when you should have spent your long weekend writing, but instead you decide to paint and remodel your entire bedroom and setup a new writing space for the new year ❤️
Happy New Year everyone! ❤️❤️
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Still struggling with finding a therapist who can actually help me with my brain stuff but! I was honest and told my psychiatrist about it! And he recommended a new place to check out that focuses on queer and trans clients! And I actually sent emails to three of their providers to see if maybe someone can fit me in!
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manifesting my preschool teacher era again!!! 🧃
just finished a job interview eeeeee!! ♡ ♡ ♡
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the richest fools alive [18k] (ao3)
a gift for @myaimistrue !
Somehow, the hit to his pride hurts worse than the broken tooth and the bruise under his eye. At least, Dean tells himself that. The back door clangs across the alleyway, and the noise of Van Halen, once pleasant to his ears, only turns his stomach sour. Overhead, the stars shine, barely visible above the glow of the streetlamps. Cars pass by on the two-lane, oblivious.
Legs aching and his stomach waffling, Dean slinks to the ground, out of the way of an indeterminate stain and far enough away from the dumpster that it doesn't invade his nose. He leans his head back and lets the pain wash over him from his ankles to his scalp. The worst of it centers around a lower rib. With every breath, pain shoots through his body, leaving him wincing and wrapping his arms tight around his stomach.
Arguably not the worst night of his life, but definitely the first time someone decided to throw words into the mix. Most of them, he can’t remember. Others, he couldn't forget if he tried. For a few minutes, he waits in silence, anticipating another blow from someone wanting to take a swing. Nothing happens, and the night moves on.
“Shit,” Dean whines and rubs his cheek. Tears prickle behind closed eyelids. He can hear his father berating him from a thousand miles away, telling him to get off his ass and pack his shit, leave for the next town before dawn. Pain means nothing—pain is a concept, and Dean doesn’t feel it, because it isn’t real. Push it out of your mind, he tells himself. You don’t hurt.
He should leave. Should get up and walk the two blocks to his motel room, but the alley seems like a better place to sleep, one that doesn’t require undressing or looking at himself in the mirror. Footsteps approach, walking past. Footsteps approach, and stop for a long too-many seconds. Dean sniffles and opens a blurry eye. Blocking the light of a streetlamp, a man stands, his face obscured and his hands hanging limp at his sides. His coat hangs down to his ankles, and his tie sits at a bad angle, haphazardly tied in the dark.
Whether or not he was in the bar, Dean never saw him. “Look, ride’s closed, pal,” he says, palming his eyes dry. “Come back next week, I won’t be here.”
No reply. Making his way to his feet, Dean braces his hand against the wall, willing his knees to cooperate. A twinge runs up through his thighs. He pats his back pocket for his wallet and his phone. Still, the man stands there, his head cocked and his lips pulled into a line. In the shadows, Dean finds his eyes, narrowed in either fascination or disgust. Whatever it is, he ignores it and makes to leave. “You gonna move?”
“Dean,” the man says—
And Dean lunges, slamming him into a wall. Elbow across his chest, Dean keeps him pinned with his teeth gritted and his back molar screaming at him to stop. “Who are you, huh?” Dean hisses. He grabs ahold of the man’s tie, looping it around his fist. He could choke the guy—could strangle him if he needed, giving him enough time to run. “What, you didn't get the memo? I’m fuckin’ done for the night.”
No movement, no sound—then, a hand to his shoulder, nails digging into the well-worn leather of his coat. A cold sweat breaks out across Dean’s skin, his heart pounding unevenly in his chest. Never once does it attempt to move higher or lower—his hand stays, gripping Dean’s shoulder like it’s supposed to mean something, like it’s supposed to help. “Let me explain—”
continue reading on ao3
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just a heads up — I’m gonna be reformatting my Masterlist in an attempt (🤞🏻) to fix the links, as well as update all the headers, so if you see some wonky shit going on, I’m sorry lol
me, carrying around the baggage of my masterlist nightmare for far too long:
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