#i'd be more open than Motel 6 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lovelylovelyanon · 2 years

Text

night moves. (SPN-SW)

Word Count: 2057

Pairing Sam x Fem!Singer!Reader

Genre: !SMUT!

Warnings: none really, just mentions of the usual spn stuff and smut obviously

I groaned as I stretched my arms above my head, wincing at the pull in my shoulders. We just got done with a rough vamp hunt, the boys and I all taking our fair share of hits. It was nearing three in the morning and after almost falling asleep driving back to the shitty motel Dean crashed onto the closest bed, which just so happened to be mine. I shook him by his shoulders and got a dirty, half-asleep look in return.

“Kid, I love ya, but fuck off. Daddy’s tryin’ ta sleep.” I scoffed at his language, chalking up the asshole attitude to him being sore and tired before walking out of my room. I shut the hotel door and went across the hall, praying Sam would still be awake. I lightly knocked on the door in case he wasn’t, surprised to see the 6 '4 moose actually answer the door. Even more surprised to see he wasn’t wearing a shirt.

“I..umm…Dean’s in my bed.” I smacked my hand to my forehead realizing how terrible that probably sounded. “I-I mean…fuck.” I finally gave up talking, flushing red at Sam’s chuckle.

“Words are hard. It’s fine, kid. I gotcha. You can crash here, I’m just gonna shower.” I nodded and stepped in the room. I found my unashamedly staring at his back muscles as he walked towards the bathroom, pouting as the door shut behind him.

I’d known the Winchesters for years, our families always being close. Our dads hunted together, just not in the way that we thought when we were kids. My dad and I always moved around with them and we were always in the same school. From the amount of time we spent together, people swore we were siblings. I always hated hearing that, having a crush on Sam since we were 14. John noticed it more than once, always letting me know that "Bobby Singer won't hesitate to punch one of them Winchester boys."

It took me nearly three days to convince my dad to let me hunt with Sam and Dean, only giving in when Dean gave him my word that I'd be returned safely. Being cooped up in shitty motels with the guy I'd been swooning over for almost 10 years wasn't exactly ideal, but it was worth it for the experience of actually getting to hunt instead of dad telling me to stay in the car.

I'd situated myself on the room's musty chair, refraining from thinking about all the stains on it. I had begun picking at the loose threads in the upholstery when I heard the shower shut off. Moments later I heard rustling followed by a "Shit!" I bolted over and knocked on the bathroom door lightly.

"Sam, you okay?" I heaard more rustling before he cracked the door open, steam streaming out. I quietly gasped as I admired his face. Water dripped from his hair, sliding down his nose before hitting his chest. I almost kicked myself upon realizing the rest of his body was shielded by the door. The dirty thoughts were interrupted by Sam clearing his throat, making me meet his eyes.

"I...uh...forgot my towel." He nodded in the direction of the bed, my face immediately heating up.

"Um yeah, no I'll grab it." I wanted to die at how stupid I sounded. I handed him the towel, shamefully walking myself back to the chair. Sam came out moments later, towel wrapped around his waist. I watched in awe as water dripped down his body, getting slowed down by the ridges of his abdomen before falling beneath the towel. Everything about him amazed me. His physique, his perfect face, the way he threw his head back when he laughed.

"Y/N?" I was shaken out of my thoughts by his voice, rough and raspy from lack of sleep.

"Sorry, what?" He chuckled, shaking his head.

"If you wanna take a quick bath or somethin' you can. Just be careful, there's no middle temp. It's just hot." Something definitely was. I only nodded, grabbing a towel and locking myself in the bathroom. I took some deep breaths, deciding a nice bath would calm me down.

After a long, steamy bath I wrapped myself in my towel, walking out of the bathroom.

"Sam?" He looked up, double-taking. I once again found myself staring at him, now clad in only a pair of gray sweats.

"Yeah, kid?" I cringed, I hated that. I could tell he said it to distance himself from me.

"I just forgot my clothes on the bed your brother's currently asleep on." He nodded, his eyes trailing up and down my towel-clad body before snapping himself out of it.

"Uh, yeah hold on." He turned and began rummaging through his duffel bag, once again giving me a perfect view of his back muscles. "Here, they might smell like a campfire but they'll do." He threw me a flannel and sweats, both being from the night we had to salt and burn a spirit's bones.

"Thanks, moose." I gave him a tight-lipped smile, scurrying to the bathroom to change. I took a couple more deep breaths, giving in and changing into his clothes.

The flannel was almost a dress, the sleeves almost reaching mid-thigh. The sweats were the same level of "too big", the waistband having to be rolled up to even keep them up. And Sam was right, they did smell like campfire. But they also had a smell that was so...Sam. It was woody and spicy, masculine and strong yet soft. I brushed what knots I could out of my hair with my fingers and finally exited the bathroom.

I came out to find Sam on the bed with his computer. I went back to my chair, going back to picking at the strings.

"Ya know, you can sleep in the bed. I won't bite unless you ask me to." I gasped and smiled at his words, my face once again heating up. I got up and made my way the bed and sat next to him.

"Whatcha researchin'? New case?" He shrugged, showing me a few of the things he'd found.

"Not exactly. There's been reports of more vamps about 20 miles from here. Fuck, Dean and I really thought we hit the nest here." I could see his worry and stress in the way his eyebrows creased and the way his teeth toyed with the corneer of his lip.

"Hell, Sam, I did, too. There were a fuck ton of toothies fangs tonight." He cracked half a smile and shook his head.

"You really gotta take a break from Dean, his language is rubbin' off on ya. Now what would your dad think if I sent you back cursin' like a sailor?" We both laughed, Sam deciding to call it a night and closing his laptop. "I wouldn't get under the covers, kid. God knows what kinda things these sheets are infested with." I nodded, not complaining because I'd rather not get bedbugs. I laid down on my back with my hands behind my head, staring at the ceiling. From the corner of my eye I could see Sam doing the same.

"Ya know, kid-"

"Christ, Sam, cut it out, ok?" I looked over at him, a stunned expression on his face. "I can't handle the 'kid' thing anymore, not from you." I turned back over, my eyes going back to the ceiling.

"Dean calls you it all the time!" I could hear the agitation in his voice begin to grow as I turned my head to look at him.

"Yeah, but that's different."

"Oh please, Y/N. Explain to me how it's different."

"I-I...I can't. Sam, I just can't." He scoffed, forcing me to turn over and face him.

“You’ve never kept a secret from me in your entire life, Y/N. Don’t start now.” I almost laughed at the irony in his words. I would’ve, but the look in his eyes was enough to stop me. It was dark, almost like he was daring me to say what we both already knew.

“‘Cause I don’t feel this way about your brother, Sam.” It was like a switch in his brain because the next thing I knew, Sam had found his way on top of me. His kisses were hard and passionate as his hips rutted against mine, creating delicious friction. His mouth moved to my jaw, sucking hard enough to surely leave hickies. His lips suddenly came to my ear.

“Baby, I honestly don’t think I can handle foreplay right now.” I whimpered and thrusted my hips up against his, hoping he’d get the hint that I couldn’t either. He must’ve understood because within seconds, he’d pulled down his pants and mine. He tapped his throbbing tip against my clip a few times, making me look at him.

“Hey, are you sure you wanna do this?” I nodded, grinding my wet center against him. “No, I need to hear it. Tell me, Y/N.” I looked into his eyes, brushing some hair away from his face.

“Please fuck me, Sam.” This was enough to cause him to fully enter me in one go, both of us gasping at the feeling. He groaned as we settled, my nails digging into his shoulders as I adjusted to the feeling of his large cock. He was bigger than I imagined, his head hooking upwards as if he was made to hit all the right spots.

“Sam…fuck, please move!” He immediately obliged, slowly thrusting out before going back in. He kept up a slow pace, kissing me passionately while playing with my clit. “Sam…harder.” He readjusted, bringing both my legs around his waist before pulling out and slamming back in. I was seeing stars, his cock hitting my sweet spot with every thrust.

“Oh baby, you feel so good around me. God I can feel you…fuck…squeezin’ me. You like the way I fuck you, huh?” I nodded, not being able to form words with the way he was thrusting and playing with my clit. He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Words…words right now or I’ll stop.” I whimpered, throwing my head back with a particularly hard thrust.

“Yes…fuck…yes, Sam. Love the way you fuck me. Please, don’t stop!” He growled and went back to attacking my neck with love bites.

“Fuck, I’m almost there. You gonna cum for me, Y/N?” I nodded before remembering the rules.

“Yes…fuck yes I’m so close, Sam!” He began rubbing my clit harder before bringing both my legs to his shoulders as I almost screamed at the new angle. I could feel the knot in my stomach about to burst as Sam leaned down, folding me in half.

“Let go for me, baby. Let this whole place know who’s makin’ ya feel good.” With his vulgar words I let go, clawing down his arms and letting out shouts of “Sam!” He pulled out, pumping himself a few times before finishing on my stomach with a last groan of my name.

He collapsed next to me, both of us panting. He eventually got up and grabbed a towel, wiping the both of us clean. After laying back down, he pulled me to his chest and kissed my forehead.

“I’m gonna say some things, Y/N. I like you. Like, really like you. Your dad just scares the shit outta me.” We both laughed and I leaned up to kiss him once, twice, three times.

“I really like you too, Sam. And, don’t be scared of my dad. He admires you. We both do.” Sam intertwined our hands, the both of us falling asleep cuddling naked.

We awoke to bangs on the door along with Dean moaning “Oh, Sam!” and Sam yelling a quick “Fuck off, Dean!” before helping me get dressed, grabbing our things and leading me out of the motel. Sam helped me load my things in the Impala and opened the car door for me, having me sit in the middle in the front. The brothers slid in on either side of me, Dean turning the car on and taking her out of park. He put a CD in, Sam and I immediately groaning as the intro of Night Moves began to play.

#sam winchester #supernatural #sam winchester smut

95 notes · View notes

duskwoodgirl4life · 1 year

Text

Epilogue Part 1:

6 months on and MC was no closer too finding Jake he had sent her a few messages, the last one he sent said he had too go into hiding. MCs search had taken her out of duskwood and into the city she had just checked into a motel for the night as it was getting late. She dropped her bag on the floor as it was late she decided too order takeout. After placing the order she went too take a shower and freshen up she changed into some sweatpants and Jake's hoodie. MC sat down on the bed looking at her phone for any sign from Jake no new messages. Looking at the last thing Jake said made a tear roll down her face she felt her heart breaking.

Jake: I love you MC

MC: I love you Jake

MC managed too pull her self togethe just as there was a knock at the door, grabbing some cash from her bag she opened the door and paid for her takeout. Sitting down on the bed MC switched the TV on flicking through the channels V for Vendetta was on. MC left the movie playing while she ate her food, after getting rid of the Chinese containers she sat back down checking her phone again. Still no messages from Jake, looking at the last message Jake had sent.

Jake: I love you MC

MC: I love you Jake

Not being able too sleep MC pulled out her laptop and began too search for abandoned buildings in the area. A few came up in her search that she would check out in the morning. She checked on the tracker but is had stopped giving out a signal she had spoken too Victor about it, he said it was more than likely Jake was somewhere the signal couldn't get through. MC pulled up a map on her laptop trying too pinpoint exactly where Jake was but it was no use. The next morning MC woke having not really slept went too take a shower and got changed. She went too grab a coffee from the cafa on the corner after grabbing a coffee she got onto the car that her mum had let her use. Pulling up the locations of the abandoned buildings she made her way too the first one.

MC parked the car out of sight and went too check out the building, inside there was old broken machine's, bits of paper on the floor, dust everywhere. This place really was abandoned searching the lower level MC came across some stairs she made her way up slowly not too make a noise. There was no signs of life anywhere, no sign of anyone having stayed here. Having had no luck MC made her way back too the car. When she got back in the car she crossed the building off her list, MC started the engine making her way too the next location. Later that night after having no luck finding Jake she made her way back too the motel. Sitting on the bed she looked at her phone no new messages from Jake. Looking at the last message he sent her a tear fell from her eye.

Jake: I love you MC

MC: I love you Jake

Having feeling defeated she grabbed the left over Chinese takeout, while she waited for her laptop too start up she switched the TV on for some background noise. Not really paying attention too what was on the tele a news report came up. It was about a wanted hacker apparently he had been spotted in France the report said if anyone came across him too ring the police straight away. MC started too wonder if Jake ralyly was in France. It didn't matter too MC she would travel the world if it meant she would get Jake back.

MCs POV

I need too expand my search a little further, Jake as too be around here somewhere I have too find him. I need too try and narrow this search down why the hell does Colville have too be so big. Come on Jake give me a sign any sign that you are at least okay, I won't give up on finding you I will search for the rest of my life if I need too. Hell I'd even sell my sole too the devil if it meant I'd get you back by my side. By chance I take another look at the map and come across a few more places that I missed, should I go check them out now that it's dark I might get somewhere.

Right it's now or never if I am going out on this midnight mission then I need too make sure I'm well prepared. Come on MC you can do this remember you are doing this for Jake.

MC grabbed Jake's hoodie and a torch she grabbed her keys and headed back out into the night, she doubled checked the map before setting off. Taking a deep breath MC put the key in and started the car before she reached the first building she switched off her headlight's. Parking up MC made her way towards the building as she opened the door it made a loud noise echoing around th building. This building was completely empty nothing and noone was there. After feeling like she had checked everywhere she made her way back too the car. As she was leaving MC spotted a sign on the wall it was a red eye with Nym-Os written underneath it. Tears ran down her face this was a sign that Jake had been here. She was maybe getting closer too him, it's like he knew she woulr search here and left this sign on the wall.

Taking a picture of the sign MC made her way back too her car, feeling like she was getting somewhere MC decided too go check out the next place. Once again MC made sure too park put of sight grabbing her torch. MC made her way towards the building just like the last not much was in the building, in the distance she could see a light was it from a computer screen? MC decided too go check it out moving quietly as she got closer it was just an old TV and someone sleeping in the corner.

After making her way out she got back into the car, it was now 2am sleep was trying too take over her body. MC decided too check out at least one more place before going back too the motel.

Walking through the building she could hear all kinds of noises every movement made her jump. Fear started too take over before she knew what was happening she felt someone grab hold of her. They pinned her too the wall not letting her move an inch. When she finally got a look at the face it was a crazed homeless man pinning her too the wall by the neck. She tried her best too break away from his grip but he was just too strong. MC could feel the last gasps of air leave her body everything starting too go back. The only thing she heard before passing out was the crazed man dragging her away.

MC tried and tried too fight back but her body just wouldn't let her, MC just managed too let out a screem but the man didn't care he just continued too drag her way. Her screams started too get louder as she was being dragged away the man dropped her too the floor standing over her. He raised his hand but before his hand could make any sort of contact with MCs face someone grabbed hold of him. Pushing him too the ground and knocking him out the figure came over too MC and picked her up.

MC wasn't sure if it was from lack of breath but she was sure she could smell Jake's scent was her senses playing tricks on her? Was she really in Jake's arms, had he been the one too save her from danger. Had he found her before she had a chance too keep looking for him MC whispered Jake's name softly.

MC: Jake, is that really you? Have you come too save me?

Jake: it's me MC, don't worry I've got you you are safe now

MC: I love you Jake

Jake: I love you MC

As Jake was carrying MC out too the car she passed out in his arms, he put her on the back seat carefully. He knew the motel she was staying in so be drove back too her room once they arrived Jake helped MC out of the car. MC was still a little groggy so Jake lay her down on the bed. Jake saw that MC still had the ring on her finger and couldn't help but smile she really had waited for him.

#duskwood #duskwood jake #everbyte game #duskwood hacker #iamjake #i love you jake #duskwood jake x mc #jake x mc #he loves me #i love you #i love him #troubled past #bright future

11 notes · View notes

sohemotional · 2 years

Note

If you could make just one change to each season of Glee (so 6 changes total, only 1 per season though but it can be anything no rules at all), what would change?

Oh wow, it's difficult to choose just one change per season. I'll try to choose one thing that really bothered me in each season to fix. Obviously each of these changes would also affect future seasons significantly. These are just some random ideas btw, I'd definitely change a lot more about each season's plot lines.

Season 1: Finntana wouldn't be a thing. At least in a non-platonic sense. Ever. So what would have happened was, they got to the motel in The Power of Madonna and Finn refused her because he just couldn't do it. He wasn't into Santana and he wasn't ready to be with anyone like that. So she gets mad at him because it bruises her ego/ruins the plan she had with Sue and she yells at him but then she cools down and she tells him good luck with Rachel because Santana knows he really wants Rachel to be his first time. Santana actually seems totally relieved too that nothing happened, after her initial show of anger, which surprises Finn. She also tells him that his first time would be really special if it's with a girl he cares about and that makes Finn confused because it sounds like Santana is talking about someone specific and he doesn't know why Santana would be talking about a girl in the context of herself. (Foreshadowing Brittana) Then Finntana see each other around school and Santana sorta rolls her eyes at him but they're cool with each other.

Season 2: Finn never goes back to Quinn. She does try to get him back at one point but even though he breaks up with Rachel for other reasons, he never ever dates Quinn again. So we get no significant Fuinn/love triangle drama between Quinn/Finn/Rachel for the entire season! Hurray.

Season 3: The whole Santana outing storyline never happens at all. That was an awful storyline. So yes, Finn does confront her when she's insulting him about his body but all of that happens privately and no one hears what he tells her except the two of them. So Santana does get mad at him for a long time because he insulted her but they both apologize and the rift heals eventually, especially when Santana is more secure/happy in her relationship.

Season 4: Bram is just never a thing. They only see each other as friends and Brittany only dates a dark-haired jock boy briefly that she met from outside of Glee club (it's by no means a serious relationship and it doesn't last for long) but no Bram means that there's no Mayan wedding/no stupid Bram plots and so on for the entire season.

Season 5: I had a hard time choosing for this one because Season 5 imo is the worst out of all the seasons. Dani doesn't exist as a character at all. She's replaced by a completely different actress/character who very briefly dates Santana (no more than maybe an episode or two) before we get scenes of Santana deciding to break up with her because she's sweet but she's just not Brittany. The new love interest for Santana isn't biphobic at all (she's bisexual herself actually and embraces it) and Santana doesn't say anything biphobic either about Britt or ever implies that Britt cheated on her.

Season 6: K/laine don't get married. They just decide it's best to go their separate ways. Blaine decides he'll continue to date Karofsky for a while, then maybe he moves onto a handsome new guy he meets around town meanwhile Kurt remains single but attends the Brittana wedding with Elliott as his escort and they appear to be close. So we get an open ending for both men.

#Glee #these are very Santana and Brittana centric but whatever #There are so many changes I'd make with other characters and plots too #Brittana

9 notes · View notes

leatafandom · 1 year

Note

1, 14, 40 & 65 ❤️❤️❤️

Hello my dear! ❤️

1. Do you prefer writing one-shots or multi-chaptered fics?

Mm. I think I prefer writing series more than anything. I love a big timeline and slowly filling it with world building and character/relationship development. Whether it's with one shots or multi-chapter fics. I guess between the two I would say one-shots cause they give me a faster feeling of completion of a tale in my head but I normally miss that development when I write one-shots.

14. How do you write emotional scenes? Do you ever feel what the characters feel? Do you draw from personal experiences?

Typically when I write a scene that has a certain vibe I try to write that all in one go, to keep those waves and to make sure it hits properly. I think the thing I draw on and focus on the most when I write emotional scenes is what I physically feel when I think about that emotion. I do tend to think of an event or media that made me feel that way and describe it or if I'm writing a scene where Sam gets pissed or upset I try to remember what that looks like.

40. If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see?

God, any fan art would be so cool! I'd love to see some of Niikko and Gabriel from my Learn au because I love them. Maybe that one moment in Learn at the motel with Sam and Gabriel where Ruby comes to try to tempt Sam and Gabriel's the chair he and Niikko made. That would be a fun one to see.

65. Tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project

Ahh I have so many wips open right now. I think currently I'm most excited to finish editing the new Jumpsuits Chapter, but I'm no longer writing for jumpsuits just editing. So I think it would be all the new Cannibal Sam stuff I've been working on. I currently have a line up of 6 new works (some multi-chapters, some one shots) in various stages of writing. They all sit, timeline wise, between the end of Hunger Games and Old Secrets Die Hard. I'm super excited about what I've got planned for character development, relationship development, plot points, and to feature some more pagans. It's been a blast to bounce around the time gap.

Thank you so much for the ask, love! It is always a pleasure ♥️♥️♥️

#asks and answers #fanfic asks #spn #the wips #thank you so much for the ask

1 note · View note

hideyseek · 2 years

Note

4 and 6!

thank you!!!!

#4 for the wips ask game is apartment!verse, what will hypothetically one day be a collection of arthur/eames fic involving apartments, because i really like apartments. this is from a fic i started for inceptionbingo'21 where eames used to live in the apartment arthur uses as his safe house and for ~currently unresolved plot hole reasons~ still has a key.

The toilet flushes, and the bathroom door opens.

Arthur’s got his gun out and pointed before he registers that it’s Eames. “Sorry,” he says sheepishly, putting it down.

“Not the first time I’ve been greeted like this, darling,” says Eames, trying his best to zip up surreptitiously. Arthur notices, and rolls his eyes and makes a gesture like he’s about to pick his gun back up.

“Seriously,” says Arthur, seriously, putting the gun away. “What the fuck are you doing in my apartment?”

“Your—?” says Eames. He looks around. “Your apartment, huh.”

“What other explanation could there be for me standing in an apartment that you think you live in?” says Arthur flatly.

“It’s a dream?” Eames tries. “A for fun dream?”

Arthur frowns.

“You broke into my apartment because you’re pissed at me again for something,” Eames suggests, doing something with his face as he says it. It isn’t cute. It really isn’t cute.

Plus, if the breaking in part was ignored, the statement is accurate. Arthur is certainly pissed at Eames again in the current moment, for something. And he’s definitely been pissed at Eames before.

“Yeah I’m pissed at you,” says Arthur, picking up his takeout. It’d fallen on the floor and tipped right over but mercifully none of his curry had spilled. “Come on. I’m having dinner and you’re answering my questions.”

He sets it down on the counter, reaches for a cupboard and opens it and behind him Eames says incredulously, “You put bowls in there?”

Arthur flips around. “Yes? You have a problem with that?”

Eames is squinting. “That’s where the cups go, Arthur. Cups and mugs on top. Bowls go on a lower shelf.” He sounds like he’s in pain.

“Eames,” says Arthur. “Shut up and microwave rice. It’s in the Tupperware in the fridge.” He starts rustling around in a drawer for spoons.

“You’re going to feed me,” says Eames, pleased. “I doubt you’d be willing to talk otherwise,” says Arthur, instead of admitting that this is the admittedly batshit culmination of one of his longest-held and most cherished dreams. Twenty-year-old Arthur would be losing his fucking mind at the idea of having dinner in one of his apartment with Eames, regardless of context.

#6 is actually titled the way you see me is not really which i'd forgotten, and explores why arthur would give up so much of his life for cobb when he doesn't seem to like him very much at the point that we meet them in the film.

It’s eleven in the morning, and Arthur’s forking over the last $40 he has to be allowed to check in early. He thinks about the flat, scrubby land they’d passed in the last few days that his mind had dragged a name for out of the annals of sixth grade ecology vocab: chaparral.

He counts out the fives onto the counter, his attention half on the paper-soft wrinkle of the bills in his hand, more than half on Dom slouched and dead-eyed, draped in the corduroy jacket Arthur had bought him for his and Mal’s March anniversary. He’s needed 110% of every part of himself except his libido for the last six days.

Jesus, he thinks like a reflex. How has it only been six days?

He’d bought Mal a perfume that spring as a joke, and he’d seen the delicate bottle left open on the hotel desk when he’d showed up in Los Angeles for Dom, gleaming amber in the afternoon light. They hadn’t waited for the authorities to threaten them. Arthur had grabbed Dom’s hand like he had the right to, and ran.

Later, they'd get off the bus at the kind of highway-side motel that people fall asleep in when they want to be forgotten.

“Have you ever read Neruda, Dom,” says Arthur of five years ago, on the bold threshold of drunk, still a PhD student halfway in love with the young psychology professor whose class his friend is TA-ing for. His wine glass drips condensation onto the skin at the juncture between his thumb and forefinger; he shivers, involuntary. The clamor of the department party is so distant.

“Without knowing how, or when, or from where,” Dom quotes gravely, swirling his wine in its glass. The part of Arthur’s mind that had wanted to be an English major jumps to wonder why Dom chose to begin there, to forgo the preceding I love you.

Perhaps he meant it as a hint — lead the audience to fill in the gaps and thus focus on the absent piece themselves. Perhaps, Arthur self-corrects, the curtains were blue because the author’s own curtains were blue. Familiarity. So it goes: one turns to comfort and stability in moments of uncertainty.

#inception #arthur/cobb #halfofawhole #ask game #hidey speaks #wips ask game #the way you see me is not really

6 notes · View notes

ratralsis · 10 months

Text

6. The Confession

Table of Contents

"Okay," Marigold said. She looked over their motel room, their home for the last six days. It hadn't been much of a place to live, but it hadn't needed to be. It was where they had slept at night and showered in the mornings, and as far as that went, the cramped space with its stained carpet that didn't bear thinking about and its bed that was barely big enough for the two of them had done its job well enough. After opening and closing all of the empty drawers one last time, she gave Kevin a nod. "I'm pretty sure we got everything packed up in the van."

Kevin scratched the stubble on his chin, and said, in a faux-serious tone, "Almost everything. There's one last thing I still have to carry out."

Marigold cocked her head to one side, confusion spreading across her face. "What's that?"

He walked over to her, bent, put his arms around her, and scooped her off her feet. "The most important thing of all," he said.

"No fair!" Marigold yelped, clasping her hands behind Kevin's neck for support. "You're twice my size!"

Kevin scoffed. "What's unfair here is how pretty you are even in your last clean sweater and no makeup. I'm barely a foot taller than you are. I just work out."

She tried her best to scowl at him, but it wasn't easy for her. "You're a giant, is what you are," she said. "You should be nicer to me. You know I'm older than you, right? Didn't your parents teach you to respect your elders?"

"You're precious cargo, to be handled with love and care until you arrive safely at your destination," Kevin said, walking through the door and to the parking lot. The sun was already high overhead in the clear blue sky. "And besides, from March to June, we're the same age."

"That's not how it--" she began, but Kevin cut her off.

"I just got a degree in how to count," he said, his chest swelling with pride. "I'm starting a new job as a professional counter in nine days, in fact. I tell you as a highly-trained and state-certified expert in numbers that twenty-two equals twenty-two, and that's indisputable."

He pushed the door closed behind him with one foot and carried Marigold, who was blushing furiously, to his van. She craned her neck to look at the windows of the other motel rooms, biting her lip and hoping nobody saw them. The sparkle in her eyes betrayed the fact that, deep down, she was enjoying herself. Kevin placed her down next to the passenger door and planted a quick kiss on the top of her head before she could react. He opened the door for her, using it to shield himself from her. He darted around to the other side, by which time she had leaned across and opened his door for him.

"I talked to my dad last night," Marigold said, buckling her seat belt.

"Yeah?" Kevin asked, climbing in and doing the same. He started the van, and it rumbled to life. "How's he doing?"

"He's fine," she said. "Remember when I said he lived a few hours from me?"

Kevin nodded, still smiling to himself from his little stunt earlier, and pulled out of the motel parking lot. He gently tapped on the steering wheel, watching the traffic.

"I was thinking," she went on. "It would add a day to our trip home, but do you want to meet him?"

The question hung in the air, heavy with opportunities for Kevin to say the wrong thing. He glanced her way. She was facing the window, pointedly not looking at him. "You sure you want to?"

"No," she said, too quickly for Kevin to think it was anything but the truth. "I'd rather you didn't ever meet him, actually. But as much as we've been talking this week about things, this is the best way I can think of for you to get to know more about me." She slid her phone from the pocket of her jeans and unlocked the screen. As Kevin stopped at a red light, she handed it to him.

"I asked him to send me this photo," she said. "It's from our last summer together. Me, him, my three sisters."

"Kim, Kelly, and, um, Lily, right?" Kevin asked, struggling to remember the names of people he'd first heard of a few days earlier. He tried to divide his attention between watching the light and looking at the picture on the phone's screen. "Oh, dang, is that you? Or, wait, which one's you?"

"The one in red, of course," Marigold said, with a rueful laugh. "Lily's the one in yellow. It was always her color. That's dad behind us, Kim on the right, Kelly on the left. Lily and I were seventeen. They were fifteen and fourteen."

"You and Lily were the same age? Were you twins?" That would explain the floral naming theme. The light turned green, and Kevin returned the phone.

Marigold went back to staring out the window. "Yeah," she said.

"What's wrong? They can't be that bad."

"They were great. Really great. Then I left."

"Yeah, you quit school and moved here," Kevin said. "Well, not here. You know what I mean. You told me all about it." He tapped a quick rhythm on the steering wheel to cover his embarrassment.

"You remember a month ago, when I told you about the car accident I was in?"

"The one where you got hurt?" Kevin asked. Confusion crept into his voice. "Was that why you left? Because you totaled the car? Too many medical bills?"

Marigold let out the heaviest sigh he could remember ever hearing from her. He stole another quick glance at her as he checked the side mirrors. She still wasn't looking at him. "I'm going to tell you something," she said, digging her fingernails into the armrest. "And I'm scared of what you're going to think of me when I do."

"Marigold," Kevin said. "I already know enough about you to know that I love you. You mean the world to me, so whatever you want to share with me will only help me know you more."

"Okay," she said, barely reacting to Kevin's words, though Kevin himself was surprised at what a cheesy thing it was to have said. "To you, it's the accident where I got hurt. To me, it's the accident where I killed my twin sister."

Kevin's eyebrows rose of their own accord, and he focused all of his attention on the road. He realized then that that was Marigold's reason for waiting until he was driving to bring this up. She'd had the whole morning to tell him this, after all.

"Um," he said, gathering his thoughts. "I'm sorry, that's a lot to take in."

"Yeah. Do you also remember when I said I wasn't hiding anything from you on purpose?" She took a deep, wavering breath. "That wasn't true."

"Okay," Kevin mumbled, trying to think of anything at all to say. "Okay, then. Better late than never?"

"It wasn't about damaging the car, or the hospital bill," she said, once he'd quieted down. "Dad's always had enough money. He had enough money to take care of us after our mom died. He didn't have to do that, but he did it anyway."

"The four of you?" Kevin asked, uncertain about the legality of a dad not taking care of his kids after the death of their mom.

Another pause. "No, it was just me and Lily then."

Kevin did the mental arithmetic. "Kim and Kelly are your half-sisters?"

"No," she said again. "Stepsisters."

More arithmetic. A possible answer came to him. "Oh!" he said, glad to have solved it. "He's not your real dad."

"Not my biological dad," Marigold corrected him. "He's as real a dad as I've ever had. The only one, even. I never met my biological father. I've never even heard anything about him."

"Okay, so," Kevin said. His concentration was split between driving, listening, and deducing Marigold's family tree. He was sure he needed to keep focusing on driving, so the other two were getting harder and harder. "Look, there's a few ways I can think of for that to work, can you please break it down for me so I can stop guessing wrong?"

"My mom came here from the U.K. eight months before Lily and I were born," she said. "Didn't know she was pregnant. She met Henry, and, a few months later, when it was obvious she was, they got married. There was an ultrasound, they knew how far along she was, did the math, figured out what must have happened. So he knew everything going in, and, a few months later, she gave birth to two girls who obviously weren't related to her husband."

"I didn't want to say anything," Kevin said. "I figured your mom must have been a lot darker than he was. And she had extremely different features."

Marigold laughed, once, and Kevin looked her way once more. She kept on staring out the window as though it were the most interesting thing in the world. "No, my mom was the same color I am. She died a few months after she had us. Childbirth wasn't good to her."

Before he could stop it, Kevin heard himself say, "Seriously?" he coughed. "No, of course. Of course you're serious, I mean, not of course she… I'm just going to stop and let you talk, okay?"

"Okay," she said, no trace of amusement or annoyance in her tone. "Henry adopted Lily and me after mom died. His parents helped with babysitting for a year or so, and then he found a second wife. Kim and Kelly were born, one after another. Then, a few more years later, the new wife divorced him, and he raised four girls pretty much all by himself. Probably because he was a highly-paid lawyer by then who was able to hire one of his other highly-paid lawyer friends for the custody hearing, he had us most of the time. Kim and Kelly got to see their mom every other weekend."

"He was a lawyer?" Kevin asked, working through all this new information one piece at a time.

"He still is," Marigold said. "He isn't even fifty yet. Before you ask, yes, that's also why I got off pretty much scot-free after what should've been DUI manslaughter. But I still couldn't stick around after that."

Kevin hadn't been about to ask, but he still filed that away with everything else. "Why couldn't you, then?" he asked.

He saw her clench her fist from the corner of his eye, the knuckles whitening. "Because I killed my father's daughter!" she shouted, and he flinched. "I killed my kid sisters' big sister! I killed the only blood relative I had left, and maybe ever will, now!"

Kevin blinked, utterly out of his depth. He blew a long breath out through his mouth, unable to think of anything to say.

Marigold wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Her voice was breaking, but she forced the words out anyway. "How was I supposed to roll into the second half of my Senior year with my crutches and broken family and all the other students who knew what I'd done?"

Kevin briefly considered pulling over.

She took a ragged breath and interrupted Kevin's thoughts. "Dad understood why I couldn't stay. He helped me get my GED, get moved out, get a part-time job. Get my life restarted. Told me that if I changed my mind, I could come back. He was great. He was a better dad than I deserved."

"Don't ever say that," Kevin said. "Of course you deserved it."

"If you say so," she said. There was a long silence as Kevin drove. He tapped the steering wheel a few more times.

"One day out of our way, you said?" he asked. "I'd like to meet him. Your sisters, too."

"They're out of state at college."

"Right, rich dad, makes sense," he said, then forced his mouth shut before another word could make its way out.

Marigold sniffed and wiped her eyes again. She retrieved her phone. "I'll let him know we're coming."

#ratralsis writing #ratralsis strings

1 note · View note

caranfindel · 3 years

Text

Fic: You don’t know how it feels (to be me)

gen, s6 | about 3600 words | pg for language | characters: soulless sam winchester, dean winchester

synopsis: Soulless Sam tries to deal with his brother's feelings about, well, everything. Including his hair. Set in season 6, before "You Can't Handle the Truth."

An idea I had a long time ago, resuscitated by Jared's Walker haircut. The title is from "You Don't Know How It Feels" by Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers.

. . . . . .

It's a stupid case.

The manager of the county fairgrounds is a stooped, gnarled old man wearing one of those ball caps veterans wear sometimes. Gold embroidery on the dark blue hat proudly displays the name of his ship or submarine or whatever. Sam doesn't care about his ship or submarine or whatever. He doesn't care about this guy's service at all. Most days, old Blue Hat here got three meals a day and a warm, dry place to sleep in exchange for whatever he gave up. He got a pension when he was done fighting. Sam gets to scrounge for cheap food and sleep in crappy hotels when he's lucky enough to actually land someplace other than the back seat of the Impala. Sam's service to his country earned him a trip to Hell. Sam will get to stop fighting when he's dead. His only pension will be a pyre.

Sam doesn't even get to sleep any more.

(This should bother him. But the truth is, it doesn't.)

Blue Hat frowns at Sam's ID and snorts derisively. "You don't look like a Fed. You look like a goddamn hippie."

He rolls his eyes at the old man, even though he knows Dean hates it when he does that. It's something he didn't do Before, no matter how annoying or insipid the witness. Sam doesn't give a good goddamn what this guy thinks about his hair, but apparently his brother does. "He's been doing some undercover work," Dean says. "Sometimes you've got to look like a goddamn hippie to blend in."

Blue Hat sniffs his disapproval and ignores Sam for the rest of the interview, directing all of his answers to Dean. Which is fine. The old guy doesn't seem to have anything useful to add anyway. Sam leaves his brother to the pointless interview about the stupid case and wanders around the building, taking pictures of the unexplained runes that brought them here. He's bored. The sudden appearance of mysterious runes on the bland metal exterior of a county fairgrounds building feels witchy, and Sam really doesn't care about witches. Two measly deaths, quite possibly from natural causes, and now he's out here standing in cow shit. Or goat shit or pig shit. This entire day has been shit, literally and figuratively.

Dean joins him after a couple of minutes, apparently done with Blue Hat. "What do you think?" he asks.

Sam shrugs. "Too early to tell. If these runes are what Bobby thinks they are, they'll change under moonlight, but moonrise isn't until 9:05 pm."

“Jesus," Dean moans. "I can't stay awake that long. I've already gone almost two days. Let's go back to the motel and crash, and we'll hit this place again tonight."

Or not, Sam wants to say. I think you jumped on this paper-thin excuse for a job just because the alternative was sitting in a motel room with me waiting for an actual case to come up, Sam wants to say. But neither of these are things he would have said Before, and Dean is so goddamn twitchy about Sam being different than Before.

As they turn back to the Impala, Dean glances at Sam with a slight smile. "Dude's not wrong, you know."

“What?"

“You do look like a goddamn hippie." Dean's hand twitches toward Sam, like he's going to smack him on the back of the head or ruffle his hair, but he pulls back without touching him. Because they don't do that now. Casual, good-natured, brotherly contact isn't a thing now. Dean doesn't touch him unless there are injuries involved.

(This is another thing that should bother Sam. It would have, Before.)

. . .

Dean hangs his suit in the closet, sets an alarm, and collapses on top of the covers. Sam stares at his own bed. The threat of spending hours pretending to be asleep makes his skin crawl. If Dean falls asleep quickly enough, he can skip the whole charade.

“Hey, I think I'm gonna shower first," he says.

Dean doesn't open his eyes. "Just don't wake me up when you get out."

In the bathroom, Sam turns on the water but doesn't get undressed. He stands at the mirror, staring at his too-long hair. Why has he bothered to hold onto it? He remembers caring about his hair. He remembers it being a small fuck you to John, the one area in his life where he was able to cling to some autonomy. It's not that he's forgotten about that; he just doesn't give a shit any more.

And like Dean said, Blue Hat wasn't wrong. He does look like a hippie. The hair is a hazard, and it does clash with any kind of law enforcement disguise. Maybe it's time to do something about it. He has time to kill anyway, while Dean sleeps.

(Sam should care that he doesn't need to sleep any more. Dean would definitely care, if he found out. Dean cares so much about any aspect of Sam that is less normal than he thinks it ought to be. Even if it's something that makes him a better hunter. Dean didn't appreciate it when Sam could exorcise demons without killing the host, and Dean wouldn't appreciate that Sam can get so much done when he's not sleeping. He could never understand why this version of Sam is so much better than the way he was Before. It's a shame Dean hasn't discovered the option of Not Caring.)

(Sometimes Sam wonders if getting back with Dean is worth the trouble.)

(And that should bother him too.)

Sam shuts off the shower and pulls out his phone. He needs to find a barber shop in walking distance. Dean will get all pissy if he wakes up and the car is gone; less so if only Sam is missing. Luckily, there's a shop that might still be open. It's one of those ridiculous sports-themed places that presumes men are fussy toddlers who need to be distracted from the ignominy of a hair cut. At least they tend to be staffed by women, and those women tend to be prettier than average. With any luck, he can kill two birds with one stone.

When he opens the bathroom door, Dean is either asleep, or pretending to be. Sam scrawls couldn't sleep, back soon on the motel notepad and closes the door behind him as silently as possible.

(He misses his car. He didn't have an emotional attachment to it, like Dean and the Impala, but it was convenient and it suited him.)

(He doesn't actually have an emotional attachment to anything. That should bother him.)

. . .

Two stylists, both predictably prettier than average, look up when he walks in. The redhead says "sorry, sir, we're just about to close up," and continues sweeping up hair trimmings. But the brunette looks him up and down and smiles. And Sam's partial to brunettes anyway.

He gives her a once-over in return and smiles back. "Do you have time for just a quick cut? I'd be eternally grateful."

She stares at him for a minute, appraising. "Well, how could I turn down an offer of eternal gratefulness?" she says with a wink. She turns to the redhead. "Why don't you go on home. I've got this."

The redhead dumps her clippings into a trash can. "You sure?"

"I'm sure. You mind locking the door behind you? I don't want any more last-minute customers walking in."

The redhead raises her eyebrows, but gathers her purse and jacket and makes her escape as Sam settles into the brunette's chair.

“I'm Marianne," she says, as she starts to drape a cape over his shoulders.

“I'm Sam. But listen. I get too hot under those capes. Would it be okay if we skip it? And I just take my shirt off so I don't get hair all over it?"

Marianne smiles like the cat who caught the canary. "Not a problem, sweetheart."

Sam slips out of his dress shirt and drapes it over the empty chair next to him. Marianne watches him the whole time, eyes roving over the muscles exposed by his snug white undershirt. It's like shooting fish in a barrel.

He sits back in the chair and Marianne stands behind him. Her chest brushes against his shoulders. "So," she asks, "what are we doing today?"

“Shorter. Off my collar, above my ears."

She slips her fingers through his hair, measuring its length. "You sure? This length looks pretty good on you. Just needs to be cleaned up a bit."

“It's for a job. The long hair doesn't fly any more."

“Aw, that's a shame." Marianne's still running her fingers through his hair. "If you've got a lady in your life, I bet she'll miss it. A girl likes something to hold onto."

Well. The best lies are based on a kernel of truth. Sam looks into his lap and lets his smile go sad and soft. "That's kind of why I'm here. My girlfriend died and I thought I'd try to start over. New place, new job, new life. But yeah, that's always been one of my favorite things. A girl grabbing my hair in the heat of the moment. I should have tried to find someone to do that one more time before I had to cut it off."

Marianne leans forward, pressing her breasts harder against him. When he looks up, she meets his eyes in the mirror, then flicks a glance toward a door marked Employees Only. “You know," she says, "that could probably be arranged."

Seriously. Fish in a goddamn barrel.

. . .

Dean's awake when Sam gets back to the motel room, but he doesn't look up from the laptop. "Couldn't sleep?"

“I guess I napped a little in the car on the way down here," Sam lies. "And then, you know, a lot of caffeine this morning."

“Whatever. I'm not the sleep police. I hope you brought food, cause I could —" Dean looks at Sam and stops mid-sentence, mouth still open. "You cut your hair?"

“Yeah."

“Why?"

“What do you mean, why? Like old what's-his-face said, I looked like a hippie, not an FBI agent. And you've been telling me to cut it for years."

“Yeah, I have. I've been saying that for years and you've been ignoring me for years. Now some random witness calls you a hippie and you go running to Supercuts?"

Sam sighs. Dean may not be the sleep police, but he's awfully eager to step in as the hair police, enforcing his own set of laws about Sam's hair. "Why does it matter? You wanted me to cut it. Everyone wanted me to cut it. And I cut it. Can we move on now?"

It's a statement almost guaranteed to make Dean bow up in anger, but instead, he deflates. "It's just… nothing. Fine. Moving on." He closes the laptop and pulls his keys out of his coat pocket. "We've still got an hour or so before moonrise. I'm gonna go run through McDonald's. You want a chicken sandwich, or is that something else you're not interested in any more?"

Jesus Christ. This is what passes for moving on. But Sam needs that shower now, and none of this is worth arguing about.

(Few things are any more. That seems like it should matter.)

“Yeah, that sounds great, thanks."

By the time Dean gets back, the sandwich is cold and the ice in Sam's drink is mostly melted. He pretends to enjoy it anyway.

. . .

Their drive back to the fairgrounds is quiet. Dean occasionally steals an unhappy glance at Sam's hair, but doesn't say anything. Sam ignores it.

They pull into the parking lot in front of the marked building. Without even getting out of the car, they can see that the runes have changed. The broad strokes are softly luminescent, glowing a pale blue in the moonlight.

“Okay, so that answers that question," Sam says. Thank God. Now they can leave without wandering around the grounds, soaking up the barnyard smell again. Wrap this up and start working on something more important. But Dean gets out of the car and looks at Sam expectantly. Well, crap. Sam dutifully follows him closer to the building and tries to think of how he would have felt about this development Before.

“Cool," he says. Dean narrows his eyes at him. "I mean, cool that our theory was right. Not, you know, cool that someone is using this kind of spellwork to make sure their pig wins a blue ribbon at the fair. That part's… pretty awful." But Dean's still looking at him funny, so he probably overcorrected on that one. It's just hard, any more.

Dean rubs the back of his neck as he examines the glowing runes. "If that's all they're doing, more power to them. I couldn't care less. But we need to make sure that's all they're doing. I mean, people died, Sam. We need to figure out if this is why." He pulls out his phone. "Gonna take some pictures to send Bobby." There's no reason to remind him they already have pictures. If Dean thinks additional pictures are more effective and efficient than "just like this, but glowing blue," that's up to him. Sam will most likely solve the damn case later tonight anyway, while Dean sleeps.

And he almost does. Dean knocks back a couple of glasses of whiskey when they get back to the motel, and falls asleep pretty soon after that. Sam doesn't bother to feign sleep — Dean doesn't seem to care, right now, whether his brother gets any sleep or not. But when Sam realizes his own photos missed a crucial corner of the building, he opens his brother's phone and finds his last text to Bobby. There's only one picture, and it's not glowing runes. It's him. Just a dark, slightly blurry picture of Sam, obviously taken earlier that night at the fairgrounds. And a text conversation.

See, I told you, it's short. I don't know what's going on. I swear he's just different.

Yeah, I get it. It's different. He's different. But what'd you expect? Of course he's not the same as he was. Hell changed him.

It didn't change me this much.

His Hell wasn't the same as yours. I know it didn't last very long, but remember, he was in the cage with the devil. We don't know what happened to him in there. Give him some time.

Well. Fuck. Dean's talking about him behind his back. Dean doesn't trust him. Dean thinks, once again, that something is wrong with him.

(That would have hurt, Before. Now it's just an annoyance. A distraction. Something to be dealt with.)

Yes, Hell changed him. Hell burned away all the crap, all the useless feelings, the guilt and shame and fear of failure. Hell purified him. Hell carved out the weakness and left nothing but pure, strong hunter. Dean, of all people, should appreciate the result. But Dean does not, and now Sam has to cater to his tiresome attachment to everything Sam was Before.

Fine. He can make that work.

Sam quietly puts Dean's phone back on the nightstand. He strips down to boxers and his t-shirt, sets an alarm, and crawls into bed. Pretending to sleep is tedious, but a couple of hours of boredom right now might spare him weeks of Dean's moodiness about him being different.

(As if Hell could leave you untouched. As if anyone in their right mind would expect that. As if Dean himself didn't know this first hand, for fuck's sake.)

. . .

Sam spends the next day focusing on acting the way he did Before. When his alarm goes off he stretches, yawns, and pretends he had a good night's sleep. He goes for a run, brings back coffee, showers quickly, and rolls his eyes when Dean makes a crack about him being able to spend less time in the shower now. At breakfast, he smiles at the (cute, definitely worth a bang) waitress, but doesn't flirt or even check her out as she walks away. He's figured out that Dean wants Sam to want to get laid (but not too much; he's definitely not supposed to want it as much as Dean wants it) but for some reason doesn't want him to actually get lucky. And he definitely would have gotten lucky. He spends the day looking empathetic, acting like this whole thing hasn't been a colossal waste of time. Like he cares about everything. About anything.

(God, it's exhausting.)

It turns out the deaths probably don't have anything to do with the witch at all. They return to the fairgrounds one last time, where Sam plants hex bags and paints runes on the corners of the building that will block the witch's simple spells - not that he cares whether the witch achieves anything or not, just on principle. His own runes are small and subtle enough that this novice witch (they must be a novice; no one with any experience would be naive enough to make their work so noticeable) won't even know they're in place. And if the witch escalates, well, that's not exactly Sam's problem.

When he's finished, he wipes his hands on his jeans and says "We should get Chinese for dinner. When's the last time you ate a vegetable?" Because monitoring everyone's vegetable intake is something he did Before.

They're finishing Chinese takeout in their motel room (beef with broccoli for Dean, eggplant in garlic sauce for Sam, because occasional bouts of vegetarianism were also a thing he did Before) when he catches Dean looking at his hair, very clearly wanting to say something.

So. It's go time.

Sam tries to make his eyes big and sad. The puppy dog look, Dean always called it. It was never intentional Before, but now he has to work at it. "Listen," he says. "I owe you an apology. I haven't been telling you the whole truth."

“No shit," Dean says. He's trying to sound nonchalant, but his body language screams that he's bracing for something. "So, spill it. What's your big confession?"

(That I don't care about any of this. This piddly little case. My hair. You. Nothing. And you can't imagine, Dean, you cannot even begin to imagine the incredible freedom of not caring. I wish you could, but you just can't.)

No, he can't say any of that. But the best lies are built on a kernel of truth.

Sam takes a deep, anxious breath and looks at Dean. No, wait. Look away. "You know, I told you I don't remember Hell. And I really don't. Not consciously, anyway. But when we were fighting those demons a couple of weeks ago, one of them grabbed me by the hair, and I felt something… it was a sense memory, I guess. It felt like Hell, for some reason. Like it was something that happened to me in Hell, someone grabbing my hair and pulling my head back and getting ready to cut my throat or… whatever."

He doesn't have to elaborate on whatever. Dean knows the whatevers of Hell better than anyone. He's probably dealing with a little sense memory of his own right now, of clutching someone's hair and pulling their head back in preparation for whatever. And now Sam does look at his brother, who is staring at him with wide, horrified eyes.

“Ever since then," Sam continues, "I just feel like I've been on the verge of remembering something. Something I don't want to remember. And I'm tired of worrying that I'm gonna have a Hell flashback every time I wash my hair."

Dean looks like he's going to vomit. Perfect.

“I'm sorry," Sam says. "It threw me, and I just didn't want to talk about it. But I shouldn't have kept it from you."

For a second, he's sure he has gone too far. Dean is going to say what's this bullshit, Sam, you would never apologize for something like that, so tell me what's really going on. But he doesn't. He stares at Sam for a minute, then looks away and wipes a hand down his face.

“Yeah, okay. Okay. You, ah. You good now? Is it working?"

Sam shrugs. "Hard to say. It hasn't been very long. But yeah, I feel a little more… stable, I guess."

And then it’s time to go for the kill.

Sam gives him the sad smile. (He never used to think of it as a sad smile; never used to think of it as anything at all. It was just what his face did. Every expression requires so much thought now.) "Listen. I know things are weird. I know I'm weird. Different. I know it's hard for you. If this is all more than you want to deal with right now, I understand."

Dean frowns. "What are you saying?"

“Just, I can go back with Samuel and his crew if you don't want to do this any more. You and me, I mean. No hard feelings, I promise."

Dean's face crumples. "What? No, fuck, no, Sam. I don't. You and me, we're good. I'm just getting used to things. That's all."

“Okay." Sam gives his best approximation of a grateful smile.

“So. Uh." Dean looks around the room nervously, like he's waiting for the other shoe to fall, then stands. "I think I'm gonna go get a drink. You wanna come with, or…"

Even if Sam believed Dean really wanted him to come along — and he doesn't; this is obviously Dean's way of retreating from a situation he doesn't want to think about — pretending to sleep when Dean's gone is one of the easier ways of making it look like he actually does sleep sometimes. "No. I'm beat," he says. "I think I'll just go to bed."

“Okay. Yeah. That sounds like a good idea." Dean takes his keys out of his pocket and anxiously tosses them in his hand. When he finally does turn to Sam, he looks at his hair, not his eyes. "Hey, you know, it does. It does look good on you."

Sam ducks his head shyly, like someone who's not used to praise. Who doesn't think he deserves it. "Thanks." When he looks up, Dean is already halfway out the door, putting as much space between himself and his little brother's hellscape as possible.

(Seriously. Fish in a fucking barrel.)

#my fic #sam winchester #dean winchester #soulless sam is my spirit animal #spn #season 6

62 notes · View notes

andy-clutterbuck · 2 months

Text

The Ones Who Live | 1x01 - Years

407 notes · View notes

serahlink · 1 year

Text

❗HELP A HOMELESS ARTIST❗

(reblogs are greatly appreciated)

Making another post promoting commissions since none of my other posts are getting anywhere and me and my family are running low on funds.

Hi, my name is Link. My family (Dad and sibling) and I have been homeless since November 2021. I opened my art commissions to try and get us a motel room (which worked) and I've been doing that to support us ever since, trying to pay for the room daily and trying to also make enough for food.

It's getting very much harder nowadays with the lack of business and inflation making things so much more difficult to live day to day. More often than not we either end up starving for a day or more , or we have to stay up for hours into the night and morning just to get enough before checkout time. Most of the time it's both.

It's especially going to be harder now that things are going downhill for twitter right now as it's where I'd get most of my business from. If it completely shuts down, we're completely fucked and we have no family or friends to lean back on for this. It's just us.

So, I'm hoping that I can find some work here again to help sustain ourselves until something changes in our situation.

My prices and examples will be below for you to look through in case you're interested. My turn around time is 3-6 days for a simple commission (headshot, bust, half body, or sometimes fullbody) and 1-2 weeks depending on how big of a piece it is and other details.

If you're interested you can either pm me here or email me ([email protected]). I'll be sure to reply to you as soon as I can. Also while you're here, please reblog this, it really helps us get more awareness and possible help towards our situation. Thank you.

~Prices~

Sketch - 10$ base price, may cost more depending on the drawing's details

Sketch page - 20$ (+10$ if colored)

Headshot - 15$ (+10$ if shaded)

Bust - 30$ (+10$ if shaded)

Half body - 40$ (+10$ if shaded)

Full body - 50$ (+10 if shaded)

Couples commissions (this includes a commission with more than one person) - 70$ (+15$ if shaded)

Reference sheets - 90$ per sheet

41 notes · View notes

sweetst24 · 4 years

Text

Inside - This is my first and fanfiction. I wrote it to process some emotions/grief. Any feedback is appreciated!!

Sam Winchester is a great man, though he doesn't think so. Constant reminders of the ones he's loved then lost cloud his vision, the pain gripping him as he falls asleep at night. Loving Sam simply was out of my hands, his soft tortured soul calling to me through the concrete walls of the bunker every night. Both being a friend and being in love brings me to our current predicament.

I got stuck in a Rye, Colorado, about 30 mins outside of Pueblo. A nest of vampires had set up shop, attacking people in Pueblo, bringing them back to the nest for a slow feeding. Cleaning out the nest was a job, but nothing I couldn't handle.

After dropping people at the hospital, my car broke down, so I thought I'd hop the bus in Pueblo to get back to Lebanon without bothering the boys. I figured I'd be home by morning, have a nice weekend. Wash day was Saturday and I was due for a deep condition because natural hair is plenty of upkeep, especially when you constantly shower in shitty motel bathrooms.

I usually don't spend my weekend in holding cells but using a fake ID to buy a bus ticket generally does that. We have contingency plans for situations like this, but I'm having doubts since the dark of night is slipping into the third day without my freedom.

"Psst. Y/n? Are you awake sweetheart?" Dean silently tries to get my attention while cracking open the door to the holding cell.

"Of course I am! Where have you been?" I whisper-yell trying my best not to wake Bess and Tess, my very cozy, very drunk cellmates.

"You can't rush perfection, sweetheart. Plus it's only been two days." Dean sassed, face crunched together, muttering something along the lines of 'spoiled brat'.

"Look, can you please tell me what the plan is before I chop you in the throat," Dean's face deadpanned while he puffed up his chest looking for a fight.

"You want to put that pretty hand on my neck so bad, don't you sweetheart, but I'm guessing Sammy won't appreciate that, will he?" Dean jabbing at that soft spot shut me up quickly, pain weighing heavily causing me to drop my head in defeat. Realization crosses Dean's face, knowing his joke reached too far, especially now when the relationship between Sammy and I is not ideal. Dean pulls me into a much needed hug.

"Look, y/n, I'm sorry. Let's get you out of here." Dean placed me in cuffs and starting pulling me from the cell.

"Come on D, can't I just pretend to be a deep cover spy or something??" I whined loudly.

"Look, deputy Doolittle thinks you ran off from a safe house to see your boy toy. So don't blow the witness protection cover or I'll leave you here."

As we stepped outside, the early morning chill erupted goosebumps across my body, forcing me to shiver.

"You should've thought of that before doing something so stupid," Dean gruffed while walking me over to Baby.

"Can you at least take the cuffs off?" I whined as Dean briefly stopped, then continued dragging me to Baby. "My body feels terrible and I don't feel like arguing about how I did the right thing," barely audible above the dragging of my feet.

"No, y/n, you did not do the right thing. The right thing would've been to call me or Sammy to come get you. Instead, you made a fool of yourself and now you have to own it."

As Dean tossed me into the back seat, I defiantly removed the cuffs, tossing them in the driver's seat. As soon as my criminal act was complete, I had the overwhelming urge to not turn to the passenger seat. But I noted that Dean was waiting outside of Baby as not to interrupt the conversation that was no doubt about to start in the car.

Closing my eyes, I turn to the right, peeking through my lashes in a failed attempt to pretend I don't see him but...There was Samuel. His syrupy-brown hair tucked neatly behind his ears. Looks of "explain yourself" and "I'm sorry it took so long" fighting for dominance on his face, ultimately the much needed explanation winning out.

"Y/n..." Sam lowly stated, voice as even as possible.

"That's me," I huff with a half-hearted wave.

"You know what I'm going to say. After everything we've been through lately why didn't you call me, or Dean, or Castiel, or Hell even Jody! Someone should know what's going on! Communication is everything for hunters and you know better."

Sam stared with so much emotion it almost broke me, but his questions were met with my silence.

"Fine. You aren't going to answer me now but you will before you walk into our home." Sam affirmed.

Sam startled me. Though I could see where he was coming from, everything being so MESSY. I should've called. But I was not wrong about riding the bus. Besides, a little time away from the bunker, and the boys, with my thoughts couldn't hurt, right?

Sam waves for Dean to get in the car so we could begin our long, tension-filled, 6 hour drive to the bunker. It was a relief to be headed home after spending a few days away to clear my head. Everything was so complicated because of the night that I called the best of my life. The night I fell into bed with Sam.

-flashback-

Nice and rainy. My favorite weather. Being able to be comfy cozy with a nice mug of tea and Netflix was the shit. Rewatching Princess and the Frog for the thousandth time just seemed like the best thing for a rainy day. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed my time alone, but time alone with Sam was a particularly rare occurrence, especially when he wants to be in the same room with me.

Sam choose to wear his regular ass hunter's 'uniform' of a plaid shirt and jeans. Although, I made note that he decided to wear my favorite of his collection, the hunter green with blue block pattern. I thought it brought out the striking beauty in his eyes, the balance of the two colors precariously placed in his irises. He sat close enough that I wasn't nervous but I was getting distracted by the way he ate his popcorn, arm flexing in his tight sleeve.

"Why are we watching this again?" Sam inquired about the apparent Tiana streak we were on.

"Because. Why, you got a problem with representation? I just, see myself in her, and plus Prince Naveen... Do I have to say more or," I laughed, head cocked back as I finished the thought while Sam shook his head next to me.

Then, it happened. Once I stopped cackling like a weirdo Sam placed his arm around me, bringing me close to his side while he watched the movie, a slight blush on his cheeks. I didn't realize I was staring at him until Tiana's alarm clock went off, prompting me to jump out of reflex. Sam suddenly turned to me with a concerned look on his face that melted away once he realized what happened.

For a split second I thought I should stop myself. But, YOLO. Before I could react, Sam kissed me passionately, grabbing my twist-out, making me moan. I climbed up on his lap, grinding his massive imprint through my sweats. Sam tasted sweet, and I knew that that tasted sweeter. I slid down onto the floor, removing my sweater and t-shirt, unbuckling his pants. Sam let out a loud growl.

"Y/n, please get up. If you do that... right now. I need you, y/n, now."

As I slowly stood, Sam picked me up, staring into my eyes, and gently placed me on my bed. Quicker than I could blink, Sam ripped off my sweats.

I moaned, "Sam."

"I need to be inside of you," Sam growled while looking deep into my eyes.

He took his time, driving me insane, driving slowly in and out of me, not yet giving me the full length of his masterpiece. As I looked into his eyes, I saw something deeper flash through, not just sex, but love. Strong, passionate, unconditional love that you only read about. It took my breath away, gasping, Sam eyes widening, fear crossing his features as he realizes what I saw. In that intense moment, Sam thrust all the way into me, both of us shouting unintelligible phrases that sounded like animals.

"I... Please.. don't... Leave... Ahh..." Sam's affirmation of love, shocking, but looking in his eyes I knew he was telling the truth.

Faster, faster, faster. Our orgasms syncing, our eyes never wavering from one another. When suddenly stars, lights filled my eyes as the feeling of euphoria washed over me, the both of us collapsing on the bed, completely exhausted.

"Sam. We have to... We have to do that again... Again." I gasped out as Sam attempted to cover us with a light blanket behind me, failing from exhaustion.

"... Please... " Sam chuckled.

Thanks for reading part one.

***Please do not share my content on any other platform without my consent.***

#supernatural fanfiction #sam winchester x y/n #Sam Winchester x black!reader

21 notes · View notes

misha-misha-destiel-misha · 6 years

Text

My friend said that she hated Dean sometimes because of what he did to Cas. For example, she thought this scene's heartbreaking because Cas was controlled by Naomi saying he'd stay there with the old psychokinetic Fred Jones, then Dean-the-man left no words and went away even ahead of Sam without looking back.

Apparently, I think Dean is a sweetheart like Jensen. So I'm here to contradict her XDDD

1 Previously on S08E07's ending part, Dean was very angry and anxious because of Cas's "bonehead move"-didn't wait for him, which could have gotten himself killed. However, Cas seemed never mind and told Dean not to blame himself for everything that's gone wrong. Then he showed Dean how he pulled Dean's hand away in purgatory to prove that he really didn't want to be saved that time. So it's not Dean's fault and he don't need to blame himself for failing Cas.<"For failing you like I've failed every other godforsaken thing that I care about! I don't need it!" Dean really felt like hell for failing Cas, though he said he don't need to.> After Cas told him everything, Dean looked like he's about to eat his heart out. But we will never see the tears than he's about to cry, instead he turned his head to hide them when Sam walked over and asked for if everything's okay.

2 Though Dean's heart had been destoryed and he himself even didn't want to talk to Cas any more by the end of S08E07, but his eye still flitted over Cas once and once again in the episode's opening scene. After a tiny second's talk with Sam, he finally came to Cas and started a dialogue. Probably Cas's words-"I'm gonna become a hunter." gave him a wee bit confidence here, Dean's good humor soon returned to him in this episode.

In this pic, you can see, Dean has already checked Cas out three times even before he went talking to him.

3 Cas wanna teleport to the scene but Dean didn't let him.<"But you're gonna stick with us, okay? None of this zapping around crap. Capiche?" "Yeah, I capiche."> Because last time Cas did so, he nearly got himself killed.<"Why didn't you wait for me?"> Dean cared about this stupid self-loveless move a lot.

4 Cas wanted to ride in the passerger side of baby to sit beside Dean at the beginning of this episode, but Sam and Dean refused.<"Can I, uh, at least ride in the front seat?" Double"No."> Then at the end of this episode, Dean invited Cas to "get to ride shotgun", because he "done good". And this time, Dean's the rejected one. I guess, in Dean's view, give Cas what he wants is a sweet thing, but not in front of Sam when there's no cause. So he kept Cas's words in mind for days and finally made it a reward for his nice job. Obviously, Cas didn't get it. Dean even asked "Then what?", trying to confirm if he's in Cas's future plan. But Cas replied "Then I'm not sure." for this question, which made Dean very sad and a bit irritated. So Dean chose to go first, ahead of Sam, and never looked back. This is his pride.

5 Team free will in this episode.

6 "No flirting, you two." But considering what you did before, Dean, try "Cas is mine".

7 Dean said he's sleepy and asked Cas how he settle down *highlight: Sam's here*. To Dean's questions, Cas's answers were "No, I'll stay here.*even without looking up*" "I don't sleep.*looked really puzzled about this question*" and "I'll watch over you.*very serious*" Connect this plot with "I told you, he's an angry sleeper, like a bear.<and coffee stuff>" in season 13, I think there is reason to suspect that Dean and Cas are already close af. What Cas behaved seems like he had it done long ago.

8 Because of the loony bank robbery, we didn't see how Dean dealt with his four-hour sleep. But when Dean and Cas came back to the motel, they're still in the same room. Dean didn't book a new room for Cas as he once proposed. He even tried to get knee to knee with Cas and didn't get angry of Cas's bad mood while Sam's gone. *Btw the knee-to-knee scene's soooo beautiful XD* Dean did as indulgent as he could nearly all the time when he's with Cas in this episode, until being rejected again.

9 A small question, when the shot cut to the motel, Cas's watching the hilarious cartoon, who helped him find it? I'd be more inclined to say Dean's the man who found him the cartoon they've talked about. Cas didn't even know the name of it. What's more, think about the cowboy movies and Scooby-Do stuff, you can say, there IS a theme for these plots' existence: Dean wants Cas to be in touch with all his interests and accept them.*Love Dean, yeah but it's insufficient yet. Try love all of Dean and treat it as a lifetime thing.*

10 Dean has been confirming all the time whether all aspects of Cas were fine since he came out of purgatory. He asked about the tablet and got confirmed Cas's angel radio's not affected. "But nice job on the bladder infection." Dean's apparently very happy after Cas diagnosed that the first victim had a bladder infection. He asked Cas if he could lift the anvil to make sure he still is the dude who pulled him out of hell. He hoped Cas could take a trip upstairs and contact paradise to determine exactly how he came out of purgatory and whether there were any side effects or not. He asked Cas to go invisible then keep an eye on Fred and got confirmed that he still could hide.<"Good."> He let Cas heal a person who nearly had nothing to do with the big picture but was seriously injured to notarize that Cas's miraculous healing power's still working. Dean showed absolute pleasure after Cas using his power stopped Fred's power leakage. He even wanna let Cas ride in the front seat of baby while Sam's still here, just because Cas once asked for this but got refused at the beginning of this episode.

So connected with the ending of S08E07, what this episode shows me is Dean restrained his anger and sadness after he'd already being hurted by Cas once but still tried his best talking with him, making him feel better. And at last, this dude had himself pissed off successfully as he usually did.

All in all, Dean is a sweetheart. And this scene isn't that heartbreaking, I kinda like it.

190 notes · View notes

evr0ck17 · 2 years

Text

My Favorite Phish Show (08-01-2003)

I don't know how many Phish shows I've been to, more than some less than others. I think I've been to enough. I spent years totally obsessed with the band, on message boards and bit torrent sites, acquiring hundreds of gigabytes of concert tapes (before streaming was a thing). I'd analyze every note of big jams, always looking for the best improvisational moments.

I started finally seeing the band in 2003 at the Worcester centrum, when I was 17. They delivered the goods right out of the gate, with the fairly rare "You enjoy myself" opener, after Trey played a "charge!" tease. 2-26-03 is a great show, often overshadowed by the next show at Nassau collesium.

I love how the band sounded that year, I don't think they rehearsed as much as they did in the 90's because they likely didn't need to. Things were a little sloppy on the heavily charted stuff, but the jams were really strong.

I think my favorite phish show that I saw was the first night of the It festival. Being 17 and driving to the tip top of Maine to Limestone was this huge adventure for me and all the kids I went with. There I was with all my friends on this decommissioned air force base with 80 thousand other longhaired freaks that looked just like me... and stunk just like me.

The whole thing was amazing even before the band took the stage, I remember listening to the show they were playing in New Jersey on the site's temporary radio station "the bunny" with so much anticipation. I hung on the fence to the stage area listening to the 60 minute jam that served as the soundcheck. I had spent the last few years watching their film "Bittersweet Motel" just wishing I could see the band (they weren't touring when I started listening to them). I had massive expectations for the actual 6 sets they were going to start on the Saturday afternoon of the festival.

One pre show thing that sticks out is seeing 4 horn playing musicians come together from all different directions and break into "Jungle Boogie" by Kool and The Gang, right on the runway, in the middle of the tent city. Phish would hire artists and musicians to do all kinds of things all over the festival, and I suspect the horn gang was one of those things.

I'm not going to tell the whole road trip young adventure story here, I'm really trying to get at what a good show the first night is. I'll get to the adventure story another time. I'll say this, I'm bonded for life with those companions I went to the festival with.

Beyond the actual music was the adventurous experience of a 17 year old on ecstasy. I think that's part of why my 2nd Phish Show Is my favorite one, but that doesn't mean that the music wasn't stellar.

I remember yelling at all the people i camped that it was time for the first set, the only person that joined me was my friend Dan, who had never seen the band. We took mdma and parked ourself pretty close to the giant stage.

It was minutes into the first set when my lofty expectations were blown sky high. Dan and I had to sit down in some meditative state during Reba, we were rolling our faces off at the event of a life time and the band was killing it. Dan and I have been friends since. The rarely jammed "ya mar" (only the 2nd song of the set) stretched out for 17 minutes into uncharted territory, setting the tone for the weekend. I thought I could go scare up some dinner between sets, when I heard the beginning of "down with deseaae" from the campsite. I ran with my hotdog back toward the stage and ran into 5 or 6 friends from school as we watched the rest of the show. I remember screaming at the top of my lungs during the peak of the shorter yet consise "David bowie" that closed the 2nd set. Full on arena rock energy in the middle of nowhere.

I know Sunday night is the big "ghost" glowstick war spectacle, but Saturday is my favorite, it could stand on the first set alone. Even if I wasn't there I'd think it was an amazing show.

So if you're inclined to listen to phish today, let me recommend 8-2-2003. When I listen to phish I skip the "song" part and just fast forward to the jams, "ya mar" being one of my favorite long phish jams of all time. To do that as the 2nd song of the first set is both atypical and amazing. The 3rd set was all weird ambient sounds that were more of a Brian Eno background to all the wild psychedelic things that were going on all around me.

The band played an ambient set on the top of the air traffic control tower. I can't even get into that, I thought I had imagined it until I saw photos on phish.com when I got home.

The first night of it could take the Pepsi challenge with any of the notable "legendary, epic" tapes out there.

youtube

#phish #music #jams #youth #festivals #art #Youtube

0 notes

aimee-does-things · 4 years

Text

The Big Easy Decision

"Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it." - Ferris Bueller

The whole world can change in a week. We've seen it happen over and over again in 2020. We started the year with the devastating loss of our cat Soggy. He was a stray who showed up at my doorstep when I moved into my last apartment in mid-2019. He would greet me whenever I got home, rolling over to show his belly. He was always happy, and because of the constant rain in Florida, always wet, thus the name, Soggy. When Hurricane Dorian was on the way, I got worried about the little cat that seemed to live on my front porch. I took him in, bathed him, treated him for fleas, and let him ride out the storm in my apartment. Once the storm had passed, my boyfriend George and I took him to the vet to get his shots. He stayed with us for three months. One fateful day in January of this year, I walked into the hallway and noticed a trail of feces. "These damn cats!" My first thought was to grab the paper towels and bleach. But why would they have pooped all over the floor?

I looked toward the bedroom and saw Soggy's tail twitching. "Soggy?" I said nervously as I peeked behind the door. There, curled on the floor, was Soggy. Mouth open, tongue hanging out, eyes fogged over, twitching. We were immediately in the car driving down the street to the vet. We were too late. The vet said she thought it was a stroke. We buried him in the back yard and spent the next week in tears. We had lost our baby, and the year had just started. It was devastating, but we were optimistic; it was January, and we had plenty of time to make happy memories for 2020. February and early March were sprinkled with good and bad. George lost an old friend to depression, but we got to see one of his best friends get married, and we took a trip with his Nephews and my son to the NBA Experience in Orlando, Florida, and had a fantastic time.

In mid-march, COVID-19 had become a worldwide pandemic, and we were in lockdown. George is an actor, so he was entirely out of work, and I was worried that I'd soon lose my job. The bad of 2020 certainly seemed to be taking over. In June, I tested positive for COVID-19; even though I hadn't gone out (I had even been having my groceries delivered), I was supposed to paint a sign for The Riverside Children's Arts Center, where I work. I had been delaying it because I didn't want to go to the hardware store to buy the supplies I needed. On June 24th, I decided to wear a mask and get the stuff. I walked in, stealthily dodging people, staying ten feet away from everyone I saw, went straight to the lumber section, grabbed my piece of wood, and did self-check-out. I got back to my car, doused myself in hand sanitizer, and went straight home. Later that day, I realized that I couldn't smell anything. I was hesitant to tell George because I didn't want to be locked up in a room by myself for 14 days. But I did the right thing. I quarantined myself and got tested. It took ten days for my results to get back to me, but I was sure I had it. I was coughing, had shortness of breath, going to the bathroom made me feel like I had run a marathon. I had so much resentment for that stupid sign. 2020 was totally sucking, but I am happy to say I have made a full recovery, including regaining my sense of smell.

It's been a prolonged year. It's August, and losing Soggy seems like something that happened ten years ago. Since March, George and I have started a nightly routine of drinking hot tea on the front porch in the evenings before bed. This past Friday, during our porch time, we came up with a crazy idea. What if we went on a road trip out to California and back? We talked for over an hour; I gushed about my love for California; it's my home. The next morning when I opened my eyes, George was already awake, he greeted me with his bright blue eyes and sparkling smile, "So, are we doing this?" I knew exactly what he was talking about, "Yes!"

At breakfast, we had a more serious discussion about it. Could we actually travel across the country with only a few day's notice? More importantly, could we travel across the country during a pandemic? I guess the even more important question was actually, should we travel across the country during a pandemic? I know that the most obvious answer is no, we shouldn't. But I had spent most of 2020 indoors, and our recent venture out to Americus, Georgia, had me aching to travel again. So I justified it like this: we want to go. That's it. Now, I'm not thinking that I'm immune to COVID just because I already had it, and I don't believe that a mask is going to protect me from everything, and I'm not one of those people that's like, "Fuck the coronavirus, I do what I want." But I am someone who wants to enjoy life, and see the world. So we decided that we would go, and we would be as careful as possible. As someone that's done a decent amount of traveling, I was very uncertain about how exactly we'd have a fulfilling vacation with so many things being different. So we packed our things, and plenty of hand sanitizer and face masks, and we headed out on the road.

Our first stop was New Orleans, Louisiana. While I had been to Louisiana many times, I had never been to New Orleans, and George visited last when he was eight years old. So it would be a new experience for both of us. The first day of the trip included driving through Alabama and Mississippi. When I was younger, I looked really young. I mean, when I was in 7th grade, I could have passed for seven years old. I spent nearly all junior high feeling insecure, and like I was being judged for what I was wearing because my mom would dress me in matching short sets meant for 7-year-olds. I thought those feelings had long been forgotten until I wore a face mask in Alabama. At one of our restroom stops, there was even a man that looked at me, smirked, and stood so close he was touching my shoulder as he browsed the donut case. He let out a light chuckle as I immediately stepped away, not just because of COVID, but because, ew!

We arrived in New Orleans around 3 pm, and checked into our Hotel. We had a goal to try to spend no more than $50 per night on hotels and had managed to find a Motel 6 for $47 per night taxes included. I love staying at fancy 4-star hotels, which probably goes without saying, because who really is against luxury? That said, I'm not above staying somewhere cheap, especially if it means more money for my favorite part of travel; the food. It was everything you'd expect a $47 per night motel to be, no-frills, and pretty shabby. The room itself was okay; they provided us with two towels, a tiny soap, and sheets that looked clean, minus the cigarette burns. We wiped everything in the room down with disinfectant wipes (just to make sure.) After resting awhile and getting cleaned up, we headed out to check out the French Quarter about which we'd heard so much. I was delighted with the Creole townhouses and cottages that lined the streets, New Orleans Square was always my favorite area of Disneyland as a kid, and seeing the real-life version was very exciting. We decided to go for a walk down Canal Street and Bourbon street because as tourists, that was our job. It wasn't terribly crowded, but there were still plenty of street performers out filling the air with music and a sense that everything was fine, and life is entirely normal, which is everything I would expect from Louisiana in general. The city's downside was a massive homeless population and panhandlers that ask for money seemingly every few feet. We decided to risk going inside a restaurant for dinner; we ate at Olde Nola Cookery, which we found based on online reviews. We both had catfish, which was terrific, and the restaurant staff took extra care to keep germ free. They wore masks properly, gloves when serving food, and even had digital menus so that we didn't have to touch a menu used by anyone else. After dinner, we were exhausted from our trip and returned to our rented rat's nest to sleep.

We awoke the next morning at 7 am, and by eight we were out at breakfast. We chose Two Chicks Cafe because it was highly rated for breakfast, and it didn't disappoint. We had their special eggs Benedict, with a cajun hollandaise sauce, and a croissant instead of an English muffin. The croissant was decent, not the delicate thousand-layer dream you'd get from an authentic French Bakery, but far from a Pillsbury recent roll. It was a respectable croissant. The poached eggs were really poached eggs; they didn't use any kind of egg-poaching device, someone actually poached this egg with expert skill.

After breakfast we stopped by the Metairie Cemetery, these beautiful old cemeteries are something I've always wanted to see, and I was so happy that we got to stop. We're now on our way to Dallas Texas!

#neworleans frenchquarter NOLA Cemetery roadtrip travel vacation

0 notes

whimsically-ominously-auspice · 4 years

Text

youtube

Y'all getting tortured too..I lost it. I couldn't handle it

I got germ x on a cotton round and started washing my face.

I got more body parts to literally scrub

After my grandpa died of cancer -- well. Denise killed him but they said it was the cancer...

I took a shower and scrubbed my body every day. I got a new toothbrush weekly.

I used a scouring pad from the kitchen and I didn't ever turn the cold water knob but just a tiny stream.

The water was all the way on full blast hot.

I scoured my skin off.

My Uncle Dad took me to the hospital when he finally came home from the ship. It finally docked.

Doctor asked had I burned myself. "No I just took shower and it just didn't feel clean.. It never feels clean"

"How hot is the shower?"

"Oh will the way hot. I turn the cold on slightly about midway to do the final rinse"

"How long do you shower for and how many times do you perform a "rinse"?"

"Well the shower stays on... I'd say 3 - 4 times when it's all the way hot then at least twice, so about 6.. Sometimes 10.. 12... 45 one day"

I heard my uncle dad sob from the corner. I looked st him perplexed. Cause I was doing right. I was keeping the germs off me.

"I just gotta stay clean dad" as he raised his head he sucked in air through his nose. And i saw a man in misery and guilt

"I'm so sorry sorry i thought you could handle the cancer. I thought you'd be okay and i just had ti fo to work but she...."

"I can handle the cancer dad. I just gotta stay clean and keep the germs off of me"

"What kind of products do you use. SOS pads... Denise doesn't buy a lot of Shampoo so i try to keep,that for my hair... So I'll use dish soap or sometimes even laundry. Bleach is good but she doesn't buy that one slot either. I don't like the amoniea. The smell bothers me but I had to use it 3 or 4 times because I didn't have anything else but that was when i found the SOS pads under the sink. Lo and behold they have soap in them already. So, i quiet using extra except when i wash my face with them. Soften the skin up a little bit more than so I don't get wrinkles"

I looked dead into his eyes and told something I didn't tell any other adult about what i did. I told my friends... But not in a way that it was me. "You know someone i heard of was...." Not I did this. But someone did.

My dad according to my DNA4U although there's,a story about that...

He was in the corner crying the whole time I was talking. "No she needs help. I need help for her."

The doctor said they had received a phone call he thought it was from the FBI. But he looked at his notepad and said "Nope the CIA."

"I just have to keep the germs off me tell them that. They need to, too"

"I'm calling them Billy don't you worry"

"Yeah" he said into the phone "i got a situation here. I'm gonna need you to come in and take her. ... Mental ward"

Son of a bitch. I attacked him. I wasn't crazy. I needed to be germ free.

I grabbed the phone "WHAT I NEED IS TO BE CLEAN AND YOU DO TOO GODDAM THE WHOLE WORLD"

And i beat that poor doctor in the head and back wirh that phone until it fell apart and nothing was left.

"And that's how I kill germs" I told his dead body.

Mental institution?!?! ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!?!? THE GERM INFESTATIONS I WOULD DIE IMMEDIATELY JUST BREATHING THE AIR!!! NO WAY IN HELL!!! GOD FUCKING NO!!!

My dad just sat there as i beat the doctor to death m his eyes and jaw open as wide as can be.

"You understand right? I'm not here to hurt you but This place it's so dirty but i came here with you. Because i trust you to keep me safe. But he wouldn't. Not. The dirtiest place in the world he would send me to and i just can't have that. I'll push the panic button to get you some help that you need"

It was right by the door. So these big ass mother fucking dudes came me in started grabbing me to hold me down and strap me to the bed. Big mother fuckers HUGE. Body builders and shit. "ARE YOU GERM FREE!! DONT GET A HOLD OF ME!! LET ME GO. GODDAMINIT!!!!!!!!!!!!"

I killed all 3. "Now i gotta wash my hands and arms. They fucking touched my face and every thing. Stuck thier fingers in my mouth and all. I need to,start with bleach. Can you get me some?"

My dad was in shock.

"Maybe later. I'll ask you again when your nervous system calms down" I washed my face and elbows.

It was 1992 Christmas was a few weeks away. My lie age I was 12. My real age I was only 8.

Finally the CIA came in "are you here to help or force me to wash my hands again?"

He put his arms up as he walked by me and sat next to my dad "well i know Gaberiel and Calvin can help. Gaberial goes to school with her and he said she looks alright but seems to be in a trance like state most of the time. But they will know what to do. Do not worry. Sabrina you cannot keep killing doctors like that"

"I'm not going!! The backwoods motel where they put the strange and i tell you none of them know how to,wash their hands!!"

"You look like a witch!!"

"At least im a clean one fuck y'all shit"

This whole team of huge CIA dudes... They all washed their hands no less than 3 minutes up their elbows for an additional two while I watched.

This big one said "she's not alright you know that. I never washed my hands this much in my life"

I warned him i would kill him if he didn't get off the team "oh no it's refreshing I don't have a problem. My face too here i come"

When he lifted his face he saw mine. "There's nothing wrong with me sir. This world is unclean"

"That's that transelike state. Her voice gets hollow and the carries. Did she kill the others like that Bill?"

"No I didn't. He made me upset while i waited for th3 help I supposed to be needing. Like no one knows,l they can poison me any second"

I knew but i didn't know Denise injected medicine into my grandpa's vein.

I COULDN'T handle this guy at the sink. He wanted to teach me like he could do it better. Like i had something wrong with me. And he didnt like it"

"Out. Just get the fuck out of here. I'll give you a chance to live."

I ended up killing the whole line of people but this one little yellow Asian man.

He was surrounded by dead bodies. 5. They took the 3 guard nurses and the doctor out already.

"Do i wash my hands now? Is it my turn?"

"SIR!!" i said pissed off. I looked around me. My poor dad "well what do you think about your surroundings?"

"You look good. Able to kill real easily. Looks like I need some more training. But I'm just here to wash my hands as i was told to"

He told me the times he needed to wash.

"Well no one else is in line so I suppose that yes it's your turn now"

I laid down on the little check up table bed and fell to sleep. I was exhausted. Killed 9 people. Because they were aliens. And i would let someone live. 3 people in total. Out of 12..

It could be a good day after all, as long as i didn't go to Baywood Inn Acres.. I'd been there before. I escaped and let all the mental patients out. Well maybe if i went I could do that again I thought as I drifted off to sleep. I could still do it. I'd killed 9 today in just seconds.. I could let the rest escape.

Snoop put me on time restrictions. I bit him. I kicked him. I punched him in the stomach. He would walk in with a shield from SWAT to tell me to stop washing at the sink.

It was all scuffed up and I had to clean it. Germs get in them scratches and cracks...

Before he knew it it was all soaped up and If he exposed, his face he would get soaped too. Bar of soap.

Oh boy he was pissed off at me. "You need to kill the right people!!" Him and Alex Laughlin both said

"Then let me use the soap for as long as I want to"

I was a horrror show star. Like a doll. Like poltergeist. There's that doll that turns it's head all creepy. My eyes be glassy I walked around like I was dead.

I was. I was so dead inside. I KNEW my grandpa would die for no fucking reason. I knew and there wss nothing I could do to save that Old man!!!!

And i KNEW i was going get cancer, too!!!

Just wash it all off. Wash it down the drain.,that is I what i would say.

This video to some. But I used to do that.

2 years later I did get cancer in my throat just like I knew I would. I wrote about it.

So I handle death a lot better. Losing one. Germs.

If I know a person doesn't wash their hands and their hands are warm. I freak the fuck out.

"Don't fucking touch me" and I get filled with violent rage.

Some people think it's cool to make fun of me. A violent assassin. To this date with my bare hands no magic included in the last 35 years I've killed 22,489,601,427 people.

So y'all need to learn to wash your mother fucking hands. 35 seconds i recommend.

CDC says it's good in 20... Don't underestimate the power of germs. Scrub faster and go for long term use of that soap you just squirted on you. Go up to the elbows!

Eventually I got okay. To be okay I had to kill people. 862 thousand.

All aliens in stolen bodies. Then i was okay again.

But until then i would sleep walk to the sink wash,me up then hit the streets in a trance.

So they got a kid to live with me... Anton. From Queer Eye... Him...

"No what are you gonna do? He's got germs on him and he's our only kid!" Alex would bark at me.

"Then you kill him" i would tell him. He never did.

So i posted a video earlier. Poor child. "Wash your hands" "wash your hands!" In the video I shared that he shared. Poor child, "Now you gotta wash both hands although only one is dirty. The other might get jealous. Up to your elbows if you want to but definitely up to your wrists"

He played in the dirt a lot. If he didn't Snoop would pour it on him. "Now what are you gonna do?!?"

I smelled him make sure the cat didn't piss on it

Man Snoop did a hard fight. "Its fucking dirt snoop shut the fuck up!!:

I let that boy teach me about dirt. Is it clean? Does it feel fresh? Or smell bad?"

I let him choose whether to wash or not.

Somethings he HAD to wash after touching "raw meat" we had a list of things that could harm us if it was left on our hands.

I had to wash after uncooked hot dogs. Had to. Kid goddam creeped me out because he didn't

I'd just look at him like he was a leeper to give me leprosy from an uncooked hot dog.

"CHILL OUT!!!"

"Uh anuh he touched a raw hot dog and he didn't wash. Uncooked meat!! Its on there check the goddam list in a hurry" he was like a monster under my bed.

"It says raw meats baby."

"Uncooked is raw"

That little boy. Sweet precious angel he is. He said "i didn't agree because i wanted to go out side and play but now I see i take the hot dog containments into the dirt if I don't wash. So i would like to wash please"

I earned a kiss from Alex who was going by Gaberiel. At the time.

It shocked me with surprise. I did something right for the first time in weeks i wasn't yelled at by an adult. I put my head down on the arm of the chair and wept and wailed and cried.

I spent so much time fighting with who was supposed to be my friends. That it made me calm and feel normal. Ever since that day my grandpa died. I had so much built in my chest like a wall. Filled my body so.

Snoop finally understood under all that muscle mass and need to assassinate... I was still there.

"Lets go get some ice cream it's on the list for,being,human and you get sprinkles for crying."

"Lets go ma then I wanna play in the dirt.

I wasn't sure i could leave the house. I felt really wobbly... To go outside and not kill... It was dangerous. I tried to go back in like 14 times. But Alex kept stopping me. Or snoop or the baby Antony.

"Took us 15 minutes to go get us a dam treat,jist from the door to the car. When we go killing shes flying down the steps and first one to the car. Ain't no one gonna know what's wrong with her! Ain't no one!"

"I do! You just need to wash your hands! Wash Your hands!!" I had a sweet little boy next to me... I looked out the window of that white Cadillac and I sure did hope i could figure out how to,keep the world safe. They played and teased and made,him laugh.,all every one,in the car laughing with joy.

I just wanted to open the car door, jump out and die.

Later I finally told. Some movie reminded me of my grandpa... The only one I ever had. The one that allowed me to kill Denise. A prison guard.

"He died from something out side of him. Not inside out side. I can't handle it. It went down his arm.. Pink. It was something pink"

Snoop on his knees. "What was it poision?"

"Watch. Into here down this way to his pinkie then back up and then down around his heart and through his legs and up the other side and to his brain then he could smell the medicine cold cough syrup. And she kept doing it until the full bottle was,in,his body. It didn't work tho. The next day and the next. 3 more,days than,that. Then he was,dead. 2 bottles each day. Of cold medicine to kill tiny germs"

Alex's face,was,in terrified horror. Snoop still as a statue.

"Where do they live at?" Asked snoop.

"Texas. Redway lane"

"That is where you live at".

"That is what i am telling you. And i was in Texas and i didn't go to Arizona"

Snoop began to throw up in his hand and,ran,from the room.

Alex and Anthony looked at me all "why did you have to tell the truth?!"

"I'm trying to watch the movie here!!" Said Anthony "and tomorrow I wanna play in dirt"

"That's ok baby That's what you can do with Uncle Snoop. We'll be quiet now so you can watch the movie."

If you don't get germs on you. You don't get sick. Then you don't get murdered.

Stay Clean.

Corona. I'm telling you. It ain't no different.

Except I was told something worse than eating Vicks Vapo Rub would happen to me from Denise.

I had to kill 981,602,375 people like Denise until I felt satisfied the world was safer.

Until I could breathe again.

I felt my grandpa die. I was with him. I felt his whole body. When his left lung collapsed...

And he was begging "no Denise don't do it. It won't make me better. No Denise I don't want none. Dont put it in my IV. I don't have no cough or cold. I have cancer and I'm going to beat it"

And that Old man died. And I tried so hard. To keep his body alive. Just stay with him.

And his body was so riddled with cancer. He couldn't take being filled with the thick cough syrup.

After a million kills. Grandpa said I could stop the world would get better then. "If I do two more grandpa then it would get allot better"

We killed 6 million predators. By hand. We picked them from prisons.

Death Row and life sentences. They could die early if they wanted. They understood they would die. They signed contracts. And we filled them in gas chambers. And filled the air with a non toxic cough syrup smelling gas that made them relax. Laughing gas. Then we used rat poision gas. Until they died. We had some other gases too. I didnt care.

We did right by our promise and they choked end coughed choked on a white foam frothing from,their mouths. And,died.. And we watched them through a little window with gas masks on our faces.

"You know you could used a little more nitrous" would say Alex

"Only half choke to death. Most of them lay down peacefully to die."

Oddly white men were more often to fight Than the black man.

"Either the black men are innocent or they know,what to do in a poison situation"

One man. Black. Should been,dead. But he was crawling around checking on,the others. In pain he was.

I ran,from the control booth. Dodging people trying to stop me. I swung open the door against policy. Grabbed him up under his shoulders "why did you sign the paper if you didn't have any thing to do with the crime?$?!" I yelled through my gas mask

"All these are all dead i want to,know why I'm not!!: he was crying he was scared. "I didn't sign the paper because i wanted the hell out. I knew if i died I would go to Heaven!: he was sobbing. In a gas chamber. Filled with poison.

Alex held up a gas mask in,the Window I pointed my head towards my direction.

And I held the black man while he was on his knees in a room full of gas. Alex put the gas mask to protect from,gas on his face.

"Lets go you got to get out. You only have half a,mask"

"I can't"

"You got to,get out now"

He chose his fate. No one else. He would tell me when he was ready to live and i would hold him on his knees until he did. I just stared into Alex's eyes. While he said over and over "you got to, get out" like in case i forgot.

"I wanna get out! Can you help me??" I reached down and grabbed him by his waist. Hoisted him up to my hip and carried him out like a toddler. A nice grown man.

This poor man was a mess.

No one mentioned i was covered in cyanide. For 3 hours until when my skin began to itch "you need,to shower"

"When you finally get covered in killer germs you don't care Because you found someone more important, more desperate. Someone more in a bad situation.,then you don't even notice"

"You trained me not to. Could I at least get an SOS pads for my bath?"

Every one wore a gas mask around me. Even the kid. For three days Anthony did.

"Snoop said you can't go in his car covered in,gas,like,that so we got a rental car"

"You gonna drive in that gas mask?"

"Yeah. Sounds fun. We have to roll down the Windows for you to breathe. I know downtown LA but... And also we got you w hotel. You are covered in cyanide!! No on wants you home. But i do"

I think... It was the first time in my life any one ever gave me a bath while wearing a gas mask.

We had to,change,3 hotel rooms. So i wouldn't pollute the place up.

"See? You yelled at me and you're all jist as bad,and,won't even let,me,see my kid"

"Yeah well you trained us to be extra careful. More cautious than sorry"

Gaberiel. Alex Laughlin slept in bed next to me. In a gas,mask.

Sometimes I couldn't sleep. Thinkin about that man and my grandpa.

And I'd look down at the man next,to me. Pased out. Looking like an innocent kid himself.

I adored him. I felt so much love that a person would be in,danger for me. I shook his gas,mask gently

"What you woke me up what do you want? It was on purpose, too"

"Do you think that man knowed i cared? That I might love someone other than myself?"

"We treat you as though you are selfish because you sre using self harm and you don't understand it. No one is supposed to gargle with bleach? What If you swallowed it?"

"It burns my nostrils any way"

"That's not the point but baby doll. You could kill yourself and we wouldn't have you no more. That is,the point.,that is why we called you selfish. Your addiction to cleanliness could,kill you snd no one,wants that to happen. But look what you do. Go,in a gas,chamber FULL of gas with only a half mask on. You're lucky you don't go blind. But look st it this way. We pushed too hard and in the wrong way and you did drink bleach on purpose in desperation to be clean. It was undiluted, too. I know. I watched you. And you Didjt say anything. Just smiled and said "i feel" i wanted to,slap you then for not listening. But when you pushed me back so you could leave,tje room through the door i was blocking. You didnt act like nothing happened. You felt like nothing happened. And I realized we were doing something wrong then two,weeks later you tell us why it was so,important to be kept clean and germs off of you. And i wanted to die for the way snoop and I had been mistreating you. And that is why I started the gas chambers of criminals to honor Yoir grandpa for working at the prison to keep,them in line. End,it for your grandpa and avenge his death with revenge. It would be what healed you both. And next time call the police when someone is being poisoned."

"She did it when i,was asleep. I would fall asleep all kinds of times of days to be with him. I promised when i was a young kid that i wouldn't let him die alone. Not by her. And when i woke up I was too groggy to remember what was going on. I thought it was a dream a bad one i hoped it wasn't real but it was and i can't get over this feeling this fear.. That had me at constant companion"

"What does that mean my love?"

"Evil. My grandpa said"

So y'all in,this world of 2020

Keep,calm.

It is,gonna be okay.

1 note · View note