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idreamofhazeleyes · 6 years

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Ties in Blood -- Chapter 11

Alright, since I’m on a roll here, trying to get another chapter or two done before Nano starts up in little more than a day. Here’s chapter 11. I might get chapter 12 done either tonight or tomorrow and posted. Again, like always, tag lists are open. And if you are tagged and don’t wanna be, let me know.

@mrswhozeewhatsis @revwinchester @percussiongirl2017 @winchestergirl-13 @thing-you-do-with-that-thing

Chapter 11

Aaliyah kept watch on the house from the backseat of the Impala. She could see Monica and her husband through the open window.

“Maybe we can tell ‘em there’s a gas leak,” Sam suggested. “Might get ‘em out of the house for a few hours.”

“Yeah, and how many times has that worked for us?” Dean pointed out.

“We could tell ‘em the truth,” Aaliyah spoke up. She looked over to the boys, who had turned their heads over the back of the front seat. Dean raised an eyebrow at her. “Nah,” she spoke right along with the brothers. “Yeah, I know. But from what’s going to happen with them…” Aaliyah gestured toward the house.

“You know we’ve got one move,” Dean told her. “Gotta wait for the demon to show itself, then we get it before it gets them.”

Aaliyah nodded as she turned her attention back to the house as Sam wondered out loud how John was doing. Dean voiced how he would feel better backing him up while Sam voiced the reverse feeling; John there backing them up.

“This is weird,” Sam spoke up after a while.

“What?” Aaliyah asked.

“After all these years, we’re finally here. It doesn’t feel real.”

“We just gotta keep our heads and do our jobs,” Dean told him. “Like always.”

“Yeah, but this isn’t always,” Sam countered.

“True.”

“Dean,” Sam trailed off. “I want to say thanks.”

“For what?”

“Everything. You’ve always had my back, you know,” Sam said. “Even when I couldn’t count on anyone, I could with you. I don’t know. I just wanted you to know. Just in case...”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Dean pulled the reins back. “Are you kidding me?”

“What?”

“Don’t say just in case something happens to you,” Dean told his brother. “I don’t want to hear that speech, man. Nobody’s dying tonight. Not us, not that family.” Dean gestured toward the house. “Nobody. Except that demon. That evil son of a bitch ain’t getting older than tonight, you understand me?”

Aaliyah felt her mouth pull in a little smirk. There was something about the sheer determination from Dean that no one was going to die on their watch. She shifted in the back seat, turning to face the door with one leg tucked under her with the other knee at her chest. The sounds of Dean pulling out his cell and making a call drifted back to her.

“He’s not picking up,” he announced.

“Maybe Meg was late,” Aaliyah suggested. “Or the reception’s bad.”

“Yeah, well…”

The radio that had been playing low for background noise starting going static.

“Guys, listen,” Aaliyah brought their attention to the radio. Sam reached out and turned the radio up, the static going higher as it came and went. Aaliyah glanced around out the windows as the wind picked up as the house light flickered.

“It’s coming,” Sam announced.

Aaliyah didn’t hold back as she opened her door and charged for the house. Dean’s voice shouted after her to wait. She slowed coming up to the front door as Dean came up beside her and worked the lock with a card. He motioned Sam through first before allowing Aaliyah to follow so he took up the rear.

With the house dark and quiet, Aaliyah moved into the living room, doing her best to have light footsteps. Stepping around a corner, she barely caught a motion out of the corner of her eye before ducking a bat. It came back around as Dean stepped in between Aaliyah and the one swinging.

“Get out of my house,” a man shouted.

“Please, Mr. Holden,” Sam cut in.

Dean gained control against Holden, pinning him against a wall with the bat against his throat. “Be quiet and listen,” he told him in a sharp tone. “Be quiet and listen. We are trying to help you.”

“Charlie?” a woman’s voice called from upstairs. “Is everything okay?”

Aaliyah caught Sam’s panicked expression and darted for the stairs even as both he and Charlie yelled at Monica. One telling her to stay out of the nursery and the other to get the baby. Charlie yelled after Aaliyah to keep away from Monica while he fought to free himself from Dean’s hold.

Aaliyah stopped in the nursery door just as Monica was flung against a wall by a dark figure. She caught the eyes of the figure; yellow eyes. Aaliyah sensed a presence behind her and fought against flinching as a gun shot went off. The figure disappeared even before the blast ended. All the while, Monica was yelling about Rosie. Aaliyah darted over to the crib even as Sam helped Monica to her feet. Aaliyah reached down and picked up Rosie, wrapping the blankets around her just before the crib engulfed in flame. She jumped back from the crib before racing from the room after Sam and Monica. Aaliyah stumbled out the front door, holding Rosie to her chest even as her lungs burned from the smoke.

A few tears streamed down her cheeks from her smoke irritated eyes.

“Get away from my family,” Charlie yelled, being held back by Dean.

“Charlie, wait,” Monica requested. “They saved us.”

Aaliyah handed Rosie over to Monica as she started crying. Aaliyah joined the brothers as Charlie took his wife and daughter in his arms. Her attention drifted with theirs up to the nursery where the demon stood still with the room burning around it. Someone bumped into her in their effort to return to the house.

“Sam? Sam, no,” Dean protested, grabbing hold of his arm.

“It’s still in there, Dean,” Sam argue.

“It’s burning to the ground,” Aaliyah pointed out. “It’s suicide.”

“I don’t care,” Sam yelled at her.

“I do,” Dean yelled at him.

Aaliyah looked back up to the nursery window and watched the flames rise higher and the demon disappear. “Come on, guys,” her voice low enough it surprised her. “Let’s get back to the motel.”

***

Aaliyah sniffed her jacket, still smelling the smoke from the house. Better than dealing with the dirt and grim from dealing with the vampire nest. She tried to ignore Dean’s pacing in his nervous state in trying to call John.

“Come on, Dad,” he said out loud. “Damn it, answer your phone.” He hung up. “Something’s wrong.”

Aaliyah shifted her eyes over to Sam to see him giving his brother a bitch face.

“If you had just let me go in there,” Sam spoke up. “I coulda ended this.”

“The only thing that would have ended was your life,” Dean pointed out. “You don’t know that.”

Dean crossed over to the bed. “So, you’re willing to sacrifice yourself, is that it?”

Sam pushed himself to his feet. “Yeah, You’re damn right I am.”

“Well, that’s not going to happen,” Dean put his foot down. “Not when I’m around.”

“What the hell are you talking about Dean?” Sam asked. “We’ve been hunting this demon our whole lives. It’s the only thing we cared about.”

“I wanna waste it, Sam, I really do,” Dean agreed. “Okay? But it’s not worth dying over.”

“What?”

Aaliyah heard Sam’s face frown and hurt in his voice. Maybe she had been spending too much time with the brothers in the past few days. Has it been days? Or the better part of a week?

“I mean it,” Dean continued. “If hunting this demon means getting yourself killed, I hope we never find the damn thing.”

“That thing killed Jess. And Mom.”

“No matter what we do,” Aaliyah decided to cut in. “What you guys do, it won’t bring them back.”

Sam tilted his head as he looked at Aaliyah before he lunged at her, just out of Dean’s grasp. Aaliyah pivoted around trying to avoid Sam’s attack. She circled around him, fists up in a defensive posture. He recovered from the charge as he turned around to face her.

“You have no right to say that,” he yelled. “Even if you did, don’t you ever say it. After all that Dean and I have been through. You don’t know what it’s like growing up without parents.”

“Oh, I don’t know the feeling?” Aaliyah yelled back, still holding her defensive posture. “My mom was killed by a Djinn. My dad was barely at home between his actual paying job and hunting. You think you’re the only one to not have parents growing up? Or having an older brother playing care giver? Join the damn club.”

“Sam, look.” Dean’s voice was calm as he attempted to pull his brother’s attention from Aaliyah. “The three … four of us … we’re all we have. All I have. Sometimes I feel like I’m barely holding it together. Without you … or Dad…”

“He should have called by now,” Aaliyah pointed out. She lowered her hands, feeling safe enough that Sam wouldn’t charge her again. She fought back her tears even as Sam cried.

“Try calling him again,” Sam suggested even as Dean put his phone to his ear.

Dean started pacing for a minute before stopping. “Where is he?” Anger dripped in his voice. He hung up the phone. “They got him.

“Meg?” Sam questioned with a nod from Dean. “What’d she say?”“

What do we do now?” Aaliyah asked even as Dean gathered up his stuff, including the Colt.

“We gotta go,” Dean answered.

“Why?” Sam asked.

“Because the demon knows we’re here,” Dean snapped. “It knows we got the Colt. It got Dad. And it’s probably coming for us next.”

“Good, let it come.” Sam settled into his decision. “We got three bullets left.”

“Listen, tough guy, we’re not ready. Okay?” Dean finished grabbing all his things.

Aaliyah shoved the last of her clothes in a bag and double checked her gear bag. Everything was set and she closed both bags. “We’re no good to anyone dead,” Dean spoke. “We’re leaving. Now.”

***

Aaliyah braced herself as Dean took a corner sideways. Sam was still going on about taking the demon back at the house.

“What we need is a plan,” Dean countered. “They’re probably keeping Dad alive, we just gotta figure out where. They’re gonna want to make a trade; Dad for the gun.”

“Then why didn’t Meg mention making a deal?” Aaliyah brought up, leaning forward just enough over the front seat.

Sam shook her head.

“What?” Aaliyah looked at him.

“What if he’s…”

“Don’t you say it,” Dean demanded.

“I don’t want to believe it anymore than you do,” Sam countered. “But if he is, all the more reason to kill it. We still have the Colt, we can finish the job.”

“Screw the job, Sam,” Dean argued.

“I’m just trying to do what he’d want us to do. Keep going.”

“Quit talking like he’s already dead,” Dean’s voice dripping with anger. “Until we get him back, everything stops, you understand?”

With the exception of the car’s engine, it was quiet. The little voice in Aaliyah’s head started working at her. Some help she was, it told her. She proved to be less helpful than bug spray in the dead of winter in the Midwest. John happened to find them and questioned her presence every step of the way. Hell, she even argued for her being there when he wanted her gone and safe.

“So, how do we find him?” Sam asked, breaking the silence.“Maybe we go to Lincoln,” Dean suggested. “Start at the warehouse he was taken.”

“Come on, Dean. You think these demons are going to leave a trail?” Sam pointed out.

Dean’s lips pressed together in thought. “You’re right. We need help.”\

***

Aaliyah stretched as the Impala turned off the road and onto a long dirt drive. The nearly five hour drive from Salvation to Sioux Falls was enough time for a nap. “You know, I think I’m getting used to working off of four hours of sleep.”

“That’s good, cuz we’re here,” Dean tossed over his shoulder. “And where’s that?”

Aaliyah looked at the window as they pass by junk cars piled high on top of each other. She caught sight of a sign high enough to catch attention from passers-by that read “Singer’s auto salvage”.

“Singer?”

“Bobby Singer,” Sam said. “Good friend of Dad’s. Bobby’s like a father to us.”

Dean parked the car and climbed out. Aaliyah stumbled out from the back and worked her body free of the kinks and get her blood flowing.

“Think he’ll help?” She followed after the boys on the way into the house, stopping long enough to let the dog laying on the hood of a truck and chained up sniff her.

Inside, she hung in the threshold of the kitchen while the boys hugged an older man who couldn’t be much older than John before the man turned his attention to her. “This must be Aaliyah,” he said. “So, the boys dragged you into this wild demon hunt of theirs?” He turned back into the kitchen and led the way further into the house.

“In a way.” Aaliyah followed after even as Sam took a seat at the desk that seemed to be the focal point of the living room. Over the walls were papers pinned up and piles of books on the floor and a few bookshelves. “Dean called in a favor from a couple years ago.”

“Uh huh. Well then, how much do you know of werewolf lore?”

“Werewolves are a pain in the ass to kill, but have a major weakness to silver,” Aaliyah recalled from her first hunt. “Usual fatal wounds take ‘em out as well as taking the head off.”

“She took out her first one with a silver knife to the stomach,” Dean praised her. “Cut it all the way up to the rib cage.”

“And you survived?” Bobby looked to Aaliyah, shock in his voice.

“Gave me a couple sets of scars to remember it by.” Aaliyah watched Bobby walk over and hand Sam a book and opened to a page.

“How’s your paint job?” Bobby asked.

“There’s a first time for everything,” Aaliyah told him. “What needs painting?” She walked over to the desk and looked at the picture Bobby pointed to.

“That, on the ceiling,” he told her. “From the sounds of this demon, it won’t be easy to fool it.”

Aaliyah looked at the picture, up to the ceiling, then back to the picture. “Alright, then. Where’s the paint and brush? And a ladder.”

After a short time gathering the needed items, Aaliyah went to work on painting the Key of Solomon on the ceiling. Bobby would come over and look up to inspect her work, occasionally reminding her to make sure everything was right; otherwise the demon would be able to escape. Painting the Key took longer than she expected, but Aaliyah finished up and climbed down from the ladder.

“Not bad, kid,” Bobby complimented.

“Thanks.” Aaliyah took the ladder and paint items outside against the side of the house.

She took a deep breath, steadying herself as she thought back to when Dean called her. Had it really been days since that day at the hospital? Aaliyah couldn’t think back all that time on … how much sleep had she gotten since she left the hospital with the boys? Two at the motel before the 911 call that John picked up, maybe some half hour naps in the Impala when they were all down in Iowa, four the night before leaving, plus five on the way to Bobby’s. Aaliyah had more sleep at the hospital in one week than the past few days. She’d have to make time for a day or two to herself before going off to find a paying job. She walked back inside just as Bobby handed Dean a flask and kept another.

“That’s holy water,” Bobby answered Dean. “This is whiskey.”

“Thanks for everything, Bobby,” Dean told him. “To tell you the truth, I wasn’t sure we should come.”

“Nonsense, your Dad needs help.”

“Yeah, well, last time we saw you, you did threaten to shoot him full of buckshot,” Dean pointed out. “Cocked the shotgun and everything.”

“He really did that?” Aaliyah asked, mildly surprised at the tale.

“What can I say.” Bobby shrugged. “John has that effect on people. None of that matters, though. What does is you getting him back.”

Dean handed the whiskey filled flask over to Aaliyah as Sam commented on the book he had be studying. She accepted the flask and took a sip of it, coughing from the burn of the whiskey.

“Yeah, it’s a bit of an acquired taste,” Dean said, a tease of a smile on his face.

“You think these circles really work?” Sam’s voice drifted into the kitchen.

“Hell yeah,” Bobby answered. “You get a demon in it, they’re trapped. It’s like a demonic roach motel.”

Aaliyah chuckled. “Man knows his stuff.”

“I’ll tell you three something else,” Bobby told them. “This is some serious crap you all stepped in.”

“Oh, yeah?” Sam asked. “How’s that?”

“Normal year, I hear of, say, three demonic possessions. Four tops.”

“Yeah?” Dean prompted.

“This year so far, I’ve heard of twenty seven.”

Aaliyah let out a low whistle at the number.

“You get what I’m saying?” Bobby continued. “More and more demons are walking among us. A lot more.”

“Do you know why?” Sam asked.

“No, but I know it’s something big,” Bobby answered. “The storm’s coming. And you boys, your Dad, even you Aaliyah. You’re all smack in the middle of it.”

Aaliyah half jumped when the dog started barking outside.

“Rumsfeld,” Bobby called out.

He rushed over to the window and looked out before turning back to the three young hunters. “Something’s wrong.”

Aaliyah moved for the kitchen when the door flew into the house. She stopped on a dime when Meg stepped inside.

“No more crap, okay?” the demon asked.

Aaliyah felt a hand guide her out of the way before seeing Dean charge Meg. Aaliyah moved in front of Meg when she flung Dean into a wall.

“Isn’t this cute?” Meg said with a smile and a head tilt. She started walking toward Aaliyah, who walked back into the living room. “Wait. Weren’t you the little brat who decided to go digging after her father? Did you learn anything?”

“Yeah, how to stay alive.”

“Until today. I want the Colt, kid. The real one.”

“We don’t have it,” Sam cut in. “We buried it.”

“Didn’t I say no more crap? I swear, after all that I heard about the Winchesters, I’m a little underwhelmed.” Meg straightened her head. “First Johnny tries to pawn off a fake gun, leaving the real one with you chuckleheads. Lack luster, really. Did you really think I wouldn’t find you?”

“Actually,” Dean’s voice called out. “We were counting on it.”

Aaliyah pointed to the ceiling, taking Meg’s attention from her to the Key of Solomon above them. “Gotcha.”

#spnfic long post Dean Sam Bobby ofc

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clockwork-dinosaur · 7 years

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this is something i started writing a few months ago but never really finished, based on this post by @miss-serket

(~1690 words)

Karkat wasn't sure where or when he originated, but he definitely knew it was a place and time nothing like where he found himself sitting. The tavern around him was dark and warm, filled with boisterous drinking songs and laughter. Barmaids went from table to table, refilling ale and biting their tongues as their asses were pinched by drunken patrons as they passed. He was thankfully ignored, his gray skin and orange horns obscured by the hood he kept pulled up. Locals didn't seem to care one way or another for trolls such as himself, but he felt better safe than sorry.

Karkat glared, which he often did, but for once he was glaring with a purpose. There was one man in particular, a burly human man with beady eyes underneath a heavy brow, that was particularly rough. One well-timed slap nearly sent a maid sprawled out on the floor. With her head down, face red with embarrassment and eyes watered with pain, she scurried away from the laughing brute.

With a fortifying gulp of his ale, Karkat stood.

“Hey, ass-brain!” he called across the tavern, lips pulled back to expose sharp fangs to the rude patron, whose eyebrows rose at the insult. “Yeah, I'm talking to you, you inbred son of a mule!”

The tavern quieted. The man stood, and even from across the tavern Karkat could easily see that the man was taller than him by several heads. Even so, Karkat continued to stare him down.

“Why don't you keep your clumsy hands to yourself, you goddamn oaf.”

Said clumsy oaf had a surprising amount of speed. Before he could jump out of the way, the man had bashed his wooden mug against Karkat's head, sending his vision swimming and ears ringing. He crumpled to the ground, managing to dodge another blow. The man spit on him with a glare.

“Why don't you shut your dirty trap, demon,” he growled.

Karkat wasn't afraid of dying, and he knew that man had the strength, lack of moral compass, and level of inebriation to kill him if he had the right provocation. From the ground, Karkat looked up and sneered.

“Considering the stench coming off your mangy body, I think you know a lot about dirty,” he said.

Something in the brutish man seemed to snap, and he picked Karkat up by the throat with a roar. Karkat's feet were lifted from the ground, the man staring into Karkat's gold and ruby colored eyes with murderous intent.

Suddenly there was a thud and the man's face went slack. He dropped to the ground, Karkat tumbling down as well, and was still. Karkat stared at the man long enough to confirm that he was alive and merely knocked out before he looked up.

A human, seemingly the same age as Karkat stood with his hands on a gleaming sword, face unreadable and half-hidden underneath a deep red hooded cloak.

“C'mon,” he said, pulling Karkat onto his feet and rushing them both from the tavern as quickly as Karkat's shaky legs would take him.

Karkat followed the human, not that he had much choice due to the vice-like grip he had on Karkat's hand. The human pulled him along, through alleys and down winding paths, muttering all the while.

Karkat wondered if he had just been saved or stolen away by a madman.

Eventually the human stopped between two houses that blocked them from view from the street and turned, a wide grin on his face as he lifted his hood to reveal pale blond hair and crimson eyes.

“That was, like, some Game Of Thrones shit or something, like I thought he was going to actually murder you right then and there. Nobody was even gonna stop him, damn. What a fucking asshole,” he said, talking quickly in an accent Karkat couldn't place.

“Who are you?” Karkat said before the human could start talking about something incomprehensible again.

“Oh, I'm Dave. Dave Strider. Your knight in shining armor,” he said, composing his face into neutrality.

“Where do you hale from, Knight Strider?”

Dave snorted. “Just call me Dave. I come from nowhere in particular. Wanderin' like a badass lone wolf through life with no worries.”

Karkat frowned. “What the hell are you on about all the time?”

“I, uh... Hey, that's no way to thank the guy who just saved your life,” he pointed out.

“You didn't need to save me, Dave,” Karkat said with a glare.

“I mean, I kinda did? Y'see, that big guy back there was probably seconds away from bashing that pretty nub-horned head of yours into the brickwork, making like the most fucked up Pollock painting to ever not exist yet. That guy coulda trademarked the leftover remains of your painful death and outdone an artist from like five hundred years from now.”

Karkat's heart skipped a beat, his eyes going wide. “What do you mean, five hundred years from now?” he asked, tone harsh.

Dave's whole body suddenly stilled, the energy he seemed to radiate in his jittery movements receding. “Nothing. I was just rambling, saying shit that makes no goddamn sense, as I do.”

Karkat shook his head, squinting. “Did someone send you? Does someone else- FUCK,” he shouted, balling his fists. “I'd been so damn careful, moving around and- just- DAMN IT ALL!”

“Whoa dude, nobody sent me,” Dave said, putting his hands up. “I think there's been a hell of a misunderstanding and on my end of it I think there's something here that seems to be relevant to... what I do.”

“What do you do?” Karkat asked suspiciously.

“I'll answer that if you tell me why you got so worked up about me talking about something that maybe might have something to do with five hundred years from now,” Dave said carefully. “An exchange of secrets.”

Where Karkat should have felt distrust, he felt a strange sort of blooming excitement. Perhaps Dave was like him, someone who death seemed not to touch, even as decades and centuries past and those around him succumbed to the passage of time.

“I am aware that I may sound liked a fucking lunatic but... I can't die. I've been around longer than I or anyone can remember,” Karkat said, his voice actually quiet.

Dave tilted his head. “So, you could actually be around five hundred years from now?”

“Unless more bastards like you step in while I try and do myself in, yes,” Karkat shot without thinking. A pained look crossed Dave's face and Karkat looked away.

“Alright, go on. This is an exchange, right?” Karkat said after a moment had passed.

“I can jump through time. I was born in the year nineteen-ninety-five.”

Karkat's eyes widened. “Shit.”

“That's like... five hundred years from now? It's what, fourteen-eighty-something right now, I wasn't too exact in this jump,” he said with a shrug. “I think being immortal is a pretty awesome thing to be though, how'd that happen?”

“I don't know,” Karkat said with a frown. “But I can assure you, it isn't awesome.” He crossed his arms and glowered at the ground. “Do you know how it feels to watch everyone you get close to die? To watch years pass and the entire damned world change around you while you're stuck? It's a fucking curse.”

Dave frowned. “Well, you won't have to watch me die,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I can visit you at any point, any time in the future. If you want,” he said. “Maybe give you something to look forward to, at least. I can't stick around one point in time too long but at least I'll be a familiar face for a while.”

Karkat's heart pounded. Something to look forward to. If he was honest, he couldn't remember having something like that.

Hesitantly, he nodded. “Okay, Dave.”

“What's your name, by the way?” Dave asked.

“Karkat Vantas,” he said.

“Nice to meet you Karkat, even if I did have to save your ass from an angry bear to do so,” he said with the most subtle of self-satisfied smiles.

Karkat gave him a not-so-subtle annoyed sneer. Dave's face fell into impassiveness again and he cleared his throat.

“So, I really don't have much time left before I have to bounce out. Promise me you'll stay alive for another hundred years, okay?”

“Why a hundred?”

“It would be great if you would stay alive longer than that actually. But I have to make jumps a hundred years at a time- backwards or forwards, it doesn't matter. I don't know why, I don't know how I know these rules. I just always knew,” Dave explained, his fingers tapping anxiously against his leg. “I also know when I need to leave and it's getting around that time.”

Karkat frowned. “A hundred years from now, I'll see you, but for you...”

“It'll be like no time passed at all.” He raised his shoulders. “Unless I make other jumps I guess. But even then, it would be like a few weeks for me while a hundred years pass for you.”

“That sounds like unnecessarily complicated bullshit,” Karkat said.

Dave laughed. “It sure is, dude. So, I'll see you... in a century.”

He stuck out his hand awkwardly. Karkat took it, shook it firmly, and watched as Dave turned, his crimson cape billowing behind him and then disappearing in the long pre-dawn shadows.

For once, Karkat felt he wouldn't mind another one hundred years going by.

#homestuck #davekat #scraps #fic #i would post this on ao3 but it still feels Unfinished to me

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imoverit · 4 years

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I just don’t know. I know I say that a lot but I just really don’t. Like I’m a very highly intelligent person and I’m very good at solving problems. Making something after more efficient. Like I can go into a business and within a month or 2 just totally change that place. Like from products from intake of like a grocery store to the customers cars I can make it so an employee won’t have to handle it more than he needs too. Move this there. Change this try that and before you know it your pumping out a million guitars a year when before me was 50-100k.

And I HAVE NO FUCKING CLUE!!!!! I��ve gone over every scenario 1000 times each and then even started mixing scenarios together then adding new thoughts and Scientific physocology shit to it then adding reality shit to it then adding physically AND YES AND (as in more than 1,) practically IMPOSSIBLE FUCKING BULLSHIT to the mix and then before you know it I just wanna fucking blow my head off. Seriously. Honestly It’s too fucking much at times. But I’m not going too don’t worry. Ive injected myself several in fact dozens of times with a cocktail of drugs so powerful that DR Kovorkian coulda helped 7-8 people maybe more. I’d have to inject a whole morphine 200 just to get outta bed I’m the morning and I wasn’t even high yet. I had to mix large quantities. Half gram or more of dope at a time mixed with some pills to get high! Thank god I HONESTLY don’t miss that. I do however miss her. YOU. And I just don’t know what the hell is up. My woman the woman who she was before I met her would have no problem telling me what’s up with the last 3mths In person. She wouldn’t. Even if she fucking wanted my ass deader than a shit and she was fuCali nag pissed or even if she was hurt emotionally by something I did or said (before the blow up. That don’t count cuz she didn’t tell me the TRUTH!!! My WOMAN would sit me down tell me the TRUTH and then kick my fucking ass and kill me but SHE WOULD HAVE NO PROBLEM TELLING ME THE TRUTH...... IN PERSON. So some things up. I hear It her voice. It sounds painful whatever it is. And before I blew up when we was “good” and we’re still single but she writes the legit I love you msg and ONE DAY AT A TIME. Then over next couple weeks. I get honest love yous and miss yous and even when we talked on the phone that was my woman. If she was happy sad angry whatever that was my woman. Then even may 4th I think. Super flower moon day I heard it in her voice. The IM IN LOVE WITH YOU BUT I HAVE TO PUSH YOU AWAY self sabotage of a meaningful relationship cuz what I’m better off. Cuz it’s all minor stupid spiraled outta control bullshit and now resentments are forming. The kind that NEVER GO AWAY. And I don’t want that. But she won’t talk to me. At all. It’s out of character for MY WOMAN!! Like even if she wasn’t in love with me and I knew her I would be able to tell somethings up from her tone last night.

It was just pain full to hear. Like she still has something aching to get out and be said. I just don’t know if it’s good for me or bad for me. I feel it’s bad. I feel that she has marked me for life as one of her abusers. Somethings wrong that she won’t fucking tell me. Cuz that’s not my woman. That’s not the woman who I sat next to for 7 years. Yeah babe 7 years. Yeah babe I’m calling you babe cuz that will always be your name to me!! And I just feel like she feels ashamed and emabareassed for her actions when she is having a PTSD moment and most of the time she blacks out and don’t remember half the stuff that was said. And that scares me. So angry that you black out. I would never hurt her. NEVER EVER EVER WOULD I DO ANYTHING EVEN ROTELY CLOSE TO WHAT THEM MONSTERS HAVE DONE TO YOU!!!! Mean words yes I am fucking guilty. A phone or laundry basket thrown in your direction with no intent to harm you physically, yes I’m f ifking guiltynof that too I’m guilty. But I would never ever do anything worse than what’s already been done. (Fist hole In a cheap closet door, guilty) but I’d never and I KNOW YOU HONESTLY KNOW THAT. I SAVED YOU BABY. I WAS THERE FOR YOU WHEN YOU NEEDED ME THE MOST!!! Actions. Forget about other girls who I never was anything more than basic non sexual friends with. I said something nice about her hair. Well if I remember correctly that’s as during the time I me Patrick left but you BABE didn’t tell me before I walked out door that you were on the ledge of a bridge deciding if you wanted to jump or not. Which I’m so glad you didn’t but if you would of told me that day of 356 bridge NONE OF THIS WOULDA HAPPENED. Neither would of dec 28th and for that. I think you feel guilty and ashamed prolly disgusting(cuz I do for my actions so that’s why I said you prolly feel) scared and embarrassed for yourself and yur actions cuz that’s how I feel about myself. I’m mostly ashamed and embarrassed of myself but I feel angry the most and that’s why I can’t talk wirhour getting passionate”. Angry at myself. I’m not even made at you. I’m angry at myself. And then in turn get angry at you for something stupid and then it blows up into big time madness all cuz I’m ashamed of myself and I’m angry with myself. If I hadn’t snuck around and used drugs with chad. Which was only drugs never anything sexual with anybody!!!!! And you know what I feel the same way. I’m ashamed of myself. To the point I wanna die. I’m embarrassed and angry and I feel so disgusting and gross since you couldn’t even let me hold you when you cut your wrist. I tried to get you but you didn’t want me too touch you. So no didn’t. I’m so sorry baby. I shoulda took the chance of you calling cops on me for assault or something. But at same time I respect you so you said don’t touch I didn’t touch. When you tell me to not touch you for a year even after we got thru her not working correctly after surgery. Remember what I said. I’ll try everyday 100 times a day for years if needed until you can cum all over him or my face.

And I just know we don’t end like this. We don’t end like this. Your the most amazing woman I ever met. Beautiful. Your not beautiful. Beautiful don’t even come fucking close to describing who/what you are!!!! Brave. Strong super sexy wardawg who despite EVERTHING (everything you’ve said/done, I’ve said/done) despite EVERYTHING baby you STILL drive me wild like the first time we met each other. Your real true beauty makes my dick hard just thinking about you. Right now. He 😘🤪👃👅🖖👐(full body erotic message hands) your the strongest most courageous woman I’ve EVER MET like you didn’t even go I my o much detail about shit everytime you’d open up you got more beautiful. Then when you started telling me bout yur monster cousins you got more beautiful and you didn’t even go into detail of the events (like you actually should do to help HEAL. It works trust me KERR FAMILY. I carried a lot of shit after that. Loading a whole family that died together in a forerunner crash into the coroners van. 4 people. Mom. 3 kids 16-6 or 7 years old. And our relationship now. The current state were in right now just ripped my family away and I’m in need of my best friend my lover back!!! I really am. I just miss you so much. I’ll cry for an hour straight. Seriously. Sometimes 2 and then stop try to do something but WVERYTHING REMINDS ME OF YOU. I watched a video on donutboperator of a kid who was yelling at the cop to just kill him bro please. And I freaking cried like a baby all night. Ended up texting you and then you called and I got to hear your voice but then I hurt even more cuz you didn’t even sound like you. That wasn’t you. It just wasn’t you. Even if you hate me and actually never wanted to see me again m, you would sound like you. And you just didn’t. Remember on the phone. I got the text too to prove it. “Yur voice was different. Everything was different”. In a good way. She got tingly from what you said!! Yeah I bd isn’t hear that in you. Like even when we were together and we were Mia communicating and someone called or you had to deal with a person. You sounded like BABE. Even when we weee fighting on the phone BOTH getting mean and ignorant to each other. You still sounded like you. But last night. You didn’t. Even from the very first words of, what do you want?? It just didn’t sound like Ashley. If I was blind and you walked into the room and talked I wouldn’t of known who it was. Just please talk to me baby!!! We should be spending this beautiful summer watching stars here at dads or kennerdale. Yes kennerdale. I was waiting for better weather to go star gazing there with you and hold you tight then feb 2nd came and I thought for sure you was gonna come see me. At least once. And I won’t lie. You hurt me feelings with the whole weed issue april 22nd. Like you text before we even talked. Look at menu your only one who’s appreciate it then we started talking and I thought it was going good. If you were only talking to me my babe was back then somewhere around your script issue something noticeably changed. You began getting short with me. You wouldn’t text for a few days and I can almost pin point the exact like 2 week span. So please baby. If youve heard any thing that I’ve said here. And if you truly deep down inside feel any bit of the same way I do. Just please come talk to me. I’d like it to be without you having a BF so I can hug you. I just want a hug. I wasn’t able to that night or since or even before and I just my my woman back. Your world didn’t end the day I moved out!!! It just began. Use this lil vacation to get yourself right. Don’t worry about a relationship. And if yo u need the services of a man that’s what I’m here for. If we’re working on ourselves and each other with that promise to each other like I mentioned last year. Your strong independent woman who don’t need a man. So I don’t see why you jumped straight into a relationship while you still have/had at time may 4th, feelings for me. Cuz that wasn’t how somebody who don’t love a person no more, breaks up width.

You don’t basically tell me please don’t blow up and end it bad I’m case I wake up I’m a year well 2 to be “specific” and realize that it was ALWAYS me. The fact that you even said that was a red flag. Shoulda been a red flag to yurself that you were self sabatoging our relationship. I don’t care if you slept with 50 guys the last 3-4 mths. I bd not want details unless there is no chance of us getting back together EVER and then I need to know when you started talking to mike is it? Cuz if it was after our phone call March 24th then he’s a POS I know you talked about our relationship and I have a feeling he said one of those predator lines. He don’t deserve you. You are beautiful. But what you didn’t tell him is that you didn’t want me telling you you were beautiful cuz you thought I only said it cuz I was on drugs which wasn’t the case. It intensified the true feelings. And I just feel something like that happened and then that one day round April 13th is give or take a week something happened. Maybe a one night stand. Kool no problem but then guilt and shame and embarrassment comes into play and then you text me like you was trying to tell me something and then it don’t matter anyways. My life was over day you moved out shit down and then you ignored me so you didn’t have to tell me. I feel 2 ways bout it. Either it was one night stand and you felt emabareassed bout it which you shouldn’t. Your human or he did take advantage of a woman who’s a month out of a 7 year rocky relationship but r the he reason it was rocky is because both people were fighting for what they love/loved. Me/you as of now. And we just don’t end like this babe. We don’t. Are you ok with us ending like this??? I mean how we ever gonna be able to even try to become friends again if one of us has a significant other. It’s like mike and (I don’t have nobody but you so we’ll say Suzie) Mike and suzie gonna be ok with us going to hang out or going to concert or what?? Double dating??? I just can’t see ya ever talking to each other again unless we’re in a committed relationship to each other. I just don’t know. I need to jamb. I’m really missing you hard core right now. I feel like you actually did die cuz I’m never gonna see you again

Remember how I always say somethings in the woods here. I feel like a raptor or some shot is stalking so Last night I was jambin in drive way and I bent down BYU turn the mids up a lil but and when I bent back up there was a coyote running towards me from the flower bed closest to driveway I yelled AAHHHH and went to swing my guitar like a bat and it like turned in mid full sprint slid its nails across blacktop I could hear them sliding trying to grip traction and then he took off towards the Lane sign. I fucking had prolly a #50-60 pound coyote almost attack me. I just heard them down on the bank just behind the light line.

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notsofly · 5 years

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Ties in Blood Chapter 11

@mrswhozeewhatsis @impala-dreamer @winchestergirl-13 @idreamofplaid @squirrelnotsam

Chapter 11

Aaliyah kept watch on the house from the backseat of the Impala. She could see Monica and her husband through the open window.

“Maybe we can tell ‘em there’s a gas leak,” Sam suggested. “Might get ‘em out of the house for a few hours.”

“Yeah, and how many times has that worked for us?” Dean pointed out.

“You know we’ve got one move,” Dean told her. “Gotta wait for the demon to show itself, then we get it before it gets them.”

“This is weird,” Sam spoke up after a while.

“What?” Aaliyah asked.

“After all these years, we’re finally here. It doesn’t feel real.”

“We just gotta keep our heads and do our jobs,” Dean told him. “Like always.”

“Yeah, but this isn’t always,” Sam countered.

“True.”

“Dean,” Sam trailed off. “I want to say thanks.”

“For what?”

“Everything. You’ve always had my back, you know,” Sam said. “Even when I couldn’t count on anyone, I could with you. I don’t know. I just wanted you to know. Just in case.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Dean pulled the reins back. “Are you kidding me?”

“What?”

“He’s not picking up,” he announced.

“Maybe Meg was late,” Aaliyah suggested. “Or the reception’s bad.”

“Yeah, well…”

The radio that had been playing low for background noise starting going static.

“Guys, listen,” Aaliyah brought their attention to the radio.

Sam reached out and turned the radio up, the static going higher as it came and went.

Aaliyah glanced around out the windows as the wind picked up as the house light flickered.

“It’s coming,” Sam announced.

“Get out of my house,” a man shouted.

“Please, Mr. Holden,” Sam cut in.

“Charlie?” a woman’s voice called from upstairs. “Is everything okay?”

Aaliyah stumbled out the front door, holding Rosie to her chest even as her lungs burned from the smoke. A few tears streamed down her cheeks from her smoke irritated eyes.

“Get away from my family,” Charlie yelled, being held back by Dean.

“Charlie, wait,” Monica requested. “They saved us.”

“Sam? Sam, no,” Dean protested, grabbing hold of his arm.

“It’s still in there, Dean,” Sam argue.

“It’s burning to the ground,” Aaliyah pointed out. “It’s suicide.”

“I don’t care,” Sam yelled at her.

“I do,” Dean yelled at him.

***

“Come on, Dad,” he said out loud. “Damn it, answer your phone.” He hung up. “Something’s wrong.”

Aaliyah shifted her eyes over to Sam to see him giving his brother a bitch face.

“If you had just let me go in there,” Sam spoke up. “I coulda ended this.”

“The only thing that would have ended was your life,” Dean pointed out.

“You don’t know that.”

Dean crossed over to the bed. “So, you’re willing to sacrifice yourself, is that it?”

Sam pushed himself to his feet. “Yeah, You’re damn right I am.”

“Well, that’s not going to happen,” Dean put his foot down. “Not when I’m around.”

“What the hell are you talking about Dean?” Sam asked. “We’ve been hunting this demon our whole lives. It’s the only thing we cared about.”

“I wanna waste it, Sam, I really do,” Dean agreed. “Okay? But it’s not worth dying over.”

“What?”

Aaliyah heard Sam’s face frown and hurt in his voice. Maybe she had been spending too much time with the brothers in the past few days. Has it been days? Or the better part of a week?

“I mean it,” Dean continued. “If hunting this demon means getting yourself killed, I hope we never find the damn thing.”

“That thing killed Jess. And Mom.”

“No matter what we do,” Aaliyah decided to cut in. “What you guys do, it won’t bring them back.”

Sam tilted his head as he looked at Aaliyah before he lunged at her, just out of Dean’s grasp.

Aaliyah pivoted around trying to avoid Sam’s attack. She circled around him, fists up in a defensive posture.

He recovered from the charge as he turned around to face her. “You have no right to say that,” he yelled. “Even if you did, don’t you ever say it. After all that Dean and I have been through. You don’t know what it’s like growing up without parents.”

“He should have called by now,” Aaliyah pointed out. She lowered her hands, feeling safe enough that Sam wouldn’t charge her again. She fought back her tears even as Sam cried.

“Try calling him again,” Sam suggested even as Dean put his phone to his ear.

Dean started pacing for a minute before stopping. “Where is he?” Anger dripped in his voice. He hung up the phone. “They got him.

“Meg?” Sam questioned with a nod from Dean. “What’d she say?”

“What do we do now?” Aaliyah asked even as Dean gathered up his stuff, including the Colt.

“We gotta go,” Dean answered.

“Why?” Sam asked.

“Because the demon knows we’re here,” Dean snapped. “It knows we got the Colt. It got Dad. And it’s probably coming for us next.”

“Good, let it come.” Sam settled into his decision. “We got three bullets left.”

“Listen, tough guy, we’re not ready. Okay?” Dean finished grabbing all his things.

Aaliyah shoved the last of her clothes in a bag and double checked her gear bag. Everything was set and she closed both bags.

“We’re no good to anyone dead,” Dean spoke. “We’re leaving. Now.”

***

Aaliyah braced herself as Dean took a corner sideways. Sam was still going on about taking the demon back at the house.

“What we need is a plan,” Dean countered. “They’re probably keeping Dad alive, we just gotta figure out where. They’re gonna want to make a trade; Dad for the gun.”

“Then why didn’t Meg mention making a deal?” Aaliyah brought up, leaning forward just enough over the front seat.

Sam shook her head.

“What?” Aaliyah looked at him.

“What if he’s…”

“Don’t you say it,” Dean demanded.

“I don’t want to believe it anymore than you do,” Sam countered. “But if he is, all the more reason to kill it. We still have the Colt, we can finish the job.”

“Screw the job, Sam,” Dean argued.

“I’m just trying to do what he’d want us to do. Keep going.”

“Quit talking like he’s already dead,” Dean’s voice dripping with anger. “Until we get him back, everything stops, you understand?”

“So, how do we find him?” Sam asked, breaking the silence.

“Maybe we go to Lincoln,” Dean suggested. “Start at the warehouse he was taken.”

“Come on, Dean. You think these demons are going to leave a trail?” Sam pointed out.

Dean’s lips pressed together in thought. “You’re right. We need help.”

***

“That’s good, cuz we’re here,” Dean tossed over his shoulder.

“And where’s that?” Aaliyah looked at the window as they pass by junk cars piled high on top of each other. She caught sight of a sign high enough to catch attention from passers-by that read “Singer’s auto salvage”.

“Singer?”

“Bobby Singer,” Sam said. “Good friend of Dad’s. Bobby’s like a father to us.”

Dean parked the car and climbed out.

Aaliyah stumbled out from the back and worked her body free of the kinks and get her blood flowing. “Think he’ll help?” She followed after the boys on the way into the house, stopping long enough to let the dog laying on the hood of a truck and chained up sniff her.

Inside, she hung in the threshold of the kitchen while the boys hugged an older man who couldn’t be much older than John before the man turned his attention to her.

“This must be Aaliyah,” he said. “So, the boys dragged you into this wild demon hunt of theirs?” He turned back into the kitchen and led the way further into the house.

“Uh huh. Well then, how much do you know of lore?”

“Werewolves are a pain in the ass to kill, but have a major weakness to silver,” Aaliyah recalled from her first hunt. “Usual fatal wounds take ‘em out as well as taking the head off.”

“She took out her first one with a silver knife to the stomach,” Dean praised her. “Cut it al the way up to the rib cage.”

“And you survived?” Bobby looked to Aaliyah, shock in his voice.

“Gave me a couple sets of scars to remember it by.” Aaliyah watched Bobby walk over and hand Sam a book and opened to a page.

“How’s your paint job?” Bobby asked.

“There’s a first time for everything,” Aaliyah told him. “What needs painting?” She walked over to the desk and looked at the picture Bobby pointed to.

“That, on the ceiling,” he told her. “From the sounds of this demon, it won’t be easy to fool it.”

Aaliyah looked at the picture, up to the ceiling, then back to the picture. “Alright, then. Where’s the paint and brush? And a ladder.”

“Not bad, kid,” Bobby complimented.

“Thanks.” Aaliyah took the ladder and paint items outside against the side of the house.

She took a deep breath, steadying herself as she thought back to when Dean called her. Had it really been days since that day at the hospital? Aaliyah couldn’t think back all that time on … how much sleep had she gotten since she left the hospital with the boys? Two at the motel before the 911 call that John picked up, maybe half hour naps in the Impala when they were all down in Iowa, four the night before leaving, plus five on the way to Bobby’s. Aaliyah had more sleep at the hospital in one week than the past few days. She’d have to make time for a day or two to herself before going off to find a paying job. She walked back inside just as Bobby handed Dean a flask and kept another.

“That’s holy water,” Bobby answered Dean. “This is whiskey.”

“Thanks for everything, Bobby,” Dean told him. “To tell you the truth, I wasn’t sure we should come.”

“Nonsense, your Dad needs help.”

“Yeah, well, last time we saw you, you did threaten to shoot him full of buckshot,” Dean pointed out. “Cocked the shotgun and everything.”

“He really did that?” Aaliyah asked, mildly surprised at the tale.

“What can I say.” Bobby shrugged. “John has that effect on people. None of that matters, though. What does is you getting him back.”

Dean handed the whiskey filled flask over to Aaliyah as Sam commented on the book he had be studying. She accepted the flask and took a sip of it, coughing from the burn of the whiskey.

“Yeah, it’s a bit of an acquired taste,” Dean said, a tease of a smile on his face.

“You think these circles really work?” Sam’s voice drifted into the kitchen.

“Hell yeah,” Bobby answered. “You get a demon in it, they’re trapped. It’s like a demonic roach motel.”

Aaliyah chuckled. “Man knows his stuff.”

“I’ll tell you three something else,” Bobby told them. “This is some serious crap you all stepped in.”

“Oh, yeah?” Sam asked. “How’s that?”

“Normal year, I hear of, say, three demonic possessions. Four tops.”

“Yeah?” Dean prompted.

“This year so far, I’ve heard of twenty seven.”

Aaliyah let out a low whistle at the number.

“You get what I’m saying?” Bobby continued. “More and more demons are walking among us. A lot more.”

“Do you know why?” Sam asked.

“No, but I know it’s something big,” Bobby answered. “The storm’s coming. And you boys, your Dad, even you Aaliyah. You’re all smack in the middle of it.”

Aaliyah half jumped when the dog started barking outside.

“Rumsfeld,” Bobby called out. He rushed over to the window and looked out before turning back to the three young hunters. “Something’s wrong.”

Aaliyah moved for the kitchen when the door flew into the house. She stopped on a dime when Meg stepped inside.

“No more crap, okay?” the demon asked.

Aaliyah felt a hand guide her out of the way before seeing Dean charge Meg. Aaliyah moved in front of Meg when she flung Dean into a wall.

“Yeah, how to stay alive.”

“Until today. I want the Colt, kid. The real one.”

“We don’t have it,” Sam cut in. “We buried it.”

“Actually,” Dean’s voice called out. “We were counting on it.”

Aaliyah pointed to the ceiling, taking Meg’s attention from her to the Key of Solomon above them. “Gotcha.”

#supernatural spn fanfic Winchesters Dean Sam

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touchmybutt-buymetacobell · 7 years

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I was actually born in Italy. My parents immigrated here in ’89 on a boat with 485 other people including me, but would die on the journey here. They were “buried at sea” and by that I mean they were thrown overboard. I was only 6 when I arrived and was put in an orphanage, but I hated it there. The woman who owned it was abusive, and she never let us eat before the windows were open, our beds were made, the floors were shiny and at least one girl was crying. By the time I was 8 years old I had escaped. Thinking back on it, I probably should have stayed, a lifetime of forced labor would have been better than sleeping on the cold, Brooklyn streets.

I was awoken by my “neighbor”, the sun barely peeking out over the buildings.

“Mattie, get up. We gotsta go to the Printin’ House, Mattie.” Petey spoke, drawing me out of my tired state.

“Yessir.” I said, standing up and rubbing my eyes, “Let’s go.” We walked down the street and turned a corner. Our spot was on the east end of Brooklyn, despite our Printing House being on the West. It was worth the walk. If we were too close to the House, people would just go to the house if we called for too much. But on the other side of town we could get an extra penny since they’d have to take a trolley ‘cross town for a paper, and no one was willing to do so.

“Headline should be hot today.” I turned to see Scotty Lavelle, “Hops said somethin’ about a tornado in New Richmond.”

“Lord knows we’se needs a good headline.” I said in agreement, walking along with the boys.

“And we’se is gonna get one, Mattie, I can feel it.” Petey smiled, the gap in his teeth shining prominently. Petey didn’t know his last name. He was dropped off at the doorstep with a tag that just said Petey. The state gave him a name, Conrad, but he never stuck with it. He escaped the same orphanage just a few months before me. So we had a lot in common. By the time we three get to the printing house we’re exhausted.

“I’ll take a hun’ed, Mole.” I greeted him, slapping my 60¢ down on the counter. I was growing bitter about the price jack now. All the other papers had lowered their prices but the real money was still in The World. And I just didn’t any other option but to keep paying for papers and keep selling ‘em for a penny or two.

“Little gurl, for the last time it’s Moe.” He barked, setting my papers down and taking my hard earned coins.

“For the last time, Mole, the name’s Mattie.” I hopped down the stairs and waited for the boys to get their papers. I counted all 100 papes to make sure I had them all.

“I thought I smelled a rat.” I heard. I turned, knowing I was about to see none other than Spot Conlon.

I smiled, “Well if it ain’t the Grand Maste’ Workboy himself!”

“Yeah, well. Listen.. I know you’re just as angry about the jack as I am. Some bois in Manhattan was talking about… Going on strike.” He said in a hushed tone, something I wasn’t used to from Spot.

“A strike?” I questioned, rather loudly. He hushed me.

“Yeah. Let the fat cats at the top know we mean business. Papes aren’t sellin’ too well anymore, so why should we haf ta pay more if we ain’t sellin more?” I paused. It made sense and Spot actually seemed serious.

“Mattie, let’s cheese it.” Petey called.

“A’ight, Petey, one minute.” I said, “Let me talk to the boys. You make a good case, Spot Conlon.” He smiled.

“A’ight, Mattie. If you guys want to stand with the Newsies come find me at the docks. I’ll make sure the boys don’t mistake you for a scab, but I can’t say the same for your boys.” I caught up with Petey and Scotty.

“What’d that guy want, Matt?” Scotty asked me. Scotty “owned” the spot on the east side before I was even in New York. So when I trespassed on his block, confused and lost with no coin to start selling papes or coin to even buy food, I thought for sure he would beat me up and I’d be kicked out of that block like the others guys had threatened. But Scotty bought me my first 100 papes and even showed me the ropes when I was only 6. If it wasn’t for Scotty I don’t know where I’d be. So he was as close to family as I had, and he sure acted like an older brother, trying to protect me at every turn.

“Spot was talkin’ union talk. Talkin about… goin’ on strike.” I said, only sort of believing the words coming out of my mouth.

“He wants you to strike with him?” Petey questioned, if not a little bewildered.

“I want to strike with him.” I confirmed. “You boys should too. Wouldn’t want anyone to think you were a scab.”

Petey rolled his eyes, “What are they gonna strike about anyway? They ain’t gonna win.”

“But we’se gotta try. Gotta let them know that we mean business, Petey.” I bantered, trying to convince them to listen to me.

“I don’t want you strikin, Mattie. You’re a 16 year old girl. You’re not gonna make it out there.” Scotty said, his voice almost monotone. I rolled my eyes and kept walking.

“Extra! Extra! Read all about it! Voting Machines approved by congress!” I yelled at the top of my lungs, trying to draw people to our corner. The boys hawked other headlines, like the Journal’s about Pearl Hart and the New Richmond Tornado. At first, no one came to buy papers from us.

“Extra! Extra! Sentient voting machines compromise poll results!” I yelled, waving my paper in the air. After a few minutes I was finally approached.

“Really? Sentient voting machines? How much a pape, kid?” A man in a fedora asked me.

“2¢ a pape, sir.” I answered.

“2¢ huh?” He hesitated and looked around, “A’ight, kid. Here ya go.” I took his pennies with a smile on my face before he walked away. It was very late and we still hadn’t sold any papers. We used to sleep in shifts so if anyone else did come by there’d be someone there with a paper to sell. We quickly discovered that the shady people walking Brooklyn streets at 3 am didn’t want to buy a paper.

“Alright what’s our profits, kids?” Scotty asked.

“It looks like I made 45¢ today.” Petey answered, “15 in profit.”

“I think I made about 32¢ profit.” I told Scotty. He nodded. “So we made… 77¢. How about we get some grub in the morning, huh?” He smiled bright. His smile always gave me hope. We still slept in shifts, but now it was for protection. When a rat came through the streets we no longer offered them a newspaper.

“A hun’ed papes for the little gurl.” Mole announced. “Yella’ Simon” dropped my papes on the counter.

“At least I’m not a Lowell girl.” I shrugged before turning to Simon, “Or a rat.” I sneered. Everyone else got a hun’ed since the headline was good.

“Wait a sec. Hey, Mole. Your boy only gave me 99 papers.” I said pushing other boys out of the way to talk to him.

“Get in line, little gurl.” He said dismissively.

“No, you forgot my pape I just need another.” I explained, clearly getting more annoyed with every second.

“You know how many kids I get tellin me I forgot a pape they just went and sold? No, ma’am. Take your papes and go.” I glared at him as I walked away. He was such a con. “Mole stole another pape.” I told Petey.

“He sure is a weasel.” He said, equally as annoyed with him. “Let’s get some peanuts from Albert’s.” Petey offered.

“Yeah, a’ight and some honey and crackers too!” I requested. As we walked to the store I spotted Spot hawking other papers on the corner.

“Great Wall to be demolished!” He called to everyone who passed. “Guangxii to destroy the wall! Oh hey, Motormouth.” He joked as I approached.

“Listen, ya noodle, I think you ought to stay away from my girl here.” Scotty spoke, coming in between us.

“Listen, Stretch. I’m not tryin to take her from ya. I just don’t want her pretty mug getting mistaken for a scab.” He said easily, leaning up against the storefront.

“Alright, wiseguy-” Scotty started but I cut him off.

“Look, Scotty. I’m gonna strike. I knew that before we got our papes this mornin’. I knew it before we went to bed las’ night. I’m gonna strike.” I told them both before turning to Spot. “Oh, and don’t talk about my mug like that, Conlon.” I turned and walked into Albert’s with Petey. Scotty and Spot both just kind of stood there, sizing each other up while I got Petey and I our peanuts and crackers.

“Come on, Scotty, we need the money.” I called to him. He huffed and walked over to us.

“You’re not gonna strike, Mattie.” He said, as if it was final. I argued that and he finally stormed off. He got angry like that a lot so we decided just to continue hawking papers. Spot hung out with us and told us all about what was going on in Manhattan.

“If you’re on strike, why you still sellin’ papes, Spot?” Petey asked. Spot smiled.

“I’m glad ya asked, kid. I’m sellin the Sun. They’re covering the strike, and they lowered their prices back to 50¢ a month ago. We’re only boycottin’ the World and the Journal.” He told us. That made sense.

“Hey, Spot.” Someone called. I had never seen the boy before. He had blonde hair and I couldn’t see him well but one eye looked like something was wrong. It was an icy blue color when his other eye was a dark brown.

“Blink!” Spot greeted, spitting in his hand and slapping it against Blink’s also spitty hand. “This is Motormouth Mattie-” I punched his shoulder and shut him up.

“The names Mattie Abategiovanni. At least that’s what I was told.” I said, purposefully shaking his other hand.

“Kid Blink.” The boy said, “They call me that because this eye don’t work no more.” He explained, pointing at his blue eye.

“What coulda done that?” I asked, hoping I wasn’t treading on sensitive ground.

“More like who.” Spot commented, knowing that it had happened in the boarding house he lived in.

“You strikin, Mattie?” Kid asked, avoiding the question and sitting on the curb of the sidewalk. I sat down next to him in my dirt covered workin’ dress - not like I had any other dresses.

“I am.” I told him. “But what’s the plan, Blink? We can’t jus’ walk in an’ expect ‘em to listen to us.”

“So we make ‘em listen!” Blink exclaimed, standing up. “It’s time we’se take a stand against those la-di-dah panty-waists, Mattie. It’s time we’se newsies stand togetha’.” I started to notice people surrounding us. It was a fairly busy spot, especially for Newsies. He looked around as he noticed them too.

“They’se aint gonna listen if we don’t make em listen!” I heard Scully yell from the back of the crowd.

“Well how’ we gonna make ‘em listen, Blink?” I stood, stepping to him. The crowd cheered me on as I stepped to him.

“I’m glad you asked, Miss. New Yorka’s get their news from the newsies! No newsies no news! No news no sales!” He hopped up on the podium, “We don’t have to sell their papers!” All the kids cheered. Some adults listened, but they all seemed disdainful. This upset me.

“Strike!” A person in the crowd yelled, making everyone else cheer.

“How’s we gonna stop the scabbers?” I asked, stepping to him again.

“Who’s stoppin ‘em from sellin our papers?” A boy yelled.

“We is! We beat em up! If they ain’t with us, they ain’t a Newsie!” He hollared to us all.

“Yeah! We’ll teach them scabs the real meaning of being a Newsboy of New Yo’k!” Petey yelled, surprising me. Wasn’t he on Scotty’s side last night?

“But we ain’t got a union. The copper’s’ll send us to the boardin houses!” A young boy yelled.

“We is a union!” I heard a voice yell, “They can’t take us all!”

“If we newsies stick together there’s nothing we can’t do!” Blink yelled from his small podium. “Come on!”

I could feel the excitement buzzing in the air. You get enough kids together and suddenly they can do anything. Blink took off running and jumping. I couldn’t but take off after him. I didn’t know where we were going but I wanted to be a part of it.

“Nobody messes with the Newsies!” A boy yelled, grabbing papers from an older Newsie and tearing up his papers. The older one started to chase after him in anger.

“Pulitzer don’t own us!” A girl yelled, picking up a copy of The World and ripping it to shreds. I usually was a well-behaved kid, but to be honest, I had had enough of living on the street and earning 30¢ on a good day. I picked up some of the old tomatoes that were sitting out in barrels and set my sights on the Printing House.

“Come on, Mattie!” Spot yelled, grabbing his own. We ran towards the house together and I spotted Mole.

“Hey rat!” I yelled, getting a bewildered Simon’s attention. “Tell Mole he owes me a pape!”

With that, the onslaught of tomatoes on the structure began. Imagine 60 angry, hard-as-nails New york orphans screaming, throwing rotten tomatoes at you, and ripping up the papers you haven’t sold yet. If only we could have thrown ‘em at the real fatcats Seitz, Carvello and Hearst. We only got angrier as it went on, and then we heard the circulation bell. The gates opened and in came all the newspapers that would have been sold to us on a horse and buggy. I jumped up on the back and started throwing papers out above my head to all the boys surrounding it.

“Don’t you eva’ mess with the Newsies again!” I yelled. I picked up papers and ripped them apart. That’s when the boys came in looking to buy papes.

“Hey! Hasn’t you heard about the strike?” I looked up and saw H.H. Kuehn pointing at the ones who still were buying papes.

“Don’t ya see we’se strikin’ here?” Blink yelled. When they ignored him, I watched as he ran to him and smashed his first in a boy’s face. I gasped, and it went quiet before everyone started to cheer.

“Soak the scabs!” Petey yelled, running out into the crowd. Suddenly I was scared for him.

“Petey wait!” I ran after him. In all the commotion of fighting and trying to find him I noticed something else.

“Scotty?” I exclaimed. I ran over to my brother who was laying on the sidewalk with ripped papes and a bloody nose. “Scotty.” I whispered, kneeling down next to him.

“Hey Mattie. Guess I got mistaken for a scab.” He said, his fat lip making that difficult.

“You are a scab.” I joked, taking out a handkerchief and dabbing the blood away. He looked up at me and smiled, shaking his head. “You… You mean.” I stuttered. He pushed himself up onto his knees, letting out a groan before standing himself up. He picked up the papers he had left and before my eyes, held them above his head and ripped them apart. Everyone else started to cheer. I hugged him tight before I heard Scully start yelling again.

“Cheese it!” He hollered, “The cops a’ here! Cheese it, bois!” Scotty and I got away with saying we were victims, “scabs.” They felt bad for us and let us go, but now we had to find Petey.

It wasn’t until the 27th when things got bad. Spot told me about a parade they were throwing, to show the world that we could stop traffic, the presses, and even time. Petey and I were excited, but Scotty still acted like he was hesitant.

“What if we’se gets arrested, Mattie? Huh? What then?” Scotty pestered as we walked to Park Row together.

“We’se not gonna get arrested, Scotty.” I sneered. Petey ran in front of us. One thing I noticed since this whole strike started was how united the newsies were now. The strikes in the past didn’t work because they weren’t working together. Now we all know that the only way we can win is to fight for ourselves, our borough and each other. If one of us falls, the others pick him up rather than turning tail. The newsies themselves were getting closer. People still fought over corners to hawk on but sometimes you’d see a group of boys splitting their coin like we do. You didn’t see that a lot before the strike.

“Mattie!” Spot called, patting the bench next to him. We sat down together and waited for the rest of the guys.

It was a few hours later when the parade started. Scully, and Spot were leading so I was right up front with him by his request.

“Where’s Blink and Davey?” I asked over the music some of the boys were making with old instruments and sticks.

“Couldn’t find ‘em. Gotta carry on though.” Spot explained. He wrapped one of his arms with mine and waved to people walking the sidewalk. We walked the New York blocks all the way to the Printin’ House before we ran into a copper wagon. I jumped up on the steps and looked back at all the kids walking behind us. There were so many newsboys and girls.

“Someday folks is gonna look back on us! Someday edumecated kids like us is gonna write papers about us! Stories! The headlines we’se is hawking has our faces on ‘em now! Mattie Abategiovanni will be a name that will never be forgotten! Spot Conlon, Kid Blink, Jacky Sullivan. You will never be forgotten! Dis is de time when we’se got to stick togethe’ like glue! This is our time boys! Let’s make the news!” I yelled into the crowd, finally feeling like we had a say. I finally felt like all of this had been worth it. I saw cameras flashing, I saw reporters writing in their notebooks, I saw thousands of kids inspired by the things Blink said in the park. I saw hundreds of adults taking us seriously and boycotting the World and Journal. I saw adults turning down our old jobs in fear of us. That was the moment I finally knew we were winning.

“Brooklyn!” Spot hollered at the top of his hawking voice. Everyone started to cheer and yell and I knew they knew it too. All of us, Manhattan, Brooklyn and Bronx Newsies ran through the streets of New York with our fists in the air. We screamed, cheered, marched together. Suddenly it all came to an abrupt end and I was frozen. I was frozen with anger and betrayal. That was when I saw Jack Sullivan and Kid Blink. They were in scab suits, standing next to Pulitzer and Mole.

“Y-you… You scab!” I screamed. I ran to the front of the crowd and pointed at our past leaders. “You backstabber!” I tried to shove myself past the police officers but it was no use. They shoved me back into the crowd. I was just so mad.

“Sully you’re the worst!” I heard Spot yell, pushing his way past the officer.

“Get ‘im Spot!” I called to him. I tried to push past the police again, only to be grabbed by my wrists. Before I knew it they were pushing me to the ground and wrapping my wrists up behind my back. “No I didn’t do nothin’!” I told them. Before I knew it I was in the back of the horse-drawn wagon with a few others kids.

“To the refuge with you, little gurl.” He said. It wasn’t until a week later when I heard the good news. The papers didn’t drop their prices, but they agreed to buy them back from us. I was out of the refuge again and back on the streets. It felt good to know I was a part of something. Kid Blink doesn’t show his face around this side of town anymore. Scotty and Spot don’t hate each other anymore. There’s just something different in the air. A buzz of change. They were paying attention to us now. We made a change. We stopped traffic, we stopped the news. We stopped the presses.

#Hello I wrote a Newsies historical fiction and I want opinions #Newsies #Historical fiction

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