people who like both…and what if their body doesn’t matter at all?

Jack doesn’t know where the difference should be, except that a man looks different from a woman.

The whole sex thing is driving him up the walls.

He gets up, puts his slippers on and goes to the library. Dean is there, a bottle of whisky in front of him. He doesn’t look deadly drunk, but drunk enough. Sometimes Jack is afraid of Dean when he had too much of this stuff. He can be very mean, aggressive and violent.

Jack braces himself and joins him at the table. Dean looks up. His green eyes are glassy and his face is red.

“Can’t sleep, kiddo?”, he asks, wrapping his gown tighter.

Jack nods.

“No. I was naughty. And now I’m upset.”

Dean’s head jerks up, now Jack has his full attention. The smirk gives it away, Dean will make fun of him for sure.

“Naughty? As in, you finally did sweet lovin’ to her or?”

Jack shakes his eyes, frowning.

“Now, she wanted to kiss me but I didn’t want to.”

He sighs, sinks back in the chair, looking at the ceiling. There’s silence, Dean just chugs down the rest of the whisky, but he has another already on hand and opens it.

“Need a sip?”

His first instinct is to say ‘no’, but then he agrees and takes a drink directly from the bottle. Whiskey tastes like paste. He hates alcohol and it doesn’t make him drunk. He could drink ten of these bottles and still wouldn't feel a little thing. He knew that Cas also could drink immense amounts and he never feels even dizzy.

“How do I know if I’m gay?”, he asks and avoids eye contact.

Dean bursts out in laughter. It takes a while for him to calm down again. Jack feels very embarrassed.

“I shouldn’t have asked”, he murmurs and attempts to get up again but Dean stops him.

“Ey sorry. I’ll give you some advice okay? You will know when a man or a woman drives you crazy. Just, I don’t know. Try it. Get Grindr or whatever, chat with some guys, meet up. And try it.”

Dean’s eyes are really teary now. That was maybe a little too much.

“Are you okay, Dean?”

“Ya, ‘m fine. No worries.”

Dean is not okay, but Jack has learned his lesson. Dean will always say it’s okay, there’s no problem, I’m fine.

Sam is a lot different from him. He’s strong and calm, his hands are so big and his broad shoulders would be perfect to lean on.

Dean is different. Never at peace, restless. Always on the run from whatever is going on in his head.

“Is Sam…is Sam gay?”

Jack is shocked by his own words. Dean freezes. And then slowly, very slowly turns to Jack. There’s nothing friendly in his face, it’s a grimace.

“No, he’s not, Jack. Never was. Never will be.”

His heart feels like it’s sinking down to Jack’s groin. It hurts. He gets up.

“I should go to bed. Good night.”

“Sleep tight.”

Tonight Jack cries, hugging his moose plush toy.

*

“Grindr or whatever.”

“Chat with some guys, meet up. And try it.”

Dean’s statements from that night stick with the poor innocent boy. He rolls these thoughts in his head and they roll from one corner to the other, like marbles. He also dips his tongue in them, tastes them. Makes them slide from his teeth down to his throat. But he never swallows them.

Sam is not gay.

“Never was. Never will be.”

Sam doesn't like men. He doesn’t like boys. And Jack is a boy. Does that mean he has to give up on what he feels? But, what if Jack isn't gay himself? He has no experience. Not with girls, not with boys. He only knows it feels wrong to kiss Aurora. She is one girl of billions. And Sam is just one man of billions.

Maybe, even when Sam is not interested in men, Jack is an exception. He is half angel!

Grindr. Or whatever.

What is Grindr?

Jack didn’t eat this morning, because he  heard Sam and Castiel fighting over something Jack didn’t want to be part of. It was enough to see Dean drink so much, but he wouldn’t participate in any of the tensions that his behaviour caused lately. Dean had told him, he would kill him. Well, maybe he won’t do that anymore now since Jack helped to save the world more than once. He said Jack isn’t family. Maybe he still thinks so. It hurts Jack, because he loves his three father figures and he looks up to Dean. He’s a strong hunter, a leader. He’s the muscle of this team. Sam is the brain. Castiel somehow is the heart. But what is Jack? Always willing to sacrifice himself to make Sam and Cas and Dean love him.

These thoughts are dark enough and going out there and witnessing another fight wasn’t Jack’s favourite start of the day.

He rather hid in his room after showering.

Dean has offered him some breadcrumbs like the ones Hansel and Gretel left to find their way back home from the forest. But he needs to go the other way. He doesn’t need to find his way out of the forest and away from the witch’s gingerbread house. Jack wants to find exactly that.

Wrapped in his towel he sits down on his bed, takes his smartphone and opens a search engine tab. Aurora has texted him but he doesn’t want to reply right now. He feels bad about how he let her down and didn’t kiss her.

He isn’t sure what he is supposed to search for, he just types grinder. Several online shops appear. Obviously it’s a name for a tool to crush herbs and marijuana. Did Dean mean that? He should grind some herbs and perform a ritual? Nah. Dean was drunk, he surely didn’t think that far.

Next step is to look it up in an online dictionary.

It says a lot of things about molars (pressing together with a rotating motion), grinding as a verb to pulverize material, and then something caught Jack’s eye.

to rotate the hips in an erotic manner

Now, that makes sense in a way, that makes Jack blush deeply. It’s a motion he sometimes imagines when he’s hot and aroused. When his body works up, his cheeks hot and his spine tingly. He imagines sitting on Sam’s lap, both kissing and sighing, and then Jack would...grind.

Jack has to put the phone away for a second. Thinking of this clouds his judgement.

After a minute of breathing in and out and trying to tone these thrilling images down Jack is ready to now search for: “Grinder gay men”

The search engine reports “No results for Grinder gay men found. Do you want to search for Grindr gay men instead?”

Jack is irritated about the missing “e”, that’s a typo, right? but he presses the tab ‘yes’.

What pops up now is an article from an online encyclopedia and describes Grindr as a mobile app for gay, bisexual and trans men to chat and meet other men of the same interests.

The second article is a link to his smartphone’s app store, which Jack opens.

Dean wanted him to find this app. To meet other men. Try it. Now it all makes sense! Jack is happy about this. Dean wouldn’t be so mean to him after all!

He downloads the app Grindr - Chats, Meeting and Dating for Gays . The app’s icon is black with an orange mask in the middle. Looks plain but also makes Jack curious.

To use the app Jack has to sign up. Since Castiel once has given him permission to sign up in a social network he just thinks it applies to this stuff too.

There’s a lot of text about privacy, which he just accepts to go further. He signs up with his e-mail address and password. He struggles with his birthday. He tells people he’s 21 years old, which makes his birthday for official purposes May 18th somewhere in the nineties. He has to do some funny verification procedures, the last one is verifying his phone number.

The app wants him to upload a picture of him, and because he doesn’t have any he just takes one. He doesn’t mind that he's naked except the tiny towel around his waist. The first step is easy. He’s Jack, 21 and looking for Chat, Dates, Meeting up and Friends. He wonders why there’s two options for meeting people. One sounds like it’s for impatient people and the other one is for people who are patient. Like Sam. Sam would be patient.

He’s now transferred to the next page. And he now sees a lot of other people using the app it seems. A lot of very muscly men are there. They all like to show their body, but Jack doesn’t really like this. Their nudity even makes him feel icky.

Some men have nicknames like “BigTrunkBear” or “LikeItRough” or “Creamlover”. Jack’s confusion is growing.

There’s also a lot of men having no photo at all, but how should Jack know how they look? Also the photos of legs irritate him.

The app notifies him he needs to complete his profile. There’s some multiple choice questions but also dropdown menus and input masks.

It’s easy for him to type a few sentences about himself.

Jack is as blunt as it could be.

“Hello, I’m Jack. I like nougat, my fathers and shadow show.”

Age and height are no problem, but he has to google what ethnicity is. His skin is pale, then he must be white.

Every question after that is confusing to him. He doesn’t know what “position” (Top, Bottom, Vers) he is, is he a “Bear” or a “Twink”? What is all that?

The confusion grows and Jack closes the app for a moment. He thinks about googling all of it. But then his phone chimes and there’s a text message in the app from a man with the nickname “OralPlesaurer”. Which is funny to Jack, because it’s a typo. And no one’s name in real life is OralPleasurer or Creamlover.

Cream is cool, yeah, whipped on pie. But Jack’s not a lover in the sense of the word. Weird people there.

Jack opens the message, it’s a simple “Hi”.

Jack sends a "Hi" back.

What happens then can only be described as…unexpected.

-

Shinin’ Like A Fiery Beacon

Sam has no suspicions what’s happening in Jack’s mind, but he notices he’s shy around him. Maybe even a little uneasy. The last months have been rough and Sam knows Jack has gone through a lot. Mostly he tried to gain Dean’s trust again, make him and Dean forgive him. But Sam was never mad at him. He couldn’t.

There is a lot in Jack that reminds Sam of himself and that makes it hard for him to look at the situation objectively.

Jack was destined to be a weapon for his father, Lucifer. And Lucifer was a special kind of topic for Sam and it has granted him a very twisted satisfaction that Jack helped to kill him off permanently. Three times. Jack’s struggle with his heritage was something Sam totally understands and yes, of course he also understands why Dean is angry and hurt.

But why does he treat Jack like that still?

Why is he so determined to stick to his anger and his grief? It doesn't even seem like he is trying to get over it, to forgive Jack.

There’s something else on Dean’s noggin’ and Sam knows it, even when Dean doesn’t talk about it. The empty whisky bottles, all the sex with nameless strangers and his risky behavior aren’t new to Sam or Cas.

But that Cas puts up with Dean’s bullshit is astounding. He wouldn’t let that happen. And Sam fights a lot. With Cas. About Dean. With Dean. About Dean. And Cas. And how he treats Jack.

Lately Sam noticed a feeling deep inside of him, flourished for Jack. A gentle, fragile feeling and he didn’t dare to touch this topic. Not even when he was in his room alone at night, rolling around in his bed. It’s a special kind of affection mixed with a frustrating amount of attraction. Sam hates himself for feeling like this. It’s just not right. Jack is nothing like his father, yes, but that's also not the problem. He’s barely 4 years old by now, he came into the world in the body of a young man but little knowledge and childlike naivety. How could Sam take advantage of that? Jack clearly wants to gain his friendship and maybe a platonic kind of love. It’s wrong of Sam to wish for more than that. And that’s why he keeps it hidden and rather tumbles into new fights about Dean’s alcoholism.

It’s his turn to do the cooking today while Cas and Dean are on an investigation and he’s alone with Jack. Sam notices once more that Jack hides in his room a lot, he won’t come out unless Sam calls him to lunch or dinner. Mostly he skips breakfast. So far there’s nothing weird about it, maybe Jack needs some privacy. Sam thinks of his youth with Dean and Dad on the road and how he hated to never be alone.

Taking ‘long showers’ was always suspicious and a lot of things he and Dean did were blurry to him now in his late thirties. When Sam fled to Stanford and finally had a room for himself, actual locks and actual keys for them, doors he could close...it was better than heaven. That’s when he finally could explore what it meant to be a teenager and deal with the rampaging hormones on his own. Also, he could finally be away from Dean’s hypersexual behavior. Maybe Dean thought it was cool to be like this in front of Sam, especially when they as brothers became a little too close and it was his way to dodge the bullet.

In the light of his own memories Sam knows what is happening.

And he’s sure Jack’s kind of blossoming at the moment.

With his super cute and lovely girlfriend, Aurora.

Sam hasn’t met her yet and he has no idea how to react. Of course, he’d be nice and polite and make her dinner and ask her all the nice and polite things for small talk and tell Jack how lucky he is but there’s something primal inside of Sam. Jealousy. He hates being jealous and he has no right to feel that way. One more reason to just let this blooming feeling die and not feed it with anything.

Not with his weird daydreams or the thoughts at night that keep him bothered and not the moments he’s alone in the shower, rubbing one out. Afterwards he’s just more frustrated, instead of feeling any relief.

Sam needs another cup of coffee, a strong one. Before Cas and Dean went out, there had been another argument. It was hurtful. Things were said and then taken back, Cas’ puppy eyes all over, Sam's yelling and Dean almost breaking shit. Like always. Maybe after this one they’d calm down, all of them. Dean and Cas were alone for a while, maybe doing some reconciliation. Sam would be happy for them if they could get over whatever was going on.

In the meantime Sam is just happy with cooking, doing laundry, generally cleaning the bunker and reading. It may sound boring for some people but for him it’s heaven. They’ve had too much going on for fifteen years, some peace is pretty nice and just what he needs right now.

Jack’s an active reader too and he reads the good stuff. Sam educates him about most things he’s comfortable with and he knows he should’ve given the kid ‘The Talk’ already, but Dean kinda started it and Sam is a bit of a chicken regarding this topic. Sex isn’t his favorite thing to talk about. And so far, there seems no reason to rush it, even though Aurora is there. Dean told him about a week ago that Jack has refused to kiss her and if there wasn't anything else going on Sam was unaware of, that was the sexiest thing Jack had achieved so far. A kiss from a girl.

Sam burns his tongue on his coffee because he chugged it too quickly. With a curse he bangs the mug on the table and that’s when Jack walks in. Lately he abandoned his adorable pajamas and wears some of Dean’s and Sam’s old shirts and flannels he grabbed out of the sacks for the clothing drive. That looks wrong in all the right ways, but Sam can’t really say anything about it without letting his guard down. And he won’t let his guard down. Never.

“Morning, Jack”, Sam utters, trying to cool his tongue with a sip of water. “I didn’t expect you to be up that early. Want some porridge?”

Jack looks up at him and there’s still a sleepy veil surrounding him. He seems to be just woken up. He is wearing one of Sam's old shirts, which is too big for him and the sight makes Sam gulp. A little.

“Yes, sounds good.” Jack sits down and yawns in his hand while Sam gets him some porridge and a cup of coffee with a lot of milk in it.

Now Sam notices that Jack carries his smartphone with him, which is unusual. Jack mostly uses it for chatting with Aurora or doing some research but he never carries it around like some other teenagers do who are maybe a little too attached to it. It vibrates a couple of times before Jack takes it and mutes all notifications. He looks…guilty?

“What is it? Is Aurora chatty today?”

Jack looks up and puts a spoonful of porridge in his mouth, shaking his head.

“No, it’s um…it’s nothing.”

Sam is suspicious. Does Jack talk to someone else? Would he need to give him a talk about keeping options open? He doesn’t want to approach the issue by himself, so he rather sits down and eats his breakfast too. Jack seems a bit nervous, always throwing stolen glances at his phone and the screen lights up every couple of minutes. Jack doesn’t reply to any of these messages, he just turns the phone screen down on the table and keeps eating.

The day goes by, Sam just gets cosy in the library. Dean messaged him it’s a vampire nest and he and Cas will hunt them down tonight. Which is a good sign. Sam also told him to take some time off after it, maybe go to Vegas. Dean hasn’t replied yet. It’s a bit selfish but Sam likes the quiet peace in the bunker. They have thought of moving out a couple times but none of them could really think of somewhere else to live. They were hunters after all and so far they didn’t think about retiring. The bunker was still the core of their family. A home. Dean’s and Sam’s home after years on the road or couchsurfing at Bobby’s, the only home Jack knows. Sam even started to make his room look like an actual bedroom. It had been bare and clinical for years when he still couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea to settle down with Dean. He thought the bunker would maybe one day be taken away from them again.

His phone chimes and Dean promises to be back in a couple of days. Couple of days. That could mean they’re back tomorrow or in a week. But he’s happy that Dean takes the chance anyway.

Sam is totally sucked in by the book he’s reading and he jolts when Jack appears in the library, a hot chocolate in his small hand and a slight disturbed look on his face.

“Sorry, you scared me a little bit”, Sam says and feels bad about it.

Jack only smiles and takes a seat across the table.

“It’s okay. Sam, can I ask you some questions? I wanted to ask Dean, but he’s away and not replying to my texts…”

“Of course. What’s the matter?”

Jack looks up to him, big blue eyes piercings through Sam’s skin. He hates when that happens, Jack has an unsettling effect on Sam. He’s not used to feel like this.

He squirms in his chair now and then with a sigh, Jack takes the phone out of his pocket to place it in front of him. Okay, so there is something up with the phone. Sam was right about it.

“How do I know if I’m gay?”

Jack doesn’t look at Sam, he stares at his phone. Sam can see his ears getting red and Jack just blushes so easily… and also very intense. His face is burning red, Sam would bet his ass on it.

The question itself is nothing Sam would classify as weird. It’s obvious Jack’s going through a phase of finding himself. Contemplating his own sexuality is part of it. Thing is, it makes Sam slightly uncomfortable talking about it. It’s partly because Jack is so young, the other part is that he’s attracted to Jack. Sam didn’t feel attracted to anyone for years and he hates labels. He loves who he loves and he wants to sleep with people he has a strong connection to. And a life as a hunter doesn’t provide much space for a romance to unravel.

How is he supposed to talk about it when he has no idea where to start?

He isn’t a good measure after all.

“Oh, that is as simple as it is complicated”, Sam starts, folding his hands on the table. He takes deep breaths, before he starts to speak.

“First of all, I can only speak for myself and I don’t know if I'm for much use. In regards of sex you really better ask Dean, but since he doesn’t seem to look at his phone at the moment, I will try.”

He has already told Jack about making love instead of sex and Sam has thought about his choice of words and regretted some of it. It sounded way too much like purity culture and Jack shouldn’t think sex was bad. Sexual attraction isn’t bad at all.

It just doesn’t fit for Sam.

“Does your question have anything to do with how you feel about Aurora?”

Jack nods. Slowly, a little unsure.

“She wanted to kiss me but I didn’t want to. It didn’t feel right. And I wondered if it has something to do with- I mean- maybe I like boys and not girls?”

His face is so red by now, Sam could swear he feels the heat radiating from the boy.

“There could be several reasons for it, it doesn’t mean you’re gay. Most people kiss and make love because they’re attracted to each other. Attraction is a very tricky feeling. It feels like butterflies in your stomach, heart pounding, you maybe even feel dizzy. That’s when most people say they’re in love. Do you feel that when you are with Aurora?”

Jack shakes his head.

“No.”

“Then maybe, you’re just not in love with her, and that's okay. You will fall in love with another girl in the future. Or you fall in love with a boy, which is also totally fine. Also you can feel attraction to people who don’t fit in the girl/boy categories. It’s all just about how you feel around them and if you want to kiss them. Or go further.”

Sam rubs his hands. He really feels uncomfortable educating Jack about love and sex. Now would be a great moment for Dean to show up and take this conversation.

“You know, Dean likes both. Cas is an angel, I don’t think a concept of gender applies to him at all.”

This is when Jack looks up.

“And what do you like?”

Sam now leans back in his chair, his heart aches a little and he feels heat creeping up his neck. He hates that question.

“Well, Jack…” he sighs heavily, “I don’t care much about gender too. I’m not gay, but I’m not straight either. And I’m also not bisexual, like Dean. It’s hard to say. When I like someone, I like them and I don’t see gender. Boy, girl, queer, it doesn’t matter.”

Now Jack takes a long, careful sip of his hot chocolate. His smartphone chimes again and Sam just has to ask.

“Do you think you’re gay, because you didn’t want to kiss Aurora or is there something else on your mind?”

He knows it’s not his business but he also takes it very seriously to be a good role model, be a father figure to Jack. When Jack needs help, Sam will provide it. Same goes for Cas and sometimes even Dean has his bright moments of fatherhood.

It’s obvious Jack doesn’t want to answer right away, he looks like he is tasting words in his mouth, rolling them over his tongue, putting them in his cheeks for a moment, before he says something that surprises Sam.

“There is something else. A man asked me out, but he asked me things I don’t understand.”

Sam stiffens.

“A man? How old?”

Jack shrugs.

“Couple years older than Dean maybe?”

Now Sam leans forward, skeptical and on alert.

“What do you mean, he asked you out? Where? How?”

Jack now shows Sam his phone and Sam recognizes the push messages. The icon is black with an orange mask in the center.

Oh no, that’s not good. Like absolutely bad.

“On this app. He lives close and he asked me if I like bareback? But I don’t know what he means with that. Does he want to go horse riding with me on a date?”

Sam can’t help but laugh. It’s a diminished, unhappy sound.

“No, he doesn’t want to go horse riding with you, Jack. He wants to have unprotected sex with you.”

You Got That Medicine I Need

“What do you mean by… that he wants to have unprotected sex with me?”,  Jack asks.

He was utterly confused about this statement and how Sam came to that conclusion. There’s so much he doesn’t know and so many things he got wrong. Sam also doesn’t help much with his shooting questions and… things like this. Jack furrows his eyebrows, tilting his head.

“You have to delete this app and stop talking to these creeps.”

Sam looks very upset and Jack doesn’t get why.

“Answer my question please, what is bareback then? Sam, why do you think he’s a creep? He seems actually nice, he says he likes my eyes and my lips, look!”

He shows his phone again to Sam and he just takes it. Then Sam gets up and starts fumbling on the screen, his eyes narrow. Jack knows this kind of facial expression, he usually sees it when Sam is upset with Dean. Should Jack maybe tell Sam it wasn’t his own idea to install the app? Would that help? Would he then be mad at Dean? But Jack doesn’t want that either, he wants Dean to like him.

“Jack, it’s gay slang. And this guy”, his voice rises in irritation and suppressed anger, “he looks fishy. Why the hell do you use these apps anyway? You’re with Aurora and… you have no idea about sex yet, casual dating shouldn’t be something you … you like. What is this all about? Jack?”

Jack feels like he’s shrinking to a tiny puddle of shame under Sam’s piercing eyes, his sharp voice and how his chest heaves. He’s also annoyed at the same time. It’s his fathers’ fault he knows so little about sex and how to court people, no one really feels responsible to help him with it, except Dean! Jack looks up to Sam, even when it hurts right now, he hates it so much when Sam is angry. And he feels like he was a dog that took a shit on the carpet and now has to feel utterly guilty for… having essential needs?

That it’s Sam who tells him to stop makes it even worse. He’s trying to figure out what he feels for Sam, it’s hard enough to see him all day and feel this tickly, hot and cold feeling all over his body and only be able to release it in the silent darkness of his room, quietly moaning and thinking of Sam kissing his tummy and thighs… and even more. Jack feels all the heat building up inside him, it makes his skin crawl and his eyes tear up.

“I want to know if I’m gay or not!”, he says, way louder than intended. “And Dean said it’s a good idea to meet up with men and find out what I like!”

Sam stiffens, chest heaving even harder when he drops his hands and bangs them on the table.

“Dean told you to install this app?”, he asks. Voice dangerously gentle.

“Yes.”

Jack crosses his arms, defensively.

And then Sam nudges the smartphone back to Jack. He looks so angry while appearing so calm, apart from his deep breathing. Jack can see the breath vibrate in Sam’s chest and he wishes so badly to lay his head there and hear Sam’s heartbeat, feel his pulse and how his chest moves while breathing.

Sam’s mouth is a firm little line before he speaks.

“I guess Dean didn’t think his advice through, Jack. This app and many others are made for casual sex and hook ups, and I wouldn’t let you meet any of these guys you’re talking too. You could get hurt”, he then combs through his long hair, fishing for words, “You know that there’s people out there who want harm. It’s too dangerous. Delete it.”

Jack doesn’t attempt to take the phone again, looking at Sam, angry himself.

“No. I need to find out who I am and you keep on handling me with kid gloves!”, he says, voice raised and aggressive.

This is when Sam slams the table with his fist. “It’s because you are a fucking kid and I don’t want you to be whoring around!”

Wow.

That feels like a punch in the guts. Jack knows what a whore is. He has googled it after Dean has told ‘whore stories’ at the dinner table when Sam was out with Cas once.

His eyes tear up heavily and there’s a choked sob before Jack grabs his phone and gets up.

“I’m not a whore, Sam. But good to know you think of me like this.”

Sam's frozen solid for a couple seconds, can’t act on anything but wants to. Jack fumbles on his phone with shaking hands and then shows Sam.

“See, app deleted. No ‘whoring around’ for me.”

And then Jack storms off. Sam calls out after him “Jack, I’m sorry, please come back!” But Jack doesn’t come back. He grabs his jacket and goes outside. He needs some time alone.

*

In the evening, alone in his room, Sam is extremely downhearted. He tried to talk to Jack later, when he came back into the bunker. He even came up to Sam himself to show him the app was still gone, but didn’t talk anymore. Of course Sam apologized every time they saw each other, but Jack didn’t react.

Damn, he has fucked up so hard this time. And he can’t even lie to himself saying it was just a stupid thing he said. That he didn’t think. Well, he really didn’t think at that moment. There was just … that moment, that hot red moment of possessiveness, of jealousy. And this fata morgana of pure, asexual Jack that Sam could protect and nuture, versus this dark fucked up desire to kiss him, ruin the literal angel. Be the one to show him love.

To show him how Sam could make him feel, make him come in thousands of ways. Sam’s so touch starved and drawn to Jack and he is so endlessly ashamed of it. It’s not right, he keeps telling himself. It’s wrong to feel attracted to a child. To the child of his rapist. Even Sam cries in bed sometimes, like today. He cries about his stupid words, about how he hurt Jack and how filthy he feels all the time in contrast to the pure and utter arousal picturing the nephil in his bed, sweat covered and hot and willing and moaning Sam’s name when he spills all over his firm stomach.

Fuck. Holy fuck . This is so bad.

*

Jack retreated in the forest for a while, listening to angry music on his phone, kicking sticks and stones around till he reached the pond where he just sat down, stared at the glistening surface for an hour or two. He cried a little, too. Sam’s words have hurt him incredibly. Sam is Jack’s role model and the person he wishes to be closest with. And that Sam, especially Sam implies Jack ‘whored’ was so excruciating, that his half human body even threw up the rest of dinner. With his knees pulled to his chest and his face buried in his eyes he cried and cried, before the childlike side in him started rebelling again. Sam has hurt him, but Jack still wants to know what’s wrong with him. Why he feels for Sam, and if it’s because he’s male… or because he’s Sam.

The feeling hurt even more now, it even hurts now when he’s in bed, staring at the ceiling, still listening to angry yelly music. His body is terribly worked up again, but now Jack reinstalls the app, his profile is still there. He doesn’t know what to do with the old guy who wanted to ‘bareback’ him but he had googled it while staring at the pond and Sam was indeed right. But this old sack wasn’t the only guy Jack was in touch with, there was also Hunter, 25, from Gilead, Kansas. Jack likes the name hunter, because him and his fathers are hunters and hunters are mostly good people. He also likes the name of the city where he’s from, Gilead. It refers to a mystical place in the Bible , which he read a couple times already, but also was the name of the USA in the novel The Handmaid’s Tale by Atwood, which he loved too. And Hunter is nice, very nice and when Sam demanded Jack to delete Grindr, Jack was afraid Hunter would be mad if he didn’t reply to his last message.

But of course Jack wants to reply to Hunter, and there’s two new messages from Hunter which he answers quickly. He gives Hunter his phone number and then decides to delete the app really, just in case Sam wants proof again. Which Jack would maybe deny next time, he is so sick of being treated like a child. Because he’s not. His body is fully developed, and he knows a lot about the world. He knows facts, but it’s hard to find out about all the social stuff. Jack feels alien most of the time, because he has intimidating powers and his angel self works different from his human self. He just has too little experience in human and social interaction and Sam even tries to take away the chances Jack could have to be better at being a human being, which is the side he picked long ago. He wants to be human. Normal. And he wants to be accepted, respected and loved. Not patronised and cared for like a baby. Of course, he knows. He’s defiant and petty but he’s tough and brave enough to learn more about the world and love.

Aurora isn’t forgotten, he feels bad when he thinks of her, but she also didn’t reply to his last message. Which makes it easier to attach to Hunter, who says in his profile he’s a “vers bottom” (and since no one seems to care about giving Jack a proper talk he googled it and now is indeed in the picture what that means), wants to find true love and relationships. His favourite movies are Star Wars and Lord of the Rings and he likes novels like Lord of the Flies and Fahrenheit 451. He sounds so intelligent and nice, Jack trusts him already after a few days of texting. He seemed able of critical thought and he liked books Jack also liked and they spent a day just talking about religious imagery in The Great Gatsby . But yeah, Jack was totally whoring around. Surely.

Tonight he’s too hurt to let his usual thoughts of Sam go too far, instead he opens his messenger app and he doesn’t have to wait very long after messaging Hunter to get a reply.

Jack smiles when Hunter asks if he is in bed already and what he’s thinking of. Jack texts back he thinks of a certain dark haired, brown eyed man he likes. Hunter looks a bit like Sam and Jack can lie to himself casually here. The texts turn hotter with every turn and Jack’s heart starts pacing, his hand sliding under the seam of his underwear while he reads Hunter’s latest message, describing how he would undress Jack, kiss him and let his hand wander where Jack wasn’t touched by anyone else than himself so far.

In the morning he feels way better. Hunter’s messages have given him some very nice moments of pleasure but he also feels a little guilty. He hasn’t replied to the hot messages because he’s a total newbie and doesn’t even know what he likes himself. When he told Hunter in the night he’s a virgin, Hunter was very nice and understanding and told Jack he doesn’t have to reply if he feels insecure.

This sort of validation is something Jack wants to have from Sam but after what Sam said and how deeply it impacted Jack’s trust in him, he tried to let go of this hope. Sam thinks he’s a child. Or a whore. Or both. Jack knows about Nabokov’s Lolita and wonders if Sam thinks he raised him to be seductive to old creeps like the bareback guy.

One way or the other, Jack is hurt and pissed off, but overall he feels better and steadier today, his ego is petted very thoroughly by Hunter. Maybe one day Jack won’t need Sam’s approval and affection anymore. Seems a nice thought today.

When Jack gets dressed he sneaks up to the kitchen and he can hear from across the floor already Sam is talking to someone. He’s loud, his voice full and usually Jack likes how deep, low and growly Sam can sound when he’s in some kind of situation he’s passionate about, no matter if positive or negative.

But this sounds like he’s yelling at Dean and that’s never good.

“Why the actual fuck did you tell Jack to install a gay hook up app, are you out of your rotten mind? He took your word for it and now I am the one who had to clean up this mess!... Yes, he used it and a guy he talked to wanted to meet up and bareback…. Jesus FUCKING Christ Dean that’s not funny-- stop fucking laughing! He could be hurt! You’re such an asshole. I wonder why you fucking hate the kid so much, after all he did for us!... No, I didn’t forget about mom, never will. But you know it wasn’t him. I don’t give a fuck about your feelings right now... Leave the child alone or I swear you’ll regret it!”

A long silence. Jack counts from 50 downwards and stops at 7, when Sam’s voice rises again.

“Yeah you better. Gimme Cas, I need a word with him.”

Jack has heard enough. “The kid”. “Clean up a mess”. “The child”.

Mary Winchester.

He’s suddenly not hungry anymore and retreats to his room, where his smartphone vibrates the moment he closes the door. It’s Hunter, of course.

Looking To Get Fucked Hard

It takes Jack a day and a half after the phone call to make the first move towards Sam and accepts his apology, which is very well-considered, diplomatic and remorseful. He still feels very hurt by Sam’s words and the fight over the phone with Dean also didn’t help him look over the fact that Sam has a certain edge in his voice when it comes down to explaining ‘adult stuff’ to Jack. Jack, who is naturally curious and eager, but also blunt and innocent, doesn’t quite understand what his problem is. When Jack hears Dean talk about sex with several people, sometimes at once, it doesn’t sound like something he feels ashamed of. He’s even proud of it.

But Sam is so much more secretive and retreats from any question Jack has from now on. Is sex something bad? And why does he think Jack is acting like a promiscuous person for talking with people online?

It takes another five days in which Jack secretly talks to Hunter over his messenger app and Jack avoids looking at his phone when Sam is around. He doesn’t want to get in another argument again but he also likes the way Hunter makes him feel. Even though Jack is a virgin and inexperienced, Hunter takes him seriously. He treats Jack like an actual adult, with adult needs and adult opinions and an adult body, that is longing for another human’s touch. Jack kind of came to the conclusion that being in love with Sam won’t go anywhere good, not after all the things Sam has said to him. And how he thinks of Jack. As a child, something he has to protect and nourish but for God’s sake don’t touch it.

Jack doesn’t want protection. He wants to be loved as a man, even though he’s barely a man now.

Sam’s apology doesn’t change his way of thinking about Jack.

Damn, why does he have to be in love with Sam, from all people? Maybe it would be even easier with being in love with Dean. Scruffy, grumpy, spiteful, asshole, loyal, troubled, vulnerable Dean?

Is that maybe any better?

But even Dean doesn’t take him seriously as someone who has needs. He gave Jack this damn idea about the app and he probably knew it would cause Jack trouble when Sam found out.

Over the next days Cas and Dean don’t show up and Sam is worried even when he tries to hide it behind research and angry texts and treating Jack even more than a kid. Makes him his favourite food and drinks, even lets him drink some beer.

It makes Jack feel even more like someone you need to treat like a timid fawn.

Does nobody see that Jack is no fawn anymore? That he’s ready to grow, that he has intimate, sexual urges. He is prospering for everyone to see, but Sam just squeezes his damn eyes shut and Dean makes fun of him.

And Castiel probably doesn’t even know what it all means because he’s a full grown celestial angel, or an ‘eldritch horror’ as Dean sometimes puts it.

Time to sow his wild oats.

After a week of absence it seems clear, Cas and Dean are either having a good time or they’re getting lost somewhere in a brothel or a casino or whatever humans do in Las Vegas. Sam doesn’t tell Jack where exactly they are, but Jack thinks they got somewhere to also let off some steam.

Jack decides to meet with Hunter, after they had some very thrilling conversations at night. It’s mostly that Jack still imagines Sam when he touches himself but Hunter is giving him a lot of things to think about. He doesn’t feel that naive and innocent anymore, now that someone tells him he’s hot, he’s cute, he’s desirable. He is equal.

No more thinking of ‘down there’s and that kissing is oh so sacred. It’s a change that would scare Jack if he wasn’t so eager to show off to Sam he was mature enough to be treated equally. Hunter presses the right buttons. And all of them at once.

Jack wants to know how it feels to kiss, to be touched in places, he even wants to touch someone else. And if he keeps telling himself it’s Sam, while he’s with Hunter, he might even enjoy it more. They look so much alike, or at least how Jack thinks Sam looked when he was way younger. Maybe Hunter’s smaller, and what Jack saw from his body wasn’t that defined and muscular, but he can dream. His imagination is going strong.

His hormones and his contact with another man who shows interest in him make Jack cocky.

They set the date already two days after the fight with Sam and today is the day. Sam and Jack still don’t spend much time together and in the morning Sam announced he will be doing some inventory in a room he was able to unlock with a smell Rowena left him. He told Jack about shelves full with old scripts and mason jars labelled with ‘icky stuff’ and he thinks that in no way the Man of Letters Cuthbert Sinclair would’ve left such a mess and vague labels. Icky could mean a lot.

Jack doesn’t mind and tells Sam he wants to read The Magic Mountain by Thomas Mann.

“That’s a piece of work, Jack”, Sam says, a little proud maybe. “I never made it through it.”

“Well I read some articles about it already and I’m very interested about the portrayal of eroticism, life and death.”

He can’t leave it. He has to tell Sam about the sex stuff he’s interested in. The protagonist of the novel is said to be bisexual and Jack would really like to read it.

But not today, he will drive to Gilead to meet Hunter, as soon as Sam will drown in his inventory.

“You also should focus on the motif of time and its correlation with life and death”, Sam says, ignoring the eroticism. He’s unapproachable with the issue at all. It drives Jack up the walls, since his hormones, hurt ego and the cockiness took over his thinking.

“Thrilling.”

Jack means it sarcastically and catches a glance from Sam that he can’t quite ignore. The tension between them grows weirder every day instead of resolving.

He gets up now, he needs to shower and get ready soon.

Jack doesn’t know why, but there pops up a thought in his head. About making love.

He wouldn’t do that today. In his nightly thoughts he still couldn’t wrap his head around the difference.

Of course he’d never admit it, but Jack still knows nothing about love but that he feels something for Sam that comes pretty close.

Sam knows something’s off. That something is still off. Jack is reserved, but sometimes also irritating. Passive aggressive. Mopey. Yes, of course, Sam has apologized as often and honestly as he could but nothing seemed to help Jack and him to find a common ground again. He understands Jack wants to be treated differently, like something he isn’t just yet in Sam’s eyes. It’s his need for being the guardian that doesn’t let him treat Jack like an adult. Let him drink whiskey, watch porn, have sex. The contradiction of his own sexual attraction to Jack and the need for control and guidance drives Sam up the walls too and he has no one he could talk to about it. Dean is distant in his own manner, he’s fled with Cas and after Sam had yelled at him over the phone about letting Jack use this sex app there’s radio silence. Just a quick heads up from Cas now and then. Sam feels like the trip for just the two of them isn’t helping the way he wished for.

This is why he needs to do the damn inventory. Keep himself busy. Think about something else than Jack being a little jerk all of a sudden, Dean’s whiskey consumption and Castiel’s helplessness. Is Castiel even helpless? Or does he just pretend he doesn’t see something is terribly off? Being alone with Jack makes it really rough. Either Jack’s too close, or he’s too reserved, there’s no balance at the moment, and in his mind, it’s also either Jack grinding on his lap or Jack, far away with Aurora or that nasty creep from the app.

Gladly he’s deleted it and they didn’t need to have a talk about it again. Sam would be furious if Jack lied to him. Furious, because he’s jealous, helpless and sexually gone rogue.

Why is it so wrong to feel this way?

In the storage room there’s utter chaos and Sam will probably spend two days in here. Today, he embraces chaos. Chaos is good, because he can break it down and bring it into an order. His order. His system. He even brought instrumental music to have something to drown his own dark, sorrowful and horny thoughts. It will get over soon. He won’t be crossed in love with Jack forever. He can push through this.

But does he really want to?

Sam is so busy with tidying up that weird room that he doesn’t notice anything else is going on. Jack can hear faint flute music across the halls when he sneaks around. He has put on his best shirt, ripped stone washed jeans and a leather jacket that Dean inherited to him. Involuntarily, because he actually wanted to throw it away and like some old shirts, Jack just picked it up and kept it.

He also did his hair the way Sam said once, it looks good on him. Then maybe Hunter would like it, too?

Jack takes one of the keys for the Volvo in which Sam had taught him to drive.

Ironic. Sam lets Jack drive, but God forbid he does other adult things!

With the key in his shaking, sweaty hands Jack sneaks off to the carpool garage. The Volvo is purple and has two scratches (long ones) from Jack’s driving lessons, but Jack owns the shame about it now. He unlocks it, gets inside and opens the navigation app on his phone. It says he will be on the road for around 90 minutes, which is okay. He has brought an audiobook, three bottles of water, some protein bars and a charger for his phone. Better to have a fully charged phone, Sam says. Not everything Sam says is bull, even when it feels to Jack like it. He’s gone through a lot of feelings for Sam lately, one of them was anger because he also felt like Sam would patronise him in the most hypocritical way. As if he didn’t try stuff out when he was younger! Dean has told a story or two. But Dean also said Sam’s not gay and that’s not completely true, he found out. Sam is about the person, not gender. So, yes, he’s not gay. But he’s also not straight. If he was just in love with Jack, too. It would be so easy and Jack wouldn’t be so worked up about it.

Jack tries to shoo the thoughts away when he texts Hunter that he’s on his way, but of course he can’t. Sam is always on his mind.

*

If Sam knew he caused a moderately severe teenage rebellion and a sexuality crisis, he probably would’ve never said such bad things to Jack, and he would’ve tried to reconcile even harder. But this way he’s wound up in his inventory distractions, trying to shut the whole issue out.

Sam jerks up when he hears a noise from the hall. It’s probably just Jack walking around. Maybe the damn Magic Mountain and its discourse about damn eroticism was too much for Jack and he looks for something else to read. Sam sees him with all the heavy stuff actually. He read the Iliad , the Odyssey , the complete works of W. B. Yeats and the baroque geste The Fairie Queene by Edward Spenser in the Middle English original and he wouldn’t shut up about it for weeks. Sam has a hard time reading this epic poem, it’s complicated and he feels like he needs to have graduated in literature or linguistics to make sense of it. The problem is, Sam is maybe smart, but Jack is a fucking genius. Sam hates to admit it but the kid is so smart, he outwits Sam vertiginous ly. There’s not much Sam can actually teach him but what he can teach he doesn’t want to. Sex for example. But Dean is a shitty substitute and maybe, yeah, maybe Sam should do it. It will be embarrassing and awful but Dean would drag Jack to a fetish club or something and he can’t let that happen. It’s enough that his three father figures all are a bit weird, Jack could end up like a vanilla type of person and do something remotely decent for a change.

Maybe he should consider giving Jack some sappy romance novel, some light fare. Something that won’t stimulate Jack’s curiosity about the deep endless pits of the human mind, or human sexuel desires. Something that would scratch surfaces but not go too deep. Nora Roberts maybe, but when Sam thinks about it he remembers her novels as repetitive, and not without a problematic approach of gender dynamics, masculinity and love.

Damn. Now he’s thinking about Jack again.

It will never stop.

Sam considers a break. Just to get himself a sandwich, maybe sit together with Jack and give him another honest and more straight forward talk about how and why Sam is the way he is and why he is so different from Dean. He’s pretty sure he’s given very honest and clear answers to Jack’s questions before they had that stupid fight. Labels really aren’t Sam’s jam, but maybe Jack feels better to know labels and then decides they fit or they don’t. And Jack should know that Sam has been vulgar, unfair and downright wrong with his wording and with patronising him like that. It was not his place to send him to his room like a stubborn kid. He kind of realizes now, that Jack is so much more. He deserves a chance to understand the complex dynamics of human interaction in any kind and Sam should let him.

On his way to the kitchen he hears even more clanking of plates, a running coffee maker and sizzling. It smells like steak.

This is weird. Jack doesn’t like coffee. Jack also doesn’t know how to make a steak, that’s Dean’s thing.

Dean’s thing.

Oh no. Sam hurries to the kitchen, before Jack maybe sets something on fire and when he appears in the doorframe, calling out for Jack a very confused Castiel and Dean are in the kitchen, Dean almost drops the hot pan. Cas jerks in surprise and burns his hand with hot coffee.

“Jesus Fuck, Sam! You scared the living shit outta me!” Dean exclaims, looking confused.

Cas wipes his burnt hand clean of the spilled hot coffee.

“Why are you here?”, Cas asks and looks at Sam.

Sam is just as confused as they are at that point.

“Better question is, why are you two here? I thought it was Jack in the kitchen.”

He doesn’t even have time to be relieved about seeing Dean in good condition. He really looks good and relaxed. But at his brothers’ question he raises his eyebrows and turns off the stove.

“I, uh, actually sent you a message a couple hours ago we’re comin’ home Sammy. Enough Vegas. You didn’t reply and then when we parked Baby in the garage, the Volvo wasn’t there. That’s why we” - Dean gestures to Cas - “deduced you and Jack are maybe going somewhere and you didn’t check your messages.”

Sam’s confusion grows. “No, we didn’t go anywhere. I unlocked a secret storage room right on the way down to the pool areas and I’m doing inventory. Jack is in his room. He reads some old dusty Thomas Mann novel, because he’s into phalluses all of a sudden.”

Dean coos a laugh and Castiel clears his throat. Then all three get a glimpse on the fact that something may be wrong here.

“Well, if we’re all here, who took the Volvo?”, Cas asks, silently healing his burn.

Sam could swear Dean mumbles a “son of a bitch” under his breath before he says: “Well, not everyone is here. We should look for Jack.”

Jack isn’t in his room. His shoes and his shoulder bag are gone. The Volvo keys are missing. The situation is pretty clear. Jack has gone somewhere and didn’t tell Sam.

Son of a bitch.

Screwed Up, Scared, Doing Anything That I Needed

The date doesn’t quite go as Jack imagined it to go. Hunter is indeed the man he texted with, but he’s only ever seen the chest or his face and now Hunter looks distinctively older than he claimed on Grindr to be. Jack is too shy to ask him about it, he feels like it’s maybe rude. Hunter has used an old photo on Grindr, that’s for sure. They sat down in a bar anyway, it’s fall and it’s dawning already. Hunter offers to buy Jack drinks and given the fact Jack wouldn’t get drunk he accepts.

But Hunter seems weird. The conversation stops a couple of times and he asks a lot about Jack’s love life, but Hunter knows already, he’s inexperienced, right?

After an hour and two cocktails Jack retreats to the toilet to wash off the weird feeling he has. Hunter is nice to him, there’s no reason for him to be more suspicious. Maybe Hunter was just embarrassed because he’s lost some hair already, and the started balding on the back of his head. When Jack turns around, he gets stuck at the restroom’s stalls door and his phone nosedives in the sink where the water is still running.

“Oh shoot!”, Jack cries out. That can’t be real right now!

He tries to dry off the phone best as he can but he knows it will be best to turn it off and put it in rice. He has no idea about how to get home though and he kind of wants to go home soon. There’s no connection to Hunter as he wished there would be.

Back in the bar Hunter awaits him with what he calls a Gin Tonic. Jack chugs it down and he doesn’t like the taste at all.

“Oh you can take a lot!”, Hunter says and Jack gets the idea that he isn’t amused about how much Jack can drink.

“Yes, I umm, maybe it’s my very fresh liver”, Jack says, but he doesn’t go any further.

“Look, Hunter. You are a nice person, but I don’t feel a real connection. I’m very sorry”, Jack says, being very guilty of wasting the man’s time.

Hunter shrugs it off. “Don’t worry about it, Jack, we just wanted to meet and find out, right? But would you be so kind and ask the barista for his number for me? He seems to be flirting but I’m shy, as you may have … noticed.”

Jack is a bit irritated, but he wants to do the man a favor and agrees. “I wanted to order a coke anyway”, Jack says, getting up. “Do you want something more?”

The older man just gives him a crooked smile.

“Nah, I’m good, champ.”

Champ. Who says champ?

Jack goes over to the bar where the barista (tall, handsome, eyeliner and old school tattoos, maybe as old as Jack passes with). As innocent as he still is in his rebellion he asks him about his name and number.

“Who do you want that for?”, the barista asks him, pouring him a glass of coke.

Jack hates lying, that’s why he points over to Hunter with his thumb.

“My date over there.”

The barista huffs and shakes his head.

“No, but if you want my number I’ll give it to you.”

Jack declines.

“That is very nice of you, but I’m already in love with someone and I think I won’t be with anyone else very soon.”

“I’m Baz, if you change your mind”, that’s when the barista gives him a slip of paper with his instagram URL on it.

“Thank you, Baz”, Jack smiles at him and waves when he takes the coke in his hands and goes back to Hunter.

He’s on the phone, texting someone and Jack just remembers he maybe needs to get a phone call or some maps print to find his way home. His phone shouldn’t be turned on again and he should maybe call Sam to pick him up. That’s really a dumb situation he’s in. Hunter doesn’t look up at first but eventually does and Jack sits down.

“I’m sorry, he’s not interested”, Jack says and takes a sip of his coke.

Hunter sighs but he kind of doesn’t look all too disappointed. “Thanks for the effort though.”

“Hunter, I have a little problem, my phone got wet in the restroom and I need to print a map or call my dad to fetch me here.”

That’s something he seems to like hearing and Hunter relaxes.

“Not a problem, you can come home with me, it’s not far. You can use my printer if you like and I can give you a bag and some rice to put your phone in. It’s no big deal.”

Jack sighs in relief and relaxes a bit. It’s dark outside already, the kind of darkness, that’s not all consuming, but creepy enough. Jack doesn’t like being outside alone for too long and he’s glad Hunter is willing to help.

He wants to pay for himself, this is why Jack gets up and pays his drinks at the register. When he’s back he exes his coke, that tastes strangely bitter this time and maybe it’s just some residual from the cleaning agent. Hunter smiles and gets up too to pay. Jack buttons up his jacket and they leave the bar together.

The air is crisp and there’s a hint of rain. Jack can taste the drops already.

The walk is a little longer than expected and when they arrive at the house, Jack finally gets suspicious. Hunter claims to live on the second floor, and there’s light in two of the rooms. Did he leave his lights on? That is wasting resources and Sam doesn’t like it when Jack would leave the lights on.

Jack doesn’t give it any more thoughts. Somehow Jack feels a bit icky now, there’s a bitter taste in his mouth and his sight is getting a tiny bit blurry, frayed on the edges. Hunter lets him in.

“If you like, you can wait here for a second, I uh, I think I didn’t tidy up very well, I didn’t think we’d come home”, Hunter says, giving Jack a crooked smile. The apartment is tiny, the fitted kitchen just has a small fridge and two hot plates. There’s a microwave and an electric kettle, a toaster and a coffee maker. All in all it looks tidy, but worn, the wallpaper of the corridor looks yellow-ish and it smells of cigarettes. Jack doesn’t like it when people smoke and he’s glad none of his dads do so. Hunter hurries to a door that maybe leads to the living room and sleeping room. Jack has very good senses and he doesn’t feel like he’s alone. There’s footsteps and breathing and the smell of something clinical.

Jack needs to lean against the counter of the kitchen unit and close his eyes. He feels uneasy, something is wrong and he knows he should go. His body feels heavy and his thoughts delay.

And that’s when Jack can hear another man as clear as a bell saying something to Hunter.

“Dude, why did you bring him here? He’s still conscious!”

Then Hunter.

“I had no choice, I gave him the whole bottle. That shit could kill an elephant but he’s still walking straight. I had no idea what to do!”

“You fucking retard!”

This is so loud now, Jack would even hear it if the men didn’t whisper. Jack knows he should react much faster but he feels like he’s walking through water when he reaches for the door and opens it.

And what he sees is nothing he expected.

Jack’s phone is dead.

“What do we do now?”

Sam is clearly panicking and Dean is moderately concerned now, too. Cas kind of holds his shit together, but he also worries.

The angel also is the one to make first assumptions.

“Every of our cars has a GPS tracker, right? We can find him like this, we just have to consult the app.”

Sometimes it sounds like Cas thinks there’s a breathing person on the other end of the line looking the GPS signal up for him, but neither Sam or Dean really bother to make fun of him for a change.

“This is my fault.”

Sam of course blames himself. He has been unfair to Jack, he even insulted him. Something that Sam would never do. If he was still a bit sane, but he seems like his feelings for Jack just turn him inside out. But then he looks at Dean, who really makes a guilty face right now and Sam has an idea.

“No, actually it’s your fault, Dean. You told him about the damn app. We had a fight about it and a couple days later he sneaks out? He must’ve kept contact with someone.”

Dean frowns and crosses his arms, defensively.

“Well I didn’t expect him to pull it off, I mean the boy is clearly in love with you, Sam. I thought that would help him enough through his identity crisis.”

Sam just ignores Dean’s suggestion, Jack would be in love with Sam. Sam would know that, right? He would notice, if Jack was seeking his attention? And given the nature of their relationship that would be absolutely inappropriate.

As inappropriate as his own feelings for Jack.

“Stop making fun of him, I swear, I’ll strangle you myself if something happened to him.”

“Whatever.” Dean says and shrugs. “I know I’m right about that. You should’ve just, dunno, give him a hand or so.”

“You’re unbelievable!”

Before Sam could really reach out and knock his brother unconscious, Castiel interferes. Physically and vocally.

“Sam, Dean. This isn’t helping. It doesn’t matter whose fault it is that Jack is gone, we need to find him. The GPS app says the car is parked in Gilead, Kansas. That’s about an hour and a half away from here. I turned on angel radio, but Jack isn’t responding. Something has happened. We need to go. I’ll zap us to the car and from there, I can maybe sense him. We have no time for rituals. Let’s hope, he’s okay.”

Sam feels like he is about to collapse and cry his heart out. Jack is out there and maybe he’s in danger.

Life Imitates Art

What is irritating Jack the most isn’t the camera on a tripod in front of the bed. It’s also not the three strange guys surrounding the bed or Hunter’s surprised and frightened face. It is the tarp spread over the mattress. A black shiny huge tarp and Jack doesn’t have a single idea why it should be there. His vision shifts slightly and there’s a distant ringing in his ears.

“What is..?” Jack wants to ask but the sentence won’t leave his mouth completely.

Of course, even he gets now he’s been tricked into something. He’s been so incredibly stupid.

“Come on, boy, just relax”, one of the men says and Jack recognizes the voice.

It’s the one who called Hunter a retard and complained about Jack still being conscious. That’s why the coke tasted like soap. Hunter tried to drug him!

The man comes closer now, Jack smells his sharp and heavy aftershave and his head is spinning. Gladly, Jack is half angel and the drugs didn’t knock him out. That’s why Hunter gave him too much it seems. He isn’t going to faint or something but Jack is clearly handicapped and when a second guy also comes closing in Jack looks for a way out, but Hunter behind him locks the door. He looks around, panicking, but all he sees is an XXL bottle of massage oil and sex toys. Oh holy shit.

“Don’t come near me!”, Jack says, retreating, but nudging Hunter with his back and Hunter grips his arms. “Don’t touch me!”

Jack knows how it is to be afraid, but this is a whole new level of fear. He fears for what these men will do to him if he doesn’t manage to get out. The familiar sensation of his powers start tickling. First in his stomach, then his arms and then a piercing pain behind his eyes.

“I said, don’t touch me! ”

The men won’t stop but one of them is looking at him like he’s a ghost.

“What is happening with his eyes?”, he yells. “Shit, something’s wrong with his eyes!”

This must be the moment Jack’s eyes start glowing golden, like they do when Jack is in a state of emotional distress and he does good so. Because the next thing Jack feels is like his chest is erupting.

“No one touches me!”

And then the world turns red.

Castiel drags Sam and Dean across the city, all three of them panicking. The Volvo is abandoned, parked in the city but no sign of Jack. They have no idea where to look first and Cas’ doesn’t receive any signal from Jack, and, well, you can see he’s trying very hard to get even a tiny bit of information.

Dean and Sam are still yelling at each other, like that’s helping anyone right now! But Cas is too focused, too worried to care about the mortals fighting like children.

When Jack’s powers surface, Cas can hear Jack’s enochian voice in his head and it’s shrill, it’s blinding but he knows exactly where they have to go now. He grabs each Winchester and says, following Jack’s call “Shut up, you two. I got him!”

Jack feels dizzy and sick, and he vomits all over the floor. It’s coke and alcohol, gastric acid and the drug Hunter gave him. Everything’s coming out in spurts and Jack is happy to get rid of the poison. The dust in the room settles, three bodies are scattered around him, all of them still breathing but bleeding but one of them, the fourth is crawling towards the door. Jack wants to stop him, because he thinks the man might hurt another boy just like this and he can’t let him get away with it, but his human body is cramping and throwing up bitter fluids.

The man wails when Sam shows up out of nowhere, sided by Cas and Dean. Jack sees them through a veil of tears, but he can’t get up, all he can do for now is whimper. There’s distant grunts and yelling, hectic moving. Cas helps him sit up and his warm healing light helps Jack regain some conscience.

“They’re all blacked out”, Jack hears Dean say. “God damn, look at this, Sam. Camera, bed, latex bed sheets, dildos, lube….”

“Gang rape”, Sam just says and Jack can hear his voice shake with anger.

Then - sounds of plates clashing on the floor and Sam yelling at Dean. And then yelling at Jack who’s still held by Cas to be healed.

“For fuck’s sake, Jack! What did you do?!”

“We need to leave”, Cas says, “we can’t stay, the eruption didn’t happen unheard. Police will be here soon.”

“Sam?”, Jack moans. “Sam?”

Sam crouches in front of Jack and places his hand on Jack’s cheek. There’s no smile in Sam’s face, which Jack would die for. There’s disappointment and anger. So much anger.

“I didn’t mean to…”

Jack regains his strength and gets up. “I’m okay, Cas. I can walk.”

It’s no difference if Jack wanted it or not, it happened. He has almost been assaulted and videotaped because he trusted the wrong person. Because he wanted to show Sam he’s an adult, he can make his own decisions. He’s mature enough to date.

The bitter truth is, that Jack was just a brat and it almost cost him something important. His innocence.

On the way home, Jack and Sam don’t talk much. Dean and Cas zapped back home, but they needed to get the car away from the parking lot and Jack doesn’t want to be zapped, he still feels sick. It’s not only because he threw up all of his meals and drinks today or that he used his powers to defend himself. It was the look on Sam’s face that was utterly sickening. Jack could live with Sam yelling at him again, even calling him a whore or whatever. Call him stupid, childish, bratty, cocky. But the silence is gnawing on Jack’s nerves like a hungry rat. But there’s not much he can say, because if he just told Sam what’s gotten into him he would maybe spill he’s in love with Sam. That he wanted to know what is going on with his body and mind and why he desires Sam of all people on this planet … that Jack wanted to know how it feels to be taken seriously by someone who desires Jack. And if there was a way to forget about Sam with someone else. It didn’t work with Aurora, hell it didn’t work with Hunter.

Jack wonders if he’ll just be in this state forever. Seeing Sam and immediately daydreaming of his big, strong hands all over Jack’s body.

Sam doesn’t talk to him for the whole ride except necessities, he doesn’t talk much when they’re home. There’s another very nasty fight between all three of his dads, when they think Jack is already asleep. Cas looked after him half of the night, helped him shower, brought him sandwiches, water and anti nausea pills. He even attempts to talk about what happened but Jack just can’t. Not yet. Not with Cas. How could a seraph, a celestial being, understand Jack’s human nature? And his failures? He tries and Jack is happy about it. He apologizes to Cas more than once but Cas just says, it’s okay, it happens, we all make mistakes.

But the yelling of Sam and Dean is deafening.

Sam accuses Dean of getting Jack willfully in danger. Dean yelling at Sam for being a fucking coward. A hypocrite, a prude. A liar.

Dean is a drinker, an asshole, a narcissist, relationally disturbed and overall a bad person.

If you believe what they say to each other, which Jack doesn’t.

He doesn’t know what or whom to believe these days.

It takes Dean two days to come up to Jack and apologize. There’s a lot of words being said, all saying the same. That Dean was a prick for saying that, he didn’t mean Jack to get in danger. And somehow Jack thinks, no, he didn’t want Jack to get hurt. He wanted to teach Jack a lesson, whatever that lesson was. Jack wasn’t getting behind it and Dean just manipulates sometimes. He maybe knows the answer and Jack would’ve done a lot to be able to read minds. He could also make all of them stop lying again, but the last time ended in so much chaos… Jack better doesn’t act up at all these days. He’s just happy his fathers found him on time.

Put Your Hands On My Waist, Do It Softly

It takes Jack three nights to finally go up to Sam’s room and knock. He knows Sam is awake, he may not be able to read minds, but he senses Sam’s distress.

“Yeah?”, Sam calls.

“Sam, uh, it’s me, Jack. Can I come in?”

A loud sigh, creaking of the bed.

“Sure. Come in.”

Jack feels like the damn newborn fawn he didn’t want to be mistaken for in this moment when he worms into Sam’s room and closes the door behind him. Sam is in his shorts only, Jack in his pajamas, but when Jack is honest, he didn’t sleep a single minute since they got back to the bunker. He is afraid of the dark and the loneliness and he misses Sam around him so damn much, he cries until his eyes burn and his face is swollen.

“Sam, I wanted to say, … I am sorry, I shouldn’t have lied to you about the app. I shouldn’t have snuck out to meet a shady guy so far away. I’m really sorry.”

Sam looks up.

“Jack, what you did was stupid, rash and irresponsible but I’m not the one you should apologize to. I should apologize to you, but all of this won’t make it undone, you know?”

He tears up again when he sees the hurt look on Sam’s face.

“Look, I know I was mean to you and I was overprotective, rude and I didn’t even tell you why I’m not telling you everything about love and sex you want and need to hear. I should have because I’m your caretaker and I should’ve known better. I don’t blame you even half as much as I blame myself.”

At first Jack wants to protest, but Sam is right. There’s been mistakes on both sides with a hint of Dean spicing things up.

“Can I sit down?”, Jack then asks, still standing in the corner at the door.

Sam gets up and puts his laundry away from the only available seat. Except his bed.

Jack sits down, rubbing his face and squeezing his legs together. Damn tears. He even has a headache.

“I wanted to understand”, Jack mumbles, looking down at his lap. “Why I feel certain things for certain people-”, he looks up, Sam’s face is still a stiff grimace, “... why is it all so confusing?”

“Love?”, Sam asks.

“Yes, love. Sex. All of it.”

There’s a minute of nerve wracking silence, before Jack has the guts to say it.

“I only ever wanted to know how it is with you .”

It’s so quiet now, Jack imagines he could hear a pin drop at the gas station out of Lebanon. He knows he dropped a bomb right here, but he overheard another fight with Dean calling Sam a hypocrite -again- and ‘having the hots for the kid’. Apart from being called a damn kid again, Jack checked what that means. Having the hots. And well, yeah, Jack himself has the hots for Sam and he doesn’t want to live with the uncertainty anymore. He won’t meet anyone else he wants to be with, not in a very long time and if Sam doesn’t reciprocate his feelings, he can still try to move on. But there’s no moving on in a vacuum. Like now.

“Dean is right?”, Jack asks carefully, his voice is thin.

“Dean is right”, Sam finally admits and buries his face in his hands. “But it doesn’t mean it’s right. You know?”

“I know.”

Another second passes.

“No, actually I don’t know, Sam. I don’t think it’s wrong. You said you’d never judge. But why did you do so when I needed your approval the most?”

Sam looks helpless, wringing his hands.

“Because I was jealous and I shouldn’t be.”

“I would’ve liked your jealousy more than being insulted by you.”

It’s visible how uncomfortable Sam is, he’s fighting emotions. Jack is, too. But he’s crying already. What happened to Jack was terrifying, but what he really, truly fears is Sam’s rejection.

“I’m sorry, Jack.”

“Stop being sorry and start being honest with me… Don’t you think I deserve it now? I know I’ve changed very radically. I used to go to town in my damn pajamas. That’s barely four weeks ago and it feels like years already.”

Sam smiles now. Even a little sad.

“Yes, it was actually very adorable. Seeing you like this.”

“I’m not adorable anymore. I’m not that naive anymore. Why can’t you just… see me like Dean sees Cas?”

“That’s a very bad example and you know it.”

Now Jack laughs and wipes away some cold tears from his face.

“And I already see you like this, Jack. But I feel guilty for it. I’m here to keep you safe. I want to be the person you turn to when you’re lost, I want to guide you, but also be the person that’s your safe haven. Can I do that when we… Jack, when we get together, our relationship will change. We will get to know each other in ways that might scare you. Or even scare me. I’m afraid of that. And if I’m afraid, you should be, too.”

When Jack gets up and sits beside Sam on the bed, without asking first -- it feels like a very bold move for Jack. He likes being close to Sam and feeling his body radiate warmth and safety but also desire and a pull that’s hard to resist, Jack knows it’s the right thing.

“I’m not afraid. I’ve been afraid in Gilead, but when I’m with you, I know nothing bad will ever happen to me.”

Sam’s face yells OBJECTIONS but Jack ignores it.

Jack leans on Sam’s shoulder, the touch feels electrifying and at first, Sam stiffens, but then relaxes and puts his hand around Jack’s shoulders.

“I’m not afraid”, Jack says again.

Sam nuzzles his nose against Jack’s hair and kisses him right behind his ear. Jack feels violent hot shudders all over and that is the most intense thing he’s ever felt for anyone.

“It feels good”, he mumbles, turning his face to Sam.

Sam is close, incredibly close and despite the hot shudders Jack gets goosebumps all over. It feels like that one time he had fevers, when he was dying, but in a good way. The best possible way.

Jack doesn’t receive a kiss on his lips, as he wished for, Sam kisses his cheek and his jaw. Just slightly. But to Jack it feels like he’s a dying sun out there in the universe and he’s being eaten up by heat and flares of light.

And then Sam’s hand reaches for Jack’s.

“I still need time…”, he whispers, “we both need some time. To be sure.”

“I’m very sure.”

“Give it a minute”, Sam says, hot breath lingering over Jack’s face. “Just a minute…”

Even Sam can’t wait the damn minute before he kisses Jack. Gentle and light like a hummingbird.

"This is Heaven, what I truly want."

[the-ever-humming-girl]

Atlantis: Mood Swing

     The convoy had stopped for the evening and Helga was in the chuck wagon, elbow deep in crates of supplies when a voice interrupted her search. It was a voice she recognized all too well.

    “Can I help you, blondie?”

    She put down the small barrel of whiskey she’d been checking behind and turned to face Cookie. He was peering in the dim interior of the wagon, arms crossed, wooden spoon gripped in one hand like a fly swatter.

    Sometime before the expedition had begun, she had taken it upon herself to go over the list of supplies that Cookie had requisitioned and to make certain adjustments. It was a decision that had seemed to put her permanently on Cookie’s bad side once he’d found out. He’d take it personally that she was questioning the efficacy of his planning. While she’d taken it personally that his list was so lacking in basic dietary requirements.

   She turned to face him, crouching on one knee in the cramped interior. “Yes, Cookie, you can.” She said in a no-nonsense voice.

    He raised one bushy eyebrow and waited for her to continue.

    She rested an elbow in her knee. “You can tell me what happened to the rest of the supplies, Cookie.”

    They were weeks into the expedition, and she hadn’t seen so much as a stray leaf of lettuce.

    The two stared each other, neither saying anything for a moment. Then Cookie spoke. “What supplies?”

    Helga climbed out of the chuck wagon and stood, hands on hips. Cookie was attempting to play dumb, and it wasn’t working. “The lettuce, cilantro, prunes.” She tilted her head to the side and fixed him with a hard stare.

    He shrugged. “I don’t rightly know, blondie, but if I had to guess I’d say they were left behind on the Lewis and Clark.”

    Helga’s eyes narrowed. “Are you telling me you purposely unpacked all those supplies?”

    She’d known he was against the adding of anything he viewed as nonessential, but this was ridiculous.

     Cookie shook his head dispassionately. “No, blondie. I’m telling you they were misplaced and unfortunately left behind in all the hustle and bustle of loading the Ulysses.”

     She glared at him. “You are unbelievable.”

    He shrugged again. “I did you a all a favor. That stuff never would have lasted.” His opinion was fueled by years of experience with food and cooking, both for the army and for army type groups, such a this one. You didn’t bring perishables on an expedition of this sort, especially one slated to last the length this one was proposed to.

    It was useless to argue with him, Helga knew but she was in the mood. “Yes, it would have. It was properly packed.”

    He stomped a boot on the ground emphatically. “No, it most certainly was not but don’t you worry. I got plenty of beans, bacon, whiskey, lard, coffee, flour, and sugar.” He counted items off one by one. “Won’t none of us go hungry.”

    It was like arguing with her brothers when they were little, Helga thought. Cookie reminded her of a stubborn, unyielding child. Albeit a child who carried a shotgun, drove a motorized mule, and had fifty-one years of cooking experience under his belt, but a child none the less.

    She realized Cookie was still talking.

    “And speaking of hungry I think I know what this is about.” He told her.

    Helga sighed. “All right, let’s hear it, Cowboy.”

    He shook the spoon at her. “I’m thinking you need to eat something.” He said. “I know from experience people aren’t themselves when they’re hungry-”

    She shook her head in exasperation as he kept banging on about needing to eat. The conversation wasn’t going anywhere, she realized. Cookie thought all experiences could be fixed with food. And as it was with any conflict, you had to pick your battles. As much as it annoyed her, the missing vegetables were weeks gone by now and there wasn’t much she could do about it at this point.

    “Alright, Cookie.” She told him. “We’re going to put this whole thing behind us.”

    He beamed at her. “Sounds mighty fine.” Then, reaching into the wagon, he fished around in a tin and pulled out a piece of jerky. Turning back, he offered it to her. She took it, frowning in confusion.

    “That’ll tide you over until supper time.” He told her, patting her arm before walking away, whistling a jaunty tune.

    Helga stood and stared after him. She wanted to say something but thought better of it. Maybe I do need to eat, she thought, as she leaned against the tailgate of the chuck wagon and ate her jerky in thoughtful silence.

[nextgenfairytale]

Arnold & Helga’s quarantine letters by Craig Bartlett

"Dear Helga, Day 33 of the quarantine. Going a little crazy. Thank goodness for Abner, who isn’t bothered, just seems glad that I’m around all day! Love, Arnold." "Dear Football Head, Imagine my surprise when Harvey delivered your letter this morning. In case you haven’t noticed, Einstein, there’s been a little invention called the smart phone, and I’m available by text. But I enjoyed writing this reply in an old-fashioned letter, because as you know I like to write, and it gives me the chance to go outside to mail it, and snoop around the neighborhood a little. So thanks for cheering me up, Hair Boy. From Helga. No, scratch that... Love Helga." "Dear Helga, Day 39, and I’m feeling it. It’s kind of an out-of-body experience. Grandma keeps telling me to Look Up, and Grandpa randomly comes upstairs to tell late-night ghost stories. Thanks for writing back, I never thought I’d miss hearing you call me Football Head, but these are strange days. I miss you. Love, Arnold. #stayhome" "Dear Football Head, I was minding my own business on some random sidewalk when Harvey stopped and pulled another letter from you out of his bag, like he’s Santa Claus now. And not like it’s any of your business, but I’m fine, stuck here with the Patakis for the duration. Olga’s acting career is on lockdown so she has to perform for us, going from Little Miss Sunshine to Mozart’s Requiem in 30 seconds flat. I’m mostly in my room, running out of stuff to read, so I was actually pretty glad to hear from you, Arnoldo. I could use some of your blind optimism. Write me some more, okay? Love, Helga.” "Dear Helga, Day 49 since we could just go to Slausen’s and get an ice cream. I’m spending even more time in my room — Grandpa started a game of Risk downstairs and it’s gone on for days. Things are getting surreal up here. The colors keep changing. I find myself asking questions like, where did Grandma find this carpet? I finally fall asleep and dream of flying, and then Nocturnal Ned wakes me at 7:00 and I count how many days it’s been. Thanks for the song dedications, by the way, they’re always spot on. But do they always have to be “from Helga who hates you”? And thanks for writing back, I really enjoy your letters. Love, Arnold." "Dear Football Head, Harvey came to the door waving another letter from you like I’d been waiting for it or something. The nerve of that guy. I told him I’d been out, staring at clouds and trying to see shapes in them like you do, and normally I could make fun of you and call you dorkwad or yutz or paste-for-brains, but you weren’t there. So I returned to Casa Pataki, where nothing changes: Bob’s on his phone straight through dinner, Miriam stares a hole in her blender like to smoothie or not to smoothie? And if Olga reminds me to wash my dirty little hands one me time I’ll wring her scrawny neck. Back to the magnificent solace of my room where I can write you back, as you requested. So don’t say I never did anything for you, Hair Boy. And please write back. Love, Helga." "Dear Helga, Day 58 of this thing. How could the days go by so fast and then just stand there? I’m in my room trying to make the walls go away. When I fall asleep, all I do is dream. I know it’s boring to read about other people’s dreams, but I had a dream about you. You were trying to tell me something, but I couldn’t hear what you were saying. You were smiling, though, so it was something good. I went out walking today, and Harvey asked me if I had any mail for him. I said, isn’t it supposed to be the other way around? I think he’s on to us, Helga. But please write back. Love, Arnold." "Dear Football Head, you’re right about Harvey. He came sauntering up, made a big show of going through his bag looking for your letter, humming some stinkin’ love song. I told him I don’t have all day, what does he think, I just pace around in front of the house waiting to hear about a certain Hair-Boy’s dumb dreams? And speaking of which, I’ve been having some doozies. Last night you came out of this spooky fog and I was trying to tell you something important, and you turned into Arnie. Then I realized that I was a monkey. Well, a monkey-girl. Anyway it’s nice to get these letters. I don’t mind reading about your dreams as long as they’re about me. Keep it up, Arnoldo. Dream about the day we can go out for ice cream. I’ve got a thing or two I’d like to say over a banana split. Which you are paying for, Bucko. Just kidding, we can split it. Love, Helga." "Dear Helga, Day 70 of this craziness. I tried sleeping on my couch to see if I would maybe dream less, but nope. Here’s one: we were up in Mighty Pete, and you said follow me down, Arnoldo, and then you were gone, and then the whole tree was gone. I was a little gloomy at breakfast, probably because it was chickpea pancakes (Dad’s still grinding his own flour substitutes). Grandma and Grandpa tried to cheer me up, but you know what? All I wanted was another letter from you. I went down to wait for Harvey, and he comes dancing up, and even with his mask on he was singing, “You’ll never find... someone who cares about you! Like sheeee does” and I’m like “C’mon Harvey, just give me the letter please.” Anyway thanks for writing back. These letters are giving me life. And yes, I will love to meet you at Slausen’s for a banana split, and I don’t care who pays. That will be a great day. Love, Arnold." "Dear Football Head, Ha! Think you’re dreaming a lot? Even if I tell you just my dreams that you starred in I’ll be writing letters for years, or at least till this quarantine is over. Okay, last night I fell asleep reading Ulysses, which always puts me right out, and then I was wandering in that Dali painting with all the melted clocks. And I’m yelling, okay I know time seems to be stretching these days but this is ridiculous! And then you float up in adorable cherub mode. I call out, “Hey! Arnoldo! When will the quarantine end?” And you say, “I know you want to come up, Helga, but we have to wait until Mayor Dixie says it’s okay.” And then I run and run up a bunch of stairs and into my room and slam the door, and then I notice it’s YOUR room! Heh-heh, not like I know what the inside of your room looks like, Hair Boy. Anyway thanks for writing. Harvey brought your latest and I practically tackled him to get it. I think he’s enjoying being the lockdown mailman a little too much. More dreams, please! Love, Helga." "Dear Helga, Day 82 and now we have a curfew on top of a quarantine, which is like stay home squared. I’m dreaming of the day we get our city back. Speaking of which, last night I dreamed you were a 100-foot tall giant running across our neighborhood, and I was trying to catch you, and realized I was a giant too, and was immediately terrified I was gonna step on someone. I hear a crunching sound and then a tiny car alarm and I yell, “Helga! Slow down, we’re gonna knock down the neighborhood!” And you turn around and grab the top off a building and say “Don’t worry Arnoldo, it’s cake!” And I can see it’s chocolate, with candles on it. And I’m, “But your birthday was the end of March!” And you’re all pleased, “Arnold! You remembered!” And then you explain how time is all stretchy these days so March, June, who cares? “I say it’s my birthday, Football Head.” And then you throw the cake at me and now it’s a food fight, and I wake up to the smell of Dad burning a cake made out of what turns out to be Amaranth flour, whatever that is. So happy birthday, Helga! I miss you. A lot. Write back, please. Love, Arnold." "Dear Football Head, I was out at my little spot where I like to, y’know, think, and Harvey came sauntering up like he knew I’d be there. “No letter today, Helga, but you won’t believe whose door I saw open. Slausen’s!” And my eyes bug and I say, “Hey! You’re supposed to DELIVER my mail, not read it!” And he starts dancing really annoyingly, “It’s gonna open, Mayor Dixie’s gonna call it! Soon!” And off he goes, singing “Someone who cares about you! Like heeee does!” I, uh, assume he’s referring to you, Arnoldo? Heh-heh. So I mosey home and wake Big Bob up and make him drive me over there. And Harvey wasn’t kidding, the lights are on and the sign on the door says opening soon, just waiting for Dixie to announce the next phase of opening the city! “Soon,” Hair Boy! Soon!! Are we still on for splitting that banana split? I await your reply very calmly. Love, Helga."

"Dear Helga, I just saw Mayor Dixie make the announcement on TV. Phase one of opening the city starts on Saturday! Restaurants can open! That means Slausen’s! I yelped them, they’re gonna open Saturday at noon! I’ll make this letter short — I ran up to the roof and I could see Harvey coming down the block! He waved, though, something tells me he’ll wait. Now I’m tearing up my room looking for a stamp. Okay! See you Saturday? Noon? Slausen’s! Banana split! Love, Arnold."

"Dear Arnold, The Rockies may crumble, Gibraltar may tumble, They’re only made of clay. But come Hell or high tide, Headless Cabbie or Ghost Bride, I will meet you on Saturday. Love, Helga."

[convivialcamera]

Let’s talk smack about Outlander S5E1!

I’ve got cake and a Bulleit bourbon on the rocks and a lot of things to say, so I’m just gonna let it rip.

1. Baby Jamie’s hair is the wrong color and it’s gonna drive me nuts. But, Murtagh is breaking my heart.

2. I really disliked the new theme song on first listen and honestly, it grew on me this time around.

3. I know we’re supposed to have totally forgiven Roger for whatever the fuck happened in season four, but I do love that Jamie is totally ripping into him ... pretty much constantly. 

4. “The Big House” is patently absurd. Beautiful, but totally and utterly absurd. Can’t wait for it to burn the fuck down!

5. Claire’s in “nothing but a loving wife and mother” mode here, and it’s totally boring me to tears. I miss her.

6. WHY do we run through “Something new, something old, etc.” twice? Who wrote this?

7. So the tea is that I haven’t watched season four since it first aired, but I’m pretty sure Bree was still pretty pissed at Jamie when the season ended. So, why is she all “I don’t have to imagine you” and “I’ll always be your wee girl?” It’s sweet, but also out of nowhere. MOVING ON.

7a. WHAT DID THEY DO TO ELLEN’S PEARLS?

8. What the shit is up with the whole “THE FRASERS OF THE RIDGE ARE HERE” and applause and shit? Bree’s barely a Fraser and she’s about to become a MacKenzie and I don’t understand the form of this wedding procession at all. Ah, yes, we are shoehorning in lines from the book. How original. And Claire’s little pep talk to Roger is SO FUCKING TRITE. “The two of you together can conquer the world,” my butt. WHO IS WRITING THIS I HAVE NOTES.

9. HOW DARE THEY FLASHBACK TO “THE WEDDING.” HOW THE FUCK DARE THEY. The whole fandom’s got every frame of that episode burned into the back of their corneas and they have the audacity to invoke the ghost of a way better show in this... mess? OK I want Bree and Roger to work as a couple on this show but it would really be in season five’s best interest to keep season one off its proverbial lips.

EDITED TO ADD 9a. Jamie complains about Bree and Roger’s ceremony being in English and not Latin, and then the show immediately flashes back to Claire and Jamie’s wedding... IN ENGLISH. UNFORCED ERROR. Just, skip the flashbacks. It’s better this way.

10. Gov. Tryion is interesting. As bored as I was with the cliffhanger last season (because yeah, Jamie is gonna hunt down his beloved godfather, sure), this is good.

11. JAMIE IS TELLING EVERYONE ROGER IS A HERETIC. The pettiness! The shade! I live! {I swear they need to give Claire something to do because if I’m stanning JAMMF we have a problem.}

12. Reminder that Aunt Jocasta is a slave owner. That is all.

13. Roger’s comment about doing the whole wedding again “when we go back” is ACTUALLY INTERESTING. He thinks he’s going back sometime soonish? Oooo, good conflict, show!

14. I’m still trying to figure out the rules to the drinking game led by John Quincy Meyers. You say a rhyme without messing it up, and you can forefit or fail and then forfeit, and then you pass it to someone else in the circle? But if you get it right you have to come up with a new one? It sounds like fun and I wanna hang with Fergus and Marsali because they are so clearly the cool kids. LOVE THEM.

15. “Some Shakespeare?” Poor LGJ. Too proper for his own good at all times. 

16. OK. The flashback to Bonnet raping Bree is SO VERY UNNECESSARY. It was already in the “Previously on Outlander” bit. This show is way too fucking casual with violence against women. It’s gross. That ep is a whole half of why I’ll probably never watch season four again, and then they just throw it in again. Bree’s reaction is ENOUGH. The rape was unnecessary in season four, it was way too graphic in season four, and it’s very much unneeded here. 

17. Reminder that Aunt Jocasta is a slave owner. That is all.

18. I know The Beatles are probably way out of this show’s budget (they spent it all on that damn house), and as cute as Roger’s singing is... OH GOD THE SEX MONTAGE.

19. I would like to propose a new rule. If show is going to continue to do graphic sex scenes, which they had fucking better, ONLY ONE GENERATION AN EPISODE. For example, if Claire and Jamie are banging, Bree and Roger  can’t. If Murtagh is getting it on, Claire and Jamie have to wait. Bree and Roger and Fergus and Marsali can do it in the same episode, that’s cool, they’re the same generation. But the three generations of graphic banging in one montage is WEIRD. MOVING ON.

20. I was so excited in season three when the show totally supplanted Duncan Innes with a pair of fake Rupert and Anguses, because Duncan Innes is not a character that works for me in the books. So I’m pretty deeply disappointed that he’s back in season five. I am very worried we’re setting up Duncan being cuckolded by Jocasta and Ulysses, you know, the man she owns as a slave, but they could also be setting the stage for Duncan being cuckolded by Jocasta and Murtagh -- and I want so much better for Murtagh!

21. LIZZIE WEYMMS AND JOSIAH BEARDSLEY! WE’RE GONNA GET LIZZIE AND HER TWO HUSBANDS! It’s one of my more fave plot lines in book six, which is truly faint praise considering how much I dislike “A Breath of Snow and Ashes,” and it cracks me up every time. She, just, outfoxes everyone so slyly! It’s good and cray cray shit. 

22. Reminder that Aunt Jocasta is a slave owner. That is all.

23. Doctor Claire! Love her. But it’d be nice if the show was back on her bullshit, not everyone else’s.

24. If this season ends with Murgagh’s head on a spike in New Berne, I’m gonna be pissed. 

25. Here’s the thing about the blood oath. Roger does it in the book kind of for Jamie’s benefit, to prove himself publicly in a language Jamie understands. Bree isn’t into this shit. Why is he doing it for her? 

26. Claire’s assertion that “The men of the Ridge would do anything for” Jamie assumes so many facts not in evidence. Why are they making her so dumb? It’s FRUSTRATING. 

27. MY CAKE FELL.

28. OK, the kilt thing is good. Doesn’t make up for my cake falling. My fave part was the multiple shots of Jamie’s knees, like show knows about all the knee smut or something. 

29. Well, they went full cross burning. Couldn’t stop them, I suppose. I am entirely horrified anyone thought this was at all appropriate or not entirely inflammatory (no pun intended); intellectually I was surprised how much the celtic cross mitigated the visceral horror of cross-burning imagery for me, personally. It’s still not good and they should not have done it because WTF. There’s really no getting around how fucking racist this is. Please fuck off with this shit.

30. “Stand by my hand Fergus, son of my name and of my heart” was the sweetest. FERGUS! 

31. WHY DO THEY HAVE A SECOND CROSS ALREADY MADE? WHY ARE CLAIRE AND JAMIE RANDOMLY STANDING BY IT? WHY IS IT ON A CLIFF? IS INSTAGRAM A THING YET? THEY REALLY DID THIS FOR THE AESTHETIC.

32. NOOOOOOOOO. Jamie releasing Murtagh from his oath. MY HEART. Again: If this season ends with Murtagh’s head on a spike I’m going to be very pissed. 

33. Murdina and Arch Bug were in the credits so that will be exciting at some point, one assumes!

34. But my god, GIVE ME CLAIRE OR GIVE ME DEATH.

[bclthczcros]

task : the interrogation 

mentioned: @ofhvney​, @the-great-and-wonderful-oz​, @ofzola​, @thcyer​, @divineangcl, @holdenwoodz

zar was shaking as soon as he got the message, and he hadn’t really stopped shaking since. he’d lied to the authorities plenty of times, why are you in this building? did you start this fight? where did you get that bruise? but it had been a while since he’d been sixteen. hopefully, he thought as he kissed honey goodbye and walked into the ashmont pd, it was like riding a bicycle. 

if possible, he was hoping even harder now, trying his best to seem... at least semi-casual sitting in front of officer grant and officer forrester. his usual go-to mode when speaking to authority figures was defiant, so he tried to seem a little more innocent, a little more wide-eyed. he didn’t know if he was successfully fooling anybody. 

Do you have any criminal history? Anything big or small that you want to make us aware of?

zar bit the inside of his lip, shifting a little bit in his chair and trying to maintain eye contact. his past was shameful, he could admit it, so it would make sense if he was a little embarrassed, right? “yeah, actually, um, from when i was a minor. assault, vandalism, illegal consumption of marijuana, underage drinking, trespassing, and breaking and entering.” 

he considered, for a split second, mentioning the fighting ring, but he very quickly decided that was the worst idea he’d ever had; he didn’t need anyone snooping in on that. even though, given the city-wide curfew and the increased police presence, the ring was kind of dying out on its own. instead, he presented his upturned hands, and said, “but that was all back in high school; i’ve been living pretty clean since i came to ashmont. oh, uh,” he bit his lip. “except for the puppy mill incident, but i wasn’t charged.” officer grant raised her eyebrows, and zar pretended like he hadn’t been planning out how to make the great puppy heist work since then. step one: don’t be drunk while doing it. he glanced down at his hands, somewhat embarrassed. “it should be in your records somewhere.” 

How have you spent the few weeks back at college? What have they been like?

he tried not to give too heavy of a sigh, but he still exhaled through his nose. “studying, working, volunteering. the usual, y’know? they’ve been... hectic. kinda hellish. i mean, a girl is dead. it’s pretty difficult to get through that.” and, of course, there was their little exposing murderer, but zar didn’t dare mention her to the cops. he really didn’t need them finding that blog. “and with the... the mural at the art exhibit... i don’t know, everyone’s been super paranoid.” he indicated himself. “i’ve been paranoid.” 

How did you know Miss. Rutherford? What was the nature of your relationship?

“i’m her family’s dog walker,” zar started, tip-toeing around this topic. “or, i was. the rutherfords have been letting a lot of staff go in the wake of their daughter’s death, which is understandable. they don’t want many people around their place right now.” he bit his lip; he supposed it would be best to be candid about this. “i... for a while, i was under the impression that her dogs were being abused.” he was still under that impression, but it would probably be better to pretend that was all in the past. “i volunteer at the humane society, y’know? so i thought i knew” i actually know “what abused dogs look and act like. i thought they were shelter dogs at first because of how jumpy they were, but they were quick to tell me they’ve had them since they were puppies, so.” 

he sighed, shook his head, and couldn’t help it; he crossed his arms. “i told daisey that- basically i threatened to contact the humane society, and i told other people i might take them there myself, which-.” he shrugged, sighing. “which was a dumb thing to say, and i would never do that but i was just- i was angry. i’m extremely passionate about animal rights- i’m hoping to become a vet with an animal welfare specialization.” with that, he shrugged, “so, no, daisey and i didn’t have a good relationship, but it was simply a misunderstanding. if i could say one last thing to her,” oh, god, could he manage this? he tried to unlock his jaw, look officer grant in the eye. “i would apologize for accusing her of such a heinous act, and of telling so many people about it.” she seemed to buy it; then again, she was probably just pretending. great. 

Do you remember where you were the night Daisey went missing? If so, where were you? What were you doing? Who were you with?

oh, you mean the night i realized i was in love with my now-boyfriend and also almost ruined the couch of one of the richest families in town? “i was at the homecoming party,” zar said, rubbing his hands together. “at the lamar family home. which,” he indicated with one hand, expression earnest, “i presume you know about.” y’know, since it was the last place daisey was seen alive and all. he pursed his lips together, “um, i spent a bit of the night with honey kennedy? or, ulysses,” it always felt weird to call him that, “but he goes by honey. i was hooking up with him in the bathroom at about... eleven-ish? um, i hung out with zola carter for a little bit, when i got there at about ten, and then later on at around midnight.”

“i smoked outside with sam...” he put a hand to his forehead; fuck, what was his last name again? zar snapped his fingers when he remembered. “samuel thayer. that was just after i-.” he clenched his jaw. “after i got into a little fight with oscar lamar. nothing too major, obviously, or anything physical,” except for those spring rolls, “just... we don’t get along, y’know? zola’s his cousin, and he thinks i’m a bad influence on her.” he sighed to himself, “i went back inside, danced with some people whose... names i can’t remember, and then i went home at about two thirty in the morning after saying good-bye to zola.” yeah, that was about how he’d spent the night, give or take a few details. 

Did you notice anything strange about Daisey’s behavior the night she went missing? Did you notice anything suspicious about anyone else you ran into that night? 

he looked up for a moment, trying to remember. “not really... like i said, daisey and i didn’t exactly get along, so we tend to avoid each other. oh,” he sat up, almost surprised he forgot. “there was one thing, though.” oh fuck, was he really about to throw someone under the bus. well, he’d started this sentence, so he had to end it. “i saw her friend angel, angelica flores, and her arguing from across the room? i couldn’t hear what they were arguing about, but angel kept...” fuck, he really hoped he was right. “it looked like she was trying to get daisey to drink something, but daisey didn’t want to drink it.” he shook his head, glancing back up at them. “again, that’s just what i saw, but it seemed fishy.” 

Where were you the night Daisey’s body was recovered?

zar shrugged. “i was at home. watching old battlestar galactica episodes in my room.” and icing his injuries from his fight; the night before had been the night of the voicemail. it was a shit alibi, but it was his alibi. 

How familiar are you with the Ashmont woods? Have you been there often? Have you recently ventured out here? If so, why?

zar frowned for a moment; that wasn’t where daisey was found. was... was that where she was killed? “i went for an ecology class once in, like, sophomore year,” he admitted, “but i’m... i’m not at all familiar with those woods. i’m from out of town, so i don’t exactly know ashmont all that well, especially outside of campus.” 

Do you have feelings towards the investigation? Any comments?

he shook his head. “not really? like... why would i have feelings towards it?” it was a genuine question, and read as such. “i mean, a girl is dead, and you’re questioning everyone who was involved, so you seem to be doing pretty thorough.” zar shrugged for what felt like the tenth time this interview. 

Do you have any people you feel the police should look into? Please, let us know who and why.

there were plenty of people that zar thought could be guilty. any number of daisey’s exes. her fiance who was, apparently, not super into her. a part of him wanted to throw holden under the bus, but even zar knew it wasn’t deserved. “just angel, honestly. though i don’t...” zar shook his head, remembering her breakdown. “i don’t think she would have killed her, honestly. but i just have a bad feeling about her making daisey drink something, y’know?” 

What do you remember of the gallery opening? What did you do? Who were you with?

zar tried not to look too nervous at the question. “yeah, i do. i, uh, took in the art. drank a bit of champagne. i was mostly checking out my friends’ pieces. uh, i went with honey. kennedy. ulysses? my boyfriend.” he swallowed, going over the lie he’d prepared in his head. “all things considered, i didn’t stay for very long. i got a message from our neighbor about my cat, bath bomb? she’d caught herself in the fire escape and i needed to take care of her. so i had to run home. take her to the vet.” 

What do you know about the vandalism that transpired that night?

he shrugged. “i... honestly, i didn’t know about it until the next day. my boyfriend and i left through the back. just ‘cause it was closer to our place. i didn’t even see it in real life. but, i...” zar sighed, raising his eyebrows. “i heard it was blood, and i heard it was fuc- messed up.” 

Did you see anything questionable that night?

“no,” zar insisted, shaking his head. “not at all.” 

as officer grant and officer forrester dismissed him, he hoped that would be the last he’d see of the ashmont pd, but somehow knew that wouldn’t be the case. 

[songficsbyrissi]

Let Em’ Know (Part 3)

Previously on Let Em’Know.......(Click here for part 2)

“You are a dumbass motherfucker. You are playing with fire and you are not the only one going to get burned. You know that, right? Keep it up and you on your own. I ain’t getting burned, Erik.” Erik took a drag of his blunt and blew out the smoke. “Ain’t shit getting burned but this blunt right here. My ex ain’t got nothing to do with anything, aight? If you were really with me, you would know that I got you. Stop bugging.” She put the car in drive. “Be careful. That’s all I’m saying.” Erik chuckled deeply taking another hit of the blunt. “When am I not?”

*************************

“I’m just saying....let a girl eat your ass. I wasn’t too sure about it because I was gonna feel like a little bitch but that shit is therapeutic.” Rayvon explained to Neriah who stared at him in disgust and he lightly pushed her. “Hey, don’t knock it until you try it! It’s like head but in your ass!”

Neriah had her face scrunched up and shook her head. “No, Ray Ray! I’m not eating her ass!”

Rayvon sucked his teeth hard, tucking his football under his arm and squinted his eyes at her. “I didn’t tell you to eat her ass! I’m telling you to let her eat yours! My nigga, where the fuck do you listen? Out of your ass?” He jumped off the porch railing he was seated on and crouched down to be face to face with Neriah’s butt. “LET THE GIRL EAT YOUR ASS!”

“RAYVON, GET YOUR FUCKING FACE OUT OF MY ASS!”

You sat on the porch with your phone in your hand, texting Erik and ignoring the two imbeciles fighting on your porch. You had a tiny smirk as your thumbs danced across the keyboard. You didn’t want to admit it but you felt giddy texting him. It was like high school all over again. You were falling for him all over again but you couldn’t let him know that. You were still making this nigga sweat even though it’s been a couple weeks since he came back. You had to make sure you weren’t wasting your time and your heart on this nigga.

Erik: Ugh I can’t wait to kiss you, princess. Why you torturing a nigga like this?

You: I told you this wasn’t going to be easy, baby boy

Erik: Baby boy?  I’m liking that nickname. I’d love to hear that while you’re riding my....

You: Your what, Stevens? Stop being nasty.

Erik: Damn it, princess. I was going to say riding my BMW to our date. Get your mind out of the gutter.

You giggled at his text and before you could reply, another text from him came through.

Erik: But if you really want the D, I’ll let you ride it after

You rolled your eyes snorting at the text and locked your phone. Another one came and you looked at the preview and it read:

Erik: Leave a nigga on read again like I won’t pull up on your ass

You bit your lip, feeling very mischievous. Getting on Erik’s nerves will always be entertaining. He basically said “Try me” so you know what you did? You tried him. You clicked on the conversation and exited and waited nervously for the response. Once it came, it was one word:

Erik: Bet.

You began to giggle even louder than you did before, this time, interrupting Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumbass.

“Oh Sookie sookie now!” Neriah grinned and slapped Rayvon’s chest gesturing towards you. “Pop quiz, Ray. Who got two thumbs and is in love with Erik motherfucking Stevens?”

“Motherfucking Y/N!” Rayvon sang as the two flocked over to you to keep bugging you. You stopped yourself from slapping them.

“Can y’all fuck off? Ain’t nobody in love!” You lied but they weren’t convinced.

“If you’re not in love, then I wanna fuck Ray.”

You and Rayvon both raised eyebrows at her. You two looked at each other and back at her. Rayvon licked his lips doing the Birdman hand rub.

“I mean Riah, I’m just saying, if you wanna try, it’s all you. But this dick comes with a warning label.”

“Yeah, it says “Caution: small size may disppoint you.” You joked and Neriah cackled in response, jumping up and down. Rayvon has a salty expression on his face and stood, glaring at you two laughing at his expense.

“I don’t know why I’m friends with y’all. Y’all are straight bullies, I swear.” Rayvon began to walk away and you and Neriah ran to hug his waist.

“We sorry, Ray Ray!”

“Damn Princess. Why the fuck Raytron getting more getting more love than me?” You glanced up to see Erik pouting in your pathway. You rolled your eyes playfully and walked up to your boo thang that technically wasn’t your boo thang but you would slice his big ass nose off if he talked to someone else. You wrapped your arms around his torso and he hugged you back tightly, causing you to squeal.

“Told you I was going to pull up on your ass.”

“I didn’t take you seriously.”

Erik chuckled pulling away. “You see that’s your problem. You never wanna take a nigga serious.”

“Wait hold up why you call this nigga Raytron?” Neriah scrunched up her nose gesturing towards your other friend. Rayvon began to pop his collar, chuckling.

“You see, they called me that because I’m a transformer. I be transforming these girls into my number 1 fans once this dick gets inside them.”

Erik snorted, laughing into his hand. “Nigga, you lying! We called you that because your loser ass was obsessed with Transformers. With your nerdy ass.”

“Oh Ray is definitely a nigga in disguise.” You stated covering your mouth as all of you except Rayvon laughed at your joke.

Rayvon sucked his teeth once again point you and Erik. “You see, you and Y/N are perfect each other. Both of y’all are some fucking bullies, I swear.”

“Aww Ray Ray we love you!”

“Suck a dick and die. Fuck y’all.” Rayvon walked out of your gate and all three of you laughed at him. You noticed a black Volvo parked across the street and stared a little bit. You would love to get a car like that.

“So when you gonna let me take you out on a date? It’s been a while. I was thinking we can grab some food and then see a movie. What you think about that, Princess?” Erik’s voice broke you out of your thoughts. You put on a shy smile and looking away. You’ve been fucking with Erik for too long, you could throw him a bone.

“Fine. Tonight, I’ll go out to eat with you and see a movie.” You answered and Erik grinned in response. “But let’s make a group thing. I wanna invite Ray and Riah.”

Erik’s eyes widened looking at your friends who were arguing once again outside the gate and back to you.

“Seriously? We gotta take Kenan and Kel along?” Erik groaned. “I wanted some alone time with you but if you really wanna bring your friends, then they can come.”

You grabbed his face staring into his dark brown eyes and leaned in slowly. Erik pursed his lips ready and you went around and pecked his cheek. He opened his eyes sucking his teeth hard and glaring at you. You laughed at his expression and turned to your friends.

“Guys, we hitting up Smokey Bones and the movies tonight!”

Neriah cheered and Rayvon did too, saltiness forgotten. You turned back to Erik who had an annoyed expression on his face. You knew it was because of the kiss.

“I still can’t get a real kiss?”

“That was a real kiss, Stevens.” You reached up to pinch his cheeks and he shook his face away. You snickered at his reaction and went back into your house. Erik went back to his BMW driving straight until he made it to his destination in the next city over. An abandoned warehouse he was quite familiar with. Surveying his surroundings, he stepped out of the car and knocked on the charred wooden door.

“Yo, open up! It’s me!” He shouted from the outside.

“What’s the password?” A gruff voice replied from the inside.

“Nigga, we not doing all that! Open the fucking door!”

The voice grumbled and the owner of the voice opened the door, letting Erik slip through. Erik eyed him, irritated.

“I told you to cut that dumb shit out, Von.”

Von shut the door loudly and began doing the locks. “Nigga, I’m taking extra security measures just in case we get caught up. My fault for being careful.”

Erik ignored him and continued through the dim warehouse. He found his partner Ulysses Klaue engaged in discussion with the woman from earlier. Klaue’s eyes landed on Erik and pulled into a hug, patting his back.

“There’s my breadwinning boy, Killmonger.”

Erik waved him off. “I ain’t here for all that chit chat. You got my cut, Klaue? I need that shit now.”

The woman spoke up with a sneer on her face. “Why you need it now? You got a hot date or something?”

“Soraya, mind your fucking business.”

Erik was completely annoyed with her. Ever since Soraya found out about you, every time Erik was not with her, she assumed he was with you. It was pissing him off because she was never concerned about the women he courted before so he couldn’t understand why she was acting up now.

She put her hands up in defense. “Don’t attack me! Did your ex bitch that you’re chasing piss you off?”

Erik clenched his fists and his large nostrils flared at her words. “Yo, I don’t hit women but keep disrespecting her and you’ll be an exception to that rule, my nigga.”

Soraya stood up, squaring up. “Do it!

Klaue laughed coming in between them. “Relax, you two. Damn, I’m never working with family members again.”

“I don’t know why you hired my stupid ass cousin anyway.” Erik glared in her direction and back at Klaue, outstretching his hand. “Aight give me my money.”

When Klaue handed him the stack of money, he counted it and stuffed it in his pocket, satisfied with the amount. Erik walked out when Soraya ran after him.

“Erik, don’t forget we got a hit late tonight. Unless your date interferes with that.”

“I ain’t fucking forget about our hit and get out of my business, So. Deadass. I’m the boss.”

“You might be the boss but you still dumb as hell and I still gotta look out for you like I did when we were younger. I hope you know what you’re doing. Be careful.”

Erik sucked his teeth, getting in his driver’s seat and rolled down the window when the car was started.

“When am I not?”

***********************

“This is ghetto as hell.” You commented as you, Erik, Rayvon, and Neriah walked into Popeyes on a mission. The mission was to sneak Popeyes in the movie theater. Smokey Bones was packed so Popeyes was the back up plan.

“I’m too ghetto for you, Princess?” Erik flashed his gold canines at you teasingly and you pushed him away.

“Y/N, shut up! You acting like we’ve never done this before! Remember senior skip day?” Neriah giggled at the memories. “We snuck into 3 movies that day before it got hot.”

Rayvon smiled in nostalgia. “Good times, man.”

“Yeah real good times.” Erik added as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and you glared at him playfully. He sucked his teeth. “You need to stop acting like you don’t want a nigga.”

Your group got to the front of the line and conveniently, you all ordered combos. You and Erik had the same 2 piece spicy meal, surprise surprise, Rayvon ordered a 4 piece meal because he was a skinny fat fuck, and Neriah ordered the fried shrimp meal.

“Y’all, I’m not surprised Neriah ordered shrimp. She’s been adding seafood to her vegan diet.” Rayvon joked causing you and Erik to laugh a little. Neriah lifted her hand to smack but you put it down, not trying to cause a scene in Popeyes.

When it was time to pay, Erik stepped up to pay, ignoring your protests. He took out a stack of 10’s,20’s, and 50’s and your friends were shocked. So were you. You guys decided not to say anything. He probably was just one of those niggas that carried a bunch of cash to impress women but you were not impressed. Once you guys got your food and drove to the movie theatre, your friends walked in front as you and Erik stalked behind.

“Erik?” He glanced at you curiously. “Why the fuck do you carry all that cash? That’s not smart. What if you get robbed?”

He threw his head back in laughter like what you said was absurd. “Babygirl, Who gonna be dumb enough to rob me?”

You rolled your eyes. “Erik, I don’t know what bitches you trying to impress with all that cash, but I’m not one of them. Put that shit in the bank.”

Erik didn’t say anything and you two caught up with your friends. You guys bought tickets all together and once again, Erik paid. You and your friends noticed he grabbed a stack of money from a different pocket.

“Yo, Erik is rich. This nigga must be selling dick or something.” Neriah whispered to you.

“He could be dealing drugs.” Rayvon indicated making Neriah hit him. “What? You said my nigga was selling dick! I’m pretty sure drug dealers get less time!”

“The fuck y’all niggas talking about?” Erik snapped, turning to face the three of you.

“We talking about how you got all that cash. You either selling dick or dealing drugs!” Neriah looked him up and down. “Nah I can tell he hasn’t got pussy in a longgggg time. It’s drugs, y’all.”

You were beyond annoyed at this point and walked ahead with your bag full of the combos. You handed your ticket and they gave you back your stub. You continued towards the theater without them. Erik had some nerve if he was going to come back when he was partaking in those “activities.” You’d be damned if you were caught up with a nigga like that. Once you got into the dark alleyway, you felt someone grab your wrist and you were ready to fight until you heard his voice.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Erik, why do you have all that cash? What do you do for work?” You questioned and quieted down when other movie goers walked past you two. “Neriah’s right. You’re probably dealing drugs.”

He hit his forehead. “No!”

You raised an eyebrow. “Selling dick!”

“No! Y/N-“

“Selling drugs?” You asked again.

Erik pulled you to the side to get out of the other patrons’ ways. “Listen, I got a couple of jobs but it’s not drugs and it’s not selling dick. I just don’t really trust banks like that so I mostly carry cash. It does make me look rich and shit.” He chuckled a little but stopped when you didn’t joined. “Look, this is money I’ve been saving up and finally spending it. You think I’m stupid enough to do shit like that and come back to you? Come on, girl. You know me better than that.”

He had a point. Erik was always talking about how he didn’t trust banks and anything involving the government back in high school. He was always so woke to the point that it annoyed you.

You sighed deeply. “Alright. But you better start trusting banks, nigga. That’s not safe.”

“I will. Now can we go inside and enjoy this movie?”

You furrowed your eyebrows, searching for your friends. “Where’s Ren and Stimpy?”

Erik chuckled grabbing your hand. “They took the hint that you were pissed and went into another movie. I don’t mind though. I get some alone time with you.”

“Whatever. But quick question.”

“Shoot.”

“You said you’re not selling dick....you selling ass?”

Erik dragged you into the theater, shaking his head and mumbling in irritation.

“I’m just making sure!”

After the movie, Erik dropped your friends off first for obvious reasons and purposely took the long way back to your house. When you weren’t talking, the two of you sang and rapped along to songs on the way home.

“Yo have you seen my Carmex?” You patted yourself down when Erik parked.

“Nah. You can check around the car if you want.” He answered looking under his feet by the gas pedal and the brake.

You popped open the glove department and surprise, surprise, there was a roll of money in there. You scoffed grabbing the roll of bills and holding it up.

“Really? Erik, be real with me. How are you getting all this money?”

Erik snatched the roll from your hand. “I told you. I got a couple of jobs. Don’t worry about it.”

“That’s a lot of money in cash.” Your head hit the headrest of the passenger seat. “Erik, I swear to God, if you’re dealing drugs or-“

He slapped the steering wheel in anger which made you flinch. “For the last damn time, Y/N, I’m not dealing drugs! Why you thinking that low of me? And if I was, why do you care?”

“Because I lost you once, Erik! I’m not trying to lose you again!”

Erik stared at you in bewilderment saying nothing. You sighed and continued talking.

“I know I’ve been acting a little indifferent when it comes to us but I’m happy as fuck you’re back in my life. So if you’re doing any illegal, dangerous bullshit that’s going to take you away from me again, probably for good, just leave me alone now. I’m deadass! Break my heart now rather than later on when I’m in too deep. Because I’m afraid I’m close to that.”

Erik cupped your face with his strong hands forcing you to make eye contact with him.

“I’m ok, Y/N. When I said I’m back for good, I meant it. I don’t know how many times I gotta tell you that. The only way I’m gonna be out is if you tell me you want nothing to do with me anymore. If you want me, stop pushing me away. I’m yours.” Erik stated sincerely then chuckled. “And I was beginning to thinking you didn’t care about a nigga anymore but hearing you say that cancels my doubt.”

He leaned in to peck your cheek and unlocked the doors. “Now go inside, Princess. You got work in the morning.”

You began to open your door then closed it turning to him. You grabbed his face and Erik was confused at your actions.

“What you doing, Princess?”

“Making sure all your doubt is cancelled.” You leaned in and kissing him passionately. He kissed you back, caressing your face as you two made out. After a few seconds, you pulled away from him, beaming.

“Good night, Erik.” You winked exiting the car. Erik rolled down the window grinning.

“Princess! I still got some doubt tho!”

“Nigga, I said good night!” You shouted over your shoulder. “Make sure you text me when you get home, Stevens!”

“You got it, baby girl.”

He waited until you got inside and locked the door behind you before driving off. You watched through the window and noticed that black Volvo from earlier today parked in a different spot and rolled your eyes.

“The neighbors really want everyone to know they got a damn Volvo.” You scoffed walking away from the window.

Meanwhile, Erik pulled up to his apartment which was literally down the street from your house. It was within walking distance, on purpose. He changed into an all black attire and went to the location Soraya had texted him. When he made it there, he found the rest of his team decked out in black. Erik gave all of them a nod and pointed into the direction of the mansion they pulled up. The team snuck inside and got to work. The older white woman that owned the mansion was awakened and crept out of her bedroom. She turned to see Erik who donned a tribal mask on his face and was pointing a .9 millimeter in her face. The woman held his hands up in fear and began to sob.

“Please don’t shoot. Take whatever you want. Just please don’t kill me.”

Erik smirked behind his mask. “My team and I are here to take what doesn’t belong to you. Try anything and you will see why.”

Through her paralyzing fear, the woman was confused and gulped loudly. “M-may I ask why what?”

Erik cocked his gun, placing it underneath the woman’s chin and chuckled darkly.

“You’ll see why they call me Killmonger.”

Tags:  @lifelover4u @dessianna1 @brattywriters-anonymous @marvelpotterlove @purple-apricots @blackpinup22 @ljstraightchaser @slimmiyagi @cancerianprincess @iamrheaspeaks @blowmymbackout @vibranium-chakra @nerd-lovely @chaneajoyyy @ohliyaxoxo @chefjessypooh @yourfavoritefavorite @airis-paris14 @ljstraightnochaser @quietstorm-73 @msincognito67 @sociallyawkward18 @mychemicalimagines @nerd-lovely @marvelpotterlove   @destinio1 @madamslayyy @thehomierobbstark

[drunklander]

Drunj!Der Yells About Outlander

Thoughts on Ep. 402

It shouldn’t be surprising when I say this post is going to be less jokey than last week. If that’s not your jam, I recommend you stop reading now and maybe just sing “Everyone is Garbage” to the tune of Everything is Awesome while you instead go watch the entirety of Underground, or the Rosa Parks episode of Doctor Who.

I have to say, the producers on this show have said a lot of dumb shit in the past. From “Frank’s a good guy!” when he’s portrayed as being objectively awful on screen to “We don’t shy away from the horrors of the past because we’re so daring like that!” as a justification of their need to rape or assault everyone with a pulse. But one of the dumbest things in recent memory was at NYCC when Ron tried to claim that Outlander isn’t a political show.

Bullshit. Everything is political.

Using America the Beautiful to underscore how America didn’t, and still doesn’t, live up to the ideals we sing about in our romanticized versions of our history was political. Albeit in an overly heavy-handed way. Choosing to do an episode about slavery that focuses solely on white people and not the enslaved, who are just there as props for the white people’s moral dilemmas, is political. Choosing to show a lynching on screen in a time when Black people are still being killed in horrifying numbers at the hands of white people who are supposed to serve and protect, in a time when Black people have the police called on them while simply having a cookout in a public park, in a time when a white man can shoot an unarmed Black boy and walk away with no consequences, is political.

How we portray Black bodies on screen matters. And in this instance, a *very* white show chose to frame enslaved people as the props against which they highlight the guilt of the white protagonists.

I really do wish they included someone checking to see if Claire, who had a man killed right in front of her, was ok. But instead she just does the emotional labor of assuaging Jamie’s guilt over Bonnet’s attack. Because doing emotional labor is just what women do. *flips off the patriarchy and also the producers*

Young Ian’s awe at River Run, how it’s befitting a king, just highlights how he has no context for what the symbol of a big white plantation house means for so many people. That image is so laden with white supremacy it should immediately trigger a bad taste in any decent person’s mouth. Go ahead and @ me.

Jocasta Cameron is straight garbage, but Maria Doyle Kennedy is fucking amazing. A++ casting, show.

Not sure if the parallel of Jocasta telling Claire to call her Auntie and Claire telling Phaedre and Mary to call her Claire was intentional or not. Will have more to say about that in a second...

Honest question, if the dog who plays Rollo is so poorly trained that they have to cut him out of most scenes, why didn’t they get a different dog? Slash, I thought they’d been training this one since it was a puppy?

“Some River Run hospitality.” *feels nauseous*

I SO hope they don’t do the Jocasta and Ulysses having an affair storyline from the books. Please, show, don’t do it.

Show!Jocasta is so much more overtly garbage than book!Jocasta. This is a woman who had to flee her country after the Rising because of how horrible the English were to the Scots. Yet she doesn’t bat an eye at the concept of keeping human beings as property. Even with Jamie, she isn’t thinking of him as his own person, but rather someone she can make do her bidding and use for her own purposes. She should fucking know better, but the promise of benefiting from white supremacy is apparently more beneficial than actually having morals. Fuck you, Jocasta.

Claire’s palpable discomfort with being led around by an enslaved man juxtaposed with Jamie thinking nothing of it as he reminisces about his mother is just the start of me side-eyeing Jamie a lot this episode.

Don’t worry, I’m an equal opportunity side-eye’er. Claire’s gonna get her share of it too. Starting with her asking Phaedre and Mary to call her Claire.

Claire. You know all about chattel slavery. You know it’s wrong. You know how enslaved people are treated. Why the fuck would you ask Phaedre and Mary to put themselves in a position to potentially face serious consequences for not being “properly deferential” to a white person just to make yourself feel better about being complicit in their enslavement. She’s prioritizing making herself feel better at the expense of the potential well-being of Phaedre and Mary. JFC, Claire, do not endanger the marginalized people you claim to care about in the name of wokeness.

The skunk bit with Young Ian and John Quincy Myers is a tad off-putting tbh. I love that Ian wants to learn about Native Americans and looks to find similarities with them rather than think of them as “savages,” but like they’re having this convo while completely ignoring the fact that an enslaved boy is filling the tub and like immediately just start talking about banging Native American women. It just feels like they were stretching for some levity when the characters in this episode don’t deserve any.

Jamie: “Uncle Hector and you have achieved a great amount here, Auntie.” Me:

Jocasta: “I purchase them in lots, in order to keep those with children together.” Me:

“Over the years, I found my slaves to be more productive when treated with benevolence. You see, I don’t actually see them as people. I only treat them nicely so my property can reach its maximum potential output. I am a garbage human and the myth of the benevolent slave owner is just bullshit that white people tell themselves to absolve themselves of the fact that they benefit from white supremacy.”

That Jocasta can refer to the people she enslaves as both too expensive to be livestock and friends in almost the same breath is peak caucasity. Seriously, show!Jocasta is an irredeemably shit person.

Also Jamie being like oh well done, Auntie, you are so nice to these people makes me want to punch him in his dumbass face. Show!Jamie has been on my last nerve for a while tbh.

Like bro, you literally lived in a cave for fucking years because the English were out to fuck Scots up. You were in prison for fucking years. You served on an English estate, where you were raped, for fucking years. And now you see people who were ripped from their homes and families and brought across the sea against their will (hey remember your nephew, Ian?) and you’re like oh Auntie, you’re such a nice white lady. Go fuck yourself, Jamie.

Jocasta playing the woman card with Jamie to justify her needing him to get involved with the enslaved labor on her plantation is something Colum would be proud of.

And Jocasta being like hey, “Claire, you’ve been homeless for a hot minute, shower me in praise for how nice my slave-run house is as I ‘graciously’ let you stay here” is such a power move in the worst possible way. Colum and Dougal raise a glass from whatever afterworld they ended up in.

Claire, girl, why couch your opposition to slavery in the Quaker influence. Own your opinions on this. Take a fucking stand. There are things in life worth standing up for. This is fucking one of them.

Oh Jenny. I love that she wrote to Jocasta about Claire. But also last season still turned me the hell off from show!Jenny so really I don’t like that lady.

Fuck each and every one of these yuppie white men.

Aw, woke-ish!Ian. Yes, it was their land, but let’s please not think of the Native American women as sexual conquests like you were earlier. KThxBai.

Ok for real, after living at Leoch and scheming through Paris and then being fucked over by Bonnet, Jamie sure doesn't learn much about people being sneaky. How does he not see where Jocasta was going when she so readily positioned him in a position of authority on the plantation.

Jamie, bro, buying into the benevolent slave owner narrative is not a good look. And by not a good look, I mean you are a garbage person. I get that that’s the point, but still.

Ok so the book frames Campbell as a friend to the Frasers, and the show is trying to frame him as someone genuinely trying to look out for the Frasers’ best interest. But he has also resigned himself to the reality of his current situation with no desire to try to make things better since it would mean making a personal sacrifice. To which I say, fuck you very much, you coward.

Hi, I’m Der, and I’m of the opinion that if you are in a place of privilege and see bigotry and oppression taking place, it’s your duty to stand the fuck up and try to make a change. 

“If we take the Tryon option, we don’t need to feel bad about slavery and can just bask in our white privilege on stolen Native American land and not have to deal with the consequences of accepting free land from the English, y’know, the people we hate, for almost a decade.” Cool, Jamie. Cool cool cool. Remember last episode when you were almost woke? 

Claire acting naive about what’s going to happen to Rufus should seem out of character. She went back into the past knowing full well how things were there. She knew that if she went back, she’d be in a time where this was the reality. Yes, she thought she’d be in Scotland, but that’s just another sign of her fucking privilege. She was like oh, I’ll just be in Edinburgh and not have to consider slavery. Joe Abernathy did not deserve the shaft he got in season three and he does not deserve fucking peak-white-privilege-the-past-is-fine-because-it-doesn’t-really-affect-me Claire as his friend.

Scrub Nurse!Ian is literally the only positive part of this episode.

This entire scene of a room of white guys being like “we need to uphold the law!” makes me want to kick the shit out of each and every fucker who has ever owned a confederate battle flag t-shirt or a bumper sticker. 

Also fuck each and every person who voted for the authoritarian narcissist who currently occupies the white house in 2016 or any of his fucking lackeys in the midterms. All these fuckers are straight garbage. And all the fuckers defending the authoritarian tendencies of the current administration can go fuck themselves. Go ahead and @ me.

“Don’t worry, my husband is heir to this estate.” Oh don’t fucking delude yourself, Claire. Rufus is going to die. And you are complicit in his death. Fucking own it.

*insert obligatory Joe Abernathy deserved better rant here*

I don’t like giving partial credit, but at least the show let fucking Rufus tell his own story. Just for a little bit though.

Ok I’m calling fucking bullshit that Ulysses, a man who (I don’t care what his relationship with Jocasta has been) has been enslaved for years, fucking calls Claire out and tells her she should have let Rufus die. Way to fucking try to absolve Claire by having a Black, enslaved man try to make her upcoming actions ok.

Don’t act naive, Claire. You know how this was going to end. Rufus was always going to die. You are complicit. There is no escaping that. Fucking own your part. Fucking own your privilege. And also fuck the show for centering this so much on the fucking white people.

Rufus didn't get to be an active participant in his own death. Claire should *not* have been absolved of her decision to kill him by having him ask her to do it. But by not even telling him what she's doing, she's just another white person making decisions for him without his consent. She also should have known to kill him without Jamie telling her to. *gestures at the Graham Menzies part of the books* She knows what's about to happen. She should accept that by choosing to be in the southern colonies, she's going to be complicit in slavery. She made her bed when she decided to go back into the past and now she should have to lay in it. 

Sure she may not have known that she’d end up in the colonies, but she still knew she’d be going back to a time when she’d end up being part of something that is morally abhorrent. But apparently getting that ginger dick was worth it.

It’s cute they do a parallel of her helping Rufus to die with her helping Geordie to die. But I can’t help but think this is as much for her as for him.

Every white person in this episode is trash. As they fucking should be.

Fuck everyone who defends the continued existence of confederate memorial statues tbh.

I know that’s out of left field, but yeah, fuck those people.

The fact that this shit is bringing up very real feelings about today’s political climate makes me fucking angry at the fuckers around today and also the fucking production crew for trying to cater to the meemaws by saying the show isn’t political.

Fuck Jamie for being like yeah, I can just pray this shit away. No. God is a cop out. You did this. YOU. You need to own this. Don’t you dare hide behind your faith. You will not be absolved.

Fuck this show for showing a fucking lynching and them immediately cutting to Claire’s face to make the lynching about her white guilt. Fuck them. 

If Jamie and Claire really don't want to be complicit in the atrocities of colonial America, they should move to a city where they could join in the work of starting to dismantle the things they claim to be morally opposed to. Instead they embrace their privilege of getting to ignore slavery by leaving River Run next week and go out to colonize Native American lands.

And just think. After all of this. After witnessing a lynching. In a couple episodes, Jamie’s gonna voluntarily send a guy into slavery! 

Fuck.

Please all go read Ta-Nehisi Coates’ Between the World and Me. KThxBai.

[koganphrancis]

WE ARE FINALLY, TRULY CAMLESS!

Season 9 Episode 6 Recap

First and foremost, I want to single out Noel Fisher for being a truly class act and returning to this demon show to give fans what happiness he could-the ONLY happiness a lot of fans have found here, myself included, in a very long time.

Next a serious piece of appreciation to Cameron Monaghan.  I know he worked hard on what little they gave him to do in the past few years, and I’m thankful he had Gotham to work on to actually use his talent while mired down in the stinky swamp this show has become.  In another actor’s hands, I don’t know that Gallavich would’ve been as captivating as it was-without Noel I know it wouldn’t have been, but Cam does deserve credit for bringing the other half of the couple to life-when they were on screen together, they had an undeniable magic happening.

Finally to any of the “fans” that are thinking or posting that we got this actually pretty shitty prison endgame because people pestered the show producers, writers, and actors too much to “bring Mickey back” may I please direct you to watch the early episode (I believe it was in Season 1, but certainly no later than S2) where Lip tells Ian prison must be a gay man’s dream with all the tattoos and unlimited sex partners.  THAT is John Wells’ perception of gay men and it has been since long before he even thought of breaking Ian and Mickey up, let alone bringing Mickey back.  

Personally I’m supremely disappointed this gay couple, like so many others, did not get a free and truly happy ending in canon, even though my friends know I predicted this could very well be all we got in the end.  FFS it’s the year twenty gayteen-couldn’t ONE iconic gay couple be given a nice, normal happy ending?  John Wells is a fucking dinosaur.  He needs to go to a sensitivity training camp run by Dan Levy, Emily Andras, and Ryan Murphy.  

Anyway-my last recap (baring a miracle) of this shit show is under the cut

(screen cap credit: justmikhailothings)

This episode was brought to us by White Castle.  I’d like to think they gave every dime they got from them to pay Noel, but I’m sure it went to the other “big name” guest stars.

Also the show was (disappointingly) written by Nancy “Ratfucker” Pimental, so you know it’s gonna be bad.

The show begins with Ian putting his stuff away up in the attic and claiming he wants to eat a shitload of White Castle.  Sure, whatever.  Everyone is trying to offer ideas of what they should all do on his last day of freedom, but suddenly THIS Ian is talking and making decisions for himself.  WHERE HAS HE BEEN THE PAST 4 SEASONS?  He only appears when Mickey’s about...

Debbie offers to bring him to a gay bar to “get laid” (flashing back to Monica in S3, ugh-it was a bad idea then, it’s a bad idea now), Ian says, “Pretty sure I’ll get laid a lot in prison.”  He says it with a grim expression, but considering how they end the show/who his cellmate is, he should be so lucky.  

Frank pretty much ignores Ian in the scene, and they certainly don’t interact.  Frank recommends Ian should read James Joyce’s Ulysses in prison, but other than the fact that it’s by an Irish writer and it’s extremely long and dense to get through (aka it’ll take Ian some time to do it), I don’t know if there’s any significance to his suggesting it.  

This scene with just a throwaway send off from Macy seems to be in line with John Wells’ vision to have the series fade away with the characters going about their daily lives rather than end, but I really think both Cam and WHM were screwed out of not having a final scene together with just the two of them.  Their comedy timing was always the best out of Macy and all the Gallagher kids.  The lack of respect is just astounding-especially since the show wasted so much time on rando actors/characters we’re never going to see again.

The rest of Frank’s story this week takes place with Liam in tow again and it’s just dumb and boring.

The next scene shows Fiona and Bored looking at an apartment-they’re going to move in together (why?  And when was this decided?  Not that I care, but they could’ve cut a scene of them bickering to show a scene where they arrived at a decision together for once).  It makes absolutely no sense-they have Fiona’s whole place to themselves, why waste $3000 a month living in some other apartment all to themselves?  Just because it has two bathrooms?  Do they shit that much?

And then, ooh, bad news for Fiona-her business partners require her to kick in another 25 grand or their investment will be dead in the water.  I still don’t know how she went from having $50K to invest to $100K, so this new twist is just more bullshit that I can’t care about.  

Then there’s a scene where we have to see Carl’s new girlfriend’s head in Ian’s lap.  WTF.  We need to see Mickey’s head there-or better yet, Ian using Mickey’s perfect thighs as a pillow.  

There’s a couple of boring, unfunny bits of the nun and then the priest (is it supposed to be hilarious that the dad from Full House is spewing out sex scenario names Nancy must’ve googled?) from Kev and Vee’s kids’ preschool with a dildo.  Seriously, Nance, not even close to funny, probably time to put yourself out to pasture, old girl.  This show has used dildos as a sight gag so many times at this point there’s just nothing more to do with them except maybe shove them up the writers’ asses.

Lip’s storyline this week is something out of very, very bad fan fiction: A movie star comes to their house!  Cuz, that happens, okay?  I’m sure studios and billion dollar make up companies don’t run any kind of background check on people they hire to babysit their clients-why would they?  It’s not like a crazed fan would rape/maim/kill the object of their obsession or anything.  ANYONE can be a star minder for one day, surely.  

BORING ALERT: Lip has a couple more running scenes this week, because no one got enough of that last episode.  This week the least they could’ve done was play the Friends theme song over the endless footage where he’s chasing Courtney Cox around on location in Chicago.  

While watching, I was wondering if Courtney’s role was written for her or they just settled for her when Roseanne Barr was suddenly unavailable-the stuff they had her say and do (except for the sprinting) seemed like it was written for a more jaded motherly type-but I’m jumping ahead.  Since we DID get CC, here’s a couple of stray observations.  1. She looks like a rich man’s Emmy Rossum, and 2. was part of the purpose of her storyline to throw shade at Jennifer Aniston?  Her character is named Jen Wagner, and there’s this whole dumb thing where Nancy’s trying to make, “Face it, you’re gorgeous” happen as her make up commercials’ tag line-which was reminiscent of Aniston’s ads for L’Oreal that stated “I’m/you’re worth it”.  

Meanwhile, after Fi gets the devastating news that she needs to come up with more money she tries to get out of taking the new apartment with Bored by lying to him and telling him she smelled mold there-HE RESTORES OLD HOUSES/BUILDINGS FOR A LIVING why does Nancy think that was a clever lie for Fiona to come up with?  How stupid is Fi supposed to be?

Back at the Gallaghers, Ian is practicing self defense moves with Carl and Kelly to prevent someone from raping him at knife point.  Everyone’s flipping each other in these scenes and it just felt like they wanted to give their stunt coordinator (and Cam’s double) a lot of (boring) shit to do this week...Ian’s final scenes being played out with this meaningless newbie (who Carl will probably wind up killing or dumping or both) made me very sad.  I guess maybe it was to build dramatic tension for when Ian’s in his cell later and the door slides open before he turns around.  But it’s lame because the scenes play like he’s JUST realizing prison’s rapey.  

Someone knocks at the door-my heart started racing but it wasn’t Mickey.  A guy who wasn’t in the jail scenes tells Ian Joselito sent him.  Ian starts asking him about the guys he was in county lock up with-WHO CARES.  The guy tells him the couple he’s asking about broke up when one of them got out and Nancy throws in a line about long distance relationships not working.  Joselito sent this Antonio guy to give Ian an “in-depth safety orientation about Beckman Correctional” before they send him up.   

Antonio draws Ian a map of the facility and tells him the areas to avoid, then draws a big circle with Mickey Mouse ears on it and tells him that’s “Disneyland” and he can get all good things there-smooth blowies, weed, Snickers...I’m sure ol’ Nancy thought she was being clever, but it just took me out of the scene hearing Antonio say “Disney” at least three times-reminded me of Cam’s publicity stunt “coming out date” there last year.  

Fi comes in and asks if anyone has any money (shades of S4 when Ian gave her his Fairy Tail tips) and that she needs 25 grand.  She’s so stupid.  And she’s honestly that out of touch with the family that she thinks maybe one of them has thousands of dollars they could give her?  (although, if she had only gotten to Lip before he tried to buy Xan...)

Fiona tells Ian, “Don’t forget, I’m driving you to prison tomorrow.”  And that’s the last time they see each other.  So much for family, eh, Nance?

A huge time waster of a scene where Kev and Vee pack up all their sex toys and then another drawn out scene of them throwing the stuff off a bridge happen.  Seriously, these are Cameron’s final moments on this shit show-they couldn’t think of anything for him to do?  This was all screen time Cam and Noel could have had, SHOULD have had!

I have to recap this next bit because it was beyond belief unrealistic-Frank steals a bicycle and goes following Katey Sagal and her ex-husband when they leave the hospital in an Audi-and Frank manages to keep up with them all the way to their nice neighborhood that must be some distance away since it was daylight when they left and dark when they get to their door.  Frank.  On a bicycle.  Kept up.  YOU’RE SUCH A DUMB FUCK, NANCY.

Then there’s more White Castle with the money shot of the food and packaging all over the Gallagher kitchen table.  Courtney gets to make a bulimia joke Nancy wrote into the scene.  Hope you weren’t looking for a Guest Starring Emmy, CC.  

Ian tells a “Carl story” about him puncturing his scrotum (on purpose) with a screwdriver when he was a kid.  Carl must have the most mangled dick and scrotum on the planet between his several botched circumcisions and now this.  Kelly asks him if that’s why he has “that scar”.  You know what, Nance?  While some people do in fact find scars sexy, self inflicted ones on scrotums don’t make that list.  

Debbie comes in, recognizes “the chick from the make up ads” having dinner with them.  I’m sorry-having WHITE CASTLE with them.  Now everyone else sees it too, and Kelly insists that CC says “the” line that Nancy made up to make happen-why do they keep trying to make meaningless things A Thing?  

After dinner, Jen is giving Ian advice about prison: “Find a hobby, it makes time go so much faster.”  Ian asks, “Did you learn that from one of your movies?” and she says she did 48 hours for DUI (hey, just like Ethan, Nancy!).  Jen really needed to get into making TP paper mache to get through 2 days?  

Debbie, desperate to make shit about her says, “Maybe I should go to prison too.  It seems like the only way I’ll find a real relationship.”  WHY are they acting like Ian’s going away on a single’s cruise?

Jen says to Debs that’s not true and Debbie says it is, that she’s unlucky in love (when the fuck has she ever been “in love”?)...”men, women...”  

Jen tells her she’s a special woman (how the fuck does she know?) and that she doesn’t want just anyone, she wants somebody “who gets you” and then for the second time in two weeks an older woman, without determining if Debbie is of age, pulls her into a kiss and the others (Ian, Lip, Carl, Kelly) stare like, “WTF?”  The kiss ends and Debbie looks all amazed like she did after the Mel kiss, but then Jen looks at everyone and says, “I played a lesbian once in a movie.”  And that’s what your research into that role led you to believe lesbians do?  Kiss random teens when they’re whining?  Lip starts the “Face it” line and everyone else chips in with “you’re gorgeous” and everyone laughs and I don’t get why it’s funny or even why it’s supposed to be funny.  Seemed like they were trying to drive home the point that ACTORS only PLAY gay characters, but no matter how convincing they seem, they are in reality the much more “preferable” heterosexuals we can feel safe with and really want them to be.  Fuck you, Shameless.

Also, Courtney/Jen is three times older than Debbie-CC is 54 irl and Debs is forever 17 now, so more Kash vibes for anyone who was missing those.  Also perpetuates the writer room’s fantasy that hot young actors would find middle and past middle age folks suitable sex partners.

Fi goes to Patsy’s Pies and there’s another hysterically lame scene where she opens the office safe and is counting out money-I don’t know how much a place like Patsy’s rakes in (or keeps in their safe) but I would think it would take a long time to accumulate 25K in CASH in this day and age of debit and credit cards.  She abandons that bad idea and winds up going down to the docks and drinking with a Patsy’s employee and reciting all her “mo money” problems while he counters with the facts that his car’s been repossessed and that he and his moms are being evicted from the projects.  Then the guy kisses drunk Fi but she tells him she has a boyfriend and that she has to apologize for lying to him (although, really, the underlying implication is she has to apologizing for never seeing that he’s always right about her being a dumb woman who has no head for business decisions).  

Lip and Ian have their last one on one scene.  After the movie star mom for a day leaves, Ian’s fake smoking on the front steps and Lip joins him.  Lip gives him money for his commissary account and Ian says, “I’ll pay you back,” (but not thank you) and Lip says, “No you won’t,” and I’m at home saying, “Lip, why are you being such a dick?”  Ian goes to hand him the lit cigarette, but pulls it away when Lip reaches for it, but then gives it to him and rubs his shoulder.  I guess this is supposed to signal to us that they’ve said everything that’s needed to be said?  Except we’ve been watching and we know Lip is supposed to be a mouthy motherfucker and in the old days they would’ve had actual conversations that they DID NOT have at all-all their conversations this season have been short and awkward.  Ian’s been made into a fucking mute now, even in these final moments.

Their last scene should’ve been in their room, in their beds-Ian can’t sleep and they talk things out in the dark like the brothers they used to be, but no.  Can’t have that.  

The Fiona drama finding out Bored has a wife, kid, and house and then drunkenly smashing up her leased vehicle is so “bad soap opera” I can’t believe this show is still on the air.  If we were supposed to cry for Fiona as her make up  and fake blood ran down her face after her millionth time of being let down by a guy everyone else could see was an ass from the start-well, we just didn’t.  

Next day the Gallaghers are waiting in the living room for Fiona to take Ian to prison.  Kev steps up to drive them all in his truck.

They get there, get out, and Ian looks around, then says to his family, “All right.  I thought Geneva and some of the others would be here but...”  Thank christ they weren’t!!!  The show/Ian wasted too much time on those randos as it was.  However, credit where credit is due-the show got us all the way through this swan song arc without bringing up Terror once!  But I digress, back to our scene.  Carl says, “You can only count on family, dude.”  I scream BULLSHIT at my TV screen.  

Debbie says, “I’m gonna miss you.” 

Group hug.  Kev says, “Don’t get too raped in there, aight?”  Everybody breaks apart, the moment ruined.  Kev says he doesn’t know what to say in these situations (and clearly no one can improvise but Noel).  Vee says, “How about goodbye and I love you?”  

Kev says, “Goodbye, man. I love you.”  

Ian says, “I love you guys too.”  Wasting it on the wrong fucking people!  All of them-except Kev and Vee who never voiced an opinion-didn’t care if went to prison!  

Ian looks at Lip, walks over to him.  “Hey, uh, thanks for being my brother.”

Lip, still a dick, says, “Never had a choice.”  That’s right, bitch-you didn’t get to choose to play the interesting gay brother, you got cast as the dick know-it-all who never cared about anyone but himself.  

During this entire farewell scene I was sitting at home, strangely unmoved.  I felt nothing watching it, probably because everyone was such an asshole about Ian going to prison all season, plus never caring about what he was doing all last season, plus the fact that none of these characters are the characters we first got to know.  It hasn’t been a case of character growth and development, it’s been character assassination and retconning.  

Ian breaks the hug.  “All right.  See you guys.”  He goes to the gate, shows his papers, gets let in through the gate, waves to his family as he walks past the fence, walks into the prison, slaps his phone (wouldn’t he just give that to Lip to hold on to?  Battery’s gonna be dead by the time he gets out) and watch (probably ditto on the watch battery) onto a counter, strips down so we see one last quick shot of his naked ass (what, no cavity search?  And just how long has it been since we’ve seen his unclothed ass anyway?), and a glimpse of the boob tattoo.  

Next we see him in his yellow “I Love You, Philip Morris” jumpsuit, carrying his bedding through the GP.  He’s attracting “fresh meat” attention and Cam actually does a really good job of looking a bit scared while trying to look tough and “don’t fuck with me”-there’s a vulnerability there, but he’s not overplaying it, and he’s certainly not overplaying the fronting.  His acting was really powerful in that scene.  

They put him in his cell and slam the door and he winces a little at the sound, then he sadly looks at his 6X8 foot (or whatever the dimensions are) room, puts his bedding pile on the top bunk and leaves his hands up there and lets his head hang down.  He hears the door slide open behind him again and gets this, “Ugh, here we go,” expression on his face and turns around to see it’s Mickey standing there.

Me at home: Not what I wanted for end game but I’m still thrilled to see the man, the myth, the legend again anyway.  He’s all beefy still from when he was shooting Fonzo and looking good.  

Ian’s looking at him like he’s not sure he’s really there.

Mickey mildly says, “I rolled on the cartel I was working for and in exchange guess who gets to pick where he gets locked up?”  

Ian’s got tears in his eyes now and says, “Holy fuck.”

“Oh hey-I got bottom,” Mickey says as he points to the lower bunk.  Then he walks past Ian and says, “So...you’re on top,” in a bit of a sing-songy voice. 

He flops down onto the bunk, puts his hand behind his head-and check out the gifs closely, especially on Twitter-in the jumpsuit you can see the outline of his dick and it “twitches in interest” as the fan fics say (don’t know if Noel did it by adjusting his thigh, don’t know if it was intentional or what-but it was a sight to see whatever the case).  He does a lip lick/bite combination, Ian’s face lights up a bit and he gives a smile, he crawls onto the bunk on top of Mickey, pinning his hand down while Mickey smiles softly, they gaze at each other a beat, Ian gently strokes Mickey’s cheek, Mickey wraps his free hand behind Ian’s neck, their noses boop, and Ian sort of gently thrusts into a kiss (it was good-definitely had a bit of a sexual vibe to it), which Mickey expertly returns.  It was a very good kiss, tender and loving, but that scene needed words, needed Ian to say SOMETHING to Mickey-needed an “I’m sorry” and a “thank you for always being here for me” and exchanged I love yous.  Neither of these boys are ever told they’re loved!  JFC, nine seasons and the show couldn’t manage to work mutual ILYs in ONCE?  Fuck you, Shameless.  They didn’t even say each other’s NAMES!  

Mickey (and Noel) looked so fucking good lying there-relaxed and happy, finally back with his love where he’s always belonged.  Even when his eyes are closed, they’re perfect.  The angle the scene was shot at, we see more of Mickey’s microexpressions than Ian’s.  

An after the credits began scene of them lying in an afterglow embrace would’ve been nice.  Mickey could’ve mocked Ian’s hair (give us one last “Fire Crotch” you cowards!) and boob tattoo (or offered to fix that for him while they’re in the joint).  

Mickey’s got new ink on his forearm we never see clearly.  Until and unless we’re told otherwise, I’m saying it’s a big ginger root ;)  Bam.  

On a personal note, and not to rain on anybody’s parade, while I believe 100% in Drunk Crew Guy and what he said, I really don’t see us getting another scene in the finale.  This show’s attention span is down to nothing now, and I can’t see them dragging these guys back out now that they’ve given us (shitty) endgame. I don’t think enough time will have passed to let them out of prison by then, I think those final episodes are going to be about Fiona leaving and not Ian and Mickey getting to Mexico-and I can’t really see Mickey being able to go back there now that he’s crossed a cartel.  My feeling is the show filmed 2 possible endings using Noel to choose from-one ending with them in Mexico and the other being the one we got.  They probably ripped off The Shawshank Redemption too much with a Mexico ending and decided to go with this “original” idea instead.  I’d love nothing more than to be wrong, and to get one more scene of these two free and happy.  Cam’s question mark at the end of his farewell post and the fact that I do trust everything DCG said leaves a spark of hope burning in my heart, but hopefully I can back away from endless online speculation and theories about it over the next 5 months.  If it happens, beautiful.  If it doesn’t, at least we got one last look at Mickey and he’s getting dicked down and the love he’s always deserved, even if I hate the fact they’re locked up and will be in danger whenever they’re not in their cell-not to mention this is the shitty way gay love stories get handled in general, but I must not go down that path again in this recap.  

I want to add that Mickey didn’t sound all that “Mickey” in his scene, but maybe he didn’t need his swagger and was being more “real” to let Ian know he had a choice (as always, Mickey didn’t force himself on Ian-he let him come to him).  And kudos to Cam for not doing his hideous Chicago accent for most of the episode.  

There WAS love and chemistry in that final scene.  Just sucks that we don’t get it anywhere else in the show and they wasted so much time last night that could’ve been given to Cameron and Noel.  

But hey, I’m finally free of recapping ;)  While I’m sorry the Gallavich parts are now over, I’m not sorry I can finally quit missing what we used to get while watching what the show now does.  Mickey and Ian are back together now, so, fuck you, Shameless.  

[astoldbyacertifiedunicorn]

Japril Appreciation Week: Day 3 ⇒ A song or quote that reminds you of them 

Halo by Beyoncé 

Remember those walls I built?

Well, baby they're tumbling down

And they didn't even put up a fight

They didn't even make a sound

I found a way to let you in

But, I never really had a doubt

Standing in the light of your halo

I got my angel now

Jackson Avery couldn't understand why exactly he was feeling so angry. It was a hard emotion to pin down for a 7 year old. He just knew, that despite all the coddling his mother has been trying to do, and all the yelling his granddad had done, he had an inexplicable need to act out. 

And now here he was, at a doctor's office, where his mom said that his behavior at school meant he'd have to talk to this doctor and tell her what was wrong. He wanted to tell her that he wasn't sure what was wrong, so there was nothing to tell her. He hadn't meant to push Pete off the swing. He really hadn't. But Pete had been talking about how his dad was teaching him to play baseball and how they'd gone for ice cream after, and he hadn't stopped when Jackson had asked him to. So, he'd pushed him, and Pete had gotten a scrape on his forehead and he'd cried real hard. Jackson had felt terrible. It wasn't Pete's fault he was feeling awfully angry this whole month. 

"Jackson, please stop being difficult. You're an Avery. You can't act out like this in public." Catherine told him, through gritted teeth, as she dragged him along a hallway leading to the doctor he was supposed to see. 

He didn't care much at the time that he was an Avery, it didn't mean anything to him. He just knew he was having a particularly bad day and he needed to scream. A lot. 

"Honey, please stop screaming." Catherine huffed, looking completely lost as to what to do with a screeching child who was kicking, arms flailing wildly as she carried him to the psychiatric ward to meet a child therapist, with as much grace as she could muster. 

"I don't want to go! I don't want to go!" He bent his body, and let his feet hit the floor, attempting to pull his mother to screeching halt.

"Honey, you have to. The school isn't letting you back until the doctor says you're... fine." Catherine explains, in a hushed voice, both to soothe and avoid scandal. 

"I am fine!" He says indignantly, even though he knows that feeling like you're fine means you want to play on the Nintendo instead of feeling like throwing it across the room. 

"You're not, Jackson. And it's okay. You're da-" 

He screamed as loud as he could, lungs puffed out, and the veins in his throat almost popping through the thin skin. She was going to say a name he didn't want to hear. 

"Okay, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I won't bring him up. Just... please. Behave." Catherine tried to no avail, since Jackson was still belting out high pitch yells, and she had no option but to carry him into the room. 

 Maybe it was the stillness of the room itself, or the many faces that turned their way when they entered, but the moment they stepped into the room, Jackson went quiet. He looked around, observing the area with his eyes, unsure of what exactly this place was. It had bright coloured walls, and a play area a little off to the place where adults were all seated, flipping through magazines. His mother, finally looking relieved, was asked by a lady seated at a desk, to wait for some time before the doctor could see him. 

 She took Jackson's hand and led him into the play area, "Please, please, play nice." 

 He turned around, a scowl permanently etched on his face, as he walked forward, kicking all the toys that lay in his path as hard as he possibly could. There were 2 kids to the right, coloring and a little girl who was playing in the toy house all by herself. He chose a spot nearer to the door, sat cross legged, and took to the task of throwing any object in his vicinity as far as he possibly could. He did this for a while, happy with the rush he got every time a toy bounced so hard it almost broke.

 "Hi." 

 He stopped, a toy truck in hand, wheels almost falling off from being thrown numerous times, and looked to his right. 

 "I'm April Kepner. But you can call me April. Do you want to be my husband?" 

 He blinked, completely taken aback by this bold little girl in front of him, who was holding out her hand towards him. Her red hair was pulled up by two pigtails, and she had on a pair of dungarees, a wide smile, and a pair of massive glasses, she kept pushing up her nose. 

 "Me and Lizzy are playing house," She clarifies, pointing to a battered down doll, "I'm her mommy, and so if we get married, you can be her daddy."

 He turns red, and his hands ball up into fists. He didn't want to play house with this girl. She was annoying, and he hated her. Just like he hated everyone, especially his dad. 

 "I don't want to play a stupid game with you. Leave me alone!" He yells at her, and although most kids he knew, now flinched around him, April seemed to stay steady. 

 "It's not a stupid game." She insists, and smiles wider, "We have to go to work, and come home, and look after Lizzy. Like mommy's and daddy's do." 

 "It's a stupid game because not all daddy's do that!" He tells her, rolling his eyes. Some daddy's don't come back home. 

 "What do you mean?" She asks, putting her hands into her pockets. 

 "Nothing." He mumbles, because he doesn't talk about that day. 

 He doesn't talk about the day his daddy said he'd just be going to work, and he never came back after that. He doesn't talk about how Jackson had waited every day for a whole month, on the step outside his house, like he always does. Maybe he'd gone on a trip, Jackson had thought, he'll come back. He always goes on trips, but he always comes back. He'd waited, and waited, thought of all the stories he'd tell his dad when he came home, and all the games they'd play. He couldn't wait. He sat there, on that step, from the time he got home from school, all the way until the sun had set, waiting for his dad to just come home. He'd done that, until his mom had patted his head, and told him, in the same tone she used when his pet goldfish Frank had died, that dad wasn't coming back. 

 "Dads are dumb. I don't want to be a dad." He tells her, and she thinks this over for a second. 

 "Hm, then you can be the mom!" She tells him, gleefully, and Jackson feels like laughing for the first time in a while. 

 "I can't be the mom, stupid." He tells her, and instantly feels bad when she looks hurt. 

 "Hey! Don't call me stupid. I'm really smart. I read a lot, and know big words, like approximately."

 Jackson nodded, quite impressed, and muttered an apology. 

 "It's okay," She smiles, "So do you want to be the mom?" 

 Jackson nods, hesitatingly. He doesn't want to play, but there was something about April he now decided that he quite liked. 

 "Okay." Because at least moms don't leave. 

 "Why do you hate dads?" She asks, and he purses his lips, before he relents. 

 "They leave you." 

 "No they don't." She argues, looking baffled. 

 "Mine did." Jackson shrugs, carefully picking up Lizzie from April. 

 "Oh." She says, and pouts for a moment, "Well then he's a bad daddy." 

 Jackson looks up at her, and feels angry for a second. He new he should probably defend his father, but even at 7 years old he knew it wasn't true. 

 "Yeah he is." 

 "Is that why you're so mad?" She asks him, and Jackson takes a while before he nods, "Well, that seems fair. I'd be so angry if my daddy left too." 

 He didn't know there would be anyone who'd think he was right to feel the way he did.

 "Thanks." 

 She smiles at him, a toothy grin, and Jackson notices how she's missing a couple of teeth, but she was cute for a girl, even though rumour was they all had cooties. 

 "Hey Jackson," April says, as they get ready to go to work, and he feeds Lizzy with a tube they're pretending is a bottle, "I won't leave. I'm going to be the best daddy!" 

 He smiles, and something happens for the first time since his dad left. He doesn't feel so angry anymore. 

 Hit me like a ray of sun

Burning through my darkest night

You're the only one that I want

Think I'm addicted to your light

I swore I'd never fall again

But this don't even feel like falling

Gravity can't forget to pull me back to the ground again

 “Hey, April!”

 His best friend, who was sitting cross legged on the floor, near the play area, looked up from her book, and waved him over. She was wearing a sweater with a long skirt, and had apparently broken her glasses from the looks of it, since it was being held together by a white plaster of some sort.

 April and him had been friends ever since they’d met when they were seven years old, right here, in the waiting room of Mass Gen’s psych ward. Now they were both 14, and they still came here every Friday. She made these appointments his mother forced him to go, more bearable.

 When he reaches her, she scoots over to make space for him, as he takes a seat, pushing his legs in front of him.

 “What are you reading?” He asks, peaking at the words in her books, which were far too small for his liking.

 “Ulysses by James Joyce. It’s the Latinised name of the hero, Odysseus in Homer’s poem Odyssey. It's really interesting because throughout the novel you see parallels of the poem and the novel, like the characters structural experiences and the thematic exploration of modernism-”

 He chuckles quietly to himself, as April basically narrates a book report right in front of him. She was a bit of nerd, and he said that with pride. His best friend was one of the smartest people he knew. Heck, that’s why she was here in the first place. As a kid, April had never paid attention in class, and her teachers had found her difficult to teach since she doesn’t seem to be interested in her lessons. Her parents had gotten worried and brought her here, just to make sure April didn’t have any learning difficulties. Turns out, it was quite the opposite. She wasn’t challenged enough, because she was too smart for the grade she was in. So, she’d gotten bumped up a few grades, and was now a high school student at 14.

 “Sounds boring.” He teases, and pushes her with his elbow.

 “Shut up! It’s really good. It’s just-” She bites her lip, and hesitates.

 “Unnecessarily overcomplicated and a tiny bit over hyped?” He guesses, and she shyly chuckles before agreeing.

 “Yeah. It is. But it’s still good though.” She says, and closes the book before placing it back into her bag pack.

 “Says you, nerd.”

 She pushes him away, and rolls her eyes, 

 “How was school?”

 "Same old, same old. Nothing exciting,” He shrugs, trying to act as nonchalant as possible.

 April stares at him, eyes narrowed and he can tell that she knows he’s bluffing.

 “I know when you’re lying! What happened?”

 He waits a second, letting her grow slightly impatient as she whines for him to stop being an asshole, and just tell her.  He gives in, smirking fully, as he deposits his report card on her lap. She opens it up, and begins to squeal so loud she gets hushed by Nurse Ria.

 "Sorry,” She mutters to Ria, as she throws her hands over his shoulders, hugging him tightly, “I told you, you could do it”

 He grins at her, and nods his head, “You did. Thank you for tutoring me… and you know, for believing in me and stuff.”

 He’s awkward with these kind of talks, but he really wants her to know how much he appreciates her friendship. His family never really cared to push him. His mom excused pretty much anything he did because of his dad, and his grandfather didn’t see any potential in him, which he never once failed to remind him. Jackson was just a sad, pretty face and he knew that nothing was expected of him. Well, by his family at least. April, on the other hand, had spent the last couple of months, tutoring him and pushing him trying to prove to him that if he worked hard, he could be really smart. He’d been unwilling at first, but the more time went on, Jackson had realized that he wasn’t failing because he wasn’t smart, but because no one cared enough to tell him otherwise. Except for April. So when he’d received his report with all A’s, he knew there was just one person he wanted to show it to.

 “I am so proud of you.” She smiles at him, her eyes beaming and her tone so genuine. His stomach did that weird flip it did whenever she looked at him like that. He wasn’t sure why.

 “So what’s up with you?” He asks her, as she hands him his report back.

 She opens her mouth as if to say something, and then shakes her head, faking a smile, “Nothing.”

 “You know, I can read you too, right?” He asks, and she drops her smile, instead choosing to pout, “April, come on, tell me. Did someone do something? Did they say something?”

 “They always do that.” She shrugs, as if she’s used to it, even though she really shouldn’t have to be. April had never had an easy time fitting in. She was smart, imaginative and a little strange, and even though those were all his favorite things about her, it also meant that she was an easy target for bullies. It also didn’t help that her classmates were all almost 4 or 5 years older than her. It was another reason why she still came here.

 “Hey, come on. Tell me.”

 She takes a deep breath and turns to him, “It’s so stupid, I shouldn’t even be upset.”

 He raises his brows at her, and clears his throat, putting on his best impression of their psychiatrist, Dr.Jones, “Your emotions are always valid. You have a right to be upset about even the smallest, most inconsequential of things.”

 April laughs, but it feels too forced, and it makes him want to punch whoever hurt her.

 “We have senior prom coming up, and I didn’t even want to go. You know I don’t like parties,” She tells him, and he nods, “Anyway, Jake, this guy in my biology class, asked me to go with him, and he’s… cute and kind of smart, so I said yes.”

 Jackson unconsciously clenches his fist. He already didn’t like where this story was going.

 “So, it turns out, it was all going to be a prank. He wasn’t going to turn up on that day. I overheard them when I went back after class to get this book I’d left behind.”

 She wipes her eyes, and he watches a stray tear roll down her cheeks. What a dick, he thinks. What kind of a horrible, disgusting, pathetic human being has to make someone feel like this so that they can feel better about themselves? April didn’t deserve this. Heck, no person deserved this.

 "What a fucker.” He mumbles, and April look shocked at how cold he sounds.

 “Jackson, don’t curse.” She mutters back, as she quickly shoots a glance around the room.

 “Do you want me to beat him up?” He asks, all serious, because even though he was younger than this guy, Jackson was quite built for his age, so he could probably take him out. He would, for her.

 “Don’t be ridiculous. If you do anything stupid like that I will go straight to your mother, okay?”

 “Whatever.” He mutters, but he knew she wasn’t joking about that.

 “April Kepner.” Nurse Ria, points at the door, indicating to April that she could go in.

 “We’re still on for tomorrow, right?” She asks, standing up, and patting her skirt down. They had movie night every Saturday at his place.

 “Yeah,” He says, but there’s something else he’s itching to ask her.

 “April?”

 “Hm?”

 He gulps, wondering when he’d gotten so nervous, “Do you… do you maybe want to go to prom with me?”

 She looks confused for a while, and a little astounded at his question.

 “You mean your junior prom?”

 He nods.

 “Yeah. All our friends will be there. Alex, Cristina, Lexie and Mark.”

 She smiles, “I do miss the gang.”

 “So, you… want to go?”

 She looks at him, and blushes, tugging on her bag.

 “April, go in!” Nurse Ria ushers her, clearly impatient.

 She looks over her shoulder, and turns back to him.

 “Okay.”

 He grins, almost breaking his jaw.

 “Okay.”

 It's like I've been awakened

Every rule I had you breakin'

It's the risk that I'm taking

I ain't never gonna shut you out

 It had been 2 weeks of hell for Jackson. He sat in the car, head on the steering wheel, thinking about how he wasn't at all ready to go have a therapy session where he'd undoubtedly have to bring up the events of the past 2 weeks. 

 God, did he regret it. He regretted it every single day since it happened. He could barely sleep or concentrate on his classes, he was disengaged from his friends and he didn't really give a shit that he'd been an angry, intolerable douche as his mother loved to remind him. 

 He groaned, realizing he was just delaying the inevitable, and got down from his car. He walked towards the hospital, and caught his reflection on the mirror. He hadn't shaved in a while, and he looked like he felt on the inside, absolutely shitty. 

 "Hi, Jackson. You're early this week." 

 He manages a smile at the receptionist, and nods his head, "Yeah, I, uh, got caught up in a class last week." 

 No he hadn't. He'd come here, sat in his car in the parking lot and waited until he'd seen April leave the hospital, to get down and leave for his appointment. It had only been a week, and it was too fresh. 

 "Alright, well, you'll go in after April." She winks at him, and he lowers his head in shame. Of course, everyone here still thought they were together. 

 He doesn't say anything, instead nods a goodbye and walks towards the room. He slowly opens the door, and heads inside, while some faces look up to see who had entered. He smiles at Jake, a 32 year old with severe social anxiety. They never talked, but sometimes Jackson would play video games  in the waiting room with him, until April was done. 

 April. There she was, tucked into a corner, seemingly reading through some notes from class. She looked amazing, he thought. She was wearing a pale blue skater dress, with sandals, and her red hair was piled at the top of her head in a messy bun. April was, as always, effortless. 

 He hesitates for a slight second, wonders if he should maybe stay outside the waiting area for some more time, but honestly it would make him more of a coward than he already was. 

 He walks up to her, and she senses his presence, tearing her eyes from her notes to glance up at him. She looks up at him, and her face is conflicted with a mixture of emotions. She looks sad, angry and resigned. The worst thing is through it all he sees what he saw that night, when she told him she loved him, and he had gotten too scared to say it back. 

 "Can I sit here?" Jackson asks, softly, pointing to the two chairs in the corner.

 She nods, and looks away from him, as he sits down, throwing his bag on the other chair. 

 They sit in silence for a while, before he decides he needs to say something, because damn it, he misses her. 

 "How are you?" He asks and she turns to face him. It breaks his heart once more when he sees the bags under her eyes and the pale skin, and red eyes. He did this to her.

 She frowns, clearly annoyed by his question, and even he has to admit it was a dumb one. 

 "I'm sorry, that was a really stupid question." He laughs, humorlessly. 

 He knows he's really fucked up when she doesn't even reply. Heck, he knew he really fucked up the moment she'd stormed out of his room, crying her eyes out 2 weeks ago. They'd tip toed around each other for the majority of their teenage years, after they'd gone to junior prom and lost their virginity to each other. When they’d gone to college he’d finally grown the balls to ask her out, and when they'd started dating, Jackson had thought they'd finally figured it out.

 "April, I-I really am so sorry. I don't want to hurt you. God, April, that's the last thing I want to do." He tells her with a melancholic smile on his lips, "I regret it, so damn much, but... I don't know, it's for the best? Trust me, it's is. You don't... you don't want to love me."

 She sighs, and shakes her head, letting her hair fall over her face. He knows she does this when she's mad at him and wants to block him out, but it's an indication she's listening so he goes on. 

 "Do you hate me? Please don't hate me." He whispers. 

 "I don't hate you." 

 She tells him, rolling her eyes, finally coming out of the hair veil she had going on. 

 "Yeah?" 

 "Of course I don't hate you, Jackson! That's the whole problem! The problem is I love you so much that it almost feels unhealthy." She groans, burying her face in her hands. 

 "April-" 

 "No!" She yells, a little too loud, and her face flushes having remembered that they're in public. She settles on a stern, hushed tone, "You don't get to do this, Jackson. You don't get to break me, and then come here and say you're sorry, and act like regretting it will make everything alright again. It doesn't work like that!" 

 "I didn't think that. I swear I didn't. I just wanted to explain-" 

 "Explain what? That you don't love me back? Don't worry, message received. Loud and clear. Just... please leave me alone, Jackson. Go back to avoiding me like you've been doing these last 2 weeks. Go back to acting like we never happened." 

 Yes, he had avoided her. He'd intentionally avoided places she visits, and kept to his campus. She goes to Yale, and he goes to Harvard, something he'd for once be grateful for. He just couldn't bear seeing her, and be reminded of the choice he'd made. 

 "Okay, you're right. I avoided you. I'm sorry. I should've handled that better." 

 "You don't say." She replies, sarcastically. 

 "But don't... don't say I don't- that I don't-" His words fail him, like they did that day, when he needs it the most. 

 He waits for a second, gathers his thoughts. He had to make a decision, because one thing was for sure. He did love her. It was that overwhelming realization that had led to them breaking up in the first place. He loved her, but he had no idea what love was. He wouldn't ever try to love April without knowing exactly how to love her right. But, he also needed her in his life. Selfish or selfless? Maybe he was too young to make the right choice. Either way, she needed to know why.

 "I have never felt like this. I've never felt so overwhelmed by something, by someone, like I do with you. April, everything I feel for you, overwhelms me. And it's scary. It's terrifying, because I know I'm just going to end up failing you." 

 He admits, and looks up at her staring back at him, completely shocked. She'd definitely not guessed that, he could tell. God knows what conclusions she'd come to, with all her insecurities and anxieties. 

 "What? No you won't." She says, as if the mere thought was ridiculous. 

 "I will, April! I will! I don't know how to love someone. I'll screw it up and I'll hurt you, more than I already have, and you'll hate me. I can't have you hating me." He'd give her up, if it was for her best. Selfless, it is then. 

 "No, no, you won't. I know you won't." She insists. 

 "April-" 

 "No! You listen here. You are not your father. You are not Robert. You're Jackson. You are a completely different person. I know he screwed you up, Jackson, I know that. But are you really going to let him screw everything up for the rest of your life? Don't give him that kind of power!" She pokes him in the chest, once, twice, to prove her point. 

 She takes in a deep breath, and calms herself, considering her outburst had gotten her riled up. 

 "I'm not saying you have to love me-"

 "I do." 

 She smiles at him, a warmth reaching her eyes that had only minutes ago looked dead. How could he not love her when she knew him better than anyone else?

 "Yeah?" She asks, and he nods.

 "You're just scared to say it out loud?" 

 He nods, again.

 "Well then you should've just told me that, doofus!" 

 He pushes him back, and he lets himself have a laugh for the first time since he'd called them off, since he'd decided that he wasn't someone who deserved April.

 She places both her hands in his face. 

 "I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I know you think you're unlovable, Jackson, because you think he couldn't love you but that's not true. I love you. I love you so much. I-" 

 She was the ultimate risk. The blind jumping into a bottomless pit. But God, was she worth all the damage it could do. 

 "Love you. I love you." 

 She kisses him then, and he can almost feel the older man next to him rolling his eyes at their public display of affection. She pulls back, studies him, and kisses him once more. 

 "You are not him." 

 He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't deny it either. 

 April brings an arm to his shoulder and lightly pulls his body towards her. She brings her mouth towards his ear, and gently bites on the lobe. 

 "Want to skip today?" She murmurs, and like the 20 year old, hormonal boy he is, he can feel himself embarrassingly react to just her words, "Maybe, some makeup sex? I hear it's really good." 

 He smirks, and surreptitiously puts his hand under her dress, snapping the elastic of her underwear. 

 "Well, let's go find out." 

Everywhere I’m looking now, 

I’m surrounded by your embrace, 

Baby I can see your halo, 

You know you’re my saving grace,

You’re everything I need and more

It’s written all over your face

Baby, can feel your halo

Pray it won’t fade away

“Mom, remember that Samuel tends to walk around a lot, so keep an eye on him even if you put him in the play pen, and Harriet will fuss for April at bedtime so just play that recording I sent to your phone, and she’ll calm down.”

Jackson tells his mother, as he walks paces the hallway outside of the now very familiar waiting room, although he comes here less often over the years and it looks very different than it did when he first came here. He listens to his mother rattle on about how she’s perfectly aware and capable of handling her own grandchildren, and that he should stop worrying about this, and worry about something that actually required his attention, like his marriage. It was, after all, the reason why he was back here, after almost 5 years.

He cuts the line, after telling her to stay out of his business, and goes back inside to rejoin his wife. He walks up to her, and sees her attempting to sit down on the chair, with an 8 month pregnant belly, which he knew now, after 2 other babies, was no easy feat.

“Hey, hey, let me help.”

She stares daggers at him, but nonetheless takes his hand, and lets him sit her down. She doesn’t thank him these days. She’s not very amicable towards him at all these days, and honestly, he doesn’t blame her. He’s been a little impossible to like as of lately.

“How’s the baby?” He asks, placing a hand on her belly.

“Kicking on my bladder, doing cartwheels around my belly and craving raisin pudding. I hate raisin pudding. Basically, making my life as difficult as possible. That’s how I’m sure it’s your child.” She gives him a withering look, as she uncomfortably adjusts herself on the chair.

He shakes his head, used to the jabs she takes at him nowadays, “Is that why you’re sure? Not because you recall that vacation in Cancun when you wanted me so bad, you refused to let me get up and go get a condom?”

She widens her eyes, and as she used to do even back then, when he’d said or done something inappropriate in this waiting room, quickly scans the crowd to see if they’re listening. Once she realizes they aren’t, she turns back to him.

“I’m not in the mood to joke with you, Jackson. If you’re feeling particularly talkative today, please feel free to instead talk to our therapist about-”

“There is nothing to talk about, April. God, we’re just wasting our time here.”

She scoffs at him, “It’s nice to see that you think saving our marriage is a waste of your time.”

“That’s not fair! You know that’s not what I-”

“Doctors Avery, if you could maybe try to resolve your issues in my office and not the waiting room, that would be great. I can assure you I’m more qualified of an audience than Lilly over here.”

Rashida, their counselor, points to the 5 year old little girl who sees enamored by their hushed argument.

April flushes a bright red, and gets up with his help, to follow Rashida into her office. They sit down, and the tension settles back in.

“Alright, did we do our homework for this week?” Rashida asks, staring earnestly at them.

“Yes.” April nods, albeit too enthusiastically, and he smirks at how his genius of a wife never stopped being the cute nerd who taught him the word ‘approximately’.

“Okay, then, April would you like to tell me what you’ve written down. Now remember Jackson, this is a list of all the things you did that affected April negatively. I don’t want you interrupting until she’s done.” He warns her, because he had a tendency to be quite defensive.

“Okay, so he’s been more and more distant lately-”

“Oh come on!” He groans, and immediately looks bashful since it had only been a second since he’d been told not to interrupt and he was already doing it, “Sorry.”

“So he’s been distant. He keeps trying to distract me with sex, and honestly, I’m over that. And last week, he yelled at me because I asked him if he wanted my help giving Harriet a bath. It’s like he thinks I’m questioning him as a parent, and-”

He sighs, as April lists off all his recent failures as a husband. He hates that she feels so disappointed. It was not at all his intention, to ever hurt her or make her feel like they’re marriage wasn’t strong enough. When they’ve gotten married, he’d made her promise him that divorce would never be an option for them. So last month when she’d given him the ‘therapy or else’ ultimatum, he knew she didn’t mean a divorce, but that the word would become an option for her.  

“I just want him to open up to me. I just want him to stop telling me nothing is wrong-”

“Nothing is wrong, April. I am fine, I keep telling you this, but you’re not listening to me. You’re reading into nothing.” He groans, running a hand over his face.

“That’s not true. I’ve known you since I was 7 years old, Jackson! I’ve been your best friend for almost 28 years, we’ve been married for over 10 years. I know you! I know when you’re upset.” She insists.

“April, I love you. I love our kids. My life revolves around the three of you. I live for the three of you. Is that not enough?”

“Of course I know you love me, Jackson, that’s not the problem. I love you too, so much. I just don’t think my husband should go through something that is making him into someone I don’t recognize because of it.”

“Did you know Dr.Jones was my father?”

They break their gazes away from each other to look at Rashida.

“Really?”April asks, sounding pleasantly surprised.

“Small world.” He comments.

Rashida smiles warmly, “Did you know you were his favorite patients? He used to talk about the two of you at home. Of course, he never said any names, but after reading your files, I figured out it out. He thought it was crazy romantic that you two met here, at seven, and ended up dating. He loved that you two asked him to come to your wedding. It’s sad he passed away before it happened.”

“It broke our hearts.” April admitted, and he did remember how sad she was that he couldn’t be there. They hadn’t even been able to make it to the funeral.

“Did you know that you two talked about each other at every single one of your sessions?” She asks, and they both nod, knowingly but surprised that the other also did the same, “It’s sweet. Aprils talked about how she finally found someone that seemed to truly like her, and Jackson talked about how he’d found someone he could maybe picture himself having a family with. You found healing, not only within yourselves, but also within each other. I just… urge you not to forget about your incredible history. Remember this when you’re confused about Jackson’s feelings or when April seems to read into yours a little too much, just don’t forget-”

“I found my dad.”

The silence that set in the room was so loud, Jackson wished someone would say something. April looked so shocked, her mouth slightly open and her eyes wide. She gasps, as she brings a hand up to her mouth.

“You….uh…. dad… um, what?” She stutters, eyes rapidly blinking, trying to decipher this information.

“I found him. I hired this guy to look into him, and he finally found him. He lives in Montana. He owns a bar and he sells chicory coffee on Etsy. It’s really fucking weird.”

“Oh, honey.”

April scoots closer to him, taking hold of his hand, and hugging it to her chest.

“Why didn’t you tell me this? Gosh, Jackson, I can’t believe you dealt with all that by yourself.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t want to worry you. I know how you get with my dad, April. You feel bad, and you think talking to him is going to solve it, and I don’t know what I even want to do with this information. I’m torn between wanting to talk to him, and punching his lights out, or both,” He admits, and then looks sheepishly at April. He knew she didn’t like any kind of violent talk, “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’d like to punch him myself, to be honest.” She says, and he smiles at her.

“Look, Jackson, it’s definitely up to you, but from what I read in your files, you always talk about closure. Maybe this is the closure you’ve always wanted.” Rashida says, and he shrugs. He’s torn between that and never wanting to see him again.

“I just want you to tell me when you’re going through something this big. I’m your wife, Jackson. You don’t have to deal with this alone.” April tells him, running a hand through his hair, “I will come with you, if you decide to go. I will be there for whatever you need. I am your wife. I love you, and I’m not going anywhere.”

If Jackson was to look at his life through a series of snapshots, the one person who would always be there was April. When his father had left, all those years ago, there had been a hole in his life, he’d never thought he could fill, but as fate would have it, he met April. April his friend, April his best friend, April his girlfriend, and April his wife. They’d all filled up that gaping hole, bit by bit, piece by piece until there were only faint scars of what had happened.

“Thank you.” He says, as he leans forward and kisses her.

If there was a thing as a guardian angel, well he’d found his at seven, and he had held on for dear life.

Baby, I can feel your halo, 

Pray it won’t fade away. 

THANK YOU FOR READING! 

I’m not too happy with this one, so sorry if it wasn’t all that good <3

[dachi-chan25]

So I clearly played myself *sigh* some of this books weren't what I expected and I still need to read a shit ton of sequels to series i fricken loved.

1.-Marked (House of Night #1) by PC Cast /Kirstin White

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So clearly I knew this book was gonna be silly and stuff, like it got me cringing so hard at all those 'not like the other girls' super speshul girl and it has low key a lot of cultural appropiation, so yeah, still was a really quick read and what the heck I'll try the next one to see if it gets better than this. I mean there has to be a reason why someone wants to turn this into a tv series right??

2.-Día de Muertos: Antología del cuento mexicano de V.A

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Realmente siento que es una antología muy inconexa, el título y la portada indican claramente una relación directa entre los relatos y el día de Muertos, sin embargo el espíritu de la festividad solo es capturado en un puñado de historias que es lo que me hizo dar tres estrellas al libro, porque aunque el resto de los cuentos no son malos siento que entraron a la antología con calzador pues no tenían nada que ver con día de muertos .

3.- Practical Magic by Alice Hoffman

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Ok, I did not disliked it, the book manages to be very atmospheric and really create some plausibility among all the whimsy but the characters were never really developed much?? And some were tragically underused (the Aunts) I just think the movie made the story/characters much better.

4.- Society of Wishes (Quartet of Wishes #1) by Elise Kova

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I had totally forgot I owned this book (I bought it cuz I knew the MC was a latina girl and yah) and well it is what it is, just a mess filled with hunky ass time wizards or some shit like that with barely any plot, development or much of anything really, definitely not reading the next ones.

5.-Hemlock Grove by Brian McGreevy

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I am heart broken, I wanted to like this book so badly, but it was all over the place imho, the narrative style was plain out confusing at times (like it threw me back to that time when I was a pretentious ass 15 yo trying to read Ulysses by James Joyce) and don't get me wrong I like writers who spice things up with the flow of their sentences like Chuck Palahniuk but I just couldn't get into it, I feel the series managed to tell this story in a much more organized and in depth fashion.

6.- Vampire Academy (Vampire Academy #1) by Richelle Mead

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I expected nothing of this, and I actually kinda enjoyed it because I think the book it's true to itself, it sets a tone from the beginning and doesn't deviate from it . Is it predictable? As fuck Is it full of every single trope under the sun? YUP, but it never pretends otherwise and it's fine (also I am a thot for vampires so idc) I will continue this series.

7.-Battle Royale by Koshun Takami

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I LOVED it, I had watched the movie, but oh boy it doesn't build the characters the way the book does. It's brutal, dynamic full of optimism even in such a hopless horrific situation. The only thing that kinda had me in stiches was the fact that nearly every damn female character wanted to get it on with Shuuya.

8.- Tale of the Body Thief (Vampire Chronicles #4) by Anne Rice

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This is my frist re-read of this book and damn, Lestat is truly a himbo, he just makes the most idiotic desisions and then is upset because they come to bite him in the ass but he is also kinda charming so what the hell?? David, poor summer child he really thought Lestat would respect his desision 😂😂 this is a real fun book (I mean the whole ass discussion about Faust is as fake deep as u can get) and it really drives home how much of a hot mess is Lestat. (Also Louis u bitch!!! How dare u betray him it's not like u had tried to kill him before multiple times xD honestly Lestat's logic)

9.-The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman

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I adored this, the atmosphere Neil created in this book is absolutely beautiful, every detail and character Bod meets in the cementary adds so much to a rather simple story, the world building, the sense of magical realism it's just something I always appreciate in Neil's books, this really has become one of my faves and I will try and re-read this very soon.

10.-Dracul by Dacre Srocker

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I was on the fence about this one, like Dracula is one of my all time favorite books, and when I found out his great grand nephew was writing a precuel of Bram's most famous work I felt it was an easy money-grab scheme but then I heard a lot of positive reviews and people started talking how this book gives a back story to one of Dracula's brides and that it was based on some notes Bram left behind I decided to try it, and I don't regret it. I mean it wasn't what I expected, the book is more historical fiction and Dacre tries perharps a little too hard to emulate Bram's writing style/structure but the plot really managed to trap me and it was quite an intresting story.

11.-Bone Music by Christopher Rice

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This is the frist book I read from him (like even tho I like her books a lot i don't fucks with Anne Rice cuz she is awful to anyone who critisizes her books or tries to write fanfic of em so yeah I wasn't so keen in reading her son's work) but it was a very pleasant surprise, those twist he makes at the very beginning of the book left me gaping like a fish, I was emotionally involved with the characters and I definitely look forward to read more books on the Burning Girl series.

12.- Final Girls - Riley Sager

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Slashers are some of my favorite things in the world, and this book gets a lot of the tropes/atmosphere right and still, manages to be original and deconstruct them, turn the reader on his expectations and deliver a great ending, will definitely continue with the series.

13- Hidden Bodies by Caroline Kepnes

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Joe Goldberg is a punk ass bitch and I hope the ending stays as it was, like how lucky is this bastard, and at one point I was like, no way are all this people around him so dumb likeeeeeee he is such an unreliable narrator that idk if the things he say are really happening or all is part of his self important delusional mind, I really liked this sequel even if Joe barely struggled until the end (he was living the Life u guys) it was a fun read.

14- The Mysterious Affair at Styles by Agatha Christie

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This is Hercule Poirot's frist book, and he is so different from the books I have read, but still brilliant and with his quirks, it really captured me, I always enjoy a good murder mystery and Agatha Christie always delivers.

15.- The Girl who Loved Tom Gordon by Stephen King

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King is back in my good graces, this book is terrifying it really takes u along Trisha's emotional journey, all the desperation, the defeat,the hope, really is such a complex beautiful emotional ride of this amazingly brave little girl, and damn Stephen u can write female character's well y u wrote that mess in Bag of Bones like whyyy dude? ?? I simply loved this one, made me cry so much.

16.-#Murdertrending by Gretchen McNeil

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This was such a fun dynamic read, I finished it in one sitting. The whole concept of Alcatraz 2.0 was pretty darn great, the painiacs, ahhh so good, I wished the rest of the characters apart from Dee were more developed but I know it would have given the plot twist away if they had so it's fine, I am really looking forward to reading Murderfunding.

That was it, my reads were either meh or omgggg I loved it!!! I hope this months my reads are all good.