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#so i finally called grandma and told her i lost my job

am-i-the-asshole-official · 4 months

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WIBTA if I changed my name because people are overusing the nickname privilege?

2 years ago, I (29, transmasculine) changed my name. For the sake of this ask, since I don't want to use my real name, a decent equivalent is James, so I'll be using that instead.

I originally told my mom and my roommate/close friend (Alex, 29, agender) I was okay with the nickname Jamie, but I'd prefer to mostly be called James, especially when it comes to people I don't know well.

I tried to set this boundary because the nickname feels a little feminine, even if it's technically gender neutral. I don't pass very often, so it makes me uncomfortable to think people who don't know me might misunderstand, and think I am simply a woman with a gender neutral nickname. So I envisioned Jamie being reserved for the people closest to me because of that.

Both my mom and Alex opted to call me Jamie immediately. They introduced me to friends, family members, and even strangers as Jamie, put my name in their phone as Jamie. My mom sends me packages addressed to "Jamie [lastname]". Just the other day, Alex's grandma sent us chocolates in the mail and the note inside said "Merry Christmas Alex and Jamie!" and I am not close to her by any means, I am positive Alex must have told her that's my name. Just tons and tons of little things like that.

It took me a while to catch on - at first I thought people simply decided to call me Jamie on their own, or heard Alex or my mom talk to me and figured it was okay. I'm autistic, so it takes a while to figure out the best way to approach a problem involving social skills. I didn't want to immediately jump in and say "hey, don't call me that, you don't know me well enough," because I think that's a bit callous. And I thought I was dealing with just a few acquaintances - not literally everyone Alex or my mom talks to.

I confronted both of them about a year ago, when I finally put it together. They said they're not intentionally disregarding my feelings, but "Jamie suits you so much more" so they forget and it just slips out.

(I could be wrong, but I think this is probably because Jamie can be a girl's name and I still look like a girl. So, yeah, of course they'd feel that way.)

I begged them to stop and call me James if they're talking to people about me. My mom promptly "forgot" again. Alex has gotten better about it, but still slips up. Even if they were perfect, I feel like the damage is done after 2 years of this.

To further complicate things, Alex actively avoids using pronouns to refer to people in speech. They will say things like "I've been told that the flight was canceled" instead of "he said he canceled the flight". This is due to anxiety because they're not great at remembering pronouns & doesn't want to accidentally misgender anyone. So there is a lot of general confusion about my pronouns amongst the groups that are connected to Alex. (I don't really use social media, so informing people of my pronouns is more complicated than just putting them in my bio and calling it a day. I've asked Alex to please just say he/him, but they're so resistant and weird about it because of their irrational fears, which...honestly just feels transphobic now).

Now I've started to ask them to drop the nickname entirely, even privately. Call me James and nothing else forever. Jamie has been thoroughly ruined for me, I just feel nauseous when I see or hear it. But at this point, since I lost my job & most of my social network is through Alex, everyone calls me Jamie, and it's exhausting to correct them over and over when it's such a small, seemingly pedantic thing. I don't mind a little confrontation or advocating for myself, but this...this is beyond what I can handle without getting severely stressed out.

So I've been considering changing my name to something else that doesn't have such a common gender neutral/feminine nickname. Just start over. Reset.

But this would be the third time I've changed my name. The first time was like 6 years ago, and it only lasted a few months before I decided it didn't fit, and went back to using my deadname while I figured myself out. My family remembers this well, and 2 years ago when I told them I go by James now, expressed their frustration because I "keep changing things and it's confusing". I'm worried that if I change my name again, nobody will bother to take it seriously, they'll just assume I'll change it again, so why bother using the correct name at all.

Plus I do see how it could be considered petty or immature. It took years to settle on the name I have now. I put a ton of thought into it. I used to love it. I might be TA for letting something as unimportant as an overused nickname sway me to the point where I feel like I need to throw the whole name away.

I mean, I understand why younger trans people might do that, since they have less of their life established and are figuring out who they are, but I'm nearly 30, so I feel like I am getting too old for this. It's just tiring.

Idk, I probably won't make any decisions based on the results of this, but the feedback would be helpful to consider. WIBTA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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starlightscythe · 3 months

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Raining in Manila

Greg Hirsch x f!Reader

Also includes an instagram!AU (idk what it's called but I added some insta interactions)

Plot: you're the Chief of Financials at Waystar Royco and also Logan's Goddaughter, tasked to go with Greg to the Philippines to check up on the xerox business, not knowing some budding feelings will grow along the way.

Warnings: stressed!reader, will add more later.

P.S: purely written for Greg. Fuck Nicholas Braun, man. What a prick.

"So you're half Filipino? All this time?" Greg asked, trailing you from behind. Pushing your heavy baggage cart as you walk with hands free, clutching your phone with your right hand.

"I am 1/4th Filipino, Greg. My grandma, Nerie is the Filipino. Lucky wife to my Grandpa, Victor whose a European." You explained, steps hasty as you walk towards the exit of the NAIA airport.

Greg tried to catch up with you as best as he can with his long legs, pushing the heavy cart with force to walk side by side with you.

You were sent here by Logan to check the Xerox copy machine side business and to evaluate the profit and if it's still considered to be operational by income standards. Waystar is apparently looking to cut their losses even if it means a thousand people would lose their job just to pay off Peirce.

"That's interesting. So you speak the language? B-because you know, what if we got lost and none of us speak the language? Google Translate isn't exactly eh- exact?" He pushes his hair back, adjusting the sleeve of his suit, "Is it normally this hot here?"

"I told you to lose the suit dumbass. It's a tropical country- and you know what-" You paused, stoping by a souvenir shop a saw an English-Tagalog Dictionary, "learn the language while we're here."

Quickly purchasing the book and throwing it at him which he catches clumsily mid-air.

The ride to your hotel was short, doesn't help that Greg was complaing about the tropical heat and how he's sweating underneath his suit.

"Honeymoon?" The Uber driver asked. Smiling at you and Greg from the rear view mirror.

"Uh- oh- no. No. Just work- work mates. Happy workmates" He laughed, "here for work."

"On valentines day?" The driver raised his eyebrow.

"Yeah, unfortunately." You replied, pulling your lips in a tight line as you message an unresponsive Roman about the hotel reservation.

Exiting the Uber and going straight to the hotel lobby whilst Greg was left alone to unload your bags from the trunk. A couple minutes of waiting for him, he finally emerges besides you, tapping your shoulder lightly.

"Oh, took you long enough. Show them the reservation." You spoke, returning your attention to your phone.

Greg stood there confuse, pushing his hair back and wiping his sweat from his forehead, "What reservation? I thought Roman sent it to you?"

"I thought he sent it you?!" You whispered to him, "well, call Kendall and have him sort this out."

"Is there a problem?" The receptionist finally arrived in front of you.

You quickly turned to her and smiled, "no. No. We're all good. He's just sorting out the reservation paper. Such a klutz, this one."

"Well, Ma'am if you just have a name for the reservation and an I.D I can verify it even without the papers." She assured you.

Rummaging through your bag as Greg tried calling Kendall behind you. Taking out your Waystar employee I.D and showing it to her.

"Can you try, (Y/N) Abberdon? I think my collegue might've put it under my name."

The receptionist typed for a bit and shook her head, "we don't have that name in the system Ma'am. Is there any name? Maybe under the name of your collegue?" She gestured to Greg.

Grabbing the man by the I.D which dangled from one of those laces with the retractable strings. "What- hey!" Greg exclaimed, hand still on the ringing phone.

"Try Gregory Hirsch?" You desperately looked at her. The woman did the same thing only to looked up at you once again and shook her head.

Mentally punching Roman in your head at this point, "Ok well, we don't have his I.D but, Roman Roy?"

"I see a Roman Roiland but no Roman Roy, miss. I am sorry."

"Oh my god," You backed away from the reception desk, "I am sorry- just give me a minute" Excusing yourself. The woman nodded her head and returns to her work.

You grabbed Greg by the arm and dragged him away from the desk, looking up at him for an answer.

"They won't call back. I tried Kendall, Shiv, and Roman." He panicked, "I could try Tom?"

"Then try Tom." You deadpanned, "I am going to call Roman. But keep calling whoever is in that flip phone of yours Greg or I will throw that ancient thing in the trash."

"No need to be stres-"

"Don't tell me what to do." You suddenly flipped out at him, making him flinch, "I am- I am sorry. I am just stressed, you're right. This is not big deal. If we can't reach out to any of them we'll just have to book it ourselves."

Greg nods, "yeah. Ok. I'll keep trying to call Tom."

A couple more minutes of you guys looking like anxious rats on your phone trying to contact everyone. Greg finally got a hold of Tom over the phone.

"Tom! Oh thank God. Listen I am- we- yes me and (Y/N)- we're stuck in the Philippines- yeah- can you just- Is Roman with you?- oh- right- uhuh- well, here." Greg hands the phone to you.

You took it out of his hand, "Jesus I forgot how these things work," Fiddling with the flip phone for a bit, "Hello? Tom? What the fuck is going on? Where the fuck is everyone?"

"Enjoying your vacation with my assistant? That you stole by the way. How dare you?!"

"We're not on vacation, dipshit. What's happening over there? We can't get a hold of everyone and we're stuck in another country with no hotel reservation."

"Oh yeah, well. There's been an emergency and Shiv just told me you guys might be stuck in there for another week or two because they're using the private jet to go to the bahamas."

"What the fuck?!" You exclaimed, quickly returning back to your normal tone, "well can you atleast have Roman call me b-"

The phone suddenly crackles and Roman's voice was heard though the phone, "hey god-sis. Yeah listen, I did an oopsie and I kinda forgot to put in a reservation..."

"What's happening...?" Greg tried to ask but your head was running a million miles per minute.

One thing you hated was when plans didn't go as planned and mostly being stucked in another country where you barely speak the language and your American Express might not work.

You raised your hand out of frustration, an attempt to throw Greg's phone onto the ground. But he was quick to catch your arm with his tall physique, snatching his phone out of your hand.

"He-hey. Ok. How about you sit and calm down. Ok?" He tries to comfort you, "I'll handle this. I know you're stressed out so just relax. Ok?"

You nodded, sitting by the nearby sofa of the hotel lobby. Frantically typing into your phone whilst running a hand onto your hair out of frustration.

"Yeah- ok- I can manage that. Ok. Thanks- bye" Greg ends the call and sat on the couch parallel to yours, "ok so, we'll book a hotel and have it on the company card. Shiv said we could do whatever we want for the next two weeks as an apology for your distress and inconvenience. So...there you go. Don't stress ok? Cause youre kinda freaking me out too."

Slowly nodding as you bit your lip, preventing yourself from laughing at the distressed Greg as he sighed and lean back onto the white sofa, putting his earphone on to calm himself down. You sneakily took a picture of him and posted it on Instagram.

"Well I'll just see if they have a spare room available." You pull a tight smile , touching his shoulder as you move past him. Greg gives a nod in response.

"Hey," You greeted the receptionist again, "looks like my collegue might've missed it in his brain to book a reservation, is there a room available for two weeks? Two room separately...preferrably for me and him" Pointing at Greg behind you.

The receptionist tuts as she tapped at her keyboard for a bit, looking appologetic up at you, "sorry, looks like we're all fully booked at the moment. That's normal for valentines Day- oh wait- we have an opening for a honeymoon suite... I am afraid that's the only room available."

"Oh..." You scrunched your face. Scratching the back of your head in frustration, "is there like...another hotel?"

"Well you can try the love hotel from across the street but at valentines week I am afraid all of the hotel right now are fully booked too, miss."

Glancing at your watch, it reads 6:37 pm. And the jet lag was getting to your system. Not really wanting to go out there and dragging Greg around the block you were forced to weigh your options.

"Does it have a couch atleast?"

"Yes ma'am. But I am afraid it only has one bathroom."

"That's fine." You sighed, taking out your business card, "just do it. We're way too tired."

The woman apologized again as she took your card before handing you two keycards for the room. Telling you that your bags will be delivered in your room shortly.

Dragging your feet back to where Greg was, you handed him the other key card by shoving it in his face. Greg took it and read;

"Honeymoon suite?" He asked, looking up at you with wide eyes

"Yeah, not alot of options at valentines day, buddy." You scoffed at him, "you're welcome to run around the block for a new hotel room. They're all fully booked apparently. and I am too tired to argue for separate room. So either suck it up or get out."

Greg grunts in annoyance, standing up and following you anyways.

You turn back at him, "there's a love hotel full of jizz across the street. You're welcome to that"

"Uhuh, and if I get sick because of it, you'd have to be Tom's assistant for as long as it takes."

"He wishes, Greg"

#greg hirsch #Greg Hirsch x reader #cousin greg #succession #greg hirsch fluff #greg Hirsch fic #greg succession

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ashenlike · 9 months

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( jon bernthal, he/him, cis man) i’m pretty sure i just ran into june chomsky! you know them, they’re the forty-five year old social worker that’s been here for forty-five years. they can be pretty well-intentioned, but on the d.l., they’re also volatile. i have their ringtone set as yeah! in my cell. next time you’re around brooklyn, tell them to give me a call! ( rook, twenty-two, he/they, est )

i wanna preface this by saying i don’t write like this in character but i needed to channel some feral energy to force myself to write an intro because i have a sloppy animal brain that doesn’t like to work normally… ANYWAY. may i introduce you to the juvenile delinquent to military bootlicker to anarcho-communist social worker that may be YOUR next top DILF?

horrible upbringing! june was raised largely in a one bedroom apartment in the bronx, has the accent to show for it too. his mother was emotionally absent and his father… well. lets just say we WISH he was an absentee.

as a result june was a very angry child who the system failed innumerable times. woohoo! he started running away the moment he could run, and how far he could get on any given day was based solely on how quickly his grandmother noticed he was gone.

in and out of juvie by age thirteen. stayed out of school because of it until his grandma put her foot down and had him extradited to military school.

initially resilient, the intense pressure, brutal punishments and labour broke him down into a shell of the firebrand teen he used to be! rude tbh.

lasted six months of rebellion before he got crushed underfoot by the cos tho.

managed to finish out school under the strict regime. spent his early adulthood in the military as a marine. the highly regulated nature of it kept him in check, but in earnest he was barely living. just doing what he was told to do with very little autonomy around base. we hate to see it.

went worldwide in the 80s! unfortunately it was to continue being a bootlicker in panama.

had an illicit love affair with a local in panama, finally had to come to terms with being gay.

promoted and demoted just as fast once that shit got out of the bag. keep in mind this is the us military so like. homophobia abounds!

discharged in 95 began to fall into radical communist circles like god intended.

discharged because he was diagnosed with bone cancer??!? lost his right leg just under the knee. in remission for four years tho! dealing with the american healthcare system radicalised him, being ditched by the military and left to his own devices pretty much the moment he became unusable to them also disenfranchised him so hard you would NOT believe

decided to become a social worker because he felt that he was done so fucking dirty by the system he wants to make sure no one else gets done as badly as he did ON HIS WATCH.

is good at his job for an angry scary man, can put everything aside to be whatever a person needs for outreach. compartmentalization is the word babee!

has so much undealt with psychological baggage that his emotional airline fees actually tip the scale and said airlines owe HIM money! conceal dont feel!

#aughtsintro #im so sorry in advance for the tone #and nature of this intro #i promise to write a better more apt one in the future. i just want to get something out to plot and give everyone something 2 work with <3 #cancer mention #tw cancer #tw military #tw abuse #mention #kinda

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abbatoirablaze · 1 year

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Just Ben, Chapter 2

Word Count: 1k

“You know, we are related to one of the members of the original three,” mother teased, “Justice is your great grandmother. She fought side by side with Soldier Boy and Liberty in the First World War. She had my mother in 1901. Then she lost her powers when she had me…they wanted to retire her, but she went on a final mission and died in Europe at the beginning of World War two. She tried to be a spy, but without her powers, she wasn’t quick enough. She had lost her edge, and the Germans executed her.”

“And You were born in 1939,” I reminded her, trying to think of happier times “the end of the great depression. Grandma left you with grandpa to be a spy, but she was doing her civil duty in helping protect us, right?”

“That’s right, sweetheart.” She smiled, gently patting my head, “and you were born in 1959, and your little sister was born just last year in 1968.”

“The commies crashed into the moon when I was born!” I giggled, thinking of the Russians. But then I frowned at my next piece of news that I’d associated with my little sister’s birth, “and Reverend King was shot when sissy was born.”

“That’s right, Adelaide,” she said solemnly, pulling me to her chest, “And this last year was the year that your daddy and brother were hurt in that coal mine collapse.”

“Momma, the coal mine crushed em,” I reminded her. But she only shushed me, not wanting to relive the tragedies we’d already face, “momma…can I have some dinner tonight? I’m hungry…we didn’t have anything yesterday and my tummy hurts again.”

“Go to bed, baby…momma will try to get us something in the morning, okay?”

“But momma-“

“Go to bed, Adelaide!”

“What are you doing up, sweetheart?” I opened my eyes, not daring to move from Soldier Boy’s chest, “I can feel the change in your heart rate since you’re lying on me…now, I don’t want you to go lying to me, sweetheart. Are you okay, Adelaide?”

“I-I’m sorry, Soldier Boy.”

I looked up at him, and his gaze softened, “I’m not going to hurt you…you’re my dame. My gal. You’re my one and only. I’m not going to do anything to you, Adelaide. And I’ve told you, sweetheart, call me Ben. That’s my name.”

“I was just thinking…”

“About what?”

When I was younger…” I told him gently, my fingers making small little shapes on his bare chest as I looked up into his forest green eyes, “just stories my mom told me…things I had to recite so that I wasn’t thinking about the struggles I went through when I had them.”

“You struggled?” he asked. His eyes seemed to hold a sadness as I nodded, and his hand moved low on my back, “You won’t have to struggle anymore, Adelaide. I promise.”

“I-it was my childhood,” I shrugged, not giving it much more thought than that, “it was how I was brought up…my mom tried the best she could.”

“I want to meet your family, sweetheart,” he said firmly, “I want them to know that you’re on the straight and narrow moving forward…that you’re my girl.”

I felt tears coming to my eyes, and I sniffled.

“Hey-hey…why the tears, sweetheart?”

“The only one left is my younger sister,” I admitted tearfully, “My father and older brother died in the coal mines when I was younger…left my momma destitute. She whored herself out til she caught Syphilis…she wanted me and my little sister Annie to start up since she couldn’t no more…but I took Annie, and I ran. Turns out I’m no better than her. Only difference is I make sure that Annie’s on the straight and narrow…she isn’t ever gonna do what I do. Especially not now…I-Tommy promised me the other girl’s share if I stayed…you know…since she was supposed to service you exclusively…and she was getting a lot more than I was gonna get. It’ll be enough to buy our apartment so we don’t have to worry about rent…and then I can get a real job…maybe being a secretary or something…an-and hopefully…I could see you again? I-I mean, if you want. I-”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that anymore, Adelaide,” he promised, cutting me off, “I’m going to take care of you and your sister. From now on, neither of you will ever have to worry about anything again.”

“Wh-what?”

“I’m going to take care of you, sweetheart. You and your sister.”

“B-Ben…that-that’s too much. You don’t hav-“

“I want to,” he said quickly, taking my hands in his own, “you’re my dame, and I’m going to take care of you and your little sister…it’s what a good man does. He takes care of his gal. And I’m making an honest one out of you, Adelaide.”

“Oh Ben…”

“Now come on,” he said sweetly, gently helping me up out of the bed, “let’s find you some clothes…and let’s get back to the tower. I’ve got to have them make your sister a room inside of my suite…and set up movers so that we can get all of your clothes and such into there…how old is she? We have decorators that can set everything up.”

“Sh-she’s eleven.”

“Eleven,” he smiled, “so it’s like practicing before the real thing?”

“Huh?”

“I wasn’t joking when I said I’m not letting you go and we’re going to have a baby,” he chuckled, gently placing a hand on my stomach, “doll, we’ll be a real all-American family in no time…just you wait. I’ll talk to the higher ups…we’ll get us a nice little house in the suburbs with a white picket fence and a dog. We’ll raise a house full of little Bens and Adelaides. It’ll be grand, sweetheart. We’ll make sure little Annie has a good life; really take care of her. You don’t have to worry about a thing anymore…no ma’am. You won’t have to worry ever again.”

Chapter 3

Tag List: @lohnes16, @vmenfangirl

#the boys amazon #the boys tv #the boys #superhero #soldier boy #just ben #vought #payback

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eevvvaa · 2 years

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A Supernatural Journey - Part 22

A Supernatural Journey - Summary

Serie Summary : After an unplanned event in their road trip, Emily and Eva crossed paths with two brothers. One thing leading to another, the two best friends found themselves in what seems to be a supernatural journey…

Pairing : Dean Winchester x Eva (OC), Sam Winchester x Emily (OC)

Warnings : Angst, blood, mention of death, some comforting fluff, anxiety

Words : 10 608

Dividers by the amazing @firefly-graphics

Emily’s POV :

The week passed and when the weekend came, Eva and I decided to stay home, just the two of us, sharing some time together. And when on Sunday, Mrs. McCarthy invited us for tea time, we gladly accepted. It had been so long since we had spent a weekend just the two of us, having tea at 4:30 p.m. with our almost adopted grandma. It felt like forever since we had a weekend without monsters, without boys, a weekend like before, just me and my best friend, a show on TV and a hot chocolate.

The week after, work had been a living hell. There had been an explosion in a factory nearby and dozens of seriously injured employees had been brought to the ER. Almost everyone had been called back at the hospital and no one had a second to rest or breath. Owen had been shittier than usual, making me want to punch his annoying face more than once in an hour. He had spent his whole time yelling orders we already knew and followed. We knew our job but he was there to play the hero even though we were basically the ones actually saving lives.

Unfortunately we lost some patients. Even after spending days running in the hospital from one patient to another, taking only brief pauses and a few hours to sleep at home, we didn’t manage to save everyone. It was part of the job but it was never easy to live with.

On Thursday night, Martha broke down and she cried for twenty minutes in my arms, letting the pressure of the days and the guilt of losing patients out. I had never felt comfortable comforting people, never really knowing what to do or say and how to act, but I had learned that sometimes we just need a shoulder to cry on and let it all out. That was what Martha needed and that’s what I did.

Tonight, I was done for the week. My boss had let us go home on Friday morning and asked for us to come back on Tuesday, offering us a longer weekend than usual to let us rest. When I came back to the apartment, Eva was in front of the TV, the bonus of Die Hard playing on the screen. When I slammed the door shut, she flinched and turned towards me. I collapsed next to her, sending my shoes away and let out a long sigh. After complaining about my day at work, I asked about hers and she informed me that she wasn’t working on Saturday.

Thus, we learned we were both free until Tuesday.

Later that night, As we were both sitting on the couch, the end of our pasta on our laps and National Treasure playing, Eva spoke up.

“Oh, I’ve gotten a text from Dean earlier, saying that they were going to be back to the bunker this weekend. He’s not sure when exactly but he thinks it’s gonna be on Saturday. They think the case is almost over and they wanted to know if we were going to join them in Lebanon. They even allowed us to arrive before them, and said there was a key hidden somewhere. So, what do you say? You wanna sneak in their place before grumpy and smarty are there?” She asked, putting some pasta in her mouth.

I hesitated a little. It had been about two weeks or so since we had seen them, since that morning where I had destroyed everything. Two weeks since Sam had asked me if I was okay and that I had never replied to his text. And he didn’t push. So the hunter and I hadn’t talked at all about what had happened two weeks ago, nor about what I had told him. I didn’t know if it was a good idea for me to go there, I didn’t think it was actually. Eva could, she was friends with Sam and finally started to have more with Dean. She could and definitely should spend the weekend with them. The boys weren’t going to miss me anyway and maybe it could give the opportunity to Eva to talk about how she felt with the older brother.

But before I could give any kind of answer, she asked.

“Is it about Sam and the last time we went there?”

I let out a breath, standing up. I didn’t want to talk about this again, it was the same conversation over and over and I didn’t want to bring up this topic again.

“Eva…” I started but she quickly turned on the couch to face me.

“No, listen to me please. I know you don’t want to face Sam again, I know you don’t want to talk about it again too but he’s ready to listen to you. No matter what you wanna tell him. Maybe you two could find some time to talk about it face to face, clear things out?” She explained and I wasn’t very excited about this idea.

“How do you know he wants that? He hadn't tried to talk to me since that day and I sure don’t blame him. I didn’t exactly give him material to come and talk to me again.” I answered and she sighed.

“I know because he told me so. I’m sure talking would be the solution, it usually is.” She told me and I frowned.

When had she talked to Sam about all this? Was it the day it happened? When I was at work or asleep? Was it this week? I wasn’t sure I liked the idea of them talking about this, about me but at the same time it meant he had tried to reach me and could be concerned about what had happened that day. Maybe he was concerned about how it was going to be between us now that I had broken the hint of hope of something good happening.

“I don’t think he needs that after a hunt. If you wanna go and spend the weekend there you can but I’m not sure I would be welcomed.” I told her and she immediately shook her head.

“That’s bull. You’re as welcome as I am there. Dean mentioned the two of us and I know that Sam just wants to clear things between the two of you. Please, come with me.” She tried and I sighed again.

I was stubborn but I knew that refusing to go with her was: one, ridiculous and two, just a way to postpone this inevitable discussion. But I didn’t want to have this conversation with him, I didn’t want to face him after this. I just didn’t want to.

“I know you don’t want to.”

Did I say it out loud?

“And you know I’ll never force you to do anything but if you want my opinion, Sam is willing to listen to whatever you have to say and you can’t keep pretending nothing happened, deny everything or just act like he didn’t exist.” She said, raising her eyebrows to accompany her words.

“Well, I can.” I tried and she rolled her eyes at me before faking a laugh.

“Yeah, alright Smartass.” She said, shaking her head in disapproval.

“So, you won’t come with me on Saturday?” She tried again and I slumped back on the couch.

“I don’t know, Eva…” I started but she quickly cut me off.

“Do you want me to ask him if it’s fine with the two of us coming?”

My eyes widened and I immediately shook my head. It was one of the worst ideas she had ever had.

“What?! No, absolutely not. Don’t do that Eva.” I rapidly told her and she chuckled.

“Alright, alright, but if it can help you make a decision, I know the answer would be yes. And even if you guys don’t talk about it, you can’t deny his simple existence. It’s not right and you know it.” She said, meaning every one of her words and I rolled my eyes, knowing she was right.

Eva was still looking at me, probably waiting for any kind of answer. I knew that no matter what I’d choose she would accept it, even if she disagreed. Trying to ignore her I took my plate and stood up, walking to the sink and put the dish in it. Turning the water on, I grabbed the sponge and put some soap in it to clean the plate up when another one appeared in front of me. I frowned and heard a little voice behind me, whispering in my ear.

“Listen to your Jiminy Cricket, Pinocchio.”

Grunting, I slowly put some distance between us and turned my head towards her.

“You’re way too close to me.” I sternly told her and she laughed, taking a step back after murmuring.

“Listen to your conscience a little bit.” I growled and stared at her with annoyance.

“I’m gonna swat you with my shoe.” I told her. She chuckled and raised her arms in a surrendering gesture.

“Alright, alright. But think about it. I’m gonna go to bed, some people work tomorrow. Goodnight!” She quickly pecked my cheek and left the room to get in hers.

“Goodnight!” I yelled so she could hear me and continued to clean the dishes.

While the hot water was running on my hands, I couldn’t help but think about what Eva had said. She wasn’t wrong, ignoring Sam wasn’t right but it was easier. And if we were to see them again, I supposed it was better to clear things up with him. Even if he ended up not wanting to talk to me, at least it was clear. I had just spent my time ignoring, postponing and if I was honest myself a little I was also missing him.

I sighed loudly and put the wet dish on the drainer. I dried my hands on my jeans and turned around, spotting Joey and Chandler turning in their little fish bowl. I walked to them, grabbed the little box containing their food and put some into the water. As I lowered myself to look at them hurrying to the food, I let out a breath.

“Well… I suppose you guys will be alone this weekend.”

Eva’s POV :

This time Emily was the driver and I took this opportunity to lose myself on the apps of my phone or just look at the road which was becoming familiar now. In the middle of the drive, I texted Dean and told him we were on our way there, asking him where he had hidden the second key.

While waiting for his answer, I turned my head towards my best friend who was moving her head in rhythm with the music. I chuckled at the sight before looking out the window, watching the trees on my right, listening to Emily’s playlist and letting my mind drift away. But my thoughts were cut when my phone rang. I immediately unlocked it and saw a text from Dean.

‘Green car’

I frowned a little at the short and almost cold message but assumed he was busy with the case. At least I hoped it was the reason why and not because something was wrong. But maybe it was the case. I took a deep breath and decided to not let myself think about the worst without reasons. So even if I wanted to ask him if everything was okay, I let it go, deciding to wait for when he would be back.

“So, Dean said the key was in the green car.” I told Emily and she glanced at me before looking back at the road.

“In the car?” She asked and I shrugged.

“I suppose. He just said: green car.” I explained and she snorted, shaking her head.

“Do not give too much info, Dumbass.” She rolled her eyes and I chuckled.

It was a real love story between those two.

Once we arrived, Emily parked the car in a free spot of the garage, next to all the old cars and motorcycles resting in this place. We took our bags and got out of the car. I looked around and quickly walked to the only green car there and opened the driver door. Once inside, I sat behind the wheels and Emily joined me, taking place in the passenger seat.

“So. Where would he hide the key?” She wondered out loud and I pointed to the glove compartment. She quickly opened it but there was only a very old newspaper turning yellow, a box of matches and a pen.

No key.

We searched the doors but didn’t find anything either.

“Urgh. Why would he hide a key in a car anyway?” My best friend asked me and I narrowed my eyes, thinking.

If I was Dean Winchester and wanted to hide a key in a car, where would I put it? Leaning against the seat, my back resting on it, I raised my head and my eyes fell on the sun visor. I let a hum out and quickly moved my hand to open it. Immediately, a long key fell on my lap and I shook my head.

“He hid the key just like in the movies? In the sun visor?” Emily asked and I chuckled, taking the object in my hands.

“Yep.”

“Why am I not even surprised?” She continued, rolling her eyes.

I smiled widely at the thought of Dean proudly thinking it was a great place to hide something and grinned even more imagining his face while putting the key there. He must have loved to hide it like in an action movie and I couldn’t help but snort at the idea of Sam’s face when he realized it was a terrible hideout.

“Catch.” I told Emily before throwing the key at her.

She caught it in the air and got out of the car, heading to the huge metallic door.

Once inside the Bunker, Emily and I put our bags in our respective rooms and decided to cook a little something for the brothers even if cooking with Emily was like cooking with a kid. It could end up burned or missing an ingredient but it was always fun and pleasant. And it was the case while we were cooking what could look like some pasta bolognese. We had decided to cook something easy to warm up for when the boys would be here.

After some bickering and long sighs from me, it was finally ready and we let the whole thing cool down before putting it in the fridge and heading to the library to wait for them. Since Emily had a deck of cards in her bag, she took it and we started playing, sitting at one of the wooden tables. Even if in reality I was the only one sitting at the table, Emily was sitting on it.

After the tenth game, we just abandoned it and talked instead. We never really finished games. We always ended up thinking of something we had forgotten to mention and would completely abandon the game to talk about the many subjects coming through our minds. When I grabbed my phone to look at the time, I realized it had been two hours since we had arrived and I hadn’t received any texts from Dean or Sam about the hunt being over. Not a text since the one from Dean, the one I had felt cold. I mentally calculated how long it had been without any news from any of them.

Four hours and forty-seven minutes.

Suddenly an uneasy feeling woke up in my stomach and a little voice whispered in my head.

Something went wrong.

I hardly swallowed at the idea, trying to erase this thought and replacing it with something rational. Maybe his phone was dead, maybe the hunt wasn’t finished yet, maybe I was overthinking things again and he just hadn’t thought about texting me. Still, I needed to make sure. I needed to be reassured that this feeling in my gut, this sensation of pressure in my chest was only my mind playing tricks on me. Even if it felt terribly real. So I decided to send him a quick text.

‘Hey, are you guys on the way back?’

I thought it was simple and didn’t show how worried I started to be. How the fear started to grow in my stomach. How the air was starting to be harder to get into my lungs. I started to play with my nails, scratching them together and I felt my leg moving with my consent. I looked at the screen, waiting for an answer, hoping that it would come quickly so this whole overthinking circle would finally stop but unfortunately it didn’t.

“You’re okay?”

I heard Emily ask me and immediately raised my head to look at her. Her eyebrows were slightly knotted together, showing her worry and curiosity.

“What?” I asked her back. I hadn’t even realized she had stopped talking. She put down the cards she had taken to play with and came a bit closer to me.

“Your face dropped like when you don’t feel good, so I was wondering if you were okay.” She explained and I slightly shrugged, unsure if I was or not. Well, I was most likely not.

Bringing the chair closer to the table, I put my phone in plain view on it, hoping to see it lightened with a new text from the elder Winchester.

“It’s just… It’s been a while since we had news from Sam and Dean. And you know me, I’m starting to worry.” I told her, trying to explain what was going on in my mind without adding fuel to the fire up there.

“I’m sure they are fine. You told me Dean wasn’t always on his phone, maybe he just didn’t see your text.” Emily tried to reassure me and I loved her for that but unfortunately my head had plenty of ideas on why he wasn’t answering and him not seeing my text wasn’t the favored possibility.

“It doesn’t feel like it. It feels like something happened this time. His last text seemed so cold, maybe something was already happening when he texted me and I just let it go. I shouldn’t have. I should have followed my instinct and made sure everything was okay. What if one of them is hurt? What if-”

“Okay, okay, Eva stop. Calm down. How many times did you think something had happened to me or was going to happen when in reality it was your anxiety playing tricks on your mind? I’m not trying to minimize your feelings here, you know that but maybe let’s not worry about something we are not sure about, okay?” She tried to ease my worry but the feeling didn’t go away.

Even if I knew she was right, the weight in my throat and stomach didn’t disappear. Because she was right, plenty of times I had imagined the worst happening when we went out or just when someone wasn’t answering me. I had made hundreds of calls because she wasn’t answering a simple text when she had just decided to go to the park. I knew a part of me was just always worrying about everything and everyone and I had learned that it was more likely to be in my head than truly happening. But Sam and Dean, they always faced danger and so much could happen to them. Hell, so much had already happened.

“I know, I know but… what if it’s not just in my head this time?” I almost whispered, looking at my phone on the table.

Just answer, please.

“You could text Sam if it can reassure you. He’s with him and if Dean just doesn't have battery anymore or something, you’ll have an answer and it will stop you from worrying.” She proposed and I agreed, nodding.

I immediately took my phone and started to search for Sam’s number when the huge metallic door opened, the creaking sounds reverberating in the whole room.

“See, they’re here.” Emily said with a little smile and we waited for them to get down the stairs and enter the library. I let a huge sigh of relief out and closed my eyes for a second.

Then I slowly stood up, ready to walk to them, the feeling in my chest slowly disappearing with every sound of foot meeting the steps of the metallic stairs. My heart calmed down with every second and the thought of them finally being here eased my body. But when Dean arrived at the bottom of the stairs, I froze, my heart falling in my stomach and my breath getting stuck in my throat.

The hunter was covered in dirt, what looked like mud but most of all: blood. The worry and fear I had felt before came back twice stronger and now all of my feelings were valid. My heart squeezed at the sight of him, a shiver ran down my spine and it felt like someone had pushed me in the chest, my body tensing.

Something had definitely happened.

“Dean!” His name escaped my mouth on its own, my voice high with horror and concern of his state.

But before my jelly legs could make me walk to him he disappeared in the hallway, not even glancing towards me, like he hadn’t heard me or was ignoring me. My heart ached a bit at the action and all I wanted was to follow him down the corridor. But Sam got down the stairs too, holding both duffle bags. The tall man looked defeated, his head low causing his hair to fall around his face and slowly walked to us.

Emily quickly got off the table and joined me in front of it when Sam reached us.

“It’s not his blood.” Sam immediately said, looking at me and I allowed a small sigh of relief to pass my lips. My legs felt like they could support me again and I nodded. But now I needed to know whose blood it was.

“What happened?” Emily asked before I could say anything, my eyes daring towards the hallway, hoping to see Dean come back.

Sam dropped the bags to the ground and bypassed us to sit on one of the chairs. He looked so crushed, it was truly heartbreaking. I dared to look at my friend and she looked as concerned as I was. Letting one of his large hands pass through his hair, Sam sighed.

“It was a Rugaru.” He started, finally looking at us.

The boys had told us about those creatures. The cursed humans who turned into monsters once they tasted human flesh but who were almost incapable of never doing it. The story itself was horrible and I didn’t dare imagine what had happened on this case for the brothers to end up this way.

Sam continued.

“We were driving around the area he was living in, already suspecting him when we spotted him break into a house. We followed him when we heard a window getting smashed upstairs, so we hurried to the house and met it downstairs. That’s when we realized they were two. I took care of the first one while Dean ran upstairs, to the boy’s room. But… It was too late. It had already hurt the kid badly and after Dean killed it, the boy passed away in his arms. It’s his blood…” The hunter lowered his head again and tears reached my eyes at the horrible story.

After taking a deep breath and clenching his jaws, Sam finished his story.

“The parents weren’t home so we called the police, preventing them from finding the dead body of their 12 years old son. We know that they’ll never solve the murder but we couldn’t do anything else.” He confessed, passing a hand through his hair again.

My heart hurt for the boy and his family, the thought of something like this possible making me sick. But it also ached for the two hunters, failing to a hunt like this one was surely difficult and painful. Sam was looking at his hand, not wanting to add anything, so I turned to my best friend, meeting her sorry eyes. Both of us were clearly feeling the same about this whole situation. Helpless.

Then my eyes drifted towards the hallway Dean had disappeared to a few minutes ago. My whole being wanted to run to it and check on him but I couldn’t leave Sam like that either. I didn’t know what to do and it was almost painful.

When I looked back at the younger Winchester, he had raised his head and I met his sad eyes. But he must have seen me looking at the door or maybe he had just sensed my wish to follow his brother because he simply nodded. Without a word either, I walked to him and gave him a quick but firm comforting hug as much as I could. Then I offered him a compassionate smile and he gave me a quick one back. I gently squeezed his forearm and turned towards Emily, nodding at her too before heading towards the hallway.

Once I was out of sight, I hurried to Dean’s room, wanting to check on him as soon as possible and see how he was doing. But when I reached the eleventh room and knocked on the door, he didn’t answer so I decided to open it carefully. I was only welcomed by darkness, letting me know that he wasn’t there.

I froze for a second, wondering where he could be instead and my eyes drifted to the bathroom nearby. I walked to it and this time the door was slightly ajar, allowing me to see the turned on light inside. Slowly, I made my way to it and heard a sniffing inside. I stopped my movements wondering if I should leave him alone or not but my desire to comfort him was stronger. So I gently ran my knuckles on the door and I heard him take a sharp breath behind it.

Before opening the door, I spoke up.

“Dean? It’s me, can I come in?” I softly asked him but didn’t hear him reply anything.

So I decided to join him and cautiously pushed the door, revealing the older hunter sitting on the floor, his back against a wall, his knees close to his chest and his head in his hands. My heart squeezed at the sight. With the bright light of the bathroom, I could clearly see the blood on his clothes, hands, even hair. The blood and dirt, probably from hiding the rugarus’ bodies, darkened his skin and tainted every piece of fabric on him.

A breath got stuck in my throat for a moment but I rapidly tried as much as I could to control my own emotions. Dean didn’t need to comfort someone, he needed to be comforted. Or at least that’s what I thought.

I quietly closed the door and sat next to him on the cold floor, bringing my knees close to me too and looked at him in an attempt to find out if he wanted to talk or not. But the only thing Dean did was swallow with difficulty, his Adam’s apple going up and down as he gulped. He hadn’t said a thing yet, not even looked at me, and all I wanted was to wrap my arms around him and get him to talk to me. So after what felt like forever, I broke the silence between us.

“I’m sorry, Dean.” I simply said because it was the truth. I was sorry he and his brother had to go through this. I was sorry that a kid had died tonight. I was sorry it was their job to kill monsters. I was sorry it was the life they had been raised into.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I slowly tried, clenching my jaw in apprehension. Dean took a sharp breath and without moving his head towards me, spoke up.

“He was just a kid.” He said, hurt in his voice, the topic clearly painful.

“I know… Sam told us… Dean, it wasn't your fault.” I explained and he took a shaky breath before straightening, looking right in front of him.

“You should go.” He sternly replied, staring at the wall in front of him.

I mimicked his movements but turned a bit to look at him. I didn’t want to go, that was for sure but it felt like he didn’t really want me to either. Like he was forcing himself to tell me this, like he wanted to push me away. But I could be wrong and maybe he needed time for himself to go through this. Maybe me staying would only make it worse. But I knew one thing for sure: I didn’t want to leave him all alone, especially if it wasn’t what he truly needed. Even less if it was because he was telling himself he didn’t deserve someone to stay with him.

“Do you truly want me to go because you need to be alone? Or do you say that because you don’t want me to tell you those things? Because you think that you shouldn’t be told those things.” I told him and he finally looked at me.

Dean was good at hiding emotions, I knew that, but the look in his reddened eyes at this moment was the complete opposite. I could see in his green orbs the pain and guilt he was feeling. I felt my face softening at the sight and my heart made me feel his own pain.

“No matter what you’re gonna say, it was still my fault.” He declared, his tone cold and I let a small sigh escape me. Gently, I put a hand on his arm, giving him the comfort he deserved but he moved away, refusing my touch.

“Dean…” I complained but he quickly cut me off.

“Don’t you get it? Tonight a kid is dead because of me, Eva. A kid! And you want to comfort me? When it was my job to save his life and I miserably failed up at it? I don’t deserve to be consoled, I shouldn’t be. That’s why you should go.” He raised his voice and in any other situation I would have flinched or felt jittery by this but all this anger wasn’t towards me. And hidden under this hatred, I could only perceive sadness and profound guilt.

“That’s not true…” I tried but he didn’t let me add anything else.

“It is! What did Sam tell you? That they were two and we hadn’t expected it? But guess what, we never expect it! The truth is I was too late. If I had been faster, if I hadn't taken such a long time to enter the goddamn room, I could have saved him. That’s on me.” Dean told me and I understood what he meant but he was still not the one responsible for this kid’s death. I understood it was hard to believe, especially coming from someone whose job it is not, but I couldn’t let him beat himself up for this.

“Dean, you didn’t kill this kid. You didn’t. A monster did and you did everything in your power to save him. It wasn’t your fault, you did everything you could.” I said, putting my hand on him again and this time he let me, tensing under my touch.

“I didn’t…” He admitted, lowering his head and clenching his jaws. His eyes landed on his bloody hands in front of him and he squeezed them together. My heart stopped for a second but I didn’t move away.

“What do you mean?” I tried and Dean glanced at me an instant but quickly avoided my gaze again, searching for his next words.

“I wasn’t fast enough because I was watching out for myself, because I didn’t just rush in, because for once in my freaking life I was being careful.” He coldly said, his eyes meeting mine again and this time held my gaze.

His words felt like a punch in my heart, his words resonating in my mind. I had annoyed Dean so many times about being careful on hunts and now that he had listened, this had happened. I knew that I shouldn’t but a huge part of me definitely felt guilt, even if deep down I knew there couldn’t be any connection between those two facts. I knew being careful and watching out for himself was the right thing to do and I needed to realize that a case like this one wasn't going to be the consequences of it. That it wasn’t selfish either. And I needed to make Dean understand this too.

“Dean, this is not the reason why he died, okay? Please don’t think that. Don’t think that, because it’s not true. There is no link between those two things, this is not the consequence of being careful, please.” I told him, hoping that if I quickly put the idea in his head that there was no correlation, he would believe it. But unfortunately, it was too late.

“If I hadn’t thought about myself, if I hadn’t taken so much time while searching the story, a boy would be alive tonight. This shouldn’t have happened. Ever. If anything, it should have been m-”

Before he could finish this sentence, I cut him off, turning completely towards him. Now both of my hands were on his arm and squeezing it.

“Don’t you say that. Please, don’t say that. Your life doesn’t matter less than his, okay?” I started but once again, Dean didn’t let me finish.

“But tonight some parents will learn that their son died but they’ll never find out why or how. He was not more than twelve and he’s dead. He’s dead, Eva. And I could have saved him but I was too busy thinking about my own safety, because I selfishly wanted to come home tonight. But you can be sure that this won’t ever happen again.” He solemnly said, his eyes looking back at the wall when he finished.

I stayed speechless for a second, thinking about what he had just said, from the horrible death of tonight to the fact that Dean had wanted to come home. But what really stayed in my mind was that he was swearing he wasn’t going to do it again and this couldn’t happen.

“You’re right.” I started and Dean quickly turned his head towards me, his eyebrows raised as if he was surprised I agreed with him. Or maybe he was disappointed I did. But I wasn’t going to stop there.

“You’re right, a kid is dead tonight. It’s a fact and it truly, deeply breaks my heart. But you also saved thousands of people, Dean. Those are facts too. You saved moms, husbands, sisters, children. You saved families, strangers. Hell, you saved me.” I continued, my eyes as sympathetic as possible through the tears slowly forming.

I could see in his eyes that he was listening carefully but that he was also ready to cut me off to contradict me if he ever had the chance.

“But, as much as it costs me to say it, sometimes we can’t do anything to prevent terrible events… Sometimes Life is unfair. Children have cancer and killers are never caught. Now some heal from it. And some are found and go to jail. But sometimes it’s all random. We can’t control everything Dean, even if we try. I try to accept that and I think you should do the same. Trust me, I hate it as much as you do, it even keeps me awake at night sometimes but unfortunately this is life and some things are out of our reach, even if we try really hard to avoid or control them.” I softly told him and the more I talked the more his eyes softened, some tears reaching the gorgeous green orbs. I also discerned a bit of surprise at my confession and I continued before he could say anything.

“And I want you to listen to me here. Tonight wasn’t your fault. And you being careful isn’t the reason why this kid died. It isn’t. You can’t just rush in without a plan or checking where the danger is. You can’t be that reckless Dean.” I said, gently caressing his bicep.

At those words Dean clenched his jaw, probably wanting to say that it was what he had always done.

“Do you think that firefighters rush in without analyzing the situation? No, they spot the danger, they make a plan, take the right material and the equipment that protects them. But mainly, they watch out for each other and themselves. Otherwise they wouldn’t save a lot of people, because they wouldn’t be here to anymore. But even then, they can’t save everyone. But they try, very hard, they are brave and do their best. You’re brave too, Dean. And I admire this so much about you. But don’t mistake being brave and being reckless.” I explained and saw him gulp with difficulty.

His face twisted from anger to pain and defeat in a few seconds, his eyebrows turned in a slightly raised knot and some wrinkles of sadness appeared on his forehead. It was fascinating how emotions were clear on his face when he allowed himself to show them. His eyes went back and forth to mine, his emotions slowly reaching me. I wanted to kiss his pain away but prevented myself from doing so. When I felt like he wasn’t going to argue anymore, I simply came closer to him and gently put my head on his right shoulder, my arms hugging his right one tightly.

We stayed like this for a moment, listening to each other’s breathing until Dean broke the silence.

“He was just a kid…” He whispered, his voice breaking with emotions. I closed my eyes for a second, trying to keep my own feelings at bay then replied, squeezing his arm in a comforting gesture.

“I know…”

“He looked so much like Sam at his age. I can’t even imagine what his parents are feeling right now. I don’t want to imagine, actually.” He confessed, the tears in his eyes resonating in his voice.

Not knowing what to say, I only shut my eyelids tightly and hugged as hard as I could the only part of him I was holding. I hoped that it could make him understand how much I felt for him about this whole situation and that I was there for him. I hoped it could convince him it wasn’t his fault and that he didn’t deserve all that guilt. I hoped my touch could help him get better.

“His blood… his blood will never come off…” He murmured and I opened my eyes again.

The hunter’s hands were opened, palms towards us. I could see the crimson color of the dried blood on his white skin, covering his freckles, encrusted between the line of his palms and probably under his fingernails too. I shivered at the sight. I had never liked blood and had always felt sick looking at some but I couldn’t let Dean face that alone.

So, slowly, I straightened and took one of his hands between mine, intertwining our fingers together. Then I turned my head to properly look at him.

“It will.” I gently said and he raised his eyes from his hands, allowing me to see how crushed he was.

Even though there were marks of blood on his face and that his features showed the things he had gone through, at that right moment he looked like a lost little boy. And my heart ached at the sight. Slowly, I let go of his hand and stood up, facing him. Sitting on the cold floor, his eyes followed me, waiting for my next move or words, wondering what I was up to. So I held out my hand to him. He looked at it for a second, confusion written all over his face.

“Come on.” I told him, gesturing to my hand and he took it, both of us knowing he didn’t need it but still allowing me to help him rise.

Emily’s POV :

Standing quietly in front of the tall hunter, I watched him play with his hands, then his nails, biting them before running his palms through his soft hair.

After Eva had left to join Dean, Sam had fallen silent and I didn’t dare add anything, remembering our last exchange. Awkwardly standing in front of the table, I looked at the corridor, waiting to see if my best friend was going to come back or not. But the more I waited the more I knew she wasn’t going to. Looking back at Sam, I watched him rub his face, his body tensing. It was obvious that he was feeling bad and if I truly looked at him I could perceive his worry and guilt. And the truth was that I hated seeing him like this.

Carefully, I took a step forward and broke the silence between us.

“Sam, do you wanna talk about it?” I tried.

The hunter stopped his movements and scoffed, making me frown. I had expected a long sigh, even a shake of head but certainly not a scoff. He straightened and rested his back on the chair, his hazel eyes finding me.

“No, thank you. I don’t have anything else to add, I told you the story.” He replied but something in his voice didn’t seem right.

Sam was usually a calm, kind man, his voice always soft and polite but this sentence and tone used was cold, almost harsh. It didn’t look right, natural, and the need to pierce through this wall he seemed to create around him took control of my body. So I walked closer to him and tried to keep a calm and friendly voice when I spoke up.

“You know, you can talk to me. About how you feel or just if you need to let it out.”

He was still siting but the way he was holding his body made him look even taller. Even though I was the one hovering over him this time. He leaned forward a bit, his eyes still locked on mine.

“Can I?” He asked, his voice still cold. My eyebrows raised in surprise and I stared at him. I didn’t like the tone he was using on me and I was going to let him know.

“What is that supposed to mean?” I asked, my voice not as friendly as it was before.

Sam shook his head a little, his hair moving around his face. Then he placed a hand on the wooden table and stood up from the chair. I surprisingly didn’t take a step back when he came closer to me. Sam’s posture was very different from the one he had the last time we saw each other. It looked like he had run out of patience. His eyes were darker than I had ever saw them, his jaw tight.

“It means that I’m not sure I can. Because, see, I tried. I tried to talk and get you to talk to me but it seems like it’s one-sided.” He declared and I started to understand what it was truly about.

“So no, I won’t talk about it with you, not tonight.” He declared and turned his back to me, rapidly walking to the corridor.

I scoffed when I saw him leave and I was starting to get angry too. Angry at the way he was talking to me, angry that he wouldn’t tell me what was on his mind and let me help him, angry that he was getting to me acting this way, angry that I was attracted to him even though the only thing I did was pushing him away. Without even thinking about it I followed him, heading to the training room.

“Hey! Don’t you run away from me like that. You wanna talk? Let’s talk.” I yelled at him and he froze in front of the door, a hand on the knob.

He slowly turned around, his eyebrows raised and I straightened, showing him I wasn’t afraid or intimidated in any way. He quickly walked to me, glaring at me and I didn’t move.

“Oh, I’m the one running away? I think you don’t remember the past events correctly. I’m not the one who ran away after spending a night in your arms. I’m not the one who didn’t answer for a week, making the other wonder if I was dead or alive or if I just didn’t want to talk to them anymore. I’m not the one who don’t accept your affection. I’m not the one trying to avoid you every time we get close. I’m not the one who doesn't want to open up, the one who never reveals anything about myself. I’m not the one who lets the other think they are not interested in them at all.” Sam angrily said, his voice raising with every sentences passing his lips. It was a new look on him, being angry, but unfortunately for him I was an angry woman and wasn’t going to back down. So I stared at him and felt my blood boiling in the veins of my neck.

“That’s right, you’re not running away. Because you’re just so damn perfect it’s exasperating! You’re the one who always chooses the right words. Who uses the right tone. The one willing to listen. The one who doesn’t push to know. The one who knows what would be perfect for a first date. Who always tries to do the right thing it’s annoying. You’re the one making other people feel guilty for their flaws!” I yelled at him, mocking him and panting once I was done. Sam scoffed, his breathing getting heavier than before, his chest raising with each breath he took.

“Are you really reproaching me to be a good person?!” He asked, irritated by my accusations.

I turned my hands into fists but nothing could calm me down anymore. I was sick of this feeling in my chest, sick of his beautiful face haunting my dreams. I was mad at myself for feeling what I felt when I thought of him, when I was with him. I was angry with the undeniable desire to confess everything to him. I hated how much I liked him and now that he was getting on my nerves it was too hard to suppress or control it.

And before I had the chance to stop myself, I let it slip.

“Yeah, exactly! You’re such a good person it makes it hard to not like you!” I screamed at him and completely froze once the words escaped my mouth.

I immediately hated myself for saying such a thing. I had tried so hard to bury it deep inside, denying to everyone and myself what the younger Winchester was making me feel. And now, just because he had pushed me and had gotten on my nerves, I had revealed everything? How could I have been so stupid? I had done such a good job at repressing everything and with just a raise of his voice I blur out everything?

Emily !

Of course, Sam wasn’t going to ignore this, wasn’t going to act like he hadn’t heard anything. He had made it clear he was tired of not knowing what I wanted and now I had just exposed myself, giving him every reason to not back down.

And he didn’t.

“So you like me after all?! You’ve got to stop playing hot and cold with me and finally say the truth. Do you like me or not? Do you want to have nothing to do with me or not? For once just tell me.” He asked, his voice deeper than usual, probably because of how upset he currently was.

If he wanted an answer about how I felt and what I wanted, then I was going to give him an answer. But it wasn’t going to be the one he was waiting for. I crossed my arms, hiding my heart so it wouldn’t interfere and mess with my words again.

“No, I don’t want to have to do anything with you because I don’t like you, Sam, and never will.” I lied and he growled, raising his arms in annoyance.

Good, if he hated me it would be easier to move on.

He cursed under his breath and turned around, walking to the door. He violently swung it open, making it slam against the wall on the other side. The banging resonated in the empty room. He scoffed, running his hands through his soft hair and I tried to keep my composure and don’t show that I indeed liked him. Him, his pretty hair, his perfect nose, his brain, his gentleness and his sarcasm. And this new behavior.

His back still to me, I saw him rub his huge hands against his face. His back was raising with every deep, sharp breath he was taking, showing the muscle rolling under his tight flannel. I clenched my jaws at the sight, repressing any thoughts or sounds. When he let go of his head and let his hands fall on his side, he let a long breath out before suddenly turning to me.

“Urgh, every time I believe I understand you, you manage to make me think the opposite. You’re unbelievably frustrating!” He declared, obviously upset of not being able to completely see right through me.

“Good.” I simply said, a smile on the corner of my lips, satisfied by the effect I was having on him this time.

But my happy face must have upset him even more because his eyes widened at the sight. His eyebrows in a frown, his lips pinched in a thin line and torso stuck out. He clearly didn’t like this tone I had used, which satisfied me even more. So I extended my smile and he clenched his jaw.

“I swear, you drive me crazy! You’re unbelievable.” He shouted and I took some steps towards him. I wasn’t going to be the only one shouted at.

“Well, if you didn’t get the message yet, the feeling is mutu-” I started but was immediately cut off by something covering my mouth, keeping me from finishing my sentence.

Lips…

Lips were crashing against mine. Sam’s lips were crashing against mine. Sam’s lips were preventing me from saying another word. And the whole world stopped.

His hands were on each side of my face, bringing me as close as possible into this kiss. His palms were so warm against my cheeks and his lips so soft. But the kiss wasn’t. From the way he was grabbing my face, his fingers tangling in my hair and the strength he was using to push his lips against mine; there was nothing delicate about this kiss. Our first one had been so soft, so gentle and almost clumsy. But this one was harsh, it was fierce, almost urgent. I closed my eyes, allowing myself to enjoy it for a moment before Sam started to take some rapid steps, making me move back until I felt the nearest wall pressing against my back.

I let a small sound escape and the tall man took advantage of this to open his mouth and kiss me harder, deeper. His lips were wet and against my will I opened my mouth too, letting the tip of his tongue meet mine. When I allowed this access, Sam brought his body closer to mine, caging me between his chest and the cold wall behind me. His hot breath got mix with mine, our breath and scent completing each others. Our lips kneaded each other and our tongues danced on a dominance song.

I wanted to stop this, I wanted to push him away, I wanted to hate it but the truth was I couldn’t get enough of it. I couldn’t get enough of him. His hands traveled from my face to the back of my neck and head, to put even more pressure on my lips and deepening this surprising new kiss. I let a moan out and when I heard the sounds I was making, something woke up in me, tearing me from this all too real dream.

My hands found his hard chest and I pressed against it, pushing him away as hard as I could. I knew I wasn’t strong enough to push this strong man by myself so he obviously let me. I lost the connection with his lips when he moved his head back. And his hands left my face to press against the wall behind me. His palm flat against it, he was still caging me with his body, his arms turning into gates, preventing me from escaping.

Both of us were out of breath, the hot air landing on my hungry lips, somehow cooling them down. Mine was slow and short in a desperate attempt to calm my crazy heartbeat. My eyes opened and I hadn’t even realized I had closed them in the first place.

The first thing I saw was his firm chest covered by the blue flannel he was wearing. His torso was rising with every breath he took and I swallowed with difficulty at the sight of my hands on it. I fought the urge to run my hands all over it and caress his pecks. To scratch the fabric and the skin with my nails. I took a deep breath to keep my composure and slowly raised my head.

And what a mistake it was.

Seeing Sam’s face overlooking me, his thin hair framing his angelic face warmed up my inside without my consent. I had never used such words to describe him but now that his face was inches away from mine, I couldn’t hold my thoughts back anymore. And if I listened to my desire, I would caress his face with the tips of my fingers, tracing every line of the soft skin, from his cupid’s bow to the line of soft skin behind his ears. I wanted to run my hands in his hair, losing my fingers in the soft locks. But my will to stay cold-heart and unreadable was stronger.

“I don’t like you…” I let out, my voice not louder than a whisper.

Hearing my own voice, I noticed the fake confidence had left it and I cursed myself for it. Sam must have known it was a complete lie because he smiled, the kind of smile which made his sweet dimples appear.

“You don’t?” He asked but this time all animosity was gone, as if he knew he had pierced through my walls and was getting to me.

I both hated and loved this confident side of him. And the way he asked this was my breaking point. My body and desire took over my mind like if they were themselves tired of me denying any attraction towards this man. Without even realizing it, my hands lifted themselves in the direction of his face and cupped his cheeks. They caressed the sides of his face before my fingers found themselves trapped in the maze of his hair.

Sam waited patiently for a second and I dared looking into his eyes. His indeterminate eyes. From the brief times I succeeded looking into his eyes, they were never really the same color. Sometimes they had some blue and green, other times they were hazel. It was never precise nor definite and at this right moment, when my eyes met his, they were brown with a touch of gold, shining with something I couldn’t put my finger on. But the look he was giving me, both impatient and stimulated, gave me the courage I needed to cross the line I had put to myself.

Pushing on my tiptoes, I used my hands to bring his beautiful face closer to mine and initiated a kiss for the first time. Sam seemed to appreciate it because he quickly leaned towards me and removed his hands from the wall to wrap his impressive strong arms around my body. I felt a certain discomfort when I felt his body pressed against mine but it quickly disappeared when I felt his tongue brushing mine.

Everything felt so slow, yet our breaths were quick, landing on each others cheeks, our lips finding each other with every movement of our heads. Sam’s hands slid down my sides and I tensed. I wanted to let myself be so much, but I still had difficulties letting him touch me in such a sensual way. Because with every meeting of our lips, every touch of our hands on each other, I felt it.

The undeniable attraction between us.

Sam moved away a second to take his breath back and let my head fall on his firm chest, my forehead pressing against it. He let out a chuckle at my action and I caught my breath too. His hands were still on my waist and I closed my eyes at the feeling, concentrating on his chest filling with every puff of air he took. Slowly, a little bubble of comfort was developing itself around us and in the well-being of it I let it slip.

“I don’t deserve someone like you.”

It was so low I didn’t even think I had said it or that he had heard it but when I felt his chest stop for a second, I knew it wasn’t the case. I clenched my jaws, regretting letting those words out of my mouth. But before I could add or do anything, Sam moved his hands to my face and cupped it like I had done with him seconds earlier.

Forcing me to look at him, I reluctantly raised my head and found his eyes staring at me. The softness of them made me melt. Once he was sure he had my full attention, the hunter caressed my cheekbones with his thumbs and intensely looked at me. For the first time, I held his gaze for more than two seconds.

“Don’t you ever say that again.” He firmly stated and without my consent tears filled my eyes.

I didn’t know that such a simple sentence could mean so much. Because behind those simple words was hidden the conversation we had in his bed. And under his tone were concealed emotions I had a hard time interpreting. So I did the only thing I could do and nodded. I nodded to tell him I understood him nevertheless. I nodded to explain that I wanted to never say or think that again, ever. I nodded to tell him I wanted to listen to him even if I wasn’t believing him yet. I nodded to let him know I was ready to open up to him.

As if he had read my mind, Sam let a small smile spread his thin lips and, in sync, we made our lips meet again.

With every movement of our heads, deepening our kiss, I let myself run my hands from his hair to his firm shoulders. Every time our lips separated so we could take a breath, I smelled him before his lips crashed on mine again. His scent and taste were intoxicating and I gladly let him poison me. In this moment, in the passion of this kiss, I could confess everything to him. I could reveal all my secrets, all of my sins and my darkest thoughts to him without any fear. But also my most hidden fantasies, all my dreams and hopes. Sometimes the ones that included him.

Sam’s hands slid down my body, landing on my hips and it felt like he wanted to grab my thighs and make me wrap them around his waist. And all I wanted was to let him do that, let him kiss me senseless and make me forget about the whole world, about myself. But when I didn’t jump like he was suggesting me to, Sam wrapped his arms around my body, encircling me with them, trapping me against him. Without realizing I let my head fall back, hitting the wall behind me, and the hunter used this opportunity to attack my neck with his lips.

A moan of pleasure immediately escaped me at the feeling of his mouth caressing my skin. My hands took a life on their own and hid in the tall man’s hair. I closed my eyes when his kiss became a bit wet, his teeth slowly grazing my skin. A shiver ran down my spine and echoed in my whole body, warming my inside and I let a loud sigh escape.

In the high of him, of the feeling of his lips against my sensitive skin, my mind shut down and my heart opened.

“I don’t want you to hurt me like he did.” I whispered, not fully aware of the words that had just escaped me. But reality hit me when I felt the hunter moving away from my neck and his breath landing on my lips.

“Who are you talking about?” He asked, a bit out of breath.

I immediately clenched my jaws, wanting to bite my cheeks and my tongue to prevent me from continuing. But my will to hold back all this part of my life disappeared when his fingers grabbed my chin and brought my head back to him. I finally opened my eyes and I hadn’t even realized I was panting. I gulped, preparing myself to reveal a name I never wanted to say again.

“Cameron.” I finally declared.

Sam frowned at me, his eyebrows getting closer to one another and his eyes darkened when he understood it was the name of a man. A feeling of shame and regret made my body freeze for a second, and the hunter took a deep, tensed breath, his chest filling with air. Clenching his jaw for a short moment and gulping, he finally loosen up, his shoulders lowering.

“Who is that?” He asked, but not out of curiosity more dislike.

Sam stared at me, trying to read my thoughts as I stayed silent. I tried to look away, avoiding his gaze and this topic but I knew it was useless as the hunter moved in front of me to keep my eyes locked with him. My brain screamed at me to stay quiet, to ignore his question and even kiss him all night if it meant we could avoid this conversation. But my heart – this damn heart – pounded faster in my chest and it felt like it wanted to come out and reveal everything to Sam. A little voice reassured me, telling me I could trust him but another one tried to gag it so it would stay silent.

“Don’t close up now…” He pleaded, shutting both voices up and my eyes locked with his.

There, in the spark of gold of his pupils, I knew I could finally confess everything to him. I had denied him and avoided him for months now but tonight, I was ready to share with him how a boy had stabbed me through the heart.

I hope you liked it ! Let me know if you did !

Tags : @emilielbls @roonyxx @awkward-and-indecisive @thoughts-and-funnies @siospins2 @avanatural @waynes-multiverse @akshi8278 @snowlovespie

#a supernatural journey #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #sam winchester fanfiction #dean x oc #sam x oc #dean winchester x oc #sam winchester x oc #dean winchester fanfic #sam winchester fanfic #supernatural series #dean winchester series #sam winchester series

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sandrabailey316 · 11 months

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There was a right wing activist in the '70s who came out of Oklahoma who started in anti-gay movement against homosexuals. This was a proposition that she made nationally that if you were gay you would lose your job you would lose your house you would lose all rights to go into public places. People who were allies to homosexuals friends and family also lost their houses and their jobs and couldn't go into public places either.

In 1978 Wichita, Kansas (which I currently reside in on and off for about 30 years now) was the first city to pass this ordinance against gay people so they were arrested and thrown in jail just for being homosexual on top of losing their houses and their jobs and their friends.

About 4 years ago I was a traveling bartender and I came out as bisexual but I did not come out here. To anyone not even my closest friends. Not even my best friend of 25 years. Two years ago I came out as a bisexual woman finally here in Wichita. Since then I have seen Kansas try and know my niece and her wife's marriage. Gay friends of mine trans friends of mine I've seen them personally and physically attacked. ( I did actually punch one of these attackers in a bar that I had already been kicked out of twice so it really didn't matter to me) He was my cousin and he came out as gay. He made the mistake of going to the restroom because we were filling up on beer, and these men followed him in there, and started pushing him physically around and making jokes and trying to keep him from getting out the door. Strangely enough the leader of these people what is really trying to pick me up. When my cousin came back out to the patio and he explained to me exactly what happened and told him me he was not comfortable there and that we should go. I finally got him to tell me why and what happened. The" leader" that was trying to get me trying to get me away from my cousin and offered to buy me a drink well there were a couple things I could do. So I smiled at him said nothing and punched him in the face. Before I was about to throw a patio chair my cousin picked me up and physically took me outside because the bartender was yelling about how I punched this "man.' (a term that I am using very loosely.)

Anyway guys back to this Anita Bryant or as I like to call her the "Devil's Mistress." Finally got to her 40th City in the United States to pass this proposition that all gay Americans were to lose their house etc.

No let's just stop right here okay because I am originally from Moore, Oklahoma. I love my home state of Oklahoma. That's where I spent all my young life on my grandpa's farm that's where me and my big sister were driving a small tractor and got in trouble for running through my grandma's garden of tomatoes. It's where I learned to ride a horse with a saddle and bareback. Absolutely love Oklahoma. However Anita Bryant is the shame of Oklahoma.

Still to this day in my own City and your own city everywhere violence against transgender people has risen quite substantially. This also includes even a gay person.

I did not want to come out in Wichita if you've been reading this article you would understand why things here have not gotten better.

A game and approached me on the street the other day and asked me if he could please use my cell phone to call the police he was the homeless guy but I took him over to a safe place where these guys wouldn't find him give him a couple cigarettes give him the phone and tried to help him make a report because these two men had cornered him in an alley and they had both taken turns raping him. The police did nothing.

In closing I would like to say" it's nobody's goddamn business who anybody else is sleeping with." I would also like to say just because somebody says they are gay "that doesn't mean that they want to have sex with you." Do you want to screw everybody you meet?!! Didn't think so. So what makes gay and transgender people different in that area?

I've been on many of not so peaceful protest about LGBTQIA right because even though these people that are my friends maybe gay and I may be half gay they look no different in my eyes as someone I grew up with or my niece I changed her diaper these are people I love and they're fighting for their lives right now.

I'm done with today's blog. You're free to go find something else to do.

Your Friend, Sandy

#lgbtqia+

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askthepsychic · 1 year

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The First Ghost

Seeing as my job deals with death a lot, it’s only natural that I have more than my share of sadder stories. But for me personally, this is definitely the one I count as the saddest. It started a while before I even got my cutie mark. Back then, my mother was raising me alone. One day when I came home from school I found her passed out on the kitchen floor. There was a plate on the counter, so I guessed that she’d lost consciousness in the middle of eating lunch. I ran outside to the neighbors to get help and she was taken to the hospital. When I got there later, I was told that… she was very sick. But because I was still so young then, they didn’t tell me what was wrong with her. I asked to stay with her. I even asked for some time off school. Due to the situation, both requests were granted. Whatever was wrong with her wasn’t contagious, so it was safe for me to stay with her. A few weeks passed. She was conscious on and off. That’s how I realized later that whatever was wrong was in her head. One day she called for some relatives from the Apple Farm to come see her. When they arrived, she asked me to leave the room for a bit. As I left, a pony in a really official looking suit entered. A lawyer, I realize now. They were all closed in that room without me for about an hour. Finally, the relatives and the lawyer left and mom called me back in. I asked what that was all about and she said it wasn’t anything to worry about at the time. Looking back now, I realize that she was protecting my peace of mind. After that day, she started to steadily get sicker. I could only watch as she kept getting weaker. Finally, I asked what was happening to her. Instead of answering verbally, she… she took her hat, her most prized possession aside from me, off of her head and.., placed it on mine. I’d gone through the death of my grandma two years before. I knew what my mom’s gesture meant. I don’t think I got a wink of sleep the last few days of… her life. I… I wanted to be with her when she… Finally it happened. She was asleep at the time when I saw her chest shudder, before going still. Just like that, she was gone. There wasn’t even any point for them to try resuscitating her. Her sickness had been found to be terminal when she was first diagnosed. That’s why the lawyer and relatives had come by. She was… making her final arrangements. I was placed in the care of those same relatives, and they did love me as their own, but it wasn’t the same as having my mother. One night, when I was sitting up in bed, thinking of all the things I still wanted to say to her, to tell her, I noticed a feeling in the room, like I wasn’t alone. I tried to will them to go away, I was tired of apologies. Then I heard a familiar, but unexpected voice, asking me which did I really want? To see her again, or for her to go away. I finally looked up and there she was, looking as real and as healthy as she ever had, with the exception of the fact that her hooves weren’t touching the floor. I didn’t even notice the tingling on my flank as the thoughts of everything I wanted to say raced through my mind before I realized that talking wasn’t what I really wanted. What I really wanted was just to… hug her one more time. So I did. As she held me, she told me that I had a big job ahead of me. That she was only the first of many that I would have to help. I asked if I had helped her and she said yes. She told me that after her body finally betrayed her, leaving her immobile in that hospital bed, all she wanted was to hold me one last time. Now that she had, she could finally move on in peace, so she did. I held her until she faded completely. Case closed. Now, if you’ll all excuse me, I need to recover from telling this story. Until next time.

#Ghost Post 2 #askthepsychicofponyville #mlp

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zzznap · 2 years

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my grandma has the loudest voice and sharpest memory I've seen and she greeted everyone with so much enthusiasm and loved talking even when she lost almost all of her hearing. she was a woman with a job in the 50s, a health inspector who you had to fear if you didn't keep your restaurant sanitary. my mom never particularly liked her because she was never home always working to feed the kids being the sole breadwinner probably meant my mom didn't get a mom who had time to listen to her, but my mom never forgets to wish her on her birthday, my mom's favourite thing is getting wished on her birthday and even if her husband and kid forgets it her mom always called her (with the help of my aunt she doesn't know how to use a phone) to wish her happy birthday

she would've been 90 this year, the oldest any of my grandparents have ever lived, and even in her final days, delirious and calling out to someone, her voice was as strong as ever, microphone chords i called them, it really was that loud you should've heard it you wouldn't believe someone that old would have that kind of voice

always full of love and worry and loud concern and a smiling face, someone who was always beloved because she would remember everything about you and would want to talk with you for hours, even if you just passed by our house, so full of love and so eager to talk, didn't even stop her even when she physically couldn't, always leaving her marks in anyone's mind, an unbelievably strong woman with so much history

there's a family photo of hers in the shelf, of her brother and parents and her, and she's told me the day that photo was taken she'd broken her arm falling off from a cycle, but she'd got up brushed the dirt off her pulled her arm into place and got to the photo studio and then left to the hospital, and that's why, she said, you can see me covering my arm there, she'd point at the photo, and next to that photo there are three pictures of me in various ages, the grandkid she never gets to see who lives in a different country, and a picture of my cousin brother at 21 her only other grandkid and no other pictures, come to think of it we've never had a family photo

I don't remember my grandfather her husband all that much, he passed away when i was around 10 or 11, only one memory of sitting in his lap and i think we were talking about life and death and he said i too will pass away and i got so upset i put my little hands around his mouth and said don't say that, that is the only memory i have of him

I wish i wouldn't forget her memories too, let me forget how warm her back was when i lifted her dead body to dress her up all pretty, but don't let me forget what she'd call me when i would come visit her, harikutten and kunjimol, my brother and i, no one else in the world calls us by that name, and now no one else will

she passed away on thursday morning, 8:45 am 7th july 2022, fell into her son's lap as she had a heartattack after being in the hospital for about a month and a half, 90 years of history erased just like that, she was a religious women, always praying, so she probably believed in souls, even in her last days, one of the days i sat by her, she was delirious calling out to a friend- her husband, smiling and chatting, teasing him i think, i hope she finds him, i hope she's happy i really hope she's happy

#dddk.txt #so beloved my everybody that everyone showed up to her funeral #and some people were so sad when we forgot to inform they said they wanted to see her one last time

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weisserose-comic · 29 days

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✨Meet The Characters - Weisse Rose✨

Santiago "Jesus" Del Castillo

Now, Wasima's best friend in the whole world - we finally have Santiago, last, not least, and Jesus member of the Weisse Rose <3

He is of Romani descent, Spanish and called Jesus because, well, his friends said he looks like Jesus and it stuck (it's the ~gorgeous~ hair)

As always, character sheet info here and more notes on my dearest Santi down below!

Also it's the Spanish 'Jesus' pronunciation, not English 'Jesus' pronunciation

Age: 30

Height: 1.78 (5'8)

Astrological Sign: Capricorn (oh the walking contradiction)

Languages: Spanish, Catalán, Arabic, English, French, Italian, Romanian, Portuguese

Heavenly Virtue: Chill and Welcoming - very hard to get him mad and he's very accepting of everyone; if you're a living being, you have a place in his heart

Hellish Sin: Responsibility and Commitment Issues - he's afraid of having too much responsibilities and being tied down; thinks he is only a stop for people to grow and then leave him, so he doesn't want big commitments

Current Occupation: Hairdresser - doesn't like working forever at one place and takes a lot of odd jobs as well

As tall as Marty? A little taller?

Handsome, silky long brunette hair, dark hazel/brown eyes, beard, tan skin, kind smile (the eyes turned green in the final design)

Very easy going, very chill, very nice

Love thy brother and be loved in return sort of guy

Real name is Santiago but he looks like Jesus, so everyone calls him Jesus (Spanish pronunciation)

Bassist - likes to play hard, quite differently from his personality

Wasima's best friend in the world

Kinda very Catholic family

Helped Wasima when they met at school for being outcasts

Got Wasima into the underground and LGBTQ+ scene

Always played in metal bands, but so happy to jam with her whenever she wanted him to

Loves deeply and believes in loving everyone, but thinks love will never really find him

Used to being mistreated and hated because of his Romani background

His parents tried to "cut ties" with their Romani descent so their children wouldn't suffer as much prejudice as they did

Didn't really work, but they did try

Feels more inclined to get in touch with his nomadic roots rather than conforming to a society that doesn't like him

B r e a k s when treated like an equal/with respect

Doesn't like violence, but will feel weirdly loved when Diana fistfights some nazis who are threatening him for being a 'gypsy'

The whole band breaking the club down in a fight and Santi there, crying in a corner because people love him that much

Owns a Tarot Deck and is very good at Fortune Telling, thank you very much

Can dance Flamenco like NO TOMORROW (and it's pretty good at Flamenco guitar playing too)

He's Dante from Devil May Cry

I wanted a fancy name for my dearest Santiago, a.k.a Jesus. A LOT of religious jokes with this one, just wait and see. Also, I wanted him to be of Romani descent, because of some people in my family who were - but it got lost down the bloodline as they didn't have the chance to teach what they knew. I know a couple of things my grandma and my aunt tell me, but I don't know ALL the culture - I know that it varies from country to country and, once Santiago is Spanish, it probably differs a LOT from my family/country.

We absolutely adore Gypsy Kings and Flamenco, though, so I had to give him that. I won't take it away. I don't care if people say it's cliché, he is a Gypsy Kings and Flamenco lover, I won't have any less from this GORGEOUS man. Thank you.

Same goes for Tarot and Fortune Telling, my own tarot deck sends regards

And a little thing to add: the third drawing below, the one he's shirtless and looking quite surprised, is just Santi being told he looks handsome and hot - not used to hearing himself being described like that and thinking no one would ever think he is handsome and hot. It warms my heart.

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theonethatslowlyfade · 1 month

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Not a take on a character. Just a reflection on a personal insight, that maybe will help someone, someway, somewhere. Bit of a long, personal rambling with a good twist at the end.

Warning: possible triggering for death, sex, anxiety, cancer, suicide temes.

I lived in fear for the most of my life, from when I was very young. Literally seen a wave of shit from 6-something to a 33 years old (now).

Punch, slaps, kicks and bruises from an highly manipulative dad. My mom loved him and I was very fond of him. Anyway, he died for a jump accident with the wrong paraglider.

Then mom. We were alone and without any parental support, She was *so* young herself, we had so little. She grew me alone, through hundred of problems, working the hell out of Her while I was studying. I was a terrible emotional and physical mess of a teen, always riding and gravitating along troubles. Not Major ones - a bit of everything, the usual kind for a teen. Sexual Discovery, piercing, tattoo, alcool abuse, cigarettes, angst, maybe a Little of substance abuse. She had seen me through the "every two to six month someone new" phase. She died early from lunger cancer when I was 23.

In that same years (19-23 roughly) I went through a lot. A not-very-stable mass of girlfriends, one of which I truly cherished a lot until I felt It was a lost cause between out messed lives. A fling with a boy, that same final month - I went from a 2y relationship to an horrible one night stand and being a crying mess for falling in love and being ghosted. When She fell ill I was entangled in an (abusive?) relationship with an older man on the verge of marrying with another lady.

He Never told me he was into a 8y relationship until I found After a bit. We were both ttrpg lovers and (mostly) live roleplayer like Her, he started to push Her into every live-event while keeping our relationship secret. What an hellhole, I was madly in love again. Thanks to a common "friend" (another manipulative *ss that I rejected and tried to put leverage on jealousy with being with another partner at the same time) I eventually bursted out and called him out.

But then I was in shambles. 23 with a lot of sudden pressure to sell out home by dad grandma&dad, no income, nearly no friends, forced out from art studies into a secretary work that proclaimed they were my "new family" and tried to push my mother's death under the rug. I dumped so much trauma on my only bbf shoulders She literally escaped in another country. I burnt all I had 360 around me. Dwelled in pain and sorrow and self loath and several attempt at suicide, and didnt even knew what was going on anymore. I used sex to deflect, threw myself in to anyone I could without regards - nor for my safety, nor for my well being. No questions asked. The only One that Always kept me safe and fed was my mom boyfriend and I hated him so much at First - his patience be blessed.

Months and months of being fucked, booze, rinse and repeat, throwing up food, eating something to keep me alive here and there, always around pubs and people, fighting with insonnia and not be able to sleep enough or at all, but having to work early, never wanting to be at home either, nor being alone with myself.

There was a bit of time in which I lived practically in my car going around endlessly driving like a crazy at 4-5 am or slept in the worker's bathroom until I had to be in the office at 8. I was utterly, completely *broken*.

Then I found a bunch of people I *did* like being around, during a lucky evening at a birthday of a common friend. The partner I am with now from 2015, making a joke on my Mass Effect shirt and Halo's shared interest.

When I started to feel better, I started not working my ass off in the office. I requested a part-time, invested a bit in healt and my boss didnt like It.

I left my job, my partner lost his due to a leg operation - less money, depression, anxiety started to kick in on my mind. I jumped from One job to another for a long period of time, then started to study again. Videogame design, alongside movie's screenplay. Then again stopped from the raging stress and from the expectance of my grands that were absolutely convinced I had to stop being a mess of an adult and start being a serious well behaved parent to a bunch of childs for them to pamper (fun fact: no.).

Eventually in december 2023 something clicked in the right way. Through an awful lot of meds, therapy and after a jump right in to the void with a few, great people, far from home. Sure the trip helped a bit. I wasnt even remotely able to see whatever value I held. All my strenghts were devoted to being able to walk again on my own once. I just throwed myself in a direction and hoped for the better.

After, for months again, I was being able to think only about the *wrongs* - how I probably ridiculed myself in front of others, how weak and wrong I felt, how much fear overall - gosh, so much fear of everything, even the basic talk, even the slightest tiny bit of conversation outside from glances and the occasional "ok, how are you?".

In the latest weeks I'm finally starting being able to sew the pieces together. Or better, to see the stiches under. To remember the smiles here and there from the people I encountered. To feel the *good*. I'm so grateful to the friends that helped here, and to the strangers that were simply nice on the way. The flight attendant that threatened the whole flight with the nicest "if we find you using e-cig on board, the ariplane will burn, but we'll burn you first for sure". The nice lady at the reception. The kind workers that helped me navigate without asking a question, probably exhausted and bothered for whatever their personal reasons along the teachers and the students - trubled, worried, freaking scared, freaking corageous. The friends that went out straight home to fed my partner, kept the house, make sure it didn't blow up while I was away and called me, pushed me all the way through. Art, a bit more sleep, a bit less alchool - not feeling great, not gonna lie, but not scraping it all feeling uneasy. Start talking a bit about how I feel/see my body with honesty. Start talking at all, at times. Keeping being foolishly romantic about life.

Being able to excert again a bit of control, an ounce of well being, makes you damn hungry for life. Sure I didn't see the worst, didn't had the worst. Neither the best. Maybe I'll never be "alright", but I'm starting to feel "alright" means nothing. Or very much in perspective. I see so much people in pain, so much people hurting for so many reasons. Please don't let it go. Don't leave. Don't stop being hungry for life. Don't stop wanting it all (yeah, good take on that, pale elf)! It IS so hard. But you're good, you're heard, you're seen, you're doing a DAMN GOOD JOB. You heard me? A DAMN GOOD JOB. *Pat*.

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johnbazley · 4 months

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Sincerity is scary

On liking what you like and writing about it

In 2015, I quit my job as a staff writer at Alt Press. My editor told me I couldn’t write about the then-mostly-underground band PUP, whom I loved, because I had to write a listicle about scene bands’ Halloween costumes, which I hated. That was when I knew it was over. I couldn’t scrounge the love for it anymore. I called my editor one night from my bedroom, nervous about the possibility that I’d never write about music again, and quit the job I had wanted for years. The next morning, I drove around Monmouth County with a coffee from Starbucks and listened to that PUP album, trying not to think too hard about why I liked it.

I got into writing about music when I was eighteen because all of my friends were in local bands, and I wanted to write them into exposure. By the time I turned twenty-one, most of my friends’ bands broke up. By twenty-two, the blogs I had come up reading and writing for had all shut down. I took a big step back from music writing and went to grad school, deciding finally that I didn’t want to edit Pitchfork or write a cover story for Rolling Stone anymore. I realized that most jobs in music writing don’t give the writer much opportunity to write about what they actually want to write about, and they certainly don’t pay enough to make that compromise feel worth it, so I decided to give up. I went to grad school, seeking an MFA.

I spent my first semester wonder if the whole thing was a mistake—I didn’t make many friends during my first few months in the program, and I wasn’t sure whether or not I wanted to create the type of writing that Sarah Lawrence’s non-fiction program teaches: personal essays and memoir, mostly. I really wanted to write about what made me like that PUP album so much, the way I felt while listening to “Resevoir” the day after I quit my dream job. I wanted to write about the shows I attended in high school and college, the nights that made me feel alive when I was depressed into suicidal ideation. It took me a long time to gather the courage to do it. I didn’t want to get laughed out of the room.

Here’s what I wished I knew then: the most universal language of writing is the personal. I learned that after reading Hanif Abdurraqib’s They Can’t Kill Us Until They Kill Us over winter break that year. When I feel disillusioned with my writing practice, I read the introduction to the book, written by poet and scholar Eve Ewing:

…Hanif Abdurraqib is something between an empath and an illusionist. Among the thousands who have read his work, I am confident that I am not alone when I say that Hanif lured me in with a magic trick—by apparently knowing the textures of my relationship to songs and athletes and places that I love. He knows our secrets. He has an uncanny ability to write about music and the world around it as though he was sitting there on the couch with you in your grandma’s basement, listening to her old vinyl, or he was in the car with you and your high school friend who would later become your boyfriend, singing until you were hoarse, or he was on the bus with you when you sat in the back with your headphones on trying to look a lot harder and meaner than you really were. He seems to know all about that summer, that breakup, that mix she made you that you lost when someone broke into your car later that year.

It’s that feeling, that the writer was there with you during the biggest moments of your life, that makes good writing sing. This paragraph makes me remember what incredible writers like Hanif are capable of, what I am capable of when I try. It makes the blog-world feel small and petty. I think about this paragraph when I need a reminder that I’m the only one who gets to decide if my writing is sincere or not.

This line of work doesn’t pay much. The rejection can hurt. Sometimes, it is that “magic trick”—that feeling that the writer knows exactly how you feel, and gives you permission for feeling it—that makes writing about music feel worth doing at all. When I first started to read They Can’t Kill Us Until They Kill Us, I couldn’t believe that someone allowed Hanif Abdurraqib to write poignant, earnest, deeply-personal essays about the music that I grew up listening to, feeling more strongly about than anything, about Fall Out Boy, about The Wonder Years. It took me too long to learn that, in order to write like that, the only person I needed permission from was myself.

I published an essay about Fall Out Boy’s Infinity On High in Catapult Magazine last year. In drafting that essay, I tried to avoid writing about the way that album sounds, its place in the Fall Out Boy discography. Instead, I tried to focus on its place in my world. I wrote how it came to me during a time of economic and personal uncertainty, how it makes me miss all of the people I loved who moved away after the Great Recession hit, how something as simple as burned CD dropped in my lap by a friend created an entire world within me. I wrote it in grad school to please myself, to feel like I was getting away with something by writing about pop-punk in my Very Serious Grad School Workshop. When Catapult published it, Pete Wentz read it. He even shared it on Twitter, complimenting the exact thing I was going for:

When I read that tweet, I collapsed the floor, dumbstruck not by the fact that Pete Wentz read my essay, but that he got it. That he glossed over the part where I admitted that I didn’t care for Folie a Deux too much when it dropped because the heart of the essay—the sincere part, the part that was hard to write—resonated.

I guess what I’m getting at is that I’m tired of the game. It’s easy to write about music; I’ve been doing it since before I could drive. It’s also easy to say that someone’s work isn’t sincere because you don’t agree with it. It’s difficult and terrifying to write what’s true. I’m tired of the way that music writers treat cynicism like honesty, that way sincerity and uncorrupted enjoyment, sentimentality, nostalgia, is scoffed at as a ploy for retweets.

The truth is, there’s no glory in being the coolest kid in the room. If there’s an in-crowd, I want out. We’re all broke at the end of the day, anyway. I don’t want to be the first one across the indie rock finish line. I’d rather read something personal, something about how a top 40 emo-pop album got you through a difficult time, or how one Bright Eyes song allowed you to come out to yourself, or how Lorde’s Melodrama convinced you to drop your abusive partner. I want to know about your life. I think that’s a million time more interesting than whichever indie band’s bandwagon we’re all hopping on this week. I’m more concerned with your textures—the memories associated with music that make music feel like something more than some files on our iPhones—than I am with finding another band I’ll listen to once and abandon. If you need permission, here it is.

#bsidecollection

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agirlwritingthingsforgirlstoread · 10 months

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I lost my grandmother, my dog, and my boyfriend left to travel overseas indefinitely all in a week’s timespan.

I’m mainly writing this post for myself to process all of the grief and loss in my life. In late May I got a 911 text at 6 AM from my mom. In hindsight it was obvious, but I called anyway. I called to hear my mother bawling her eyes out and barely making sense. I couldn’t listen. I didn't let her finish. I just told her I was on my way. I drove the few hours up the road to a hospital, called a few friends for support, and finally arrived to a group of heartbroken family members, willing their way through the most tragic day of their lives. To be clear, I’ve lost a parent before, but my grandma was closer to me than my father had been. My father was extremely harsh on me and hated the quirky Black girl I would inevitably become. But not my grandma. She’d see the joy in my face as I talked about politics, the uncomfortable way I discussed “girly” things, and let me exist on my own terms, no changes necessary. Losing the dog a few days later really broke me. My Chihuahua had been with my family for 14 years. She’d bark on my bed to keep everyone away while I was sick. What’s really killing me today though is losing my boyfriend of 8 months, We are grown adults so we didn’t really have a “honeymoon” phase in our relationship. We started as complete people, real and honest, and had serious discussion that led to disagreements pretty early on. Yet we were both committed to making it work. We were each other’s forever person. He had me saved in his phone as his one true love. I still believe it. We had a big fight a few weeks before over me not prioritizing him over my job and by the time we started talking again and made up, he had planned an impromptu trip to the Philippines for a month. Every time I get an update from him it's about how happy he is, how he’s never been so happy in his life, and my stomach just sinks. He’s building a life without me. I wasn’t surprised when he told me he wanted to live there permanently. I knew it was coming. I still cried though. I lost the love of my life, my grandmother, and my spirit animal, all in a week and I’m not okay.

#depression #help me #not okay #astrology

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johndonneswife · 1 year

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i just need to vent real quick about how i just had to put $1.5k into my car for repairs (my shit car that’s apparently only worth like 5k so what am i even doing anymore), it’s impossible to get the medicine my cat needs for some unknown stupid fucking reason and i’ve had to run around to 6 pharmacies to refill the script, the toilet in our one bathroom has been broken and our maintenance people keep fucking it up even more every time they try to fix it…they keep coming in during my meetings and my boss acts like i’ve killed a man every time someone walks behind me. fuck off. i’ve been hating my job so much lately but i’m too chicken shit to stop making 6 figures as a corporate sellout and pursue something i might actually fucking enjoy and be poor again. every single time i have to write someone up or make another training about some useless bullshit i die a little inside. my feet are fucked up because i got healthier and lost weight when i started to commit to ED recovery and have been way more active in general (fucking. so stupid. i get why but how fucking dumb is that), i need to get my fucking tonsils out, my grandma is dying and i’m refusing to think about that and this might be the last time i see her but i feel too numb to process it. i need a hug. i need to talk about what i want but every time i try it just sounds too fucking selfish. i’m flying to nyc on friday for a surprise party for my mom’s 60th that 1) i don’t even want to go to 2) i planned all by myself, because my father and sister are useless, even though i told them like 5 times in the past 6 months that i don’t have the time or energy to plan something for her but - here i am - 3 days before her party, talking to vendors and finalizing shit and doing everything by myself, sinking my time and money into something my mom probably won’t even appreciate, all because her stupid fuck ass husband can’t do a fucking thing for her for once in his stupid fucking life because he’s been babied and enabled by her for 30 years and can’t even make one single phone call because it’s too much for him. grow up. the worst part is i will be taking care of all of them - forever - unless i learn how to set boundaries - but i can’t even do that because they will threaten me and guilt me until the end of time. and maybe i’m the one who needs to grow up, actually

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andyourhostkristenwiig · 2 years

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So thanks to my former best friend, I actually can’t turn off my head during my days off work like I wanted and needed.

I just can’t get over why I “lost” three “close” friends within the past 2 years?

1.)

- things didn’t go her way, so she went crying to our boss, faking stories and crying, making me the bad guy just so things would be the way she prefered

2.)

- cries to me that all his friends forget about him and don’t care about him once they find a significant other and he’s glad he has a friend in me, gets a girlfriend, doesn’t even greet me outside anymore, ignores my message, doesn’t keep his promise of helping me out with my car

3.)

- claims things between us were “weird” when in reality, what her stubborn head wanted didn’t work out, I didn’t want it to begin with so fixing it would’ve been her part (I’m not even gonna lie, she was such a bitch about that trip that I had so much fun seeing her plan fall apart) - claims things were “weird” when 4 of us met secredtly during lockdown in 2020 because my nephew was soo devasted about his concert being cancelled...but everyone posted a picture of their negative covid test while she claimed “yeah, same on mine”, knowing full well she didn’t believe in the virus, didn’t wear masks and didn’t social distance, we kept distance from her during the evening - claims I didn’t talk to her anymore when I waited about a week to receive maybe 2 answers on 5 texts, she wouldn’t answer work mails or the work phone so I didn’t text her anymore or kept my answers super short because I didn’t want to start a conversation we were never gonna continue - claims I withheld money from her despite me not even having the refund yet, didn’t even react when I told her I didn’t have the money yet - made my emotional victorious moment of finally having quit my job all about herself by going “oh well, nice that you’re telling me already” when I didn’t tell her within a week and claiming she’s made peace with us not being friends anymore a long time ago (despite me assuring her that only 2 people outside of work knew) - had the absolute most disrespectful reaction when I told her I can’t answer because my grandma is at the hospital - texts me Wednesday evening, thursday morning and then gets mad on Friday that I haven’t answered despite Thursday having been my birthday

I don’t get it!! This all reads like things that happened in school. But they’re all adults (more or less...not sure how adult someone is who doesn’t pay their own bills in their mid-twenties because mommy and daddy do, lives with them rent-free and can only can from A to B being driven by daddy no matter what time it is)...at least by age.

Things don’t always work out 100% in your favour! It is entirely possible to have friends and a girlfriend. Problems can be talked about, sometimes only one person finds things are off between you, you have to talk about it. It is perfectly normal even for good friends to go a while without talking because life gets in the way or to have a weird evening together. And most importantly: IF THINGS ARE SUPER IMPORTANT AND TIME IS PRESSING, YOU CALL AND DON’T RELY ON YOUR THREE SENT TEXT MESSAGES WITHIN THE LAST 48 HOURS! Who has the time to be connected to their phone 24 hours a day??

Honestly, I’m too old for this shit. I just want friends who don’t act like the world is ending because I couldn’t find the time to reply or who feel betrayed and act like victims because things aren’t going the way they wanted.

#this has been a rant...#she's ruined my week off now because my head just won't shut up #she's blocked now so don't worry #but I can't believe she thinks she's like...IT when it comes to being an adult #nobody is perfect #but this...ugh

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