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honey-hippie-harper · 3 years

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The Day Gatlon Fell

(TW: VIOLENCE)

IT’S VALENTINE’S DAY AFSGHJAFSGHJA. I should’ve done something nice but I don’t seem to be physically capable of doing that, sO IF YOU WOULD BE SO KIND TO PLEASE FORGIVE ME AFGSHAFGHAJ. I guess from the title it’s...kinda clear what this is all about, because I like to write about my imaginary complex relationships in Renegades. Yet, I wrote it with love and I hope you like it :’)

This fic is actually a present for those who want to accept it (If you don’t, I understand tbh). But I’m going to dedicate it for the ones who constantly pretend they tolerate me and like my writing, which are my fellow Reneweys: @healing-winston-pratt @obsidianfr3sk @alecjamesartino @nodrianbcyes @everyone-has-a-nightmare . I love you guys SO much. Thanks for being a safe space full of people who share the same mother tongue and laugh at my stupid jokes.

Also @all-weather-is-bad whom I love very much. Thank you for tolerating me to :’) <3 and @ifyouhadntbutyoudid bECAUSE FELLOW LATINA <3 (also your art for HCTTR still makes me cry and I know you like Leroy).

And idk if this matters or not, but, for the ones who understand Spanish, this fic was heavily based upon this (yes, the contemporary dance and everything don’t judge me: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RaaVpaE1XGA

Alec called them the Anarchists, because he called himself Ace Anarchy. And, in a world where prodigies were hurt, mistreated and killed, he also called them hope.

Hope called themselves the Anarchists, and they reunited at the outskirts of the city, and then they marched towards Gatlon when it was still dawning. There were many, many of them, creating a huge mass of people. Some of them were only wearing masks in order to protect their identity, but others, like them, the main circle of Anarchists, were in full costume, including Alec, Ace Anarchy, who was marching at the back of the crowd, for Alec Artino had faked his disappearance (and possible assassination) less than two weeks ago.

As an act of symbolism (in Alec’s own words) the Queen Bee was at the lead, while him, Leroy (Cyanide), stood two steps behind her, with Gerard Hoffman, Atomic Brain, at his right, and Lincoln Palmer, Brimstone, at his left. Behind them were Dexter Hartley, Rat, and the Thompsons. Then, everything was too much, and there were too many people to name them all, when he barely remembered his own name at the moment.

Every distance looked moderately short until you had to travel it by foot, or when you were too anxious to arrive at your destination. Leroy, personally, didn’t consider himself to be anxious per se. At least, that wasn’t the word he would’ve used to describe his situation.

For the first time in forever, Leroy’s mind was making too much noise, and he didn’t know how to make it stop, nor did he know how to decipher what it was trying to say to him. While he marched, Leroy was surrounded by sounds. There were the distant, faint movements of the awakening city, the ring of keys, the dragging of boots, the hasty breaths, the silent prayers, Honey humming to an inexistent melody, while her dress danced to her voice, hanging from her body.

Honey was easily one of the best dressed out of the bunch, which was a very typical Honey attitude from her part. The most meaningful thing in his own costume was the lab coat and the scientific pun, but it was more than enough for him, knowing that, after today, many of the people here wouldn’t be alive anyway, and he wasn’t even sure whether he would make it, either.

By the time they started reaching the city’s main entrance, the sun was covering half of their bodies, announcing they might have “nice” (hot) weather today. For a while, at least. And the heat was so extreme it made Leroy’s temple sweat, as well as the rest of his face, behind the mask. However, he resisted the urge to remove it, as his mind started making too much noise again, when it forced him to remember Alec’s words.

“And, remember, that you are the pain, you are the fire, and I am the courage.” He said, while they were sitting around the campfire, one messy night, running away from the police. “Because courage comes from the same place as fear.”

Leroy didn’t agree with some of Alec’s ways. Hell. He really didn’t. Nevertheless, he was also aware of his own position. He was aware he was a prodigy, and he was aware people were exhausting.

Even before he became…special, people were already picking on him. Leroy had been a punching bag the entirety of his life. First, for being too ordinary.

There was always a defect they could find in him.

When he admitted his father had abandoned his mother not long after he was born, he became the fatherless kid who wasn’t important enough to make his father stay (as if his father being an asshole had been his fault); when his mother met Claire, his other mother, he became the outcast who lived with two insane and sick women who dared to say they were in a serious, romantic relationship (even though they were evidently in love); when he discovered he enjoyed science, he became the weird kid who liked Thursdays, because that’s when Mr. Ruiz used to take them to the lab; when he discovered he was good at school overall and teachers offered him to move him one grade ahead, he became the ugly, creepy and fat nerd kid who lived with dykes and had no life.

And so, Leroy was murdered by his classmates in eleventh grade, in the lab. And when he came back as a prodigy, he became the burden. The fucker. The freak. The disgusting prodigy who should’ve stayed dead.

Because, when it came to people, it was never enough.

It really was never enough.

When they didn’t like you, there wasn’t a limit they wouldn’t reach in order to let you know. They hated you when you were too ordinary, but they hated you more when you were extraordinary.

Being a prodigy meant being your own fight. It meant being out there, in a minefield where everybody was chasing after you, and nobody stopped to help. People were often afraid of the things they couldn’t understand.

But courage came from the same place as fear.

And it was a dark, messed up place that, in the rare cases where it didn’t drive you crazy, it ended up killing you.

Alec’s ideas were extreme and a little twisted, even, but nobody had ever seemed to care as much as he did, and Leroy had to give him that.

He strongly defended that, if nobody did, then there would be a time where somebody would have to, and he had to give him that too. Because, one day, he just decided that person would be him. Because, if not him, then who?

“I’m my own fight. We’re all our own fight. And you should just face that and shut your ass, before you get killed.” Leroy told him the day after he personally met him, when Honey called him, saying the wound in his calf had gotten uglier and he was banned from the majority of the hospitals in the city. At first, Leroy didn’t know why that should’ve been a matter of concern to him, but he ended up showing him at the apartment anyway. When he realized Alec hadn’t learned anything from the previous experience and was already planning the next riot, he felt the burning desire to cauterize him out of spite.

So Leroy cauterized him, with no previous warning. Alec screamed so loud he thought he was going to pass out. But when he was done, Alec thanked him, because, sure, he had nearly fainted thanks to the pain, but the wound was closed and no longer bleeding.

“I won’t get killed.” Alec declared, as if he were some type of almighty god. “But if I do, it will be defending my place and my rights. You say we’re all our own fight. Correct. But, as prodigies, we have to stick together.”

“And why is that, exactly?”

“Because somebody has to fight for us.”

“You want to fight for us.”

“I want us to fight for us.”

At that moment, Honey came into the room, carrying a tray with a steaming cup and a plate with French toast with honey.

“They can’t kill us all.” She said.

“Oh, but they can.”

Before she could answer, Alec spoke again.

“Then how come we’re still here?”

As the hours, days, weeks and months went by, Leroy, beneath all his cynicism and incredulity, realized he cared. And, once he was invested in the cause, he decided he cared enough to believe them.

They couldn’t kill them all, but they could kill some of them. Yet, they would die caring and believing, and defending their legitimate right to having lived in the first place. There were some things they couldn’t take back, but there were others they could stop them from taking away.

Because somebody had to.

And, if nobody wanted to fight for them, then they had to be their own fight.

Leroy had already gone down once, and that was the reason why he was willing to do it again if necessary. There were Alecs out there, who had been born prodigies and judged, mistreated and pointed at because of it; there were Honeys out there, who had suffered from fatidic accidents that had left a mark in them forever; there were Leroys out there, who had been bullied for not being a prodigy, but also for being one.

As long as he was alive, there would be no more Leroys. No more Honeys, either. No more Alecs.

They were their own fight, but they were also each other’s fight.

So, as they marched towards the city, they were carrying tons and tons of weight, even from the pain that didn’t belong to them. Even from pain that had already been silenced.

Silenced like the inert body of a murdered prodigy.

Silenced like the city the moment they saw them come.

Needless to say, they were coming in with previous instructions to show no mercy in case anything went wrong, knowing these people had already been attacked right at the heart of their system (their mayor), but when they saw them walk, they showed no resistance to let them through.

Gatlon City met the Anarchists in a moment that remained suspended into the air, while some of them dispersed to block the entrances and exits, and others stood in the middle of the traffic, creating a human wall that prevented the cars from moving forward.

Traffic lights exploded, as well as display screens, just like the days when authorities were trying to censor a violent riot. Doors became locked, just like the days when citizens were being notified of a group of violent prodigies marching through the city, except this time citizens weren’t the ones locking themselves in. Telephone lines became cut, just like the days when they did that so agonizing prodigies wouldn’t say a last goodbye to their loved ones who lived far away.

They were many. Too many.

And they couldn’t kill them all.

When they realized that, panic started spreading among them.

Queen Bee was still taking the lead, but the lines began to become blurrier and blurrier with every second, as some of the prodigies had to leave the formation in order to silence those who dared to try to oppose.

Gatlon City was a bold, intimidating place, with huge buildings, blinding lights and overwhelmingly wide streets that could swallow you whole if you weren’t careful enough. Yet, it welcomed the Anarchists in a scene that was as surreal as it was fascinating. Out of a sudden, it seemed to shrink before them.

To the elemental prodigies’ hands, the sky started to look as if split in two, fragile and breakable like the green leaves hanging from the trees, which were swaying like Honey’s blonde curls that day at the beach.

It was a public music festival, which they had attended while the Thompsons babysat David, out of pure and classic peer pressure coming from Honey herself.

Leroy showed up late at the beach, after waking up from a seven hour nap (the result of not sleeping at night), given that, despite living together, Honey expressed she hadn’t woken him up because she thought it was only an excuse to stand them out.

Beneath the loud chattering, the live music and the crowding, their presence became as irrelevant as a single grain of sand before it was taken away by a wave, but they still managed to get a decent spot, where they could see the stage from the blanket they were using as seats.

Out of the few bucks they were carrying with them at the moment, they managed to gather enough for a bucket of fish and chips from the food trucks, so they sent Alec to go get it, which left Honey and Leroy alone (though surrounded by people) in the blanket.

It was about time she said something about it, but when she did, Leroy still felt the need to roll his eyes at her until they rolled out of his face.

“You’re the only two people I know who dress like that to come to the beach. It’s honestly embarrassing.”

She was referring to the fact Leroy was wearing jeans, sneakers and a black hoodie, while Alec was wearing jeans as well, and a black T-shirt he had gotten for free at an event in his faculty.

“What are you? A vampire or something?” Upon saying that, Honey got her hands in the cooler and took a can of lime flavored soda from it.

“I don’t like leaving the house without my hoodie.” Leroy responded above the clic and the hissing produced by the carbonation. “It hides my rolls.”

It’s not like Leroy was ashamed of his body. In fact, he didn’t give a damn about it, for he wasn’t one to take care of his physical appearance that much. Nevertheless, having people pointing out defects he already knew he had was annoying and an inconvenience he rather preferred not to go through.

“What are you trying to say to me?” Honey let out a screeching laugh, shaking her head to get her hair off her face, before taking a sip from her soda, very slowly, staring directly into Leroy’s eyes, with an arched eyebrow, not mad, but a little malicious and suggestive.

Whatever she was trying to do, it worked perfectly well, because Leroy could tell the exact part of his sentence where he had gone wrong and dug his own grave. Despite his efforts to conceal it and pretend he didn’t regret saying it, he still felt his face burn a little.

Honey was wearing a two-piece swimsuit that day. A yellow bikini top with white polka dots (“Hope you’re getting a great view because this is the only time you’ll ever see me wearing a bra” “You really are a hippie pothead” “So what?” “Honey Hippie Harper” “Great name, Lery”) and a tight, also yellow with polka dots skirt. The top had a huge white bow tie that fell all the way towards her stomach area, but it’s not like it covered much, and Honey wasn’t exactly the size of a Barbie doll herself (though everybody in Gatlon agreed that, somehow, she still managed to look like one).

Good thing her self-esteem was as high as Everest.

“You’re just jealous I’m so hot it feels like my entire body is catching flames while you look like a poor man’s Dracula.”

“Your lexicon is above the clouds today. Did you teach yourself how to read? And you read Dracula, just by chance?“

“You’re such a comedian. I’m dying. My lungs are aching from laughing so much.” Honey laughed sarcastically, in a flat tone, before taking another sip from her soda. “I had a pretty productive and nurturing self-teaching session yesterday.”

“I see.”

“I did teach myself how to read though, but, just so you know, I read Carmilla and not Dracula, because she came first.”

Being that said, she winked.

By that time, Honey didn’t attend as many feminist movements as before, nor did she lead them, but she still looked pretty invested in her cause and beliefs sometimes, and those were the moments when she looked more like herself.

“The more you know.” Leroy said, between his teeth.

Knowing she had won, Honey didn’t respond anything else on the matter, and reached for her sunglasses instead, putting them on. Then, she kept singing along to the song played by the band, about how the world was going to end soon.

Which was fitting for their current situation.

The entire world wasn’t ending today, but maybe it would, in case they succeeded. Leroy wasn’t the most positive person to have ever stepped on Earth, but, if one thing he knew, was that he was completely able to read and accept facts and get to the truth, and said truth was that Gatlon didn’t have much on its part. A bunch of regular citizens, against a bunch of prodigy citizens, whose mere existence was an advantage over them. And it’s not that Leroy thought prodigies were superior, but, objectively, prodigies could do things normal people couldn’t. That’s what made them prodigies in the first place, and it was part of the reason why they didn’t like them, too.

The terror in their faces made Leroy straighten his back. Above his head, he could already hear the helicopters and planes, both from the press and the government. Still standing in his place, he saw Honey stop. She didn’t hesitate or flinched, but she did stare directly at them. Her lips shimmered, as well as her eyes and the bee hanging from her neck, when the remaining morning sun reached and caressed them. Her expression remained serene, until it wasn’t, and her lips started arching into a sideways smile. With the whole crowd waiting behind her, Queen Bee clicked her tongue and giggled. Then, she waved at the sky, with her eyes grinning as well, behind the mask. Leroy could almost visualize the picture in a History book, in the chapter that talked about the day Gatlon fell.

When he took one step forward, he also saw himself in the frame. Honey, for sure, acknowledged his presence before she continued walking, squeezing his wrist a little, as a reassuring gesture he thought he didn’t need.

With two Anarchists at the lead, the weight of the protest became more evident, but the rest of the recruits were keeping them grounded. Flying prodigies were above their heads, keeping themselves at a prudent distance from the planes and helicopters, becoming an emergency signal for the others. They barked orders, so their companions knew where to aim.

The cocky individuals holding guns while standing in the sideway were attacked from behind and killed on spot. Some others didn’t have it that easy, for they were grabbed by extra arms or tentacles and smothered to death. Others were stabbed by flying pieces of glass or other sharp objects. And the one man who thought he was clever enough met Leroy’s palm, and while he tried not to step on his agonizing body (like Honey did) with a face now looking like a melted candle, he didn’t feel anything when he heard him wail in pain.

In fact, Leroy felt so blinded by adrenaline he couldn’t feel anything at all.

The only thing that managed to make him snap back into reality for a short while, was the warmth that later turned into almost unbearable heat and left them with a lack of oxygen for a short while.

Aracely Thompson, Dome, stepped forward and, with a stomp of her foot, translucent, golden chains rose from the ground, trapping the main Anarchists (plus Jerome and her) in a wide intangible circle, which chains melted into each other once the area was delimited, and turned into a see-through bubble. The ones from the outside could see them, but not hear or touch them, let alone harm them.

Leroy wondered why they hadn’t thought about that before, but he figured they had just thought about how Alec would manage just fine on his own at the back.

Fearless and merciless, they kept on walking the cracking pavement, through the growing chaos, trapped in their bubble with recycled air.

With the traffic suspended, the streets looked empty, as if naked. People had already gotten the message, and they were running like scared roaches, trying to get out of their way. Some were holding their children, some were holding their pets, and others were holding both.

“Where’s Ingrid?” Leroy asked in Honey’s ear, upon seeing a mother run away with her child, who looked around Ingrid’s age.

“At a daycare for single mothers…” Aracely was not a single mother (but she was only married through the eyes of religion. Jerome and her weren’t legally married, and, in theory, her name was still Aracely Brito, but she preferred to be called Thompson, and it was the only last name Ingrid had in her fake birth certificate) “In front of a lawyer firm by Trinity street. So, no matter what happens, don’t touch that building.”

They would have to warn Alec about it, or take Ingrid out before he could reach that daycare.

Some years ago, before Alec arrived to Gatlon, there had been an incident, where a daycare for prodigy children had been destroyed; it wasn’t considered legal, of course, and, through the eyes of the government, it didn’t exist. So, when they contacted the owners to ask them to close it and they refused, one of the gas tanks of the daycare conveniently exploded, resulting in a fire and the death of several prodigy children, which meant that, among a lot of other things, Alec would show no mercy for daycares for regular children. In other words, the entirety of daycares in Gatlon, including the one Ingrid was in.

Alec never forgot, nor did he forgive, and he had a wide knowledge in regards to the crimes Gatlon had committed against prodigies.

They continued on walking through the main street, which led to the main bridge, from which cars were falling like little ants. Nobody truly knew what Alec was planning to do, because he was as pragmatic as he was unpredictable, and the more you hung out with him, the looser the thread your life was hanging from became.

He just said Gatlon would fall.

And when he said something would happen, it usually happened.

Upon reaching the bridge, they were greeted by familiar faces, with familiar uniforms, who maybe thought this would be just another routine intervention. That they would be retouching a line they had already painted some time ago. That they had another chance.

There were uniformed men and women, some in cars, some in tanks, some in patrols, holding their guns and pointing at them, the ones who had made it into the bridge instead of staying in the fight below.

Leroy was starting to suspect a part of them knew it would be useless, because this time they weren’t giving them an option, but, still, in their eyes he could see they were desperate enough to try.

Due to the fact there were so many prodigies stepping on the bridge at once, the ground seemed to be buzzing, as well as the air, and the clouds, and the sky, and the life surrounding them, filled with the distant cries and the echoes of the ones they had lost in the way.

In that moment, when they had already arrived, Leroy drifted away.

He heard the bullets.

Bang, bang, bang.

It was a couple of months ago. They had just taken a government building with brute force, and they had locked it from the inside.

They stayed there for almost a week, until the police finally decided to cease fire and left the area. They had no food apart from some crackers and cheese sticks, they had no water (and no water elementals whatsoever), no electricity and no running water either. If that wasn’t bad enough on its own, some of them were injured or losing blood, and the bullets kept hitting the walls on the outside.

Bang, bang, bang.

Honey had always hated being unclean. Even when she wasn’t in the mood to take care of herself, she kept complaining about how much being dirty disgusted her. Hence, after two days, she sat in a corner and refused to move, until the day they were finally released. Everybody was at the verge of going crazy by then, and so, she decided to stand up and join Alec’s motivational speech about why they were doing this in the first place, in which Leroy was also involved.

Then, when it all went quiet, they just stayed there, with the question “Now what?” floating in the air.

One important part of Alec’s motto as a visionary, was reminding others that prodigies were people too. That they had rights. That they had feelings. That they had needs.

Honey, being herself, started singing Rivers of Babylon out of the blue, and while everybody in the room stared at her like she was crazy at first, suddenly, Alec started harmonizing with her, singing as loud as he did on Sundays, at Mass, dehydrated, hungry and everything.

Leroy just stepped aside, looking in the opposite direction, as if that would make everyone believe he didn’t know those two.

It was useless, because many people had already followed them by the second chorus.

Leroy still remembered the one line he had to drag out of his mouth when Honey placed the lipstick tube she was using as a fake microphone very close to his mouth, and everyone suddenly went silent, waiting for him.

“… When we remembered Zion…”

They went ballistic, almost as if they hadn’t been the ones to take this same building in the most violent way one could think about.

After two or three more cheesy songs that Leroy hated, there was a period of two or three minutes where nobody dared to take a turn in the invisible karaoke, and they realized there was something new there.

Absence.

There were no more bullets.

They were alone.

“I’m not very fond of Miss Harper’s taste in music.” Alec told him later that day, back at his apartment, where they had gone together to check on David and shower. “But it’s exactly what our revolution needs in its darkest times.”

“Because it’s obnoxious and loud?”

“No.” Alec told him, smiling sideways. “Because it’s vibrant. When choosing the head of a revolt, Leroy, everything’s about balance. You are serious, she is vibrant and I am versatile.”

“I thought we were talking about her music taste.”

“Are you implying that a person and their music taste aren’t deeply connected?”

That had been forever ago, compared to now, when the triggers were clicking loudly, and they were staring at their companions from sideways or from above.

Sirens screaming in the distance, along with the citizens. There was pain. There was death. There was blood. There were prodigies.

There was anarchy.

And through the confusion and anxiety, something started moving.

They started moving, at the sides, one by one, to let him through.

Now leading the crowd of Anarchists, stood Alec Artino, Ace Anarchy.

His costume was simple, with the boots, the pants, the navy blue sweater, with the golden A, the gabardine…

And the coppery helmet, made by David himself, shining on his head.

If Leroy didn’t know him well enough, he could’ve sworn he was losing his mind and that his mental health was in an extremely dark place.

Alec used to say David was one of the most powerful prodigies that had ever existed, and that this helmet would be the one thing that changed everything, once and for all. Leroy, who had never finished understanding what David could do, often doubted his words, and, to him, the helmet, if anything, only made him look ridiculous.

But he said Gatlon would fall today, and everyone believed him.

Hard as it was for him to admit it, Leroy did too.

“REMOVE THE HELMET AND IDENTIFY YOURSELF!”

If Honey had been able to speak instead of being completely frozen, she probably would’ve said the man at the front looked, plain and simple, like a cop. Light skin, brown eyes, dark brown hair combed to the side, gun in a trembling hand, afraid of the unknown.

The unknown, meaning Alec standing in front of him, with his hands laced behind his back, and his gabardine flowing with the wind.

“I SAID…!”

“I believe it was clear enough I heard you the first time.” Alec declared, tilting his head to the side. “Isn’t a person entitled to decide what questions they desire to respond to by sorting them according to their level of relevance?”

The man gulped so hard Leroy could almost hear him, and then Alec smirked.

“Can you drop your gun or is it attached to your hand? Because if it is, then I will not bother you again. But if it is not, I am going to need you to put it away so we can have a civilized conversation, like normal people do.”

“You’re… y-you’re not normal. Any of you are! YOU’RE NOT NORMAL, YOU MONSTERS! DROP YOUR WEAPONS, NOW!”

Honey’s bees were starting to present themselves at the scene, flying around her, a little uneasy. Leroy, from his part, felt calm, because this, sadly, wasn’t anything they hadn’t seen before.

“Yeah. That is exactly the problem.”

“STEP BACK!”

Alec refused to obey, and remained firm, right there where he was. Slowly, as if he were trying to mentally torture them, he lifted his right hand up. His fingers were in a very specific position, like he was about to make the sign of the cross on somebody.

It was Alec, meaning that, if he had done that, Leroy wouldn’t have been surprised.

But he didn’t.

Besides, if he had actually been planning to, they didn’t give him time for that, for the very second they saw him move, they shot, and many emergency alarms went off.

The bang was so loud Honey covered her ears, and her bees started trying to shield themselves by hiding behind her, beneath her hair or landing on her skin, never stinging her.

Leroy, from his part, felt his fingertips dripping with acid, preparing himself for the impact.

The impact never came.

Right in front of their eyes, the shower of bullets stops. The smell of gunpowder was still filling the air, and the bullets were still there, as present as ever.

However, they were suspended into the air, and one of them was almost touching Alec’s nose, who just smiled, before saying, in such a low volume Honey and him were the only ones who could hear:

“So be it, then.”

Being that said, he lifted his chin.

The bullets turned around.

Then, they were shot in the opposite direction, at full speed, to Alec’s will.

The man at the front of the formation fell first, followed by many others, with the bullets they had shot themselves, in an attempt to kill them.

They fell, one by one, and soon there were puddles of red on the floor, and other voices barking orders.

Shoot the canyons, they said.

But the canyons fell too.

Bring the bombs, they said.

And Alec waved them away as if they were some type of insignificant thing.

The planes, they said.

And they spun and flew out of control, before falling straight into the water or exploding midair.

Bullets stopped again and killed their shooters.

There was blood.

Tons of blood.

That’s when Leroy felt his heart pounding, upon coming to the maybe horrible realization that never had Alec been so strong.

His powers didn’t act like this.

His telekinesis was a hundred times more powerful.

It was…

It was the helmet

“GET THEM!” He shouted then, snapping Leroy back into reality, making him wonder how much time Alec had waited to say those words out loud.

To use those putrid words, the ones they always used before attempting against prodigies, against them.

If he wanted to be honest, hearing them felt good, but Leroy didn’t react immediately.

First he saw the chaos, when the mass of uniformed men and women melted between the prodigies in costumes, stepping on the dead and the dying, sometimes accidentally.

The massacre began in the rest of the city, as the sky became wilder, the tide started to roar and the screams became the type of symphony one would hear when entering the gates from Hell.

Gatlon City was starting to look red.

But the red wasn’t coming from the prodigies, but caused by them.

“You two stay with me.” Alec commanded, looking both at Honey and him. “I need you to clear the path.”

“Clear the bridge?!”

“Did I make myself understood, Queen Bee?”

Honey flinched the very moment she heard her own alias, and Leroy watched her as she tried to process everything.

“Clear the bridge.” She repeated. “Yes. Clear the…”

Leroy hoped that didn’t include the bodies.

He guessed it didn’t. Alec, after all, didn’t seem to care about that.

“Clear the bridge. Got it.” Leroy nodded.

“Excellent.”

Alec didn’t stare at them, and he didn’t move either, standing in the middle, with his hands into his pockets, and his face held high, feeling the movements all around him, prepared to get rid of any threat as soon as he spotted it.

Honey and Leroy rarely talked about their tactics before putting them into practice, but, just for once, Leroy wanted to do it.

And, of course, it wasn’t possible, because just as Leroy was preparing to grab her by the wrist and drag her aside, she got herself out of his reach.

“Wait! Wait!” she screamed, not because she was desperate, but because she wanted to be heard above the rest of the din.

Fortunately, in an almost surreal scene to watch, her voice caught Alec’s attention, and his green eyes caught hers, listening.

Leroy stared at Honey, both incredulous and speechless.

“A—” She stuttered. “… Acey.”

Acey.

Fucking Acey.

Leroy arched an eyebrow sharply, but Alec nodded, as if approving the nickname or acknowledging she was talking to him.

“I… “

BANG.

An explosion.

A loud, very loud explosion, followed by the smell of smoke and gunpowder. Maybe, if they were at a lower spot, they would’ve smelled the burnt flesh too.

Good thing they weren’t.

That didn’t make Alec less mad, though, for he unnecessarily adjusted his helmet and straightened his back.

“Acey, wait, I…! “

“Maybe not right now, Queen Bee.” He declared, plain and cold, but solemn.

Somehow, Leroy already knew what she wanted to say, and he also knew she would never say it after today, because he knew her well enough.

And maybe he knew him well enough too.

“Later.” He promised, empty.

Then, just like that, sitting in a cross-legged position, Alec levitated, perhaps to have a better view of the city.

Leroy took Honey by the wrist, this time for real.

Alec made the tank shoot in the opposite direction, and then came another explosion.

Back to back, Honey and him waited for the ones who came and tried to attack. Leroy started feeling his own heartbeat in his ears, and his whole body was vibrating, while Honey’s hasty breaths tormented him, trying to convince himself that they were doing fine, and that they were right.

Because they were.

They were just fighting back.

Leroy saw the scene as if he were out of his body.

The two of them, below Alec, but higher than the city, which was in flames; the body to body fights, with a considerable unbalance of power. The Anarchists were annihilating them with not a drop of mercy, nor remorse. The fights were on top of cars. On top of buildings. Through the streets. Pipes were leaking. The sky was roaring and wailing at the same time. Bullets were flying. Cables were hanging. Trees were moving as if made of paper.

Leroy could still feel Honey’s back against his’, and they only separated when they had to meet the officials who were coming into the bridge, before sending them to the top of pile of bodies.

A man came in, and he was a little taller than Leroy, with his head shaved and a bulletproof jacket. He wasn’t holding a gun, but a metallic tube instead. In posture and enraged expression, Leroy could tell he wasn’t a cop. Maybe a veteran, or some dumb fuck who enjoyed hunting season.

First, Leroy got rid of the tube, melting it with his hand, and next thing he knew, he was attacking him, trying to put his whole body weight on him. Leroy resisted and grabbed him first by the wrist and then by the cheeks, which made him wail in pain. Leroy pressed his palms harder against his skin, and it was only then that a swarm of both bees and wasps came in and started devouring the man’s face, gathering together into the burnt cheeks and wrists.

Honey grabbed Leroy by the arm and tried to pull him up, grunting and gasping, until Leroy was lucid enough to help her and got up himself.

At that very moment somebody kicked her back and made her trip forward. Fortunately, Leroy was able to catch her, but his blood started to boil, and, then, he just knew he had gone in a blind assault of rage.

Out of a sudden, he didn’t feel like himself. He could feel his pores dripping, and the acid was so strong he felt his whole body itching; getting into a fight position, he asked Honey to get behind him with a hand motion, which she obeyed, though also in defense mode.

It was a female official this time. Light brown hair tied in a small ponytail and muscular body. Leroy waved his hand, and that was enough to send the acid flying towards her, straight into her eyes and different spots of her skin.

She screamed in pain.

Honey was already fighting another man, but still, Leroy felt the bees surrounding him too, and there was a very specific group that stayed even when Honey moved towards another position, and they buzzed loudly all around him, notifying him when somebody was coming.

“They’re like an alarm.” He recalled Honey saying once, standing in the middle of the kitchen, taking the groceries out of the bags. She was covered in bees, as if they were children asking their mother what she had gotten for then. “They usually see the enemy before I do, so they buzz in their direction. From the outside it looks like I have outstanding reflexes but… Baby, you’re too close to my lashes and it’s giving me the heebie-jeebies, would you mind? Thank you.” A bumblebee flew away from Honey’s eye, to stand above her brow instead.

“What was I saying?” She tapped her chin, making the bees go away for a second. “Ah. Yes. I do have good reflexes, but yeah, it’s usually thanks to them, as well.”

Leroy remained leaned against the door frame, with his arms crossed over his chest.

“So.” She pointed at the counter, now full of groceries. “You’re gonna help me or what?”

Leroy wasn’t scared of bees. He had never been. Not particularly. But when he met Honey, he became immune to them and decided he would never be, either. Sometimes, when he was alone in the apartment and saw a swarm by the door, waiting for Honey to come back, he would even try to talk to them, which was useless and, judging for how they always stung him, they didn’t like it.

Maybe the bees didn’t like him whatsoever, but right here, in the bridge, they were pretending they did, because Honey had asked them to do so.

And yes. Hard as it was for him to admit it, they were useful.

Very useful.

On the other hand, it also made him feel dumb, because he didn’t know how desperate you had to be for your powers to respond to you through another prodigy.

Leroy was stabbed during one of the (very violent) riots. It wasn’t by a cop, but by a regular, non-prodigy civilian instead. It was a deep cut, and Alec got so mad he ordered to kill as many as they had to until they found the one who had done it. While Hell was breaking loose, Honey dragged him like a human crutch towards the park, hiding him behind the bushes.

“Don’t fall asleep or move unless you really need to, and don’t try to cauterize yourself because that shit hurts and you might pass out. Wait for Rina. I’ll send her to you.” Rina was a healing prodigy, and by the time Honey was saying that, she had already been killed, so they ended up sending Gwen instead. “You understand? Now it’s not the time to be the stubborn piece of shit you usually are. That’s not how we’re rolling. You understand?”

Leroy understood, but he didn’t answer. Not directly. Instead, he reached for the small blade he always carried in his pocket and, before he handed it to Honey, he tried to release his power in it.

She stared before grabbing it.

“Don’t let go, Leroy.” She asked, whispering, as she placed the blade in her own pocket. “For all you care, don’t let go.”

And when Honey’s skin touched it without her screaming in pain, he thought maybe it hadn’t worked at all, but a few days later, when Alec came to the apartment and tried to remove it from the dining table (because David was there too and he liked to touch everything), it hurt his palm.

The blade had become poisoned, and it burned everyone except for Honey and himself.

She still had it to this day, and right there, fighting in the bridge, he witnessed the exact moment when she took it out, while he stood behind her, with her bees, that she had lent him.

The sudden war seemed to have gone on forever when Leroy felt the breeze at his feet, produced by Alec’s body cutting through the air. He looked like a ghost. A very tangible and imposing ghost, who stood like a stone looking at the destruction he had caused himself, with his arms behind his back and his eyes closed.

Honey and Leroy came to his encounter, with the “Now what?” floating above their heads, like that time Honey and him had harmonized to Rivers of Babylon.

With sweat rolling down his face through the helmet and mask, Alec smiled sideways, and held his hand towards them, with his eyes showing a mild fuchsia tonality. None of the two, needless to say, knew how to react to that at first, but Honey believed him enough to try, and she wrapped her hand around his’, like a shell protecting a pearl.

And Leroy believed Honey enough to try, and wrapped his hand around hers’, like he was the sand or the water protecting the shell that protected the pearl.

And there they were.

The three of them.

Like the day Leroy met them for the first time. Like the days they travelled together, hiding from the police or not. Like all the days Alec forced them to go to Mass. Like the days they had to sleep under poor conditions, in motels or abandoned buildings, and Alec and him woke up with back pain because Honey always had to have the most comfortable place they managed to get. Like the days one of them was so injured they didn’t know he or she would wake up the next morning, and so they started praying they would.

Repressed memories started coming back, and Leroy managed to dodge every single one of them, although a part of him didn’t want to.

Then Alec stared at them. They were very close together, with their foreheads touching, while the three interlocked hands remained in the middle.

“Courage comes from the same place as fear.” Alec reminded them.

“And the day we decide to burn, they will all come with us. “ Ace Anarchy said.

And then, he lifted.

Honey was the last one to let go of him.

Next, he was gone.

Ace Anarchy stood above it all, like the burning sun, with both his arms extended to his sides, towards the emptiness, and, at the same time, towards the everything.

Leroy took Honey by the arms, putting her aside, as they stared. Maybe in awe. Maybe in fear.

Ace Anarchy looked up at the sky, then at the front again.

All the guns were pointing at him. All the lives were hanging by the thread he was using to sew his way in, and also his way out.

The Earth trembled in fear, and then it shook in pain.

Honey screeched, shoving her nails into Leroy’s arm to recover her balance, though Leroy was also on the verge of falling.

They tried to hold the other up. To force each other to remain standing.

Gatlon City left the ground, light as a feather. The buildings fell, the bridge started to crack, the sea escaped from the place it belonged to, people screamed, screamed, screamed.

Everything was in flames.

The light became brighter.

The wails became louder.

Time became slower.

Time became torture.

Time became endless.

And Gatlon City remained suspended into the air, shattering into little pieces, leaving a trace of blood and flesh.

Then, just like that, it fell.

Gatlon City fell, like a sinking boat.

Like it was nothing.

Like it was made of paper.

And it fell.

And, just like Ace Anarchy prophesied, they all fell with it. And with him.

#renegades trilogy #marissa meyer #Dawnie Writes #Leroy Flinn #Cyanide #Honey Harper #Queen Bee #Alec Artino #Ace Anarchy #Im not an ace apologist #not even a honey apologist #even though i love them i also want them to choke and die bc thats what they deserve #does that mean im only and exclusively a Leroy apologist? yes #yes absolutely #hes my grandpa #Las crónicas de gatlon #el viejo rancio la patrona y el 100tifiko #theres two mexican references here because mexico is so wild i base Ace's movement upon it lmao #TW: VIOLENCE

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everyday-is-brighter-with-you · 4 years

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BASICALLY BUTCH CHARACTERS

Good for them!!!

SUSIE from DELTARUNE

Dyke with an attitude and home issues probably. But she will be your big sis if you're Lancer. Hangs out in the woods and cuts trees with a rusty ax to express blatantly-unsubtle-but-trying-to-be-subtle teenage angst. Nonbinary, doesnt know what exactly a girl is but theyre cute

SPINEL from STEVEN UNIVERSE

Chaotic butch who wields the power of fucked up clownery. And also punched Steven Annoyingverses face so +50 points dude!! You just know she would look great in a polka dot suit which she tailored herself and added a little water flower prank to + other fun stuff ! Real gentleman with the femmes. Nonbinary !! Uses sie/hir too

QUEEN LUNA ( because little girls love powerful queens, Hasbro )from MY LITTLE PONY

L3gendary butch horse. So iconic that the e is replaced with a 3. Invented chivalry and is a total swoon of a knight in her dramatiqué swishy capes, ye olde Shakespearean accent, brooding attitude and shining armor. Straight out of a hideously melodramatic but awesome anyways lesbian play. Most likely to grow sparkly facial hair at some point. Fluid in her gender presentation, LBD one day and pageboy shirt the next. Likes video games.

PRINCESS TSUNAMI from WINGS OF FIRE

Epic rebel princess dyke who comes in guns-a-blazing. Referring to personality AND muscles. Will grumpily serenade her girlfriends underwater to try and impress them but fail at it ultimately, and then shes like fuck it RANDOM IMPULSIVE CORAL REEF ADVENTURE GO. And they just have one of those animated sequences in movies which make you feel warm as heck. Had a murder mystery subplot in her book so hidden noir detective potential. Bravely fights for her friends and protects them. Great role model! Slaps your back on holidays. Literally named after a TSUNAMI

TORIEL from UNDERTALE

As everyone knows, butches are the best mom you could ever ask for and are also amazing at cooking. Built like a brick shithouse. Dates local nonbinary bunny dyke QC and they have a cozy middle age coffeeshop romance. Ends with Kris having 2 Moms And Double The Food Aw Yeah. Both wear super slick tuxes to their wedding. Everyone had to wear sunglasses to protect from the lens flares of sheer lesbian cool. She is also trans. MTT specially dedicated the superhit song "Toriel She Likes Women She Is Gay~🎶" to her, damn . You go, Toriel !!

this has been

Butch Appreciation Post💛

Edit: this blew up !! So ya, HAPPY 2020 AND REMEMBER TO SUPPORT BUTCH CONTENT CREATORS, BRING MORE BUTCH CHRS OF UR OWN INTO THE WORLD TOO, ID LOVE TO SEE EM !!!

#butch #butch lesbian #butch appreciation #lgbt #lgbt memes #deltarune #susie #steven universe #spinel #wof #wings of fire #tsunami wof #undertale #toriel #my little pony #princess luna #nonbinary #neopronouns #dyke slur

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punkscowardschampions · 4 years

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Ronnie & Joe

Ronnie: pick me up Joe: rude you clearly did without me Joe: but I'll be able to do a twofer, yeah 👌 Joe: send your distress signal so I know where to point Ronnie: [wherever she's been working for a hot sec, I dread to think lol] Joe: you making a complaint about their cold-calls in person? Joe: tick off initiative on your CV Ronnie: my sides have split & it aint fuck all to the piss poor stitching Joe: see how far we can stretch your guts either side of you, fun Joe: did you self-sew or see one of your gun-wielding pals? different principle tats and triage Ronnie: then you can play a round of guess how much of this blood is mine, get yourself proper going Joe: too kind, stop me from charging the going rate for a while yet 🚖 Joe: what office supply did you use though Joe: if you were too cliche, you are going to have to sit up front and talk to me, proper cabbie punishment Ronnie: everything got nicked day 1 baby they werent about to waste any staples keeping shit on desks Ronnie: phone & a script is your lot Joe: there any drug we can act like anyone's calling it oscar on the street? Joe: you fully Joe Pesci'd someone with the phone, yeah? 👏 Ronnie: any gear that should go straight in the bin Ronnie: call it oscar Joe: you are wasted on 0 hour contracts, my dear Ronnie: not wasted enough for em Joe: join me at your local overpriced shit coffee dealer Joe: our bathrooms couldn't pass a piss test but they all only want the ⬆pers Joe: 💔 Ronnie: ill have an escort if you dont get a fucking move on Ronnie: you got enough student spends to feed coffee & doughnuts to the full force yeah Joe: say lucky you but security guards got as many hairs on their head as they got IQ points Joe: lot down Soho are decent conversationalists, unlike Daz and Gaz Joe: I did just get this terms though so hold on and you can help me 🔥 through it Ronnie: i dont get turned on by einstein & his pals mckenna thats your wank fuel Ronnie: easiest way to get a cunt off my back is to put him on his Joe: he only banged his cousin, that's nothing to waste energy on Ronnie: 💔 none of your cousins look enough like your mam for you Joe: why do you think i was searching Joe: daring to dream Ronnie: give a fuck about your nancy drew fantasies Ronnie: that schoolgirl shit is tapped Joe: the catholic schoolgirl uniforms have been overstated Joe: not all that in person, be the review Joe: nuns though, yeah Joe: enough mild peril to manage Ronnie: charlie will be gutted youve switched from homos to dykes Joe: you're the only one who's guts I wanna play around Joe: I'll break it to him nicely Joe: doughnuts, yeah Ronnie: consolation hole Ronnie: youve had shitter ideas Joe: it was yours, in fairness Joe: dunno about offering up my hole to every bloke at the met but if I put my foot down shouldn't be an issue Ronnie: i dont reckon a consolation footjob is gonna cut it Ronnie: not my first offence Joe: giving away how highly you think of my 🍑 Joe: what happened then, beyond telemarketing being worse than shitting out razorblades Ronnie: you wish you had 1 whitey Joe: says you Ronnie: if i had any curves theyd be cut off by now Joe: junkie chic before the habit Joe: some girls have all the luck Ronnie: lucky i need your bullshit heroics for this or id send you on a fools errand to sleuth the pieces out of landfill Joe: white knight > jester Joe: not my usual style, but for you I'll make an exception Ronnie: unless youre gonna say your horse fucking girlfriend dressed you the other night ive already seen it like Joe: you think her thing is budget kurt cobain? Joe: or that she's blind Ronnie: be blind by now if you catholics arent full of shit about touching yourself too much Ronnie: homesick for the horse & rejected by you Joe: what do you think its called Joe: my bets are on some boy band member she fancied when she was 11 and daddy was gutted Ronnie: or the 1st lad she wanted to meet round the back of the bike sheds Joe: you're such a romantic Ronnie: fuck off Ronnie: im thinking like a basic white bitch from kent or wherever the fuck you said Joe: you do it well Joe: no way her school had anything common like bikesheds though so knocking a point off Joe: getting fingered on the hellipad is more voyeuristic but has less of a charm about it Ronnie: write a song about it Ronnie: shes gonna be charmed by the namedrop Joe: return the favour Joe: she's making me help her with her coursework Ronnie: plaster cast of your cock and then what Ronnie: tell her you aint no hendrix & its been done Joe: charlie wishes, whitey Joe: I'll cc 'em both in about my disappointing dick Ronnie: ill pass on gaz & daz numbers Joe: god I hope the plaster ain't dried Ronnie: god aint listening to you nancy Joe: adds up Joe: that kind of dad, technically always keep an eye but going in one ear and out the other Joe: 💔 woe is me Ronnie: irish catholics aint got fuck all going on between the ears she werent in it for that Joe: fucked me up with her shit genetics then Joe: you manage to get a pen? Joe: shove it in my ear and dig it out Ronnie: pull it out of my neck & you can stick it where you like Joe: we'll let the blood piss out 'til it feels right Ronnie: im the romantic Ronnie: shut up Joe: alright, you need to be conscious to woo me Ronnie: couldve fooled me Joe: dead girls pale in comparison Joe: 💘 Ronnie: the boners you lot have got for open caskets over there i dont reckon youve ever seen a dead girl the proper colour Joe: just said you were #1 but you've got to be 1 and only, yeah? Ronnie: in your fever dreams mckenna Ronnie: i aint looking that much like your ma however much slap i put on Joe: you're prettier than her Ronnie: now you want me to drink bleach instead of having a bath in it Ronnie: make up your fucking mind like Joe: just knew that would wind you up Joe: gotta bring out some cliches Joe: you're perfect just the way you are, you know Ronnie: drop dead Joe: god willing Joe: he's being fucking slow about it, despite my best efforts Ronnie: ill give it my best shot if you keep on Joe: another one for the cv Ronnie: find it written in my blood shit & bile on this wall Ronnie: thats your girlfriends coursework aced for her Joe: beats the lecture I'm skipping out on by miles Ronnie: no shit none of em are dressed like nuns Joe: none of 'em hate me like you either Joe: so damn likeable, its a curse Ronnie: i dont wanna hear about all your teachers trying to pet you Ronnie: childhoods over golden boy Joe: and all without me getting molested once Joe: by any nuns or teachers anyway Ronnie: 💔 Ronnie: why youre such an annoying cunt Joe: abuse really humbles you, does it Joe: builds character Ronnie: gives you something to properly cry about Joe: got nothing on the shit my brain can make up Joe: idle hands and all that Ronnie: yeah youre so special baby Joe: it's just being mental or not Joe: if you ain't, you can go through whatever fucked up shit and be alright still Joe: if you're mental nothing even needs to happen and you'll be worse off Joe: some of us ain't got a chance from conception Ronnie: tell me something i dont know Ronnie: poster child for not having a fucking chance & any mental problems they wanna attach Joe: you better pay for more ad space Joe: call it karma, or dodgy genetics Joe: but I make a great case for abortion Ronnie: like i said before not one that needs to be put to me Ronnie: had more of em than youve had misery boners Joe: won't make you tell me about 'em Joe: no way you'd be as descriptive as the furious pro-lifers who act like the baby is fit to crawl out when you kill it Ronnie: hot Ronnie: shouldve called 1 of em to pick me up instead Joe: condemnation and loathing is meant to be my thing Ronnie: sharings meant to be your thing too yeah? Joe: only when it's inadvisable Ronnie: only when you wanna Joe: if you got to play oldest you'd know that's sadly untrue Ronnie: stuck being the cliche middle kid between fitz & the other one Ronnie: fucks sake Joe: seeking attention and approval because you're overlooked and under-appreciated? Joe: it's why 3 is a good number, any more and you've got multiple middle kids Joe: maybe I don't wanna fuck my mum, just missing all 3 of my own so much 🙄 Ronnie: they wish anyone could overlook me Ronnie: & you deffo do wanna fuck her so thats shit on your thesis Joe: yeah, sounds just like them Joe: suits you Joe: like the basic white bitch thing Ronnie: go fuck your mam Ronnie: im too tired for this Joe: you won't have no early start tomorrow sound of Ronnie: didnt have an early start today Ronnie: thats what kicked off this bullshit Joe: fair enough Joe: who wants a cold call at 7am Ronnie: the cunt who runs the place will be getting 1 off me til he pays me Joe: lucky him Joe: might wanna stay in your debt longer, romantic that you are Joe: attention very flattering Ronnie: what im hearing is i should tell his missus some fucking fairytale about the attention he was giving me Ronnie: everyonell be made up with the lie Joe: could do Joe: like your flair Joe: or I could come in, tell him you're mental and that he didn't make adequate allowances for you but now you're too traumatized to come back so he should just pay and we won't have to sue Joe: might get damages on top Ronnie: who are you my fucking school age carer like Joe: i'm believable, and more palatable than you outwardly Joe: anyway i look older Ronnie: than what 12 Joe: you have a baby face Joe: i look like i've not slept in as many years Joe: which is pretty accurate, as it goes Ronnie: do i fuck Ronnie: i look like ive shaken a baby to death Joe: child on child crime Joe: shocking headlines there, like that scottish girl who was fucked then got out and was someone's gran like she didn't kill a toddler Ronnie: see how palatable you are when I kick your teeth in Joe: it's a curse Joe: if you wanna lift it and be my hero instead of it being this way 'round Joe: love you forever, like Ronnie: ill lift your wallet fuck the rest Joe: already offered you my money Joe: not even a challenge, soft touch Ronnie: like youve ever been challenged soft lad Joe: go on Ronnie: youre already going on loads Joe: bet you've never heard about the traffic in this city, have ya Ronnie: fuck it ill go lay in it Joe: 😍 Ronnie: save the pillow talk for when youre offering me somewhere else to sleep Ronnie: would let you fuck me for entry to horse girls en suite if theres a bath in it Joe: where's your bed gone Ronnie: its got a hysterical homo in it whos only gonna get himself in more of a fanny flap cause ive been sacked Ronnie: ill take the wreckage of a 4 car pile up or whatever Joe: gotcha Joe: how long 'fore he calms it Ronnie: how long are you offering to spend buying him drinks & cupping his balls Joe: i get it Joe: you wanna wifeswap Joe: not just her art assignment you're interested in Joe: but you can just take my bed, I'm always falling asleep on the sofa or up the table and she'll relish at more chance to watch me sleeping Ronnie: your room got a 🔒 Joe: yeah but you're alright, it's on the inside Joe: not going to get fritzl about it Ronnie: youd need more than that to keep me in Ronnie: which youd know if you were earning off dealing with my mental problems Joe: not giving you a challenge either, don't get hysterical yourself like Ronnie: you couldnt like Ronnie: bigger pussy than your basic white girlfriend Joe: oh god stop talking about it Joe: i'll be sick Ronnie: no stomach for any kind of challenge Joe: you crack on Joe: i'll stick to 🍩 Ronnie: not so needy for some clean piss that ill be licking her out for it Joe: you should write this song for me Ronnie: whats in it for me Ronnie: got all your spends on a promise as is Joe: the fame and full writing credits, obviously Ronnie: fuck off obviously Joe: that's how we know you're not really a middle kid Ronnie: more shit you can come at your ma with Joe: I'll save it for the next holiday Ronnie: 💘 Joe: what about your dad Ronnie: i dont reckon hes up for another go on her if youre there watching Joe: 💔 Joe: i meant do you know what happened to him Joe: you might have more interesting half brothers out there, what I'm thinking Ronnie: got no interest in little fucking kids Joe: so you do know Joe: did he come find you or what Ronnie: dont get jealous nance Ronnie: did it myself like Joe: he meet your expectations Ronnie: what kind of fucking soft shit is that Ronnie: get a grip mckenna he aint rich Joe: a no would suffice Joe: though it's adorable you really kicked it like Annie over it Joe: you could've said you had none, or you expected him to be dead or worse, a useless cunt Ronnie: why would i say fuck all to you about it Joe: too painful too private Joe: gotcha Ronnie: wank over your own parents when i aint waiting Joe: the fact you've not implied I'd prematurely cum in my pants Joe: you're so full of hope it's equal parts inspiring and worrying Ronnie: get out of my face before i kick yours in Ronnie: everyone who aint gone blind can see youre a virgin Joe: don't be jealous, sid Ronnie: you cant tell your older sister what to do baby Ronnie: that aint how this works Joe: it wasn't good ever Ronnie: course youre crying about that too Ronnie: fucking hell Joe: just trying to ease your jealousy Joe: anyway, you'll be pleased to know the lacklustre results were down to my lack of trying, not theirs Ronnie: 1 less dose of the clap & i might still be fertile now thats fucking worrying Ronnie: keep your status choir boy Joe: bit cliche far as fantasies go but alright Ronnie: you started it Ronnie: trying to make me feel special Joe: no need to try is there Ronnie: not now my gag reflex has been triggered Joe: like that ain't been decimated by now too Ronnie: youre learning Ronnie: your teachersll be made up Joe: hope for the molestation yet? Joe: nice Ronnie: ease your 💔 & limp dick Joe: calm down Joe: might get attached Ronnie: do your grades the world of good Joe: you wanna help me with my homework? Ronnie: youre that shit in the sack you still wont get an a after giving your teachers a going over Ronnie: unlucky like Joe: so you can help me Joe: what else you gonna do whilst you're hiding from charlie Ronnie: use your imagination Joe: no need Joe: you'll be sharing Ronnie: cant stop you kicking the door in Ronnie: its yours Joe: just the needle, not the bed, like Joe: you're fine Ronnie: yeah youll be between horse girls sheets Joe: don't reckon she's strong enough to carry me Ronnie: only has to strap a saddle on Joe: 😂 Ronnie: fuck knows what she would fill your nose bag with Joe: the surprise is the fun part Ronnie: dont come crying to me when its oscar Joe: if she was half as interesting as you're making out, might stand a chance of working Joe: as it goes, probably be granola Ronnie: stick her thatll make her more your type Joe: come on Joe: she don't look a thing like my mother Ronnie: fucks sake when shes under get a 🔪 Ronnie: do your best like Joe: i keep telling you i'm not one for trying Ronnie: trying not to cry is as far as it goes yeah Joe: even my kiddy medicine cuts that shit off Joe: ain't been able to since I was 12 Joe: not that there was much call for it, my perfect life with mummy dearest Ronnie: the other week before you met me then Ronnie: gutted i broke your streak Joe: you sure you ain't interested in little fucking kids Joe: rearrange that sentence and Freud is having a field day Ronnie: make the effort to get here before i start to rot Ronnie: not trying to make that cunts day or yours Joe: you'd have liked him Ronnie: he rich off peddling that bullshit to the masses Joe: yeah and he reckoned cocaine was the cure for heroin addiction so he really knew a good time Ronnie: sounds like my not boyfriend Joe: oh yeah? Joe: well his grandson was cooler Joe: he fucked kate moss when he was like 70 Ronnie: anyone written a song about that Joe: maybe pete did Joe: he was a painter though so he painted her with her kit off, obviously Joe: reckon it's free for us to give it a crack Ronnie: your girlfriend painted you yet or what Joe: she wants to Ronnie: no shit mckenna Ronnie: every cunt there nearly fucking went arse over tit in the puddle she was sat in at that gig Joe: so that's what that sticky feeling was Ronnie: her juices or charlies Joe: that's called mixed media Joe: potential bio-hazard for her profs though Ronnie: worst theyre gonna get off her is thrush Ronnie: never met a bitch so clean Joe: yeah Joe: boring Ronnie: i told you to kill her last time you started being a baby about it Joe: you can have homicidal, sis Joe: boring but harmless Ronnie: cocaines harmless after heroin you & freud are still pussy enough to call it a party Joe: why it's a cure Joe: get you from comatose to semi-functioning Ronnie: she could be a cure too Ronnie: cold turkey Joe: weren't searching for a cure Joe: am i coming in or are you coming out Joe: can't see you Ronnie: cause youre comatose Ronnie: gutted this ex boss aint a cokehead Joe: not far off Joe: he your not boyfriend or is that just what we're telling the wife Ronnie: fuck off Ronnie: he couldnt fund your baby habit nevermind mine Joe: we going there first then Ronnie: yeah Joe: if we get your wages, we don't have to Joe: [come in boy] Ronnie: [a look like go on impress me by getting these wages boy] Joe: [when you can give it social worker chat 'cos what Tess does and the whole beeline of it all like you can be convincing enough that he's breaking some kind of equality law by sacking her without pay lol] Ronnie: [love that for you Joseph even if she won't let you know she's impressed and also lowkey triggered by that social worker energy] Joe: [honestly, lbr this man surely just wants you gone, won't take too much persuading] Ronnie: [literally and he's clearly in some way shady if he's 1. employed her and also 2. not called the police on her rn] Joe: [no leg to stand on sir, love this shakedown for you] Ronnie: [I bet they're all illegals and people being exploited] Joe: [its a mood, as in happens all the time esp. in cities, least you can hit him up again lads, long as he don't get y'all beaten up or something lol] Ronnie: [tbf if you do get beaten up that's a mood too] Joe: [yeah, when they find out you are not social and just taking their money lol] Ronnie: [love a scam] Joe: [the kind of nonsense have your mother rolling in her grave she's not in, love that we're starting that now] Ronnie: [I approve of the vibe, start as you mean to go on lads, all before you've made his poor flatmate wanna die lol] Joe: [poor gal did not ask for you as a flatmate let alone all this lol] Ronnie: [do you wanna skip to like when she's back and Ronnie's in his room or whatever because easy way to keep the convo going without needing it to be face to face] Joe: [works for me henny] Ronnie: [your turn to start boo] Joe: doubt she'll leave her room any time soon now Ronnie: 💔 Joe: yeah poor girl Joe: saying you got free reign, if you need anything Ronnie: i had it before Ronnie: not scared of her like Joe: nah Joe: what about charlie then Joe: or you just don't wanna upset him Ronnie: yeah terrified Ronnie: well sleuthed nancy Joe: that he'll get sick of you, maybe Ronnie: i fucking told you we aint the kind of family who get rid Joe: yeah Ronnie: dont project onto me Ronnie: we aint nothing alike Joe: i'm the one sick of them Joe: if anything Ronnie: yeah & he aint fuck all like you either Joe: I can see that Ronnie: youve seen him once dont flatter yourself Joe: and it's that obvious Ronnie: 🖕 Joe: what? Joe: i only need to know one half the equation to know we're not the same Joe: it's a compliment to him if fuck all else Ronnie: give it to him then Ronnie: hell lap it up Joe: i told you it's nice Joe: what you lot got Joe: but i'm not looking to get in on it if that's what you reckon Ronnie: take what you want pussy Joe: that's not your thing? Ronnie: what we cant both do it Joe: potentially Ronnie: dont remember you having any hesitation to share a needle Ronnie: grow a pair when youre not getting shot up Ronnie: maybe the dayll come when i dont have to spoon feed you the gear like a fucking kid Joe: i'd have to work out if i want anything but first Ronnie: yeah Joe: is it all you want Joe: the heroin Ronnie: mind your fucking business Joe: alright Joe: do you want to do my next tattoo or what Ronnie: i said take what you fucking want Joe: [come through with ink you've undoubtedly stole from your flatmate, also being more spacey/twitchy than normal like distract me gal] Ronnie: [love how old school & gross we're kicking this tattoo situation unlike when Ali does it] Joe: [which is absolutely the point, how your arms and legs don't fall off lol] Ronnie: [their other ones probably wouldn't have even healed yet cos lbr it's gonna be no time in between these interactions] Joe: [just loads of lowkey open wounds, like that isn't life anyway] Ronnie: [mhmm they'd be fucked already too cos they are so itchy when they are healing and y'all don't have chill] Joe: [all the reason for constant touch ups/ messing with so it casually never heals #mood] Ronnie: [I didn't think of that but I stan] Joe: [casual metaphor for your everything lads] Ronnie: [you know you can do anything to her tattoowise yourself Joseph she don't care] Joe: [probably doing some weird repitition moment you'd usually do on yourself which will be painful af excuse you] Ronnie: [she do love the pain you're fine] Joe: [good thing too, we're just here fucking each other up like this ain't gonna go anywhere else lolllllll] Ronnie: [way more #into it than I should be considering I don't even like when people shout lol] Joe: [you babby, they are not, obviously we're getting and taking drugs even if she's too naive to know why they're in such a state, maybe they can make a dealer come to them when they're feeling fancy/have already had loads lol] Ronnie: [take a moment to appreciate how few clothes she is wearing rn and how much that means this poor gal can and would see like we've got track marks and self harm scars for days even before you start on the tattoos lol, you're gonna get clued in before she leaves hen] Joe: [honestly props for not running home screaming tbh babe] Ronnie: [especially when this dealer comes because he ain't Drew like he should be scary af] Joe: [lowkey makes you work for it even when you're paying 'cos hates junkies] Ronnie: [at least she can basically fuck him in full view for Joe's benefit because the vibe is already there haha] Joe: [i truly love thinking about what the hell you're telling the flatmate when she leaves, she's not that stupid, also must fancy you if she doesn't report you immediately lol] Ronnie: [she definitely does that's not just Ronnie's bpd jealousy shining through like did you tell her you were related after the gig or what even Joseph what's the narrative] Joe: [also, entirely unrelated, when you bleaching your hair 'cos it looks so much better lol, anyways, he's probably had to go with a troubled sister narrative 'cos she's the type to be sympathetic and it makes sense why he'd deal from her pov] Ronnie: [that's gonna make the obvious sexual tension awkward but yeah I vote they definitely do it while she's staying because same vibe as the tattoo sesh so] Joe: [ikr, when you're blatantly fucking this will be very confusing, you should deffo only be about 1st year lol] Ronnie: [are you gonna give him another different flatmate in year 2 or like none?] Joe: [maybe for year 2 on you can still have some like a house share moment but he's the one you never see and has nothing to do with you] Ronnie: [that works definitely cos like I was just thinking how could he afford somewhere on his own] Joe: [yeah, even if we're technically employed whilst in uni by the orchestra, it's not gonna be loads, and that's how London be even if you're not a student] Ronnie: [how long do we think she should stay for this time because obvs she's coming back again and again but] Joe: [hmm, like he isn't gonna tell her to go so it's on her for how long she can deal lol] Ronnie: [just cos I'm thinking she should leave because something happens/almost does and it freaks her out because she's meant to hate him and there's only so much you can play off as doing for shock value when you're blatantly into it] Joe: [that makes sense, clearly it ain't gonna take long for that to transpire] Ronnie: [yeah a few days is what I'm imagining, but like enough that she probably thinks nothing will happen because it hasn't so far, if that makes sense] Joe: [i'm with it] Ronnie: [how far do we wanna go is always the question] Ronnie: [okay idea time, hear me out hun, what if it's like an unexpectedly pure/cute moment by their standards that happens in the day to day because the obvious would be to have them go all in when they are fucked up but like think about it] Joe: [that's what I thought too though 'cos it's more impactful 'cos it isn't as if it's gonna start with a kiss when it does for real like it's all extra and them to cover that it's about anything but being fucked up, so that would shake you both] Ronnie: [so glad we're on the same page here, like I can't think of a good example of what I mean/think should happen but] Joe: [we know the vibe, doing something vaguely domestic before realizing what you're doing] Ronnie: [so she gotta run away and nobody is gonna know where she is or what she's doing for a bit soz Charlie & Bronson] Joe: [you wanna skip to that time period now, this hasn't been excessively long or anything[ Ronnie: [we totally can because we can always skip back/add it if we think of anything else we wanna do while she's there etc] Ronnie: [I've had a potential idea how to start this so neither of them technically has to bite the bullet and go first like if you give me a rough idea what kind of thing Charlie would say e.g where are you/are you dead bitch and I'll reply here like she's in the wrong convo lol] Joe: [that's a good idea boo, probably something like you can stop hiding now and an update about whatever the fuck he's up to in his life which you can make up you know the vibe lol] Ronnie: [I was just like realistically if they were both shook by what happened neither of them are gonna be like oh hey] Joe: [yeah like it'd take him a while even if he would 'cos not just gonna let this go that easy, so it's a solid way to do it] Ronnie: a real scouse ma's meant to shout down the street when its time to stop playing about Ronnie: lazy cunt Joe: I'm only half if I'm anything, and you probably won't give me that any rate Ronnie: 🖕 not talking to you Ronnie: got the wrong gaylord Joe: easy mistake Joe: you not got his number saved? Ronnie: if this was my phone yeah Joe: newly acquired then Ronnie: mine broke Joe: my condolences Joe: wall or pavement? Ronnie: what the fuck does it matter Joe: just making conversation whilst you're here Ronnie: if youve got something to say go ed Ronnie: but if youre gonna pussy out as per it got waterlogged Joe: you dying for the uni update like my ma is a top performance, cheers, like Joe: rice didn't work or you didn't fancy eating toilet water rice after Ronnie: loads in common me & her aint just a pretty face like Ronnie: dont know what kind of fucking 12 year old in a k hole at a festival you take me for mckenna Joe: yeah, it's a shame Joe: soph says save some for the 🐎s Ronnie: cold showers work better for misery boners than they do a suspected od but these fucking amateurs aint know jack shit obviously Ronnie: shame & shameful that is Joe: I'm a better sesh companion Ronnie: ill take the 🐴 Ronnie: whole or in bits Joe: seems the possessive type Ronnie: thats your bitch Joe: who I meant but I ain't claiming her Ronnie: bet shed be made up over a uni update Joe: bold of you to assume we haven't had many delightful lunch dates whilst you've been having cold showers Ronnie: give a fuck if youve been eating her out at any time of day Joe: yeah well I'm pretty gutted you've replaced me with another newbie Ronnie: stop fucking crying Ronnie: i aint running a nursery Joe: ain't the only one sounds of your reply Ronnie: fuck off Joe: reckon he's over you getting the sack now Ronnie: not everythings about that mary Ronnie: & he aint my keeper Joe: just your mum, I got the message Ronnie: he reckons he can baby me it aint the same thing Joe: he's older than you yeah Ronnie: youve got a sister other than me dont act like you cant get your head round it Joe: not really my M.O. Ronnie: special yeah Joe: she's got a dad and another brother happy enough to oblige Ronnie: i dont need to puke up my good time Joe: thought your stomach and nerve were meant to be stronger than that Ronnie: whatever you think about me is bullshit baby Joe: just what you've put out there Ronnie: & yours is heroics just warning you this aint no od like Ronnie: aint gotta press eject Joe: you're typing Joe: don't think anyone knows you well enough to commit to the impression here Ronnie: talking Ronnie: everyone knows idle hands are dangerous Ronnie: but that dont mean i gotta keep em busy typing Joe: yeah Joe: know the feeling Ronnie: its used to my accent & everything Ronnie: more than i can say for the live cunts here Joe: you in 💘 with your phone that's dead cute Joe: its worse when you're angry Ronnie: not in 💘 with kent Ronnie: your girlfriend proper missold it Joe: fuck off are you in kent 😂 Ronnie: fucked you over if you were gonna come carry me out again Joe: acting like you didn't ask Joe: if you're going to now, do it, like Ronnie: if you dump her back home who the fucks keeping the leccy on Joe: only got a baby habit ain't I Ronnie: what so youre carrying me out & dumping me where Ronnie: anywhere near & im taking your money shithead Joe: we don't need electric Ronnie: how will you get off on me wearing your mams face in the dark Joe: would hate to waste your hard work, obviously Ronnie: what hard work Joe: liberating my mums face from her skull Ronnie: be my pleasure Ronnie: all play Joe: alright then Joe: i'll be able to keep up Ronnie: big talk for a 12 year old virgin Joe: hiding it kent you can't talk or type about it Ronnie: im not fucking hiding Joe: yeah right Ronnie: plain sight baby Joe: 40 miles Ronnie: & Joe: if you wanna play, you're gonna have to give me another clue Joe: know if i'm getting warm Ronnie: [a blurry picture clue] Ronnie: 💘 Joe: they new friends or old Ronnie: waste of a question Joe: how many do i have left Ronnie: 39 but if you need that many dont fucking bother Joe: you don't wanna disappointed so bad Ronnie: you disappoint me by coming out the same hole Joe: that don't have to matter Joe: plenty have Ronnie: yeah but i aint met the rest of your happy family Joe: you wanna Ronnie: 38 now Joe: it could've been a statement Ronnie: was it Joe: 39 for you Ronnie: 🖕 Joe: you wanted to go to the beach Ronnie: that a question or what soft lad Joe: ?* Ronnie: didnt know there was 1 Joe: it's a county you know Ronnie: how the fuck would i know that Ronnie: shut up Joe: do you wanna go to the beach Ronnie: i can drown you in the sink Joe: i didn't put you in the shower Joe: or your phone Ronnie: youd have been made up by how blue i went though Ronnie: well like a dead girl Joe: yeah? Joe: what's it feel like Ronnie: youll get your own go Ronnie: aint holding your hand forever like Joe: gutted Ronnie: you wont reckon so when you outgrow that baby habit Joe: i'd mind if you died Ronnie: give you something to cry about Ronnie: youd be fucking into it Joe: nah Joe: people who've got shit to mope on usually don't Joe: enjoy it too much don't I, can't be having it validated, takes the fun out Ronnie: most dont reckon a happy end would be cumming inside their ma Ronnie: youd enjoy having a reason to celebrate or trauma bond depending on her fucking take Joe: our mate freud would disagree Joe: she'd wear black for the rest of her life, if that's what you wanna hear Joe: but counting it as a question, 38 Ronnie: why the fuck would i wanna hear that Ronnie: be boss for her if she never shifted her bastard baby weight like Joe: 37 unless it's rhetorical Joe: i dunno what will make you feel better Ronnie: 38 wasn't a question in the first place you just counted it cause youre a cheating lil bitch Joe: what's the prize and why do you want it so much Ronnie: use your imagination fucks sake Ronnie: why do you always want your hand held Joe: waste of a question Joe: 'cos I'm such a mummy's boy duh Ronnie: if shed let you walk into the road i wouldnt be answering any of your pussy questions Ronnie: 💔 Joe: be a lot easier for all of us Joe: i'll throw myself in front of the tube, fuck up everyone's day Ronnie: ill pick myself up from kent then yeah Joe: oh so you've claimed selfish have you Ronnie: no shit nancy drew Ronnie: fitz is still crying that i 💉 you up Joe: bless Joe: you're not claiming what got me there Ronnie: cant i wasnt fucking there Joe: then don't feel guilty Ronnie: dont fucking flatter yourself Ronnie: could care less Joe: you who's trying Ronnie: taking away a question if youre gonna lie Joe: not 12, not a virgin, don't need you to hold my hand Joe: i wanted to and want to Ronnie: made up horse girl took it while i was away Joe: yeah Ronnie: get yourself checked for 🐴 aids or whatever Joe: could care less is right Ronnie: bullshit youll be gutted if you dick falls off before you put it in your ma Joe: talking about how much you do Ronnie: what are big sisters for Ronnie: ask the other one & hell stutter round how much i dont too Joe: it's not the same Ronnie: you aint special mckenna how many times Ronnie: let your ma feed you that bullshit Ronnie: & fuck knows what youve already caught from my blood Joe: bit late for warnings Ronnie: you had one first time we met like Ronnie: got eyes Joe: exactly Joe: i'm not gonna take the hint Ronnie: too subtle for you yeah Joe: if you think you could be any more blatant Joe: have fun trying Ronnie: i am Ronnie: kent dont know what hit it Joe: i bet Joe: where have you been but some strangers doss house then Joe: and that is a question Ronnie: fuck knows Ronnie: been a blur Joe: you know its about 1,500 square miles yeah Joe: remember one landmark Ronnie: you know youre only getting any fucking answers cause im coming down Joe: we don't have to play this game Joe: if you tell me where you are, you'll be picked up quicker and then you can get whatever you need Ronnie: [a location, lord only knows] Joe: alright Ronnie: for you getting high of your bullshit heroics Joe: if it makes you feel better that you need rescuing Ronnie: do i fuck Joe: then you just wanna see me Joe: either way Ronnie: shut up Joe: what's better for you? Ronnie: your money then your life Joe: very adam ant Joe: and can be arranged Joe: even though you don't have a horse or a car so I'm more of a highwayman than you Ronnie: i aint getting on your gilfriends horse i know where its been Joe: 😏 Joe: you can just admit she's more up for it than you Ronnie: admit youre fucking brain damaged Ronnie: let her be up for hand holding & playing house Joe: what are big sisters for Ronnie: beating the shit out of you Joe: look forward to it Ronnie: yeah youve missed me Joe: not afraid to say it Ronnie: write a song about it Ronnie: no names & you can play it for any bitch Joe: thanks for the hot tip Joe: kill some time on this drive Ronnie: shouldve stuck your judy in the boot Ronnie: be eye spy & red car the whole fucking way Joe: haven't put the plastic sheet down Joe: 💔 short notice Ronnie: so torch it Ronnie: i know youve always got a lighter on you Joe: what gave it away Ronnie: ive got eyes baby Joe: try not to wear it on my sleeve though Ronnie: done a shit job there Joe: why do you show yours off Ronnie: whats the point of only feeling it on the inside Joe: doing it is feeling it on the outside Ronnie: im what they fucking made me they can look at it Joe: that makes sense Joe: yeah Ronnie: what the hell are you scared of Joe: I dunno Joe: doesn't feel like fear Joe: blending in or disappearing has always been preferable Ronnie: & you have the balls to reckon im hiding here Joe: it ain't hiding if no fucker's looking Joe: easier for them and me, like Ronnie: if you gave a shit about easier you wouldnt have looked for me Joe: it was last-ditch attempt Joe: see if you were the same, like all of them too Joe: or not Joe: and you're not Ronnie: cause she ditched me Joe: maybe Ronnie: i didnt have the luxury of blending in Joe: it's not a luxury Ronnie: not when you have it Ronnie: care kids dont Joe: not at all Joe: it was a necessity to not blow my brains out and all i ended up was cracked and wishing i had Joe: you didn't have a family to not belong in Ronnie: & you did em such a massive fucking favour by not ending it all yeah Ronnie: i dont know you or fucking care & i can tell youre desperate to Joe: if she can't get over you, and she never stuck around to know you Joe: it's fuck all to do with the person and everything to do with the label Joe: son, brother Joe: you're meant to care even if life is better or basically the same without Ronnie: good fucking thing i like downers Ronnie: youd ruin an e Joe: cheers Ronnie: get over her for fucks sake Ronnie: keep saying youre not 12 Joe: didn't have that luxury Ronnie: loads more cunts willing to fuck you over Ronnie: live a little like Joe: yeah that'll make it worth it Joe: dead inspirational Ronnie: try your other sister Joe: i'm sure she'd have even more helpful advice Ronnie: take it then Ronnie: ill kill you before i give you a reason to live Joe: you know i ain't fucking looking for one Ronnie: yeah Joe: you need anything Ronnie: i didnt tell you were to get fuck all out of it Joe: apart from a lift Ronnie: what do you reckon Joe: kk Ronnie: 💘 Joe: still not healed Joe: also looks like jobn now Ronnie: anything to make you feel special baby Joe: what I reckon Ronnie: i didnt reckon ocd made you that delusional Ronnie: but when you change it to say jobs youll blend right in Joe: not quite as fitting as when johnny did it Ronnie: whats your girlfriends name Joe: i'll find one to make it fit Joe: josie or jody maybe Ronnie: 💔 no decent gear has a girls name Joe: girls like to party not nod out Joe: gutted Ronnie: ive got a lads name i get why youre confused Joe: you didn't wanna change it Ronnie: you offering up the cash Joe: bit of a waste Joe: just for the paperwork Ronnie: yeah it is Joe: you dunno what to pick Ronnie: swear words aint allowed Joe: don't matter if you're just doing it, telling new people it's your name like Ronnie: not an underage tranny Joe: right Ronnie: bit fucking late now Joe: youre attached Ronnie: i dont care Joe: yeah Ronnie: not what i hate her for Joe: it's a lesser sin Joe: and not the worst name Ronnie: if thats your way of trying to namedrop the others, dont Joe: why would I Ronnie: i dont know you cant really answer why youd do fuck all Joe: i don't need to ask if you want to know them Ronnie: like their names are gonna tell me who they are Joe: like you care Ronnie: like thats ever stopped you Joe: I can't un-find you Joe: but I'm not going to force you to meet any of them or know any more than what's been said Ronnie: no fixed address remember Ronnie: cant make it much fucking easier for you Joe: no, you can't Ronnie: stop crying then Ronnie: you can do better than a car crash Joe: do better Ronnie: yeah like washing up on the beach Ronnie: keep every cunt guessing how you died Joe: see how many beaches I can end up on Ronnie: dead romantic Joe: you can have fun with the hacksaw anyway Joe: least I could do Ronnie: you dont owe me Joe: i do Ronnie: for what Joe: for finding you when you didn't want finding Ronnie: you got the wrong bastard Ronnie: loads of others would be made up Joe: would they? Joe: regardless, I did it for me Ronnie: fuck off trying to take selfish off me Joe: 😏 Ronnie: been a few days since ive used a phone as a weapon Ronnie: keep on if you want it chucked at you Joe: you've promised better than that Ronnie: course you cant last through the foreplay Joe: alright, romantic Ronnie: you fucking wish soft lad Joe: you wish i wished Ronnie: i fucking dont Joe: alright Ronnie: keep the 🕯🌹 for your girlfriend like Ronnie: fuck all i can do with soft Joe: lighters and poppies suit me better as well Ronnie: next tattoos then Ronnie: dont know if itll look like a poppy but fuck it Ronnie: ill cut it out if you dont like it Joe: even if we avoid the sleeve, still a lot of skin to ruin Joe: are you just going over now Ronnie: waste of a question Ronnie: theres fuck all you can do Joe: what, my scribbles weren't a masterpiece compared to your boyfriends Ronnie: told you get what you pay for mckenna Ronnie: & that i dont get hard for mozart & the like Joe: weren't gonna score a symphony on you but alright Joe: no touching Ronnie: 💔 Ronnie: you & your baby habit dont score Joe: just pays Ronnie: dead comforting when i get robbed & left in a kent ditch Joe: it'll be the nicest ditch you've ever been in Ronnie: squatters rights Joe: my bed ain't comfy enough Ronnie: its the fact that its yours making me wanna hang myself with a sheet Ronnie: should say its too soft like you though shouldnt i Ronnie: gutted i fucked that up like Ronnie: we were playing so nice Joe: yeah, goldilocks suits Ronnie: unless your hair has fallen out Joe: I've not pulled it out either Joe: or soph, like Ronnie: not enough like a mane for her Joe: 💔 Joe: if only she'd have known me a few years ago Ronnie: get the family album out shell be made up Joe: shed a tear over our lack of horse Joe: sympathy fuck is better than none yeah Ronnie: the lack of me will really get her going Ronnie: had the pity eye fuck soon as i showed up Joe: she's an empath, babe, why she's so good at art Joe: lack of you might be an issue for me though Ronnie: another word for nosy cunt Joe: undoubtedly Joe: if i could sum up what was wrong with me for her I would Joe: but guess she likes the guessing Ronnie: if she was scouse shed just fucking come out with it Joe: gobshites, yeah Ronnie: what you get for having girlfriends who aint even wool Ronnie: self hatred making you go posh about it Joe: my last actual girlfriend was Ronnie: & youre claiming her Joe: not still writing songs about her Joe: well, never was Ronnie: shell still be 💔 Joe: nah Ronnie: you keep her waiting this long or am i that special Joe: you don't even know how far you've gone from london Joe: you're nearly 2 hours away Ronnie: if youre sticking to the speed limit Ronnie: stop being a pussy Joe: meet me and the car in the next ditch over Ronnie: more hand holding for fucks sake Joe: more than that if you want that lift Joe: have to drag the car out and hotwire it Joe: scrape me off the windshield Ronnie: i told you to stop getting me & what im into Joe: maybe i'm trying really hard Ronnie: far as hurting yourself goes thats the shittest way to have a go Joe: 💔 too weak Ronnie: keep your limp wrists on the steering wheel Ronnie: i wanna get out of here Joe: 😏 Joe: in a bit then Joe: got speeding to do and if you won't shut up Ronnie: youd have to try harder to make me Ronnie: that aint fucking likely Joe: only have to ask Joe: not nice or nothing Ronnie: i dont ask for handouts theyre given to me on account of all those mental problems ive got Joe: wouldn't it be nice to be the one doing the charity work for once Ronnie: if thats the only high youre offering me turn the fuck around Joe: not that daft Ronnie: your ma tell you that Joe: loads Ronnie: her judgements for shit not getting rid of us both with a hanger Joe: agreed Ronnie: dont put a kid in her shed only keep that one too Joe: still raising the last one Ronnie: like thatd stop her Ronnie: no fucking time wasted Joe: she did stop Joe: hence the 9 year gap oopsie baby Ronnie: reckon shed know what causes it by then Joe: Ireland got to her I guess Ronnie: dead keen for my invite now Joe: put it across as a valid form of contraception Joe: chlamydia Joe: they'd go for it Ronnie: worked for me Joe: postergirl Ronnie: 💔 there was no need to sew myself up Ronnie: be more fun than whichever fuck gave me it Joe: god willing Ronnie: your catholic one would be dead willing Joe: you're thinking of the wrong over-zealous christian country Ronnie: not on the right drugs for that kind of bullshit thinking Joe: 🍄 Joe: look out for cowshit whilst you're waiting Ronnie: that determined for me to see the sights yeah Joe: can't waste such an opportunity Ronnie: 🖕 watch me Joe: kent only comes calling so many times, like Joe: your choice Ronnie: shell be taking you every time uni gives you time off Joe: i'm good for it Ronnie: its well cute that you reckon youve got any say Ronnie: possessive type i heard Joe: 😏 Ronnie: she changed the 🔒 on your room yet Joe: keep you in or out? Ronnie: reckon it ended at the pity eye fuck for me & her Joe: 💔 Ronnie: yeah Joe: i'll talk her 'round for you Ronnie: fuck off Ronnie: i dont need you to translate for me Ronnie: we got the money your carer role is over Joe: it's all in the eyes, I heard you Joe: not patronizing on your deep relationship Ronnie: shut up Joe: 🤐 Ronnie: & drive faster Joe: 👌 Ronnie: fucking hell i can see why shes fucking obsessed with you Joe: if you want chat Joe: definitely in the wrong place Joe: she don't need to know my ears aren't listening to hers Ronnie: she already knows you do what youre told without talking back Ronnie: like a battered wife Joe: anything for an easy 💀 Ronnie: youre coming to the right place for that Ronnie: but i wont tell her Joe: it's not a reportable crime Ronnie: im not a snitch & i can wear shades if she tries to eye fuck her way to finding fuck all out Joe: dunno if that's enough of a disguise but I don't care Joe: a habit, she could say something about that Joe: but the rest Ronnie: what rest Ronnie: you only want a habit Joe: speak for yourself Ronnie: im echoing you Ronnie: you fucking said it Joe: you know it's not true though Ronnie: youre full of shit yeah Joe: yeah Joe: you too if you wanna pretend about it Ronnie: i dont play pretend im not a fucking kid Joe: good Joe: then you know what's happening here Ronnie: [a picture or video of whatever is happening where she is, lord knows] Joe: you don't have to reciprocate, dickhead Joe: no need to try and make me crash Ronnie: thought youd grown a set of balls & had em drop while ive been here Ronnie: what it sounded like Joe: how olds the other one Joe: he looks younger than me Ronnie: didnt do a survey Joe: I mean your mate, I don't know his name Joe: not Charlie Ronnie: 17 Joe: he must've been a baby when you met, like Ronnie: whats your point Joe: ain't got one Joe: just wondering Ronnie: youre not his type Joe: he's not mine Ronnie: stop wondering then Joe: why? Ronnie: hes fuck all to do with you Ronnie: your mam didnt push him out Joe: not trying to get to know him over you Ronnie: then why do you care Joe: same age as my brother Joe: and the girl my parents took in, one of Joe: that's it Ronnie: here we fucking go Ronnie: you said you werent gonna do that Joe: you kept asking Ronnie: cause i dont want you fucking nonce my brother Ronnie: give a fuck about yours Joe: 'cos you think I would, alright Joe: don't be stupid Ronnie: i dont know what youd do Ronnie: dont fucking know you Joe: well I'm straight and entirely uninterested Ronnie: youre also full of shit Joe: why do you give a fuck Joe: I'm only a year older, if I wanted to, I would Ronnie: why do i give a fuck that you lied to me or about him Ronnie: go ed & wonder about it Joe: it weren't a lie Joe: shit changes Ronnie: i dont wanna hear about them that aint gonna change Joe: fine Ronnie: fuck you Joe: also fine Joe: sorry, alright Joe: it means fuck all Ronnie: its not fine Ronnie: & it means im gonna be running comparisons in my head Joe: just forget about it Joe: of course they're all around my age ish, it don't mean you know any more about them Ronnie: fucks sake Joe: it don't matter Ronnie: cause you get to tell me what matters too yeah Joe: come on Ronnie: you dont or what to fucking do either Joe: then what Joe: I said it, I said sorry Joe: you do what you must Ronnie: go home & give horse girl your sorry Joe: fuck that Joe: you still need to get back to London and I'm nearly there Ronnie: i got here i can leave here Joe: bullshit Ronnie: you wish Joe: well I'm still coming Ronnie: i dont care Ronnie: youve been going on about how big it is Ronnie: stay the fuck away from me Joe: Jesus fucking christ don't be such a pussy Ronnie: you fucking wish Joe: whatever Joe: this is going nowhere right now Joe: you know where to find me when you wanna actually do something about it Ronnie: your half arsed self destruction is going nowhere Ronnie: do something about that your fucking self instead of trying to bait me Joe: I'm still on my way Ronnie: kents full of real pussys you can save Ronnie: youll 💘 it Joe: I don't give a fuck, Ronnie Ronnie: why are you crying Ronnie: you fucked me over Joe: because this is a waste of time Ronnie: youre a junkie now get used to it Joe: at least I've got that Ronnie: youre welcome baby Joe: good luck finding decent shit in kent Ronnie: not going with you dont mean im staying here Joe: but I've got mine already Ronnie: you can have selfish Joe: I told you I was bringing more for you Joe: if you can get over it you can have your share Ronnie: ill take it over it not Ronnie: *or Ronnie: you cant fucking stop me Joe: say you want me to come then Joe: i know where you are, not the other way 'round Ronnie: youre the liar mckenna Ronnie: i dont want you to be anywhere Joe: then why should I come and share Joe: that's a question Ronnie: you love heroics Joe: [show up at this point] Ronnie: [what a fun little reunion that'll be] Joe: [so, we know the vibes but also do we wanna pitch it out] Ronnie: [we totally can for our own amusement/in case a moment or something happens again] Joe: [so obviously he gets there and she's gonna be fuming hens, yeah?] Ronnie: [she gonna fight him lol enjoy that random peeps] Ronnie: [but that works cos like if someone takes that seriously instead of realising we just flirting with each other then they gotta go] Joe: [go away for some alone time to take your drugs somewhere, we voting beach] Ronnie: [yeah because realistically nobody will be there at this o clock unless they are likewise up for shady shit so it works for them as well as being romantic for us because has she been to the beach before probably not] Joe: [so unintentionallly wholesome] Ronnie: [try not to freak out immediately about that this time lads] Joe: [or OD again] Ronnie: [or freeze to death because when are you ever dressed for the weather gal] Joe: [have to stay close purely for warmth whoops] Ronnie: [can't pretend you're angry enough to be at the other end of the beach its not that deep] Joe: [shame it'll be too late to get fish n chips or something beach related but you can skim stones] Ronnie: [I wonder if there's anywhere you could break into because always a mood] Joe: [on a lot of seafronts they have those shelter moments that are boarded up you know what I mean] Ronnie: [yeah that was what I had in mind] Joe: [was that tracy beaker when jess and that girl were snuggled in there and tracy thought it was a lad lollol] Ronnie: [I loved that bit] Joe: [soz i've forgotten your name but that whole character and vibe was a mood, buzzing for the show/movie whatever they're doing] Ronnie: [a child Tess mood 100%] Joe: [fosho fosho, you're gonna have to sleep on this beach/his car 'cos not letting you drive in that state for that long yet tah] Ronnie: [we all know you're gonna be snuggling and I'm here for it, maybe you can get fish and chips in the am/when you wake up] Joe: [for breakfast lol, get all the sugary snacks as well like candy floss doughnuts, casual binge here like neither of you clearly eats much day to day] Ronnie: [healthwise you've both got bigger problems so we can allow it] Joe: [sugar high, living for unintentional wholesomeness lol] Ronnie: [love the childlike vibe always] Joe: [when I go the hunstanton with the gals, which is like, scummy seaside vibes you know, there's always rides there, but also there was like a tattoo hut where you could get actual tattoos for like a fiver and it looks so dubious lol] Ronnie: [omg that is amazing and we must] Joe: [you could get piercings too which might have him do just to mess with it] Ronnie: [we know she already has so likewise not gonna resist getting another, the more extra the better though placement wise cos we do love to shock joseph with our endeavours] Ronnie: [whack a tit out casually or whatever like] Joe: [lmao, dreading these infections hens] Ronnie: [I went to margate and all I got was this lousy tat and a persistent infection, put that on a t-shirt] Joe: [shame they only do flashes gals] Ronnie: [get some DIYing happening lads, we know that kind of thing is flirting for you] Joe: [the tension at this point like you've actually shown loads of restraint even though the opposite seems true lol] Ronnie: [lowkey not what anyone would expect of you which is why I like it] Joe: [mhmm not actually all doom and gloom even if we say and pretend it or what would be the point] Ronnie: [they'd actually be having such a lovely time and when was the last time either of them did, I'm fine about it yep] Joe: [truly, it ain't just about the drugs or any of the 'fucked up ness' from the off and that's the tea no one else be seeing] Ronnie: [mhmm and it wouldn't last how it does if it was] Joe: [connection huns] Ronnie: [the TENSION on this car journey back like don't crash tbh] Joe: [at least you can play really loud music and pretend that's distraction enough] Ronnie: [and play with your new injuries] Ronnie: [lowkey bonding even more about your love of music though we see you] Joe: [mhmm, when it's not all classical obvs 'cos you aren't Rosaline] Ronnie: [probably drop her at Charlie's hun cos otherwise something is gonna happen] Joe: [hope you brought him some rock but i know you did not lol, go make friends again, you go think 'bout your life joseph] Ronnie: [probably stole him a postcard that you've written some bants on to slide under his door] Joe: [that's cute, hilarious over-sexual postcard as they always are] Ronnie: [yeah exactly and then he knows you're back so you can talk or whatever you're gonna do to clear the air] Joe: [that's this era in general we know the vibe]

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dngrdyke · 4 years

Text

Kid Valentine Part 3

Dyke woke to the world warming up around her and the sound of buzzing filling the air. Uncurling from underneath some wooden palettes someone had propped against one of the run-down buildings in the settlement, she stretched and cracked her neck. She was still wearing Poison's jacket from the night before. Sweet of him not to have taken it back in the middle of the night because he was cold. But sweetness couldn't make her forgive him completely. In Dyke's books, Poison still owed her one.

The buzzing sound continued, but now Dyke could hear little yelps of pain in between. Oh no.

She took off running towards the source of the noise. When she burst through the door, she found Ghoul bending over Faggot's arm with a tattoo gun in his hand and Kobra watching gleefully.

"And what the fuck is going on here?" she asked, storming into the room.

"I'm gettin' tattooed, Dee!" Faggot said excitedly before wincing. "Ah! Can't you be any gentler?"

Ghoul giggled. "Sorry, kid. One setting for everyone."

Faggot attempted to steel himself against the pain, but he winced every time the needle went into his skin.

Dyke sighed and sat down on a nearby chair. "And why the hell are you doing that?"

"Kobra told me about this symbol of resistance people used to share. Look!"

She stood again and went over to inspect the tattoo. She stifled a laugh.

Way back when Blind was just a humble technology corporation, they had the world eating out of the palm of their hand. It was called the internet, and the people of the world thrived. Any question you had was answered within seconds. People you would only have met if you could travel became friends closer to you than those you knew in person. Dyke preferred to remember the positive aspects, like jokes the whole world was in on.

"Ain't it cool, Dyke?" Kobra grinned. She hit him on the arm.

"You motherfuckers," she said, staring at the tattoo. "This is the worst thing I've ever fucking seen."

Back in the earlier days of the internet, someone had made a video of a little blue creature on a motorbike singing a nonsense song. The name given to this creation was Crazy Frog, and it haunted Dyke even to this day. Now it would haunt her for the rest of her life because there it was, sitting pretty on the outside of Faggot's upper arm. By the looks of things, Ghoul had been working for a while. He was putting the final touches on the words above and below the frog itself. "Crazy Fag," Dyke sighed and dragged the chair over to the table so she could sit on Faggot's other side. She stuck her hand out for him to take and he squeezed it so hard that his nails left marks in her skin.

"You're almost done, kid," she said, watching Ghoul finish the lettering with surgical precision. He wiped away some blood with a towel that'd certainly seen better days, but seemed clean enough.

"It's all over, Faggot. Check it out," Ghoul said, holding up a cracked mirror.

Faggot let go of Dyke's hand and admired the tattoo in awe. "Holy shit, Ghoul! This fucks. Dee, isn't this so fucking cool?"

"The coolest," she said dryly, massaging her hand.

"Hey, Dyke, isn't that Poison's jacket?" Ghoul asked, looking up from where he was disassembling the tattoo gun.

"Yeah," she said, quickly taking it off. "Faggot had mine last night and it was cold so Poison gave me his."

He exchanged a look with Kobra.

"So, Party Poison gave you his jacket, did he?" Kobra said, grinning.

"Because you were cold?" Ghoul added, raising his eyebrows.

"Am I missing something here?"

"No, of course not, Dee. You're not missing the fact that Party Poison- the Party Poison- gave you his jacket because you were cold."

"What's my name?" she asked.

"What do you mean?"

"What's my name, Kobra?"

"Dyke," he said simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Yeah, that's it. Dyke. That's my name. The name I took for myself when I decided to fight back. Someone else branded me with this name, you know that, Kobra? Ghoul?"

The two said nothing.

"Names give us power. Blind wanna go around assigning people names and numbers, but us? We're free. I don't wanna remember the name I had before the Wars, because she means nothing now. Who she was pretending to be means absolutely nothing. Who I am now is what matters."

"And who are you now, Dyke?" a voice said from behind her. She turned around to see Poison leaning against the doorframe with her denim jacket in his crossed arms and a lopsided smile on his face.

"I'm the goddamn Dyke on a Bike, you bitch."

Poison grinned at her. "That's the spirit, Dee." He threw her the jacket, which she put on and popped the collar. She threw his jacket back to him and he slipped it on as well.

"Anyways, back to my empowering speech," Dyke said, turning back around. "I'm a dyke. Women only."

Jet appeared behind Poison and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Now I just know Kobra and Ghoul weren't dumb enough to think Poison was into Dyke here," he said.

"'Course not," Kobra said, running a hand through his hair nervously.

"No way," Ghoul added.

Poison grinned at them and hit his hand against the doorframe. "Right, then. Faggot, get off the table. Ghoul and Kobra, go find some chairs. Dyke, you gotta any food?"

"Three twinkies and a can for dogs. Oh, plus some Fanta."

He scrunched up his nose as he walked in the door. "You and your goddamn orange soda. Haven't you fuckers ever heard of cherry? Grape?"

"They taste bad, Poison," Dyke said as she dragged her chair around to make room for Ghoul and Kobra who came back with some busted lawn chairs. "Do you want some or not?"

"Go get 'em. We're gonna have to go see Chow Mein later, so we might as well pool our resources."

She nodded and left the hut to get the supplies from her bike.

Only there was a kid on her bike. An actual kid- a motorbaby, as the older ones called them- born in the desert, who never knew the city or the Wars. The kids who didn't fully understand why they had to hide when the Dracs came. The ones who didn't get why they had to bring the masks of the fallen to the Desert Witch before the Scarecrow got their bodies. Why their parents kept their boots tight and their guns close. Why they all had to have masks.

"Who're you? You look like Party Poison," the kid said, brandishing a lollipop at her. "But you ain't him."

"Dyke. That's my bike."

"Hey, you're funny! Those sound the same."

"Who even are you, kid?"

"My name's Valentine. My mom calls me double V. On accounta my initials are V and V."

"Yeah, that's real cute. Can you move? They're waiting for me."

Valentine hopped down off the bike and stuck the lollipop back in her mouth.

"Who's 'they'? You mean the Killjoys? That's their car right there. You know 'em?"

"Yeah, I guess you could say that," she said, gathering the soda. Shit. Not enough hands. "Hey, Val, you think you could help me?"

"Sure!"

Dyke handed her two cans of the soda and picked up the rest of the food herself. "We're in that one there," she said, pointing at one of the buildings. "You think you can handle this super-special mission for the Killjoys?"

"Fuck yeah I can!" She ran off towards the building and Dyke followed her, shaking her head slightly. Kids.

"Who the fuck is the kid, Dyke?" Poison demanded when she arrived. "And why the fuck won't she leave me alone?"

"That's Val V, Poison. Be fucking nice to her."

Valentine scrunched her nose. "You're not like the stories my mom told me, Party Poison. She told me you were a Drac-fightin' people-saver. But you're just mean."

"Kid, I swear to fuck if you don't fuck off right now-"

Before anyone knew what was happening, Dyke had Poison pinned against the wall.

"Don't you fuckin' talk to the kid like that, Poison. Not in front of me and not fuckin' ever, you understand me?" She let him go roughly and began to walk back to where she'd dropped the food, but decided at the last second to whirl around and hit him in the face.

"Ow! Fuck!"

She shook out her hand. "Now we're even, pretty boy."

Poison scowled at her but said nothing. He deserved it for what he did, and he knew that.

"Thanks, Val V," Dyke said, picking up the cans and the Twinkies. "Maybe I'll catch you around sometime."

"See ya, Dyke on a Bike!" She waved and ran off out the door.

Dyke sat down in one of the lawn chairs and laid the provisions on the table.

"Everyone dig in. Plenty to go around," she smiled and cracked open a can of Fanta.

The whole table stared at her, except for Poison, who was deliberately avoiding looking at her.

"Oh, don't gimme that look, you two-bit whores. She's a kid! You can't talk to kids like that."

Jet shook his head. "I'll never understand you."

"That's the idea, Jet. Now, to business: we got Blind on our asses."

It was decided in that meeting that Dyke and Faggot would join the Killjoys. An agreement, of sorts. Better than the one where Dyke asked Doctor D to ask the Killjoys to bring her cigarettes, who then gave them to Cherri Cola, who gave them to Doctor D who gave them to Dyke herself. Dyke and Faggot would do what they wanted, like usual, but they'd ultimately be a part of the Greater Killjoy Posse. In return, the two would spend more time at Doctor D's with Cherri and the Girl while the Killjoys went on raids.

It would be a long time before any of them saw Valentine again.

#mikey way #my chemical romance #my chem #mcr #killjoys #the adventures of dyke and faggot #frank iero #danger days oc #danger days #part 3/3 #gerard way #ray toro

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outweek30 · 5 years

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If cruising were music, then lesbian cruising would be Muzak. Due to our parents, high school and the culture-at-Iarge, we girls have been taught that we don't cruise, we get cruised. Well, that's fabulous. But if your preferences run toward other girls, especially cute blondes in leather jackets, then honey, you'll all be waiting a long, long time for some action.

With this in mind, the time has come for some helpful hints for the cruising-impaired. Aren't you tired of going to dyke parties, dances, bars and safer sex forums and coming home with no one to try your dental dam out with??? Let's seize control of our sexuality, get out there and have some fun. Here we go...

Before We Get Started:

The first prerequisite for cruising a girl is knowing if she's a dyke/lesbian/gay woman. So, this article is issuing a challenge (certainly not for the first or last time in this city): a lesbian visibility campaign. Numerous kiss-ins, brunches in straight havens and grinding on dance floors seem to be called for. They won't know who to go for if they think you have Michael J. Fox on your wall.

After We Are All Visible:

Be friendly. As Michael Musto has written, "friendly is in." If you're giving out bad attitude like an unwashed sock, you're asking for nothing but heartache and a lot of that act which no one need look their best for. If someone smiles at you, smile back. What's the worst that can happen, you get invited to a spaghetti potluck ...

Communication is essential. If you're not talking, you're not meeting. So after all that lingering eye contact and smiling, speak up! Favorite topics of conversation are site specific:

Cubby Hole: How good/bad the videos are, how little space there is... Cave Canem: How many cute/obnoxious girls there are, why the door woman gives such attitude, how that voluptuous girl ever got the nerve to go in the pool with a white t-shirt and no bra... Love Machine, Mars on Sunday, any gay men's club/bar: Where are the girls, why do boys have all the fun, isn't the deejay great/terrible, I hear Madonna's in town ... ACT UP meeting: What is going on?, where's the next demonstration?, are you going?, who's that girl with the hair? Anywhere: News, politics, straight men, Madonna, the state of lesbian nightlife...

(Small talk is hard enough when you have to do it. Don't overextend yourself. Besides, important conversations are one way to tell the dykes/gay women from the girls/wimmin.)

Once You've Spoken:

Is it going well? Do you have anything in common (that includes lusting after one another)? Has one of you bought drinks for the other? Has anyone asked if it mattered?

If you've answered yes, then you are well on your way to cruising success. You have some options:

Keep talking. It will eventually get late, and you can get each other's phone numbers, plan to meet again wherever you are, meet somewhere else, or even go somewhere else now (for those girls with avant-garde employment). This is usually safe, and the anticipation of seeing them again makes for a week of exciting fantasizing. If you do go somewhere else, or leave together, keep reading:

You're both leaving. The best strategy is to live downtown and hope they live in Brooklyn. If it's late, they can always spare themselves that long, dangerous ride home by staying at your house. If you live near each other, share a cab, and agree to get out at one person's house". This way the only polite thing to do is to ask them up to see that issue of On Our Backs you were talking about earlier. Or have another drink.

If you just know that the two of you are not going to work out for even one night (you're both butch, you're both femme, she's radical, you're fifteen...), do not give up on the lesbian nation! Remember, we are diverse and you weren't standing alone in the corner all night either. In addition, since this is the smallest of small towns, you'll run into each other again (the odds increase the more you didn't get along), and it will be nice not to stand alone, again.

Notes For Special Situations:

1) This is fairly tame advice for the more adventurous of you. But one can assume if you're that adventurous, you've worked on your own strategies anyway. Suffice it to say that there are women who can look you up and down for a little while, walk up to you, whisper in your ear that there's an ice cube with your name on it in their kitchens, and you'll be so aroused you'll awaken three days later somewhere in New York with hickies like leech bites. If you are one of them, please exercise the talent much more frequently, thank you.

2) There are some girls who don't know they're being cruised. You have to hit them over the head with their own libido (confess, you know who you are). They are usually the sweetest girls you'll ever meet, and are worth the effort. Just make sure you're not mistaking them for someone with a "wife" who happens to be watching the two of you out of the corner of her eye. What you think is shyness could be fear.

3) Cruising with friends: Cruising is for all intents and purposes a one-woman operation, unless of course you're seeking a third for an orgy. Observe proper etiquette, tell the object of your affections, "she's my friend, not my girlfriend," and lay out the ground rules before you go out: Should you make a date for later, or can you go home with her now? Can your friend get home alone? Can you get home alone? Are you and your friend just avoiding the fact that it's each other you want? All this and more is what makes lesbian friendship the festival of female bonding that lights up our lives.

Have fun, be safe and don't say you weren't warned.

— Liz Tracey, "How to Cruise Girls," OutWeek Magazine No. 11, September 4, 1989, p. 48.

#outweek #issue 11 #lgbt history #lesbian #culture #liz tracey #cubby hole #cave canem #act up #michael musto #photo #t.l. litt

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foreverwayward · 5 years

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“Wayward Hearts” Season 3 Chapter 7: A Very Supernatural Christmas

Summary: After the Devil’s Gate had been opened that fateful night in the graveyard, the hunters are forced to face a new war. Countless demons now run rampant, hungry for blood and power. It’ll take everything the three have to survive when darkness once again knocks on their door. But, with only a year before Dean’s deal comes due, Sam and Riley will stop at nothing to save him; to save their family.

Masterlist

Word Count: 10,866 (yup. this one got long)

Content Warning: language and violence

DISCLAIMER: any words or phrases in bold in the story are not my own and are credited to the writers of Supernatural.

**GIFS ARE NOT MY OWN**

The weather in Ypsilanti, Michigan would never have anyone believe it was late December. There was no chill in the air, no snow on the ground.

A little girl with blonde hair stood motionless and sad at the window as Riley and Dean spoke with her mother on the front porch. The woman had almost identical hair to her daughter and her face was worn and tired. Her husband had disappeared without a trace only days before Christmas. The family had their home fully decorated for the season. Poinsettias, a large nutcracker, wreaths, and lights lined the porch.

Through the open door, the hunters could see a large tree in the foyer of the home that twinkled as though everything was as it should be.

Posing as FBI agents, Riley and Dean questioned the mother to find out all they could about the missing man.

“So, what exactly happened, Mrs. Walsh?” Riley asked.

“Um, my daughter and I were in our beds. Mike was downstairs decorating the tree. I heard a thump on the roof and then I--I heard Mike scream.” The worried wife stared down at the ground in disbelief as tears welled in her eyes. “And now I’m talking to the FBI.”

Taking notes of the interview, Dean still took part in the questioning. “And you didn't see any of it?”

“No, he was--he was just gone. The doors were locked and my parents are the only ones with a key to the house, but they live in Florida.”

Riley could feel the woman’s agonizing concern and lost herself in her sad eyes as her empathic abilities sucked her in.

Dean scanned around the porch once more. “And no sign of forced entry?”

“That’s right.”

With his hands in his slacks, Sam walked out of the house and half-smiled at the victim’s wife. “Thanks for letting me have a look around, Mrs. Walsh. I think we, uh--got just about everything we need. We’re all set.”

“We’ll be in touch,” Dean added. After noticing Riley, he cleared his throat to snap her out of her trance-like state.

Immediately, it was as if she was grounded back into her body and Riley tried to compose herself. The three turned to walk down the steps with a quick nod to Mrs. Walsh.

“Agents…” the woman called out and the hunters stopped to turn back toward her. “The police said my husband might have been kidnapped. But, if that’s true, why haven’t the kidnappers called? Or--or demanded a ransom? It’s three days ‘til Christmas. What am I supposed to tell our daughter?”

Still reeling from her connection to Mrs. Walsh, Riley bit her lip trying to control her emotions. “We’re so sorry.” Moving on with the Winchesters, they all resumed their walk to the car as the woman turned to go back inside. Riley sighed heavily before saying, “Sam, please tell me you found something.”

“Stocking, mistletoe...this...” Sam replied as he pulled something out of his pocket to give to Dean.

It was a human tooth. “A tooth? Where was this?” Dean examined it more closely as Riley released her hair from its bun trying not to let it all get the best of her.

“In the chimney.”

“Chimney? No way a man fits up a chimney. It’s too narrow.”

Riley took a deep breath as a horrible thought crossed her mind and she shared it with the boys. “Not in one piece at least.”

“Alright, so, if dad went up the chimney--”

“We need to find out what dragged him up there,” Sam said finishing his brother’s sentence.

------

In their motel room, Sam sat at his computer researching while Riley pinned their printed pictures, lore, local history and more up on the walls. The wallpaper was a dark beige with ivy plants covering it, so she was happy to cover some of it up.

Dean walked into the room carrying a brown paper bag. “So, was I right? Is it the serial-killing chimney sweep?”

“Oh, yeah,” Riley replied sarcastically. “We’re looking for Dick Van Dyke.”

As he put down the bag, Dean looked back at her in confusion. “Who?”

Sam smiled at his question and tried to help him. “...Mary Poppins?”

“Who’s that?”

Riley and Sam shared a look of humor before the Winchester chuckled. “Oh come on--never mind,” he said giving up on the pointless conversation with a wave of his hand.

“Sam, remind me to make this guy watch a Disney movie at some point,” Riley teased as she pinned up pictures of what looked like different types of demons.

Ignoring their encounter, Dean went back on topic as he went to greet Riley with a quick kiss. “Well, it turns out that Walsh is the second guy in town grabbed out of his house this month.”

“Another guy got pulled up his chimney?”

“Don’t know. Witnesses said they heard a thump on the roof.” Dean took off his jacket and shrugged before Sam and Riley gestured the same in response. “So, what the hell do you think we're dealing with?”

“Actually, Rye and I have an idea.”

“Yeah?”

Finally finishing her task, Riley joined Sam at the table and smirked at Dean. “You’re gonna think it’s crazy.”

“What could you possibly say that sounds crazy to me?”

Sam and Riley both chuckled before the Winchester smiled up at his brother. “Um...evil Santa.”

Dean paused and then nodded in agreeance. “Yeah, that’s crazy.”

“Yeah…I mean, I’m just saying that there’s some version of the anti-Claus in every culture.” Sam pointed to some of their findings on the table and Dean took them to get a closer look. “You got Belsnickel, Krampus, Black Peter. Whatever you want to call it, there’s all sorts of lore.”

“Saying what?”

“Well,” Riley started as she looked down at her notes. “Some of it says that back in the day, Santa had a brother--that he went dark-side though and he also shows up around Christmas time. But, this guy didn’t bring you goodies, he punished you for being on the naughty list basically.”

“By hauling their ass up chimneys?”

“That’s just some of it, but yeah.”

“So, this is your theory, huh? Santa’s shady brother? I mean, Santa doesn’t have a brother. There is no Santa.”

Sam scoffed before replying, “yeah, I know. You’re the one who told me that in the first place, remember?” He looked at Dean who glanced down almost looking like he felt guilty. “Yeah, you know what, we could be wrong. I mean,” Sam sighed as he shut his laptop. “We gotta be wrong.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” When his partners looked at him quizzically, Dean grabbed some papers with his own findings. “I did a little digging. Turns out both victims visited the same place before they got snatched.”

“Where?”

------

A beat-up sign reading, ‘Welcome to Santa’s Village’ hung over the entryway of a large lot. Inside, Christmas music played as employees wandered around in cheesy costumes of elves, reindeer, and snowmen. Cheap lights hung from a red building labeled, ‘Elves Station’ and evergreen trees were being sold toward the back.

Children were running around playing as if the cheap lot was a magical Winter Wonderland.

The three walked in and they all glanced in different directions before Dean said, “You know, all this Christmas talk? I think we should have one.”

“Have one what?” Sam asked.

“A Christmas.”

With a surprised look, Riley replied, “really? I mean, we haven’t done one before.”

“No, thanks,” the younger brother scoffed through a chuckle.

“No, we’ll get a tree, a little Boston market, just like when we were little, Sammy. But, this time…” Dean said with a smile before putting an arm around Riley, “it’ll be the three of us.”

“Dean, those weren’t exactly Hallmark memories for me, you know.”

“What are you talking about? We had some great Christmases.”

Sam’s face fell as he grew slightly more serious. “Whose childhood are you talking about?”

All of a sudden, Riley felt Sam’s energy change. There was a sadness in him that felt old and like it had always been ingrained in him. She tried to focus on him, hoping she could understand.

Stopping mid-walk, Dean turned to his little brother. “Oh, come on, Sam.”

“No! Just…no.”

Dean looked surprised and somewhat shocked as he turned with Riley to keep going. “Alright, ya fuckin’ Grinch.”

As they both walked away, Sam stood still. His attention went to a small, almost cartoon-like, reindeer statue and he looked uncomfortable.

Riley glanced over her shoulder to watch her brother with curiosity.

------

Broken Bow, Nebraska

Christmas Eve, 1991

On a thick television set, in a worn motel room, reindeers pulled Santa’s sleigh across the sky. It was the movie ‘A Year Without Santa Clause’.

The walls were cracked, left uncared for for years with filthy carpet to match. It smelt of mothballs and the takeout the boys had gotten since John left.

An eight-year-old Sam sat on the floor in front of the set, wrapping a gift in newspaper. Dean, no more than twelve-years-old, stood looking out the front window watching the snow fall.

The older brother noticed Sam and turned to ask, “what is that?”

“A present for Dad.”

Dean scoffed. “Yeah, right. Where’d you get the money? Steal it?”

“No. Uncle Bobby gave it to me to give to him--said it was real special.” As Sam continued to wrap his gift, Dean sat next to him on the couch and began to read a magazine. The little Winchester looked up with a face of worry. “Dad’s gonna be here, right? It’s Christmas.”

“He knows and he’ll be here. Promise.”

“Where is he anyway?” As young children do, Sam had so many questions. And with John gone, the only one to answer them was his big brother, Dean.

Dean hated when Sam got curious about their lives. Not because he found it annoying as much as he was running out of lies to tell him. “On business.”

“What kind of business?”

“You know that,” Dean replied with a worried look as he fumbled through the car magazine in his hands. “He sells stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“Stuff.”

“Nobody ever tells me anything,” Sam said sadly.

Rolling his eyes, Dean stood with a huff and walked back towards his bed. “Then quit asking.”

The bed was covered in garbage and food-wrappers and Dean shoved it off to make room for himself. He sat down and continued to browse the publication.

Sam kneeled on the couch to lean on the back of it and looked at his brother. “Is Dad a spy?”

“Mm-hmm,” Dean snarked. “He’s James Bond.”

“Why do we move around so much?”

It was around that time that Dean was beginning to get frustrated with the barrage of questions. “’Cause everywhere we go, they get sick of your face.”

“I’m old enough, Dean. You can tell me the truth.”

Dean looked up to meet Sam’s gaze. ”You don’t wanna know the truth. Believe me.”

“Is that why we never talk about…Mom?” Sam asked meekly.

Dean immediately tossed the magazine away in anger and stood up before yelling. “Shut up! Don’t you ever talk about Mom, ever!” Grabbing his jacket, he went for the door.

Little Sam was scared to be alone and cried out, “wait, where are you going?”

“Out.” Slamming the door behind him, Dean disappeared into the snowy night.

Sam sat in silence with a look of brokenness in his eyes, Alone and confused, the young Winchester peered back at the holiday special on TV. He wondered if there would ever be a year that he could have a real Christmas like the other kids; one where he felt the magic of the holidays and not the loneliness of a dusty motel room.

-----

The memory had taken Sam back to a time he had long wished to forget. His childhood was painful, and it made him resentful of the holidays. Maybe, had John been around, things would have been different. Or maybe the drinking would have only made it worse. In the end, Sam realized it didn’t matter which way things had gone; he and Dean would always end up right where they were.

Dean had already looked around with Riley and they had made it back to where they had left Sam. “You’d think with the ten fuckin’ bucks it costs to get into this place, Santa could scrounge up a little snow.”

“Wait,” Riley interjected. “We spent thirty bucks to get into the saddest North Pole ever? What a ripoff.”

Sam pulled himself from his memories without hearing either of them. “What?”

Those feelings Riley was picking up on earlier were still there if not stronger. Her brother was hurting and she knew it, but there was no way he’d tell Dean. So, Riley reached out for Sam to whisper into his thoughts. “What’s going on, Sam? You okay?”

As he heard her voice in his mind, his eyes went for hers. “Yeah...I’m good.” His tone was sad and flat, only she decided not to push with Dean around.

“So, what are we looking for, again?” Dean asked, not knowing of their private conversation.

“Um…” Sam looked around the lot and tried to forget it all. “Lore says that the anti-Claus will walk with a limp and smell like sweets.”

“Great. So, we’re looking for a pimp Santa. Why the sweets?”

Riley gave Dean a knowing look. “Well, if you smell like candy, the kids will come flocking, ya know?”

“That’s creepy.” Dean’s comment brought out a chuckle from his partners. “How does this thing know who’s been naughty and who’s been nice?”

“No clue.”

The family had continued on only to see a man wearing a Santa costume sitting outside a small barn. It was poorly decorated to appear as if it belonged in the North Pole with nearly no children in line to meet Santa.

Sitting on a red chair, was ‘Santa’. His voice was gruff and he didn’t even wear the beard properly as it hung beneath his chin.

There was nothing about him that didn’t make the hunters feel uncomfortable and their faces showed it. Sam, Riley, and Dean watched as a little boy sat on Santa’s lap.

“You been a good boy this year? ‘Cause Santa’s got a special gift for you,” the man cackled creepily, causing the boy’s mom to grab his arm and pull him away from the disgusting Santa.

Riley scrunched her face feeling the discomfort in the air. “Ugh. Please don’t tell me that Pervy Santa isn’t our guy.”

An adorable young woman with brunette hair and dressed as an elf went to the hunters with a smile on her face. “Welcome to Santa’s court. Can I escort your child to Santa?”

“Uh…” Sam uttered awkwardly.

“No. No. Uh--but actually my brother here…” Dean smiled as he put his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “...it's been a lifelong dream of his.”

Riley could suddenly hear the girl’s thoughts and they made her chortle through her nose.

“What is wrong with this freak?” Finally speaking out loud, the elf turned to Sam with an uneasy look. “Uh--sorry. No kids over...uh--twelve.”

“No, he’s just kidding,” Sam tried to fix what his brother had done only to make it worse. “We only came here to watch.”

The elf looked at Dean who just shook his head and she hurried away. “Ew.”

Sam groaned to himself before he yelled out to her as she walked away. “I--I didn’t mean that we came here to wa--we--” He glared at Dean who was laughing. “Thanks a lot, Dean. Thanks for that.”

“Really, Sam…” Riley teased. “They’re children.”

Dean high-fived her at her joke and Sam just rolled his eyes.

When she looked back up at the Santa, he was leaving his chair, walking with a bad limp. “Uh--you guys seeing this?”

The man slowly passed the hunters, their eyes never leaving him.

“A lot of people walk with limps, right?” Sam shrugged.

“Tell me you didn’t smell that. That was candy, man.”

Wafting the smell away from her face, Riley shook her head with a look of disgust. “Ugh. More like cherry schnapps...or Ripple.”

Dean chuckled as he replied, “well, you might be right. But we willing to take that chance?”

------

That night, inside the Impala, Riley and the Winchesters sat in front of a trailer near the woods. There was a small string of colored Christmas lights lining the roof with a fir tree directly next to the old car parked out front.

Leaning on the driver’s door, Dean yawned through his words. “What time is it?”

“Same as the last time you asked. Here…” Sam reached from the backseat to hand Dean a thermos. “Caffeinate.”

Dean took the canister from him and tried to pour coffee into his cup. The thermos was completely empty and the older brother groaned. “Wonderful.”

As she too yawned, Riley had been staring at the man’s house. Without looking away she asked, “kinda reminds you of the van you were told to stay away from as a kid, huh?”

Both of the Winchesters laughed before silence fell over the car.

Dean smiled and scoffed as he shifted to face Sam. “Hey, Sam. Why are you the boy that hates Christmas?”

“Dean…” Sam groaned under his breath.

“I mean, I admit it. You know, we had a few bumpy holidays when we were kids…”

“Bumpy?”

“That was then. We’ll do it right this year.”

“Look, Dean. If you want to have Christmas, knock yourself out. Just don’t involve me.”

Dean looked at his brother in disbelief before he glanced over to Riley. “Fine. Guess it’ll just me and Rye making the cranberry molds.”

Unsure of why Dean had been so adamant about having Christmas, Riley could only half smile at his offer.

As they returned to watching the house, the filthy Santa from earlier stood in his window. Still in his red cap, but in a dirty and stained white tank top, he looked outside before closing his curtains.

“What’s up with Saint Nicotine?” Dean asked.

The sound of a woman shouting came from inside the trailer and the three jumped out of the car. Running toward the house, they drew their guns and readied themselves at the door.

Sam let out a breathy chuckle making Dean turn to him. “What?”

“Nothing,” the young Winchester answered. “It’s just that, uh--well, you know, Mr. Gung Ho Christmas might have to blow away Santa.”

Dean gave his brother an annoyed look while Riley tried to hide the smirk crawling up her face.

Quickly opening the door, they all went inside but stopped in their tracks as they looked around. Santa was sitting on the couch, holding a giant bong and a bottle of whiskey. He stood and the hunters quickly hid their guns.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” the Santa slurred in his drunken stupor.

Their eyes all went to the old TV set that was playing a cheap Christmas porno.

“Why don’t you mistle my toe? Roast my chestnut--egg my nog…”

Trying to control their urge to laugh, Sam just shrugged at the man without an answer to his question.

Riley suddenly had an idea and began to sing. “Silent night, holy night…” She nudged the boys who began to sing terribly along. Neither knew the words and were completely tone deaf.

“All is well…all is dry. Round and round…” Sam and Dean tried to sing along and stumbled as they failed to match Riley’s lyrics. “...the table.”

Though they sounded like a train wreck, Santa sat down to watch them and grinned with amusement.

Riley’s hands both reached for the brothers’ jackets as she tugged them towards the door with a smile on her face. She kept singing as Sam and Dean stumbled out with her.

------

After another man had been taken from his home, the hunters had gone to the new victim’s house. It too was fully decorated and full of the Christmas spirit aside from the crying wife. Sam, Dean, and Riley were dressed in their suits as they interviewed the woman.

“So, that’s how your son described the attack?” Dean questioned. “Santa took daddy up the chimney?”

The woman had curly dirty-blonde hair with a large bruise over her right eye. “That’s what he says, yes.”

“And where were you?”

“I was asleep and all of a sudden…” she sniffled and her eyes were cast down as they darted back and forth at the memory. “I was being dragged out of bed, screaming.”

Trying not to get sucked into the emotions of yet another grieving wife, Riley focused on her breathing as she had trouble getting her question out. “Mrs.--Mrs. Caldwell, did, uh--did you happen to see your attacker?”

She shook her head and folded her arms. “It was dark and he hit me. He knocked me out.”

Riley swallowed hard, still fighting her empathic abilities. “I’m so sorry.”

“Mrs. Caldwell,” Sam started as he looked above her. “Where--where did you get that wreath above the fireplace?”

Dean and Riley turned to where he had pointed as did Mrs. Caldwell who stood dumbfounded.

“Excuse me?”

The others stared at Sam waiting for an answer but the Winchester just smiled and shrugged, feeling embarrassed. “Just curious, you know.”

After the interview had finished, the three walked through the overly decorated front yard of the home. There were twig shaped reindeer, lit up trees, and angels that glowed.

“Wreaths, huh?” Dean’s eyebrow hooked as he glanced to Sam. “Sure you didn’t want to ask her about her shoes? I saw some nice handbags in the foyer.”

Sam scoffed. “We’ve seen that wreath before, Dean.”

They had reached Baby when Riley stopped and turned to Sam. “You’re right.”

“He is?” Dean asked in surprise.

“Yeah. We saw the exact one at the Walshes’.”

Dean nodded, faking his knowledge of their findings. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, of course. I was just testing you guys.”

------

Riley was at the small kitchenette sink of their motel room making a pot of coffee while Dean went over more lore at the coffee table. Sam walked around the room with his phone to his ear as he wrapped up his call with Bobby.

“Yeah, alright. Well, keep looking, would you? Thanks, Bobby.” Sam hung up with a sigh and went back to the table to sit in front of his laptop. “Well…we’re not dealing with the anti-Claus.”

“Really?” Riley asked as she brought Sam a fresh cup of coffee.

“Thanks,” he said with a smile. “But, uh--yeah. Bobby says we’re fucking morons.” Sam chuckled and the others smirked knowing that was typical Bobby. “He also said that it was probably meadowsweet in those wreaths.”

“Wow. Amazing,” Dean answered flatly and sarcastically. “What the fuck is meadowsweet?”

“It’s pretty rare and it’s probably the most powerful plant in pagan lore.”

Dean tilted his head up to kiss Riley as she gave him his mug. “So, pagan lore?”

“Yeah. See, they used meadowsweet for human sacrifice. It was kind of like a...chum for their gods. Gods were drawn to it and they’d stop by and snack on whatever was the nearest human.”

As Riley sat next to Dean, she blew to cool her hot beverage. “But with Christmas wreaths? Why?”

“It's not as crazy as it sounds. I mean, pretty much every Christmas tradition is pagan.”

“Christmas is Jesus’s birthday,” Dean rebutted.

With her boots kicked off, Riley sat crisscrossed as she sipped her coffee. She made a sound of disagreement through her drink. “Actually, Jesus was probably born during the fall. The winter solstice festival was co-opted by the Catholics and rebranded as ‘Christmas’. And it’s kind of the whole shebang--the Yule log, the tree, even the fat man’s red suit--all leftovers from pagan worship.”

Sam nodded with an impressed look and Dean appeared slightly taken back. “Sometimes I forget how fuckin’ smart you are. But, come on, what are you gonna tell me next? Easter bunny’s Jewish?” Riley smiled as Dean scooted closer to put his hand on her thigh. “So, Sam, you think we’re gonna dealing with a pagan god?”

“Yeah,” Sam replied. “Probably Hold Nickar, god of the winter solstice.”

“And all these Martha Stewart wannabes, buying these fancy wreaths…”

“Yeah, it’s pretty much like putting a neon sign on your front door saying ‘come kill us’.”

Still sipping at her drink, Riley’s brow hooked. “Damn. Not even your Christmas décor is safe.”

The younger brother scrolled through the webpage and scoffed a laugh under his breath. “Huh. When you sacrifice to Hold Nickar, guess what he gives you in return?”

“Lap dances, hopefully,” Dean joked as Riley smiled with a soft chuckle.

“Mild weather.”

Dean looked out the window saying, “like no snow in the middle of December in the middle of Michigan.”

“For instance.”

“Okay, so the question is how to the hell do we kill it?”

“Don’t know. Bobby’s working on that right now. We got to figure out where they’re selling those wreaths.”

Sitting up to look at Sam, Riley asked, “wait, do we think someone’s selling these on purpose? Basically feeding this thing?”

With a heavy exhale Sam shrugged. “Let’s find out.”

------

The bell above the door jingled as Sam, Riley, and Dean walked into a small Christmas shop. ‘Deck the Halls’ was playing and the entire store was covered from wall to wall in decorations. It smelt of wood and cinnamon with hints of pine.

An older gentleman in glasses and white hair stood behind a glass counter. “Can I help you, kids?”

“Uh--hope so,” Dean answered with a grin. “Uh--we were playing Jenga over at the Walshes’ the other night, and, uh--well,” the older brother gestured to Sam. “He hasn’t shut up since about this Christmas wreath, and…” Looking at Sam, he shot him a teasing look. “I don’t know, you tell him.”

Sam’s annoyance with his brother was hard to contain as he replied, “...sure.” He cleared his throat and turned to the shopkeeper before giving him a tight-lipped smile. “...it was yummy.”

“I sell a lot of wreaths, guys.” The man looked at the three while curious and unsure.

“Right, right, but--but you see, this one would have been really special. It had, uh, it had, uh--green leaves, um...white buds on it. It might have been made of, uh…meadowsweet?”

The shopkeeper sighed. “Well, aren’t you a fussy one?”

Sam looked frustrated and embarrassed but Riley and Dean tried to control their laughter before Dean told the shopkeeper, “oh, he is…”

As he laughed, Sam’s eyes sat on his brother with frustration.

“Anyway, I know the one you’re talking about. I’m all out.”

Realizing that Dean was going to make the trip mostly about giving Sam a hard time, Riley butted in. “Isn’t meadowsweet pretty rare? I mean, it’s gotta be expensive. What made you want to make wreaths out of it?”

“Well, I didn't make them.”

“Oh, uh--who did?”

“Madge Carrigan--a local lady. She said the wreaths were so special, she gave them to me for free.”

“Wait...she didn’t charge you for them?”

“Nope.”

Riley looked at the man with skepticism. “So...you gave them away?”

“Hell no,” the shopkeeper scoffed. “It’s Christmas. People pay a butt-load for this crap.”

With a smile and a nod, Dean added, “that’s the spirit.”

------

Dean flicked on the light of their room as the three walked back inside. “How much do you think a meadowsweet wreath would cost?”

“A couple hundred dollars, at least,” Sam answered.

The family all took off their jackets to put them on the couch before going to sit on their beds.

Riley leaned down and began to unlace her boots. “This lady is just handing out expensive wreaths like that? I mean, definitely sounds suspicious.”

With another happy memory hitting Dean, he smiled and turned to Sam. “Remember that wreath Dad brought home that one year?”

Sam’s brow scrunched not understanding Dean’s joy in the recollection. “You mean the one he stole from, like--a liquor store?”

“Yeah,” he beamed with a smile from ear to ear. “It was a bunch of empty beer cans. That thing was great. I bet if I looked around hard enough, I could probably find one just like it.”

Sighing to himself, Sam shook. “Alright. Dude…what’s going on with you?”

“What?”

“I mean, since when are you Bing Crosby all of a sudden? Why do you want Christmas so bad?”

Riley scooted back to rest against the headboard with her knees bent. “You gonna tell us why you’ve been so against it, Sam? I’ve been feeling it ever since we got on this case. Did things just kinda suck during the holidays when you were a kid?”

“No, that has nothing to do with it.”

Digging even further, Dean questioned, “then what?

“I--I mean, I--I just...I don’t get it. You haven’t talked about Christmas in years.”

Dean paused before shrugging. “Well, yeah. This is my last year.”

Silence fell over the room as Sam and Riley’s hearts sank at the realization.

Riley wondered how she could have not remembered that Dean wouldn’t be around for any more of their Christmases It was then that Riley knew how deeply in denial she was over his time being nearly up. She could feel the tears forming and she cleared her throat before practically jumping off the bed. “I’m gonna go take a shower.”

Before Dean could say anything, Riley hurried off to the bathroom and closed the door behind her. Quickly, she turned on the shower and began to cry. The hunter leaned against the wall before sliding down to the floor. She put her hand over her mouth to stifle her cries and began to sob.

That Christmas would just serve as a reminder that the memories they had already made, would be all they would ever get.

Sam and Dean sat in the quiet, not sure what to say.

That’s when Sam looked up to Dean as he tried to hide the pain he was in. “I know it’s your last, Dean. That’s why I can’t do it.”

“What do you mean?”

The young hunter’s eyes grew red and welled. “I mean I can’t just sit around, drinking eggnog, pretending everything’s okay when I know next Christmas you’ll be dead.” Dean only nodded at what Sam had said. “To be honest, I don’t know if Riley can either. Dean, I--I just can’t.”

Realizing the sadness in Sam’s voice, Dean nodded once again and dropped the subject. With no words left to say, Sam and Dean sat on their beds with their heads hung; Christmas lights twinkling through the window.

------

Christmas Eve 1991

Sam sat on the couch reading a comic book as the snow outside the window continued to fall. He turned to the sound of the door opening as Dean walked inside with a bag of groceries.

“Thought you went out.”

“Yeah, to get you dinner.” Dean tossed his little brother a bag of food. “Don’t forget your vegetables,” he added with a smile as he threw him a bag of Funyuns. Dean took off his jacket and sat down on his bed before opening a soda can.

Determined to be done with the secrets, Sam sat across from Dean. “I know why you keep a gun under your pillow.”

Dean lifted his pillow to make sure his little brother hadn’t taken his pistol to see it unmoved. “No, you don’t. Stay out of my stuff.”

“And I know why we lay salt down everywhere we go.”

“No, you don’t.” Though Dean sounded angry, it was worry. Sam couldn’t know the truth yet, he wasn’t ready to know. “Shut up.”

Sam turned around and grabbed something from underneath his bed. It was a leather book and the Winchester tossed it onto the nightstand between their beds. It was John’s journal.

Standing up, almost in shock that Sam had the book, Dean stared down at his brother. “Where’d you get that? That’s Dad’s! He’s gonna kick your ass for reading that.”

The littlest Winchester met his brother’s gaze without fear. “Are monsters real?”

“What? You’re crazy.”

“Tell me.”

Dean bit his lip in uncertainty and hesitation. He glanced down at the book and then back to Sam. “I swear, if you ever tell Dad I told you any of this, I will end you.”

“Promise.”

As the older brother sat back down, he sighed and rubbed his thighs nervously. “Well, the first thing you have to know is we have the coolest dad in the world. He’s a superhero.”

“He is?” A small smile grew on Sam’s face.

“Yeah. Monsters are real--Dad fights them. He’s fighting them right now.”

“But Dad said the monsters under my bed weren’t real.”

Dean half-laughed at the thought. “That’s ’cause he had already checked under there. But, yeah, they’re real. Almost everything’s real.”

With the innocent eyes of an eight-year-old boy, Sam asked, “...is Santa real?”

Smiling and shaking his head, Dean replied, “no.”

There was a pause as Sam grew sad and his head fell. It was at that moment that Sam’s innocence was gone. Though he didn’t know it, in listening to his brother that night, Sam’s life changed forever. “If monsters are real, then they could get us. They could get me.”

“Dad’s not gonna let them get you.”

“But what if they get him?”

“They aren’t gonna get Dad. Dad’s, like...the best.”

“...I read in Dad’s book that they got Mom.”

Dean exhaled sharply not sure what to say. “It’s complicated, Sam.”

His little brother’s voice broke as his fear and anxiety grew. “If they got Mom, they can get Dad. And if they get Dad, they can get us.”

“It’s not like that.” Dean got up to sit next to Sam on his bed, trying to comfort him as best he could. “Okay? Dad’s fine. We’re fine. Trust me.” Still seeing the fear in his little brother’s eyes, Dean put a hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Sam whispered as he looked away to hide the tears growing in his eyes.

“Hey, Dad’s gonna be here for Christmas. Just like he always is.”

With his lip trembling, Sam refused to face his brother. ashamed of his tears. “I just want to go to sleep, okay?”

“Yeah, okay.” Dean’s voice was soft with guilt. He had dreaded the day that he would have to ruin Sam’s childhood and it weighed heavily on him.

Sam laid down on the bed and cried quietly to himself but Dean never left his side. “It’ll all be better when you wake up.”

Trying to be quiet, Sam began to sob.

“You’ll see, Sam. ...promise.”

------

Cheery Christmas music played on the outside of a large white house with decorations everywhere. A lit up snowman, a sleigh, poinsettias, lights, and bells filled the yard and porch.

As the hunters got out of the Impala, they walked up the concrete path to the brick entrance.

“This is where Mrs. Wreath lives, huh? Can’t you just feel the evil pagan vibe?” Dean snarked before using the brass knocker on the door. With every click, jingle bells clanked from the strip of bells hanging from the handle.

A woman most likely in her late 60’s opened the door with a cheerful grin on her face. “Yes?” She was in an old fashioned pink dress with a white cardigan and matching pearls. Her hair was curled and set, pinned from her face.

“Hi,” Riley began with a smile. “We were hoping you were the Madge Carrigan that made all those beautiful meadowsweet wreaths.”

“Why, yes I am.” Madge’s voice was sweet and full of high spirits.

“Oh, great! We actually were all admiring one of your wreaths at the Sylar’s place the other day.”

As Riley continued to sweet talk Mrs. Carrigan, Dean tried to peer into the home.

Inside looked like the Santa himself lived there. There were countless collectibles, adornments of holly, a large gingerbread house on the table, and garland up the staircase. The strong smell of evergreen and freshly baked cookies wafted out the door.

“You were? Well, isn't that meadowsweet just the finest-smelling thing you ever smelled?”

Sam nodded in agreeance. “It is, it sure is. But, the problem is, is that all you wreaths had sold out before we got the chance to buy one.”

“Oh, fudge!”

“You wouldn’t have another one that we could buy from you, would you?” Dean asked.

“Oh, no, I’m afraid those were the only ones I had for this season.”

Riley glanced up at the boys with a look of disappointment. “Oh, darn it,” she feigned.

Mr. Carrigan came down the staircase in a cardigan with an old-fashioned pipe. He stood by his wife and smiled. The two of them looked far too picture-esque as if they had just time traveled from the 1950’s.

“What's going on, honey?” The man’s voice was just as upbeat and cheery as Madge’s.

She turned to him, her smile never falling. “Well, just some nice kids asking about my wreaths, dear.”

“Oh, the wreaths are fine. Fine wreaths. Oh, care for some peanut brittle?” Mr. Carrigan held out a small red tin filled with sweet treats.

As Dean reached out to take some, Riley slapped Dean’s hand away. “Thank you so much, but we’re okay.”

-------

Dean and Riley’s knives worked to sharpen wooden stakes as they sat on the beds. Five other wooden stakes sat at their feet and on the beds beside them.

In front of his laptop, Sam kept researching until he clapped his hands in a moment of excitement at what he found.

“I knew it! Something was way off with those two.”

“I’m assuming that means you found something.” Riley dusted the wood shavings off her pants and onto the carpet below.

“The Carrigans lived in Seattle, last year, where two abductions took place right around Christmas. They moved here in January. All that Christmas shit in their house--that wasn’t boughs of holly. It was vervain and mint.”

She nodded. “Oof. That screams Pagan.”

“Really?” Dean asked. “‘Cause to me it sounds like the beginning of a well-seasoned recipe.”

“I gotta tell you guys, I wasn’t picking up on anything from them. Literally, nothing. That doesn’t usually happen unless we’re talking about something that isn’t human.”

“So, what, Ozzie and Harriet are keeping a pagan god hidden underneath their plastic-covered couch?”

“I don’t know. All I know is we gotta check them out.” Closing his laptop, Sam got up to inspect one of the stakes. “So, what about Bobby? He’s sure evergreen stakes will kill this thing, right?

Blowing off the dust from her last wooden creation, Riley looked at the sharp end of the stake. “Yup. Time to put down Mr. and Mrs. Christmas with a Christmas tree. Huh,” she paused. “That’s a weird sentence.”

------

Outside the Carrigan house once again, that night, the family stood on the front porch as Dean picked the lock. Riley and Sam kept the lookout and took stakes out of the older brother’s bag as ‘O Come All Ye Faithful’ played into the quiet neighborhood from the porch’s speakers.

Once inside, the hunters quietly moved through the house and into the family room. The Carrigan’s large tree sat in front of their main window;=, its lights lit as if waiting for Santa.

Dean pointed to the couch and whispered, “see? Plastic.” He shook his head disapprovingly and the others gave a judgmental look as well as they touched it.

Riley could hear Dean’s thought as Sam walked a little ahead. “Jesus. Can you imagine having sex on this couch?”

Trying not to giggle, Riley replied, “oh, yeah. Think of how much your ass would stick to that thing.”

There were times where Riley being in Dean’s head still took him by surprise. He turned in her direction with a shake of his head as he mouthed, ‘no thank you’.

In the hall, Sam tried to keep his heavy boots quiet. He was surrounded by ornaments and snow globes as he walked into the kitchen. Plates filled with cookies, cakes, and other sweets lined the table.

To his right, Sam saw a door that led out of the kitchen and most likely into the basement. He clicked on his flashlight to point it at the lock to look more closely. It was open.

“Guys…” he whispered.

Slowly, the hunters headed down the stairs, all with their flashlights shining in front of them. As Dean pointed his directly forward, he saw bones covered in blood sitting in a large bowl. Riley and the brothers looked around and realized the entire basement looked like a butchery room rather than a storage space. Blood, bones, and what looked like metal devices to inflict torture were strewn about the floor and countertops.

A pair of bloody Santa boots and the matching bag, smelt of death as they sat on a box in the corner.

Sam had stumbled upon what looked like an electric wood saw with pieces of cut bone left behind. He scrunched his face in disgust with a groan before moving on.

Nearby, Riley found a bag hanging from a hook on the wall. It was bloody and her curiosity drew her in. As she reached out to touch it, she gasped as the bag began to move with muffled cries. Someone was inside struggling to get free.

Riley jumped at the movement and sensed someone behind her. There was Madge. The woman grabbed Riley’s neck and lifted her off the ground. Softly yelping in surprise, Riley clutched at the hand around her throat.

“Riley!” Sam and Dean shouted in unison hearing her cry as they charged in her direction.

Pushing Riley up against a wall, Madge slammed Riley’s head hard into the brick, letting her drop to the ground. The evil woman slinked back into the shadows just as the brothers rushed around the large basement.

Their lights lit up the way ahead of them, showing Riley lying on the ground and not moving.

Before Sam and Dean could reach her, Mr. Carrigan grabbed Sam’s arm and knocked his head against the wall.

Dean turned at the sound, “Sam!”

At that same moment, a large 2x4 was swung at Dean’s head by Mrs. Carrigan.

With all the hunters down on the ground, the couple smiled.

------

The pagan’s kitchen was lit with candles next to several mortar bowls, knives, and hardware tools. Both Sam and Dean were tied to chairs back to back.

Once finally fully alert, but unable to see his siblings, Sam softly called, “Dean...Rye? You okay?”

Dean groaned as he pulled his head up. “I think so. Where’s Riley?”

“Over here…” Riley replied.

The two looked over toward the sound of her voice to see her to a chair as well that sat firmly against the wall.

“You alright, sweetheart?”

“Aside from the pounding headache, yeah.” Her eyes squinted as she looked over to them.

Sam sighed. “So, I guess we’re dealing with Mr. and Mrs. God. Nice to know.”

Dressed in colorful Christmas-themed sweaters, the Carrigans walked into the kitchen practically beaming seeing the hunters awake.

“Speaking of the Yuletide douchebags…”

“Ooh, and here we thought you three lazybones were gonna sleep straight through all the fun stuff.” Madge giggled as she scurried across the floor to get things from the shelf.

Overly sarcastic no matter what the situation, Dean replied, “and miss all this? Nah, we’re partiers”.

“Isn’t he a kick in the pants, honey?” Mr. Carrigan stared down at them as he took a puff from his pipe. “You’re hunters, is what you are.”

“And you’re pagan gods. So, why don't we just call it even, and go our separate ways?”

Mr. Carrigan laughed. “What, so you can bring more hunters and kill us? I don’t think so.”

Frustrated as he pulled against his restraints, Sam tried to look over his shoulder to leer at the couple. “Maybe you should have thought about that before you went snacking on humans, now, huh?”

“Oh now, don’t get all wet.”

Madge unfolded dinner napkins and began placing them in the hunters’ laps. “Oh, why, we used to take over a hundred tributes a year and that’s a fact. Now, what do we take? What, two? Three?”

“Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew here make five.”

“Now, that’s not so bad, is it?”

Riley was still slightly spinning from the blow to the head but managed to keep her usual level of snark. “Wow, well we were just all wrong about you, weren’t we? I mean--you guys are practically Ward and June Cleaver.”

“You, little miss…” Mr. Carrigan said pointing his pipe at the blue-eyed hunter. “You better show us a little respect.”

“Or what? You’ll eat me?”

The husband laughed heartily as he looked back at Riley. “Well, you know, the missus and I have always felt it best to use men for the rituals. That’s just how it’s always been. But you…” Mr. Carrigan walked closer to Riley who had anger in her eyes. “We figured we might make an exception. Because you’re not completely human are you? No, you’re something special--something… what’s the word I’m looking for, dear?” he asked his wife.

Madge grinned as she continued to set up. “Well, she’s practically a rare delicacy isn’t she?”

“A delicacy. Spot on, dear.” Turning back to Riley, he still practically twinkled with joy. “And I’m betting what you would add to the mix would be just top notch, don’t you agree, honey?” He asked to his wife.

“Oh, absolutely. Might give it the extra kick we’ve needed to help us have it like we did in the good old days. We’re such sticklers for rituals though and have to do this right. And you know what kicks off the whole party?”

“Let me guess…” Dean said jumping in. “Meadowsweet.” Madge ran around the kitchen island with a squeal of excitement in response. “Oh shucks, you’re all out of wreaths. I guess we’ll just have to cancel the sacrifice, huh?”

“Oh, don’t be such a gloomy Gus.” She held three horseshoe-shaped wreaths and hung them all around their captives’ necks. “There. Ohh…don’t they just look darling?”

“Good enough to eat.” Mr. Carrigan smacked his lips as he whipped out a knife. “Alrighty-roo. Step number two.” Carrying a bowl and the blade, he walked to Sam. The man held the bowl under the Winchester’s arm and prepared to cut him with the knife.

Dean fought with all his strength to turn to his little brother, but to no avail. “Sammy?! Sammy?!”

“D-Don’t!” Sam’s demand almost sounded like a plea before it slowly turned to a scream as Mr. Carrigan tore into his flesh.

Both Riley and Dean shouted over each other with anger at Sam’s pain.

“Leave him alone, you son of a bitch! I swear to god, I’ll kill you!”

“This might pinch a bit, dear.” Mrs. Carrigan had gone to Riley and the hunter bore her eyes into the god.

“You hurt her and I’ll fucking rip you apart,” Dean growled.

Riley’s teeth gritted together through her scream and she squeezed her eyes shut as the blade cut into her forearm. Only a second later, another cry ripped from her throat as Mrs. Carrigan cut her other arm as well.

Dean’s rage boiled inside him and his chair only slightly moved at the force he fought against it with. His family was being tortured and it was driving him to the brink of insanity.

It was then Dean’s turn to have the blade cut into him and he too released a shout of pain. “You fucking bitch!”

“Oh, my goodness me! Somebody owes a couple of nickels to the swear jar. Oh, do you know what I say when I feel like swearing? ‘Fudge’.”

Panting, Dean snarked, “I’ll try and remember that!” As she smiled at him, the woman brought the knife back down to his other side. “You fudging touch me again and I’ll fudging kill you!”

“Very good!” she exclaimed, cutting into the hunter once more as he groaned in pain.

Mr. Carrigan picked up a pair of pliers and walked back to Sam. “You kids have no idea how lucky you are. There was a time when kids came from miles around, just to be sitting where you are.”

With panic in his voice, Sam’s chest rose and fell rapidly. “What do you think you’re doing with those? No. No. Don’t.”

The man took the pliers to Sam’s index finger and began to pull the nail off as Sam screamed.

In a state of distress, Riley couldn’t block her empathic abilities and began to wail along with him. It felt as though her own fingernail was being torn from her body.

The two gods turned to each other with astonishment and then back at her with Sam’s nail pinched in the pliers.

“Oh, my goodness, me…” Mrs. Carrigan exclaimed. “Darling, I think we’ve found ourselves an empath.”

After putting the nail into the bowl that was drenched in the hunters’ blood, he put down the pliers and clapped with excitement. “Well, hotdog! It’s officially a party!” Mr. Carrigan tapped his head ridiculously remembering something. “Sweet Peter on a popsicle stick…I forgot the tooth.”

Sam, Riley, and Dean were all panting hard trying to overcome their pain.

“Merry Christmas, guys,” Dean uttered as the others groaned.

With the pliers in his hand once again, Carrigan grabbed Dean’s chin. “Open wide… and say, ‘aah’.” Just as he put the tool into Dean’s mouth, the doorbell rang.

“Somebody gonna get that?” Dean asked, his voice muffled with the pliers still in his mouth. “You should get that.”

Mr. Carrigan rolled his eyes and motioned for his wife. “Come on.”

As soon as the couple was out of the room, Dean looked over to Riley. “We gotta get out of here. I don’t wanna be this year’s Christmas turkey.”

“Yeah,” Riley agreed out of breath. “Can we kill them now, please?”

“Oh, yeah…” Sam muttered.

------

Mr. and Mrs. Carrigan came back into the kitchen with smiles on their faces. “Now, where were we?” Madge giggled.

Riley and the Winchesters were no longer in their chairs. The gods saw one of the doors close with a slam and they turned around to see the other door close as well.

Sam and Riley were standing against one as they tried to keep it shut and Dean did the same on his end.

The Carrigans pounded on the door, again and again, fighting the hunters attempt to lock them in.

Dean pulled a large drawer to hold his door closed and ran to help his partners. As soon as Dean was against the banging door, Riley let go and ran across the room only to shove the Christmas tree to the ground. The ornaments crashed on the hardwood and shattered as her hands went into the branches.

“Damn, Rye!” Sam yelled. “I know they were gonna eat us, but what did the tree do?”

She grunted as she yanked a branch off. “Stakes are in the basement. Luckily, we got some fresh evergreen right here.”

Dean grinned and shook his head. “You’re fucking brilliant, you know that?”

Riley nodded playfully as Dean looked to a large cabinet. “Sam! Help me get this.”

The brothers moved the cabinet in front of the tree and rushed to grab branches from the tree. They stripped them of their needles and prepared to fight.

It went silent as they approached the kitchen door. Suddenly, Mr. Carrigan tackled Dean to the ground and began punching him again and again.

Sam shouted, “Dean!” as he ran to his aid and fought to get the man off his brother.

A sound came from behind Riley and she turned to see Madge smiling back at her. “You little thing.” Her face distorted momentarily and swung violently in almost a blur. “I loved that tree.”

As Riley went to raise her stake, Madge hit her and the hunter crashed into the couch and onto the floor. She grabbed branches at her side as the god walked towards her and hit her as hard as she could.

Riley fought to keep the woman at arm's length as the Winchesters overpowered Mr. Carrigan. Sam pinned him to the ground as Dean shoved the stake into his chest.

Madge screamed as she watched her husband and froze in shock, giving Riley the perfect opportunity to stab her with her own stake. The hunter scrunched her face and grunted as she pushed the stake further in before Madge fell to the ground, dead.

The three struggled to catch their breaths as they looked at each other.

“Merry Christmas,” Sam said through ragged breath.

------

Christmas Eve 1991

All was quiet as the children of the world waited for Santa. The snow continued to fall over the motel housing the lonely Winchester boys as Sam slept soundly in his bed.

Dean went to his side and shook his brother to wake him. “Sam, wake up!”

Just as Sam’s eyes began to open, he turned towards Dean who had a smile on his face.

“Dad was here. Look what he brought.”

His gaze turned around to see a little Christmas tree, decorated with a few large and colorful lights. A few small presents sat beneath the small piece of chopped evergreen.

“Dad was here?” Sam asked groggily.

“Yeah. Look at this. We made a killing.”

Yawning, Sam mumbled, “why didn't he try to wake me up?”

Dean thought quickly on his feet with a playful scoff. “He tried to, like a thousand times.”

“He did?”

“Yeah. Did I tell you he would give us Christmas, or what? Go on, dive in.”

Sam leaped from his bed and hurried over to the Christmas tree. He found two presents wrapped with themed wrapping paper; one even was adorned with a shiny green bow.

Sitting on the couch, he began to unwrap his first gift.

Dean sat on the arm of the couch and watched his little brother with excitement. “What is it?”

Baffled, Sam held up a pink box. “Sapphire Barbie?”

The older brother chuckled. “Dad probably thinks you’re a girl.”

“Shut up!” Sam tossed the Barbie to the ground.

“Open that one.”

As the youngest Winchester opened his second gift, he found a sparkling cheerleading stick.

John had broken his promise, again.

Sam held it in his hands sadly before looking to Dean. “Dad never showed, did he?”

“Yeah, he did, I swear.”

“Dean…where’d you get all this stuff?”

Realizing he couldn’t lie anymore, Dean’s eye cast down with a sigh. “Nice house up the block. I swear I didn’t know they were chick presents.” Dean watched his sad brother with a heavy heart, desperate to bring him comfort. “Look, I’m sure Dad would have been here if he could.”

“If he’s alive.”

“Don’t say that. Of course, he’s alive. He’s Dad.”

It was then that Sam noticed the heavy burden on Dean’s shoulders; that his big brother worried just as much as Sam did. Grabbing the present he had wrapped in newspaper earlier that night, he held it out to Dean. “Here, take this.”

“No. No, that’s for Dad.”

“Dad lied to me. I want you to have it.” Sam continued to hold out the gift to Dean with a small curl on his lip.

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Trying to hide his moment of excitement, Dean finally took the gift and began to tear into it. Inside, was a necklace. It was a black cord that had an amulet hanging in from it. The piece was a metallic gold color and depicted the head of a humanoid being with horns and tribal adornment.

Dean couldn’t remember the last time he smiled so genuinely as he held the amulet in his hand. “Thank you, Sam. I--I love it.” He proudly put the necklace on over his head and the boys sat in silence with an unspoken love between them.

Even if they were alone on Christmas, as long as they had each other, that would always be enough.

------

There wasn’t a day that had passed since that Christmas Eve, almost sixteen years before, that Dean hadn’t worn that necklace. It was practically a part of who he was.

Dean walked into their motel room and grinned with surprise. Riley and Sam had decorated the room with a small Christmas tree and a ‘Merry Christmas’ sign. Ella Fitzgerald’s ‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas’ played as Riley smiled in his direction, putting on the final ornament. Sam looked at his brother lovingly as Dean took it all in.

With amazement and joy in his eyes, Dean asked, “what’s all this?”

Riley stood next to Sam and shrugged playfully. “Looks like Christmas to me.”

Dean’s eyes met his brothers with a smirk. “What made you change your mind?”

Handing his big brother a glass of eggnog, Sam ignored his question. “Here, uh--try the eggnog. Let me know if it needs some more kick.”

With only a single sip, Dean coughed, looking surprised at the taste. “No, we’re good,” he practically wheezed through his cough.

“Good. Well, uh--have a seat. Let’s do…Christmas stuff, or whatever.”

Dean nodded happily as he took off his jacket. “Alright, first things first.” As Sam and Riley sat on the brown, worn couch, Dean pulled up a chair. He took out four packages wrapped in brown paper from a plastic bag and held them out to his family. “Merry Christmas, guys.”

The two smiled as they took them and Riley peered up at him. “Where’d you even go?”

“Someplace special,” Dean replied. The two looked at him waiting for a better answer. “The gas mart down the street.” His brother and girlfriend laughed at his response. “Open them up.”

Both Sam and his sister reached under the couch for four more packages, each all wrapped in newspaper. The two swapped gifts between them and Sam kissed Riley’s temple before they gave Dean his.

With surprise and excitement, Dean asked, “really?” before taking his gifts.

Sam opened his first gift and laughed as he held up two porn magazines. “Skin mags!” Dean nodded, satisfied with Sam’s reaction as his brother opened his next gift. “And…shaving cream.”

“You like?”

“Yeah,” Sam smiled from ear to ear. “Yeah.” Opening his next two from Riley, Sam found a bag of trail mix and a small bottle of lotion. “Lotion?” he asked with an uncertain smile.

Riley chuckled. “Well, it was supposed to be a joke, but now it goes perfectly with your new porn, brother!”

Dean threw his head back in laughter, practically grabbing his stomach.

Giving her a teasing middle finger, Sam smiled and feigned, “haha, very funny. But I’m about to bust into this trail mix as soon as we’re done. Thanks, sis.”

The Winchesters turned to Riley showing it was her turn to open hers and she giggled unwrapping her gifts. She laughed as she found two of her favorite chocolate candy bars, a bottle of gas station-brand scented soap, and a pair of fluffy blue socks. “Oh, boys...you spoil me,” she beamed. “Thank you, guys.”

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” Dean said as Riley went to him to give him a kiss. He opened his arms allowing her to sit on his lap and he wrapped himself around her as he opened his. Sheer joy covered his face as he found a bottle of motor oi, and a candy bar. “Look at this. Fuel for me and fuel for my baby. These are awesome. Thanks.” Dean’s face looked like it was probably beginning to ache with a smile that couldn’t stop.

Opening his next gifts, he found a pair of sunglasses and a Christmas bow. “Uh--Rye, I think the bow goes on the gifts, sweetheart.”

“That is very true.” Riley took the bow, removed its sticker, and slapped it on her chest, right above her breasts. “Merry Christmas, babe.”

Dean laughed as his face buried into her neck, holding her close. Riley squealed and his fingers pinched her chin before he kissed her, smiling against her lips. “Best gifts ever.” He picked up his eggnog and grinned as he held it out, “Merry Christmas, guys.”

Sam and Riley held their plastic glasses out as well and they toasted them together.

“Merry Christmas,” they all said.

The room fell quiet as spirits briefly fell. They all knew that Christmas would be the last they would spend together.

Riley was consumed by the Winchester’s heavy hearts and she exhaled hard trying to shut it out. If that was going to be their last Christmas, they were going to do it right. She got up and rushed to her bag before she ran back with a camera. The brothers groaned with a laugh as she sat on the couch and motioned for them.

“Yeah, yeah. Stop complaining and smile for our Christmas card,” she joked.

Dean wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close as Sam reluctantly scooted to her side. It didn’t take more than a few seconds for Sam and Dean to smile along with her before the flash went off.

As they pulled apart, Dean took the camera from her. When she looked at him, he pulled her in for a kiss as he reached his arm far out to take a picture. Their lips were curled with contentment as he triggered the camera.

Sam opened his mouth to speak as the couple pulled apart and Dean looked to his brother with worry over what he would say.

“Hey, Dean, y–-” Sam looked sad as he fumbled for his words. He hesitated and then sighed before meeting his brother’s eyes. “Do you feel like watching the game?”

Dean smiled in relief. “Absolutely.”

“Alright.”

Standing up, Sam reached over to turn on the old TV set. The three sat on the couch together as they watched the winter football game. The brothers smirked at each other and Dean pulled Riley to his chest as he drank his eggnog.

In the silence, all that was left was the whistle of the referee and the voice of the announcer.

As Dean kissed the top of Riley’s head, he inhaled her scent and laced his fingers with hers.

Their night was perfect, and whatever would happen tomorrow, would be tomorrow. All that mattered was being with Sam and Riley. That night was all Dean needed to find the strength to keep going. He knew that all he would ever need was his family.

So, for the first time in eight months, Dean relaxed and felt contentment run through him. If there was a heaven, Dean was sure that it was what he had at that moment. And if Hell was what awaited him, that memory would be enough to keep his spirit alive.

Outside, snow began to gently fall to the ground. With all right once again on that Michigan night, there would be a white Christmas. It fluttered softly onto the Impala as lights twinkled in the shine of her hood.

And through the window, sat the three hunters, lost in what would become one of their favorite memories.

------

S3 Chapter 8: Dream a Little Dream of Me

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