#a picture of my birth certificate

[mondaymelon]

how old are you

haha. i dont feel comfortable answering that question.

this is... awfully blunt. like no context straight up- dunno why people are digging into personal things and serious things in my inbox now like did i write something that made yall think id give out private info like that ( nothing against you btw ) ??

its common and known knowledge that to. yk. stay safe online that you shouldn't reveal your legal name, age, blablabla whatever. please understand that i don't feel safe revealing this information to random people online that i don't trust.

for you to read my ffs, all you need to know is that i am a minor who is still in school. if this is the same anon that sent the nsfw ask earlier ( if it's not, sorry ) please stop . my blog doesn't really have relevance to things like that as im writing perfectly non-explicit things : )

ahaha. a hi next time would have been nice /hj

[50000bears]

Umm guess whose google account got hacked and who didn't notice the hacker was constantly logging in for 5 years

[simptasia]

mum and i were almost not able to buy our house because a real estate lawyer heard us casually say i'm autistic and alarm bells went off in her head, because she believed that meant i wasn't mentally capable of understanding what i was signing up for

[drowfag]

i can't die with a pussy. i can't die with a cunt. i just refuse to. my parents will have to come to terms with the fact that when i die that i will have a cock and balls. the coroner should be forced to stare at my nuts and sign my legal death certificate as male. i'm making sure my sister puts my fucking name on my tombstone and the word son is fucking engraved in there so my parents are forced to acknowledge that i was their son.

[apathyfairy]

soooo sick of companies acting like they dont make 1 million dollars every millisecond and that sharing your membership with your friends is bankrupting them

[cumdumpstiel]

👻

you are tow mater

[f4y3w00d5]

This case is making me so fucking angry. theyre using common transphobic language, and also theyre not even HIDING their BLATANT FUCKING TRANSPHOBIA-

Wanna see the poster that made me aware of this current bullshit going on?

The second paragraph. 'Roxy Tickle is a man that wants to be a woman.' Okay, well a simple google search says shes transgender. Going a bit more in depth? She has done Three years of hormone therapy and gender reaffirmation surgery. Like this isnt a transgender woman who has done nothing to change her identity, she's got surgery and 3 years of hormone therapy! And looking more into it? She has said;

"I am now legally a woman.

“I am already allowed to have a female gendered passport thanks to the letter from my GP confirming that they are treating me.

“I only have one step left - to update my birth certificate to say that I’m female.

“I needed two medical specialists saying they have seen my genitals and they both needed to sign a form in the presence of a JP.

"These are the most extreme levels of identity proof I’ve ever come across – to have to show your genitals to an MD is embarrassing to prove who you are. The documentation has all now been completed and I will mail it this weekend."

That was all 4 years ago. 7 years of this shit now. (as of today, april 11th, 2024)

And the poster still refers to her as a he?

And thats the picture they use. Now heres a better one.

That was deliberate. They used an unflattering photo of her, and a very flattering one of Sall, just to try and tip people to Salls side. Common marketing ploy.

More research shows that she now has her birth certificate identifying her as female.

And this isnt enough?

By her logic, shouldnt a trans man be allowed on giggle, no matter how far through transitioning they are, purely because they were born female? I get the feeling that she would say no. This is simply blatant transphobia. Personally, I cant do anything, being a minor. I'm not sure how far this case is along, seeing as it started 2 days ago.

But I simply cant let this slide. When I saw it this afternoon it made me so fucking angry.

This case could change a lot of things. Make a lot of changes that make everything far worse for non cis gendered people, potentially influencing things world wide

[areyoudoingthis]

I'm almost done with my transition paperwork. it's been nearly a year since i started. we live in an evil bureaucratic hellscape

[sickly-sapphic]

unreal how much personal info some servers require

[cherrygarden]

local woman doesn't take her meds, has a weird dream and she remembers all of it for the first time in years and won't shut up about it

[doctorjohcoy]

ok so like, theres a place nearby with a mailroom i could do, but to get it i need my GED and to get my GED i need my ID and to get my id i need the us government to fucking admit i exist

[luludeluluramblings]

Bruce Wayne's Obsession with Smalltown!Reader - Revised

A/N: I honestly have no idea where this came from. I just wanted to revise it and then I spiraled. I'm just trying to keep the creative juices flowing and attempted to add dialogue. Next thing I know, I wrote this. Maybe it's the on coming fall? Fall is my time of year. Still might make some more revisions to this and other's. Especially if I keep putting off the main story.

A/N: Consider this a test of me adding more lore to Reader. It'll help Smalltown make sense when we get there in the next two parts. Or, at least I hope it will.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Link to Original

Yandere Type: Platonic Father

Reader’s Momma is Adeline

Reader’s step-father, Daddy, is Samuel

Bruce was obsessed with Reader as soon as he saw the little bitty picture of them in that tiny hospital crib. And, for a while, that single picture was all he had of them. 

Imagine the surprise he felt to come back for a six month long mission off planet to find out that the brief relationship he had with a woman from outside of Gotham had produced something. 

He’ll admit, he hadn’t been that careful with Adeline. She was a gorgeous and charming woman, with just a hint of a wild side. She had been just a bit too sweet for his taste. Sweet enough he wasn’t too concerned about any lasting consequences. She had been quite understanding when he had ended things. Perhaps a bit too understanding. 

He had to find out through court papers that sweet Adeline had actually been more his type than he expected. Bruce didn’t expect her to even have a bitter side. But, apparently, she could be petty and spiteful, and had some damn good lawyers. 

Bruce hadn’t expected to get Adeline pregnant. He understands how it happened, and he made sure to lecture both Jason and Dick about being cautious after the whole ordeal, but he hadn’t expected it. And, he most certainly hadn’t expected Adeline to keep the whole thing under wraps before filing for full custody with no child support or visitation. 

To say Bruce was pissed was an understatement. The Wayne lawyers had dropped the ball on this matter, and subsequently been fired. They had wrongly assumed this was some revenge publicity stunt, and that Reader probably wasn’t his. 

But, he saw that little picture. That sweet face laying in the hospital cradle. Those were his mother’s eyes on that little baby. His mother’s eyes. 

Of course, Bruce tried to do damage control. Claiming he hadn’t known about the court date (which was true). But, Adeline had some damn good lawyers and had made sure to do all the court procedures out of state and out of his circle of influence. 

He did manage to get one thing. The DNA test. Not because he doubted that Reader wasn’t his. But, so Adeline couldn’t win completely. She could remarry. She could leave the birth certificate blank. She could fill their child’s head with lies about him. But, that child was his. His baby. 

Naturally, the results came back with absolute certainty. Reader was his. And, he had to fight himself to not drag Adeline back to court. 

Hell, he had debated on proposing to her. Forcing her to marry him. He was willing. Adeline was sweet and gentle, and this side of her, despite how much it was pissing him off, was quite attractive. The pettiness, the cunning, the protectiveness, weren’t exactly turn offs for him. 

Luckily, Alfred had pointed out to him that he was being irrational. Sure, it wouldn’t have been the worst idea he had, but Bruce wasn’t going to give up being Batman. Not at this time. Not yet. 

Would he really be able to handle a newborn and a pissed off wife on top of Gotham’s crime? What if something happened to them in Gotham? What if history repeats itself once more? 

Reasonable and both unreasonable questions. 

That being stated, Bruce concluded it would be best to let Reader grow up outside of Gotham. He couldn’t give up being Batman for them, but he could at least let them grow up without Gotham’s smog sinking into their bones and marrow. 

Not to say Bruce didn’t just let Reader linger in the back of his mind as a spare thought. He thought about them often. But, he was always careful. 

His enemies grew bolder and more numerous every year. 

Bruce had resigned himself to one day a year to dedicate all his time to checking on Reader. One day where he would hack anything and everything for information about his child. Adeline’s phone and social media for pictures of Reader. Milestone updates for Reader’s pediatrician. Preschool footage to see his child toddle around and make friends. Researching those friends and their parents to make sure his child was safe. One single day a year.

He nearly lost it when he found out Adeline had met another man and introduced him to Reader. It enraged him further to see the wedding pictures. To see this man holding his child in his arms with such a loving smile and pressing a kiss to their cheek while holding Adeline in his arms. 

He had done background check after background check into this man, Samuel. As much as Batman and Bruce Wayne could without arousing suspicion. 

And, he was clean. A good ol’ boy. Focused on family and minding his business. And, he was good at business.

Samuel owned a massive regional construction company. Not as wealthy nor diverse as Wayne Enterprises, but stable and steady. He had a secure income, not a negative thing written about him ever. In fact, if Bruce had met the man under different circumstances he probably would appreciate Samuel’s practicality. 

But, his first introduction to this man was from watching a video that Adeline had filmed of Reader having a birthday party. Of Reader making a wish, blowing out the candles on their birthday cake. 

“What did you wish for, baby?” He could hear Adeline’s voice in his mind. A warm loving voice that was the prelude to his heartbreaking. 

“I wanna little brother!” Bruce watches as a sweet grin forms on a frosting covered face, every time. He’s watched this video over and over. Memorizing the words. Memorizing the smile. Memorizing the sprinkles on the half eaten cake.

“Oh? What if you get a little sister?” 

“Nah, it’ll be a brother. I know it.”

“And, how do you know it, sweetpea?”

“Cause last year I wished for a Daddy and now I got one.” 

Those words are what breaks Bruce every time. Every single time. 

It should have been him being called that.

That was his child. That was his baby. He loves them. He’s done so much to keep his distance. To keep them safe. 

Now, he’s resigned to watch as another man treasures his most precious thing. Probably the only innocent thing that will ever come from his existence. 

Alfred had a hard time convincing him that this was for the best. That he needed to let it go. 

Until now, he had accepted that it was necessary. Gotham needs Batman. For a moment he was ready to give it up.

But, then Jason died. (Temporarily.) Something broke when that happened. Bruce realized if Gotham could take Jason, it would’ve taken Reader, too. 

So, even though he hates it. Even though he is so bitterly jealous of Samuel, living a peaceful life with his child. Even though he would do almost anything to hear his child call him Daddy. He keeps being Batman. 

He has to at this point. Gotham took his family, and he won’t let it take anymore. Not ever again.

[tranzjen]

My surgery is tomorrow!!! ✨💕🥰✨💕🥰

(Picture taken June 23, 2024)

I'm very very excited for my surgery (it's my second gender affirming surgery but this one is more significant to me since it'll be top and bottom surgery) and I was obviously counting the days until it and I thought some people might be interested in my trans journey 🏳️‍⚧️ I finished up most of the story a few days ago so now I'll towards future under the cut! 🌈🌈🌈

With these surgeries I feel like I'm completing the "main campaign" and all that'll be left will be "side quests"

Like I will still have voice training. Also hair removal and getting my birth certificate updated.

Oh!! That's other things I forgot to mention in early posts 😅

I got my name legally changed in the summer of 2021. I just paid a lawyer to handle it for me with my stimulus check money. And I remember getting an updated social security was a whole process 😮‍💨 Now I just need to get my birth certificate updated before I lose the chance to 🙃

Also it was in 2022 that I got laser hair removal. The place locally had this weird plan where you pay for an area and it's pretty expensive but it covers all sessions you can keep coming back for life if there's ever any regrowth (which their definitely was). Honestly, I have a lot of really light hair so I'll be finishing it off Electrolysis.

I had a consultation for body contouring a month or so ago. And she said that she didn't recommend it since I had so little fat that it would be very risky and have minimal results 😔 She did say that she could do a tummy tuck since I have a bit of loose skin there 😅 But she said it would be one of the most painful surgeries which made sense to me as bc I remember they pulled a little bit of fat for my FFS from there and that was the most painful part 😬 Also getting a big scar just to get rid of a bit of flabbiness, especially if I couldn't also get an ass out of it just did not seem worth it. Maybe in a decade when my metabolism goes down, I'll reconsider it. I'll have to go in to replace my implants anyways 🤷‍♀️

Oh!! I'll make sure to upload a picture after I get the surgery! But it might be a few days

But after this surgery I'll done for awhile, finally 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨 But life is all about change so I doubt I'll ever consider myself fully done with transitioning. I'm excited to see the person I'll become 🥰🥰🥰

Also thank you everyone who left kind messages in the tags and comments 🥺🥺🥺

[lazycats-stuff]

I wanted to ask for a Batbro who is the son of Bruce and Catwoman, he is the youngest in the family and very similar to Selina, he has the same tastes as his mother, he helps her with robberies, but when Selina is arrested by Batman, the family tries to convince younger brother that stealing is wrong

Also, I had @eliz36545 request this and I also have exact same request, but with the word arrested replaced by trapped, so I'll just treat them as a same request and delete them from my inbox so I can better manage the number of requests.

Also, there is a photo that @eliz36545 put in her ask, almost like a look of how (Y/N) is supposed to look. Also, no gif in this one.

Bruce knew that one night stand with Selina was a bad idea. She couldn't let go of her Catwoman persona, not to mention, she steals and while it was for somewhat noble causes, Bruce couldn't look over it. And then... Years later, Bruce finds out he has a kid. With Selina. Bruce clearly has a type. Lethal. Brunettes. And they are in illegal activities.

No wonder why his children tease him all the time about it. And no wonder why one is a little bit nuts. No words needed for who that one is. Either way, Bruce took responsibility for (Y/N), putting his name on (Y/N)'s birth certificate, even offering to give the boy his last name.

Selina declined the last name offer, but didn't mind the fact that Bruce put his name on the birth certificate. However, (Y/N) spent most of his time with his mother. In another words, he lived with his mother, but visited Bruce whenever he could. Bruce, of course, didn't mind it. Not in the slightest.

The boys accepted (Y/N), taking their time to get close with their brother. Damian, however, was skeptical. (Y/N) was really similar to his mother. In both character and profession. He helps Selina out in her robberies, Selina making sure that (Y/N) has skills that will benefit him in life.

While she knew that involving (Y/N) in their world isn't particularly ideal, she knew that those skills would benefit him. Knowing that the world is cruel and cold, that no one would really extend a hand if you don't have connections. That was simply the reality in this world. Connections help you. Knowledge is at a second place at this point in time.

Bruce didn't want to undermine Selina's raising, since (Y/N) was a polite child, not entitled despite being his son. However, he didn't want (Y/N) to think that stealing is good. Sure, it may be from the rich who have more than enough and can spare a few expensive things, but he can't steal either way. It's illegal.

One way or another, it's illegal.

Despite stealing from people who have it all. And can buy more of those things. But still, the point still stands. Bruce couldn't stop it since he wasn't a primary custodian.

Another thing that makes Bruce is conflicted about is the Batman and Catwoman personas. Two parents on the opposite side of the spectrum, law and moral one at least. Bruce being Batman, he was the person who kept law and order in Gotham. In places where the police couldn't go to or simply choose to ignore.

Either way, Bruce and Selina had their cat and mouse game for a long time, even before any of the boys came into the picture. Selina always eluded him, like an enigma almost. For years, it was something... That Bruce actually enjoyed.

It was always funny to banter with her and Selina enjoyed it too. However, Bruce knows that this can't go on forever. And the fact that (Y/N) was involved in the robberies... Despite the fact that he allowed it to happen. It... It wasn't good.

Bruce finally did it. He finally managed to arrest Selina after many years of their cat and mouse game... While Bruce was happy to put a criminal behind bars, he knew that Selina wasn't a typical criminal that you can find in Gotham City. But the law is the law. And Bruce needed to follow it.

Was it a difficult decision to put the mother of his child behind bars? Oh yeah. Was it even more difficult to find (Y/N) ever since then? Yup. It seems that Selina taught (Y/N) how to be elusive. Which was not fun. Bruce searched the city high and low for his boy, with the help of his other sons too.

It was not an easy job, but they managed to narrow down the area where (Y/N) was. And they have decided to spread out, just to make sure that they had a bigger chance to find him. Bruce was still dealing with an aftermath of Selina in jail and so he is not able to even go after his own son.

Jason was the first one to find him, making sure to let his other brother know through comms. He made his way to (Y/N), who was looking for something in his backpack.

" There you are. We've been looking for you. " Jason said, making (Y/N) up from being scared. Almost like a cat being scared. Almost comical.

" Yeah, right. " (Y/N) said sarcastically and Jason noticed the anger in his voice. Of course, the anger was justified since their father put his mother in jail. Bruce arrested Selina and well, if there is anything that might break a relationship, putting the mother of your son in prison is that one thing.

" It was long time coming. Selina knew that the day where she was caught would come. Bruce knew it too. " Jason explained before (Y/N) started to run, sliding through a window with ease.

Jason simply turned the comms back on. " Tim, he is coming your way. "

Jason has decided that he doesn't want the aggravation tonight. As much as he loved his brother, he didn't want to deal with this now. Too emotional and far too reckless.

Tim was on his way as (Y/N) was moving quickly through the area. Well, specifically the building where Tim jumped down in front of (Y/N), who frowned yet again.

" Rehearsed much? " (Y/N) snapped back, making Tim chuckle.

" I know, it seems like we rehearsed it. The truth of the matter is that we planned it. We know you are mad. But the law is the law. Even though rigged in the favor of others. " Tim said and (Y/N) was still having none of it.

" Dick, get ready. He seems pretty pissed as it is, so proceed with caution. " Tim said into the comms, crossing his arms afterwards. He knew that (Y/N) was mad and that it was the product of helping his mother in her heists.

And product of Bruce not stopping that sooner.

Dick jumped next to (Y/N), making him jump away, clutching at his chest. Dick chuckled, seeing a scaredy cat as he was, after all Selina's son.

" Why are you making this more difficult than it needs to be? " Dick asked. " You know that was going to happen soon enough. Selina knew it too and Bruce knew it too. So please. Doing heists all of your life, on the run from everyone all of your life. That is no way to live. " Dick explained and (Y/N) huffed.

" Don't run. I'm not in the mood to chase you. " Dick said and (Y/N) ran again. Dick sighed as he informed Damian of the situation.

" Just try to get him to calm down and back to the manor. God knows when B will be back. "

Damian nodded as he listened and observed the environment, looking for the signs of (Y/N) coming up somewhere within his eye sight.

He jumped down once he saw (Y/N) running. Of course, he timed his jump so that he jumps in front of him, making him stop dead in his tracks.

" You too? " (Y/N) sighed out and Damian crossed his arms.

" Yes, me too, you dumbo. You can't run from us. You need to see that living life on the run is not a good way to live. I would know that. I lived a life by the motto of kill or be killed. And it's wrong to steal in general, even from the rich who have it all. So please, come with us to the manor. " Damian tried and (Y/N) sighed.

" So come on, follow me. Lets go home. You'll be happier with us. "

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Crossroad Blues | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Warnings: canon gore, canon violence, imposter syndrome, discussing grief and parental death

Word Count: 4935

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You sighed heavily as you pulled up a photo of Dean’s mugshot from the St. Louis Police Department. “Well, you’ve got a warrant out in St. Louis, and now, you're officially in the feds’ database.”

Dean grinned at you across the diner table. “Dude, I'm like Dillinger or something.”

“Dean, it’s not funny,” you scolded. “We’re fucked if we’re not careful.”

“Well, what do they got on you two?” Dean looked between you and Sam.

Sam muttered, “I'm sure they just haven't posted it yet.”

“No accessory? Nothing?” Dean chuckled.

“Shut up,” Sam grumbled.

The older brother laughed. “You're jealous.”

“Why the fuck would he be jealous, Dean?” you hissed.

Dean seemed caught off-guard. “Whoa, sweetheart, relax—”

“No, this is serious, man,” you replied, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves. “Dee, I was completely off the grid before I met you. Now, we all got arrested— thankfully, Diana’s getting our mugshots and prints wiped from Baltimore— but I’m undocumented! My mom told me she gave birth to me in a motel room. This was after my parents had already been ‘missing’ for years. My brother and I have no birth certificates, I don’t have social security, I don’t have insurance, I don’t have a real driver’s license— they can book me for that reason alone. I’m fucked. You didn’t kill anyone. They actually have legitimate reason to book me.”

Dean’s plucky attitude dropped, and he turned around, slightly angry. “Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t ask for any of this. I didn’t exactly plan on getting arrested. And I’m sorry it screwed you over, okay? Chill out.”

You glared at him. “ ‘Chill out’?” You chuckled coldly. “ ‘Chill out,’ he says. I wouldn’t be as angry if you weren’t making stupid jokes.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop, okay? Jeez.”

Sam huffed. “Okay!” He slid papers between you and Dean who were scowling at each other. “Architect Sean Boyden plummeted to his death from the roof of his home, a condominium he designed.”

Dean looked away from you and down at the paper, but you kept your eyes trained on him. “Hmm. Build a high-rise and jump off the top of it. That's classy. When did he call animal control?” Dean questioned.

“Two days earlier,” answered Sam.

“Did he actually say Black Dog?”

“Yeah. A vicious, wild, black dog. The authorities couldn't find it, no one else saw it; in fact, the authorities are a little confused as to how a wild dog could get past the doorman, take the elevator up and start roaming the halls of the cushiest joint in town. After that, no more calls, he doesn't show up for work, two days later he takes a swan dive.”

“Do you think we're dealing with an actual Black Dog?” the older brother asked.

“Well, maybe,” Sam shrugged.

“What's the lore on it?”

The brunet slid another page over to Dean. “It's all pretty vague. I mean, there are spectral black dogs all over the world, but some say they're animal spirits, others say death omens. But anyways, whatever they are, they're big; nasty.”

“Yeah, I bet they could hump the crap outta your leg,; ook at that one, huh?” He held up a picture and smirked at his brother. 

Sam glared at him.

Dean’s smirk slipped. “What? They could.”

Sam got up from the table and began heading out of the door. You followed Sam quickly. Dean grabbed your arm and spun you back around.

“What, Dean?” you snapped.

He shrank under your glare. “Look, I— I’m sorry, okay?”

You dropped the tension in your shoulders. “Yeah, me, too. I just— I worry about you. And you guys completely turned my life upside-down when you walked into it. And everything’s changing so fast; it’s kinda scary.”

Dean nodded as he started walking. “I get it. If it makes you feel any better, you’re changing my life, too.”

You looked over at him and smiled softly. He couldn’t quite meet your eyes after that admission.

***

You and the brothers interviewed the deceased’s former business partner, and the man seemed a little bitter. Apparently, Sean Boyden was a terrible architect around ten years ago. Then, suddenly, he was in Architectural Digest. A piece of information he gave you, though, aside from his bitterness, was that Boyden used to bartend at Lloyd’s before his overnight success.

Then, you went to the animal protection agency to gather information on complaints or phone calls about a Black Dog. You were the one who went in to gather intel because you weren’t willing to take the chance of Dean being recognized from the St. Louis APB. You got back in the car and explained to the brothers what you’d found out. You held up the complaints list you’d gotten from the secretary. “Every complaint called in this week about anything big, black, and dog-like. There's nineteen calls; all from Dr. Sylvia Pearlman.”

You headed to the woman’s home to interrogate her, only to find that the woman had disappeared two days ago.

“Hi, we’re Animal Control,” you told the woman who opened the door. “We’re looking for Dr. Sylvia Pearlman?”

“The Doctor— well, she— I don't know exactly when she'll be back, she left two days ago,” she said.

“Okay, and you are…?” Sam asked.

“I'm Ms. Pearlman's maid,” she introduced. “I’m not sure where she went. She just packed and left; she didn't say where. That stray dog: did you find it finally?” 

“Oh, not yet. You know, you didn't ever happen to see the dog yourself, did you?” Sam questioned.

She shook her head. “Well, no. I never even heard it.”

There were pictures on the wall of a brunette woman appearing in all of the photographs who you deduced was Dr. Pearlman. A picture that caught your attention was the woman at a bar with two friends. You turned back to the maid. “Hey, you know I read she was chief surgeon at the hospital. She's gotta be what, forty-two, forty-three? That's pretty young for that job.”

“Youngest in the history of the place. She got the position... ten years ago?” the maid thought aloud.

“Huh, an overnight success. Ten years ago,” Sam nodded.

“Yeah, we know a guy like that.” Dean clicked his tongue.

“Oh, look at this,” you said. You flipped the photo from the wall over to show the writing on the back. “Lloyd’s bar.”

*** The bar was your next stop. It was pretty much in the middle of nowhere, and you and the boys parked close to the gravel intersection.

Dean noticed something on the side of the road, and called to you and Sam, “Hey,” to get your attention.

“Yeah?” Sam questioned.

He nodded in the direction of yellow flowers growing around the edges of the crossroads. “That's weird. Think someone planted these?”

“Middle of all these weeds?” Sam questioned.

“These are, uh, what do you call 'em—” Dean snapped his fingers, trying to think.

“Yarrow flowers,” you noted.

“Yeah,” the older brother nodded. “Used for certain rituals, aren't they?”

“Yeah, actually,” Sam commented. “Summoning rituals.”

You tsked. “So, two people become sudden successes about ten years ago. Right around the time they were hanging out here at Lloyd's. Where there just so happens to be a crossroads.”

“You think?” Sam turned to you.

“Let's find out,” Dean said and started toward the center of the road. He bent over and looked up at you. “This seem about the dead center to you?”

You looked around a few moments before looking back at him and nodding. 

Dean dug a few inches into the hard soil with his hands and hit something solid. 

“Yahtzee.” He found an old Altoid tin and opened it to reveal several occult objects and a picture of an older man you hadn’t seen thus far on this hunt. 

“Holy shit, that’s graveyard dirt and a black cat bone. That’s… crazy Hoodoo spellwork,” you breathed out. “Used to summon a demon.”

“Not just summon one. Crossroads are where pacts are made. These people are actually making deals with the damn thing. You know, 'cause that always ends good,” Dean deadpanned.

“They're seeing dogs, alright,” Sam added. “But not Black Dogs, they're seeing Hellhounds. Demonic pit bulls.”

“You guys ever come across this stuff before? I’ve only read about it,” you said, looking between the boys.

“No, never,” Dean replied. “Whoever this demon is, it's back, and it's collecting. And that doctor lady? Wherever she's running? She ain't running fast enough.”

“So, it's just like the Robert Johnson legend, right? I mean, selling your soul at the crossroads, kind of deal?” questioned Sam.

“Yeah, except that wasn't a legend. I mean, you know his music,” you nodded.

Sam shrugged.

Dean looked at his brother, stunned. “You don't know Robert Johnson's songs? Sam, there's- there's occult references all over his lyrics, I mean, 'Crossroad Blues'? 'Me and the Devil Blues'?”

“ 'Hellhound on My Trail'?” you added.

Sam frowned, and Dean rolled his eyes. “The story goes, he died choking on his own blood. He was hallucinating and muttering about big, evil dogs.”

“And now it's happening all over again,” Sam said. “We've gotta figure out if anyone else struck any bargains around here.”

Dean groaned. “Great. So we've gotta clean up these peoples' mess for 'em? I mean, they're not exactly squeaky clean. Nobody put a gun to their head and forced 'em to play ‘Let's Make A Deal’.”

“So, what, we should just leave them to die?” scoffed the younger brother.

“Somebody goes over Niagara in a barrel, you gonna jump in and try to save 'em?” the older one deadpanned.

“Dean,” you scolded gently.

“Fine,” he murmured. “Rituals like this, you've got to put your own photo into the mix, right? So this guy probably summoned this thing; let's go and see if anyone inside knows him. If he's still alive.”

***

The man’s name turned out to be George Darrow. He was the first person to summon the demon to Lloyd’s. Unfortunately for him, all he asked for was artistic talent; he had forgotten to ask for the recognition for it. His small studio apartment was littered with paintings; some half-finished and some completed. They were incredible. 

“Was it worth it?” you asked him.

“Hell no. I'm still broke and lonely. Just now I got this pile of paintings don't nobody want. But that wasn't the worst.”

Your heart broke a little for him. 

“Go on,” encouraged Sam.

“Demon didn't leave. I never counted on that,” he muttered. “After our deal was done, the damn thing stayed at Lloyd's for a week. Just chattin'. Makin' more deals. I tried to warn folks, but I mean, who's goin' to listen to an old drunk?”

“How many others are there?” questioned Sam.

“Uh, the architect, that doctor lady— I kept up with them, they've been in the papers. Least they got famous,” George scoffed. “One more. Uh, nice guy, too. Hudson. Evan, I think. I don't know what he asked for. Don't matter now. We done for.”

Sam shook his head. “No. No, there's gotta be a way.”

“You don't get it! I don't want a way!” George suddenly yelled. “I called that thing! I brought it on myself. I brought it on them. I'm going to hell, one way or another. All I want is to finish my last painting. Day or two, I'm done. I'm just trying to hold them off 'till then. Buy a little time." He sighed. "Okay, kids. Time you went, go help somebody that wants help.”

You and the brothers hesitated.

“Get out! I got work to do.”

“Mr. Darrow, could I—?” you started.

“What?! What do you want,” he spat.

“I just wanted to know if I could buy one of your paintings,” you said. “That little one over there.” You pointed to a small canvas, no bigger than a piece of printer paper. It was of a skull on a nun’s body with what looked like ectoplasm dripping from her eyes. The linework and blending of the oil paint was incredible. You were truly in love with it and had been eyeing it since you walked into the room.

“I don’t want your pity money, kid. But thanks,” he told you.

“I’m serious, I really do want it. I don’t wanna buy it off you out of pity,” you protested.

He considered, before nodding. “Just take it, kid.”

“Mr. Darrow—”

He couldn’t look at you as he spoke. “Take it. It’s payment enough that someone wants one of my paintings.”

Your heart broke for him even more, and you hugged the painting to your chest when he handed it to you. 

Sam paused before speaking again. “You don't really want to die.”

George turned back to you one last time. “I don't? I'm... I'm tired.”

You bit the inside of your lip to keep yourself from crying as you left the man painting in his room.

You stored the painting in your bag when you returned to the Impala, and you couldn’t bring yourself to talk as you drove to the Hudsons’ house to find the last crossroads victim.

***

You and the Winchesters rolled to a stop in front of a very nice house. You knocked on the door to reveal Evan Hudson moments later. “Yes?” he said, seeming shaken.

“You ever been to a bar called Lloyd's? Would have been about ten years ago.” Dean cut straight to the chase.

Evan startled and slammed the door in your faces. You heard the latch click in place.

“Come on, we're not demons!” Dean called.

“Any other bright ideas?” Sam deadpanned. 

Dean stepped back, set himself, then kicked the door in in one go. Your breath hitched in your throat at the sight, and you mentally scolded yourself. ‘You sick fuck, we’re on a case.’

You followed the brothers into the home and began searching through the rooms for Evan. You found a door closed at the end of the hallway, and Dean went to kick it in again. You stopped him by catching his leg. You turned the handle and pushed the door open gently. The room was completely silent as you entered. “Evan?” you called.

Evan jumped out from behind a bookcase, holding his hands up. “Please! Don't hurt me.”

Sam attempted to pacify him. “We're not going to hurt you, alright? We're here to help you.”

“We know all about the genius deal you made,” Dean gruffly said. 

Evan looked frantically between the three of you. “What? How?”

“Doesn't matter. All that matters is, we're trying to stop it,” Sam replied.

The man flicked his eyes between you and the brothers nervously. “How do I know you're not lying?”

Dean clicked his tongue. “Well, you don't, but you're kinda running low on options there, buddy-boy.”

Evan swallowed harshly and started pacing. “Can you stop it?”

“Don't know,” you said earnestly. “We'll try.”

“I don’t wanna die,” he muttered, beginning to well up with tears.

Dean’s tone was almost mocking. “Of course, you don't, not now.”

You gently grabbed Dean’s wrist. “Dean, stop.”

He continued, ignoring you. “What'd you ask for anyway, Evan? Huh? Never need Viagra? Bowl a perfect game? What?”

“My wife.”

The older brother laughed coldly. “Right. Gettin' the girl. Well, that's worth a trip to hell for.”

“Dean!” you and Sam chided, more firmly this time.

“No. He's right, I made the deal,” Evan sniffed. “Nobody twisted my arm, that… woman, or whatever she was, at the bar? She said I could have anything I wanted. I thought she was nuts at first, but— I don't know how to— I was desperate.”

“Desperate?” Sam questioned.

“Julie was dying,” he lamented.

Dean suddenly softened. “You did it to save her?”

Evan nodded. “She had cancer, they'd stopped treatment, they were moving her into hospice, they kept saying… a matter of days. So yeah, I made the deal. And I'd do it again. I'd have died for her on the spot.”

“Did you ever think about her in all this?” Dean questioned.

“I did this for her,” Evan protested.

Dean advanced on him, ripping his arm out of your hand. “You sure about that? I think you did it for yourself. So you wouldn't have to live without her. But guess what? She's going to have to live without you now. But what if she knew how much it cost? What if she knew it cost your soul? How do you think she'd feel?”

You put a hand on Dean’s chest and pushed him backward. “Knock it off,” you told him, giving him a sharp look.

Sam turned to Evan. “You just sit tight, alright? We're going to figure this out.”

You followed Dean out into the hallway. “What is your deal, man? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, why wouldn't I be? Hey, I got an idea.” He pulled out the goofer dust you’d gotten from George Darrow. “You and Sam throw George's hoodoo at that Hellhound, keep it away from Evan as long as you can. I'm gonna go to the crossroads and summon the demon.”

“Wait, summon?! Are you nuts?!” you protested. “I’m coming with you.”

“No,” he said firmly. “You can’t. I won’t let you, okay? I can’t handle this properly if I’m worried about you.”

You looked up at him with sad eyes.

He put his hands on either side of your shoulders. “(Y/N), I can trap it. I can exorcise it, and I can buy us time to figure out something more permanent.”

Sam walked up behind you. “Yeah, but how much time?”

“I don't know, a while. I mean, it's not easy for those suckers to claw their way back from hell and into the sunshine,” Dean chuckled.

“Dean, you can forget it, alright?” Sam argued. “I'm not letting you summon that demon.”

“Why not?” Dean grumbled.

“Because I don't like where your head is at right now, that's why not.”

“What are you talking about?” Dean scoffed.

“You know, you've been on edge ever since we found that crossroads, Dean, and I think I know why,” Sam noted.

Dean turned around. “We don't have time for this.” 

Sam was able to stop him with a single word. “Dad. You think maybe Dad made one of these deals, huh? Hell. I've been thinking it. I'm sure you've been thinking it, too.”

Dean didn’t turn back to face you and his brother, but quietly said, “It fits, doesn't it? I'm alive, Dad's dead. The yellow-eyed demon was involved. What if he did? What if he struck a deal? My life for his soul?”

Evan called back from inside the room behind you. “It’s outside!”

“Just keep him alive, okay?” Dean instructed. 

“Dean!” you called.

“Go!”

You steeled yourself and turned back to the office Evan was in. You took a bag of Goofer dust from Sam and began covering the window sills and doors. Sam made a circle around Evan while you worked.

“What is that stuff?” Evan asked.

“Goofer dust,” Sam replied.

“You serious?” he scoffed.

“Yeah. 'Fraid so. Look. Believe me, don't believe me, whatever you want. Just whatever you do, stay inside the circle, alright?”

You looked back to see Evan nodding. He began to hug himself, standing in the middle of the circle just as you and Sam finished coating the room.

Sam shook his bag out. “That’s the last of it.”

You paced around the room, Bowie knife in hand, as Sam tried to comfort Evan. All you could think about was Dean with the crossroads demon, and you prayed to a god you didn’t believe in that he wouldn’t make any stupid deals.

You knew how much his dad’s death was tearing him apart. You knew that even in that moment with him after he’d just woken up next to you in the apartment back in Philadelphia, his heart wasn’t fully there. You wished you could take away that pain for him. 

“(Y/N), are you trying to increase your step-count or something?” Sam asked you.

You barely registered his snarky question. “What?”

“You’re pacing. Like, a lot.”

“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” you said.

“God, you and Dean were made for each other.” Sam shook his head, chuckling slightly.

You deadpanned at him. “Shut up.”

Evan whirled around at something you couldn’t hear or see.

“What?” Sam asked him.

“You hear that?” Evan asked. 

“Hear what?” you questioned. “Where is it?”

“Right outside the door,” Evan said quietly.

Suddenly, the doors began to rattle violently. Sam stepped inside the circle of goofer dust, but you stayed outside of it, gripping your bowie knife tightly.

“Just don't move, alright?” Sam told Evan. “Stay where you are.”

The rattling droned on for several minutes before it stopped suddenly.

“Do you still hear it?” Sam asked.

“No. Is it over?” Evan breathed out.

You whipped around to the sound of rumbling from a grate nailed to the wall. You stared it down until it burst off the wall, kicking dust from the vent into the room.

“It's here!” Evan exclaimed.

Deep claw marks gouged into the floor up to the circle, and they stopped just before the edge. The hellhounds had apparently completely ignored you, but you tempted fate by pissing them off. You dug your bowie knife into where you thought the back of one of the creatures was.

“(Y/N), what the fuck are you doing?!” Sam yelled. 

You cried out in pain as an invisible force slashed at your leg. Deep claw marks appeared on your thigh, ripping through your jeans. 

“(Y/N), no!” Sam screamed.

You slashed at your leg with your knife and hit something solid. 

“(Y/N), get inside the circle, you maniac!” Sam chided.

“Trying!” you replied, pulling the knife out of the solid thing you’d hit. Nothing seemed to work on the hellhounds, though, and your knife only stalled them momentarily. You crawled, scrambling over to the circle, careful not to disrupt it as the hounds got one last lash in at your leg. You sat back against Sam’s legs, holding your leg and breathing through your teeth.

“Jesus, (Y/N/N), are you okay?” Sam asked.

“Sammy, do I look okay?” you groaned, trying to keep still on the floor despite the pain in your right thigh and left calf.

He paused for a moment. “Fair point.”

The windows flew open, disrupting the Goofer dust that had been laid on the window sill and slowly beginning to blow the dust away from around you, Sam, and Evan.

“Circle's broken. Come on!” Sam pulled you and Evan.

“Sam, take him! Go!” You threw your knife at him and stayed in the slowly breaking circle, and Sam obliged. You stayed on the ground, praying that the hellhounds would leave you alone. Thankfully, they did, and you tried to recollect the dust and build the particles up around yourself. Sam had long since sprinted out of the room with Evan in tow, and the scratches on the floor led out of the room and down the hall. 

You sat like that for a while, crying and in pain. You knew you needed to stop the bleeding on your thigh as it was bleeding way more profusely than your calf. You took your button-down off and wrapped it around your leg tightly. You threw your head back, chest heaving, at the pressure around the wound. You pulled your sock up around your calf to try and collect the bleeding there.

You could hear rattling from down the hall, and wished you could do something more to help. Suddenly, the pounding stopped.

“Sam?!” you called.

“(Y/N)! You okay?”

“Yeah, are you?”

“Yeah!”

“Is it over?” 

You considered for a moment before calling back, “I don’t know! I fucking hope so!”

You could hear Sam laughing getting louder and the sound of a door creaking. You assumed he was hesitantly checking the hallway out to see if he could make it back to you. “I think we’re good,” he called.

“Thank god,” you breathed out. You tried to stand, only to fall back on the ground almost immediately. “Fuck.”

Sam entered the office. “Shit, you’re bleeding a lot… uh—” He pulled out his phone. “Dean, Dean, is it over?... Yeah, yeah, he’s fine. It’s (Y/N) I’m worried about… No, no, she’s okay— for now, at least.”

“Hey!” you called. “I’m fine, Sam, really.”

“Oh, yeah? Try standing up, then,” he deadpanned at you.

You went to move but reconsidered at the throbbing in your leg. 

“That’s what I thought.” He turned back to his phone. “She tried to take on a hellhound… Yeah, yeah, okay. Just… get here. As fast as you can. And bring her bag. I know she’s got the first aid stuff in there.”

Evan reentered the room as Sam hung up the phone. “Holy shit!” Evan cried worriedly. “Is she—? Does she need a doctor? Hold on, I’ll call 911—”

“Don’t you dare, Evan,” you protested firmly, glare pinning him to the spot. “I’ll be fine. I just need to stitch myself up, ‘s all.”

***

When Dean arrived about fifteen minutes later, he was furious. “(Y/N), what the hell were you thinking?” He stormed into the room with your duffel bag in his hand. 

“Dean, I’m fine. Gimme the damn bag—”

He slammed it roughly on the ground, sitting next to you. “Let me see.”

You hesitated but unwrapped your leg upon Dean giving you a harsh look. 

He cursed under his breath when he saw your leg. “Fuck, (Y/N)...”

“Just let me stitch it up, I’ll be fine—”

“No,” he gruffly stated. “I’ve got it.”

Sam looked between you and Dean before taking Evan out of the room to calm him down. 

Dean began threading the needle. You sucked in air through your teeth. “Tell me what happened. How’d you stop it?” You were asking him to distract you.

He looked up at you, still angry, but complied anyway. “I cornered the bitch and made her let him out of his deal.” 

You paused, waiting for more. “And?”

He said, “And nothing.” And began to work on your leg.

“Dean,” you pleaded, grabbing his wrist. “Talk to me, please. Talk me through this.”

He seemed to soften when he saw how much pain you were in. He took a deep breath as he tried his best to stitch you up gently. “She, um, she said my dad’s in hell. And… And he did make a deal. And she told me—” he paused, eyes welling with tears, “She told me she knows how torn up I am about it all. She told me she could bring him back, (Y/N/N).”

Your breath caught in your throat, no longer focused on the needle piercing your skin. “What?”

“Yeah.”

“Dean, don’t tell me—” Tears welled in your eyes. 

“No. But…” he paused, tying off one stitch before moving to start the other one. 

“But?” you pressed.

“I sure as hell thought about it.”

Your stomach dropped. “Don’t you fucking do that to me, Dean. Dee, look at me.” You grabbed his face and forced him to look at you. “You cannot fucking give up. I won’t let you.” 

He turned his attention back to your wounds, moving to the last claw mark on your thigh. 

“I know you’re hurting,” you sniffed. “I know his death is killing you. It kills me to see you like this. But I’m not— ah!” You cried out when one of his stitches accidentally went too deep into your thigh. He looked at you apologetically as you continued to talk. “I’m not gonna let you trade places with your dad. You’re here for a reason. Your dad loved you enough to keep you here. And what you told Evan earlier? Have you even considered how much it would kill me if you were gone?! And Sam? Both of us would be crushed. You matter, Dean. Sam needs you.”

“(Y/N)—” he tried to stop your admissions as he finished wrapping your leg.

“No, dude. You need to hear this. I need to tell you this. I need you here, Dean. You’re my best friend. How do you think I’d feel if you were gone?”

He faced you. “I can’t— I can’t keep living like this.”

“And you won’t,” you said. “I know it’s cheesy, but it gets better. You won’t always dread waking up every day. You won’t always blame yourself. That’s just today.”

He shook his head. “How do you know that?”

You sighed. “Listen, both of us blame ourselves as the reason our dads are dead. And no matter how much I tell you that’s wrong, you’ll never believe me. Same way I’ll never believe you. And it hurts. I won’t lie to you. It fucking hurts for a while. But then… it gets better. Time and… the people in your life… make it better.”

He stared at you with sad eyes, unsure of what to say.

“And I know you don’t believe me right now, but… please, please, just trust me,” you begged.

Dean continued to stare at you, not saying anything, before standing up from the floor next to you. “C’mon, we gotta get back on the road.”

You sighed, trying to stand from the floor.

“Oh, fuck, I forgot,” he chuckled awkwardly, making you giggle. He swept you up in his arms and looked down at you with a gaze you couldn’t quite read. Dean then stared out ahead as he effortlessly carried you the rest of the way to the car. 

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[muneca-lemon-steppa]

HCs of Alfie with a younger wife? Like in her mid 20s 💕

Hello my darling!!! I’m sorry this took forever! But I am back!!! Please enjoy this little nugget. Also y’all HCs are so fun!!!! Maybe I should do more.

He wasn’t planning on marrying a younger woman. Let’s be honest he wasn’t planning on getting married PERIOD.

But then you blustered in…

You came in. Full of wisdom so far beyond your age. Full of confidence that came from the knowledge that you were the best you you could be. Full of light that he thought would flee from a man like him.

He immediately was drawn to you. Your soothing voice that brought down his rage, which so quickly could come full force against him when he got too brash and foolish, reminding him that there’s no need to destroy what was not yet broken.

Despite the incurable draw to you, he said he would stay away. Be respectful. Be a respectful old man.

You would have none of it. Because truthfully he wasn’t that old. He was just snippy and preferred his habits. He hadn’t been a young man ever since the war. Regardless what his birth certificate said.

In truth it didn’t take too much to get him to relent. He’s just a man in front of a beautifully infuriating woman. And after a screaming match ending with you laughing at his reddening ears and hoarse voice, he let himself finally say it, “Right then. Now only my woman gets to screech at me like you do. So I’ll see you tomorrow night? Take you to the pictures and maybe dinner?”

And soon enough he asked for your hand, rumors and shaking heads be damned. He needed you more than air, and for some reason you loved him just as much.

Alfie expected his life would change once you were moved into his home. Was only natural. But he didn’t expect to change THIS much.

Or that he would like it. That he would feel like a chasm he didn’t realize he had was finally sealed up and healed with the first morning he woke up to you next to him.

Younger yes. Unorganized you were not. And very quickly upon your arrival did you see the bachelor pad state and work your magic to rectify. To turn this dragon’s cave into an actual home. Curtains and windows finally opened to let in fresh air. Ledgers and letters were filed away. The garden in the back finally being tended to to indicate actual humans lived and loved on the premises.

Remember that Alfie has been a bachelor the majority of his life. Any pretty women which came into his life were quickly shoo’d away. So to say he was puzzled by your… womanly… tools?? Weapons??… was putting it lightly.

“My dove now what the fuck are these? They look like tiny dinner rolls.”

“They’re rollers Alfie! For my hair! Gives it the wave.”

“Right right hair wave rollers yes of course. Now what about these… powders and things?”

“My rouge and lipstick darling.”

He didn’t get it at all.

Though Alfie is partial to opera and the absolute classics, he adores the new music you bring home. His family in Boston adore you immensely and have taken to mailing you the newest records in America.

If you’re extra sweet, you can usually coax him to dance with you, spinning yourself around him in a tizzy. By the end of your evenings he’s drunk without even a single sip of rum.

He’s never been so happy. So care free. But there is this nagging feeling in his stomach. One that won’t go away. That maybe you’re not truly happy. That you’re secretly wishing to be back out with the young people. To go out dancing in pretty dresses instead of in the living room in your dressing gown. To be fawned over in illustrious restaurants instead of cooking dinner together most nights. Had he robbed you of your youth simply because he’s selfish?

He never tells you this. No being a man means keeping your feelings inside and not letting your woman see you less than perfectly confident. (His words not mine)

But you read him so easily. It’s easy when you love someone so completely. Especially if your lover gets the deepest scowl on his face when he’s troubled, staring deep into space.

When you finally coax him out of him, he merely grumbled like a shifting mountain, trying to brush it off.

But oh how he wished he told you sooner. You assure him that you never really enjoyed the clubs and high society outings. You much preferred to stay home with your friends and other loved ones. What could possibly be out there that could even come close to what you have in the house.

When you do manage to get out of the house, either to the cinema, walking Cyril, venturing out for dinner, or because you insisted that walking is good for him, he is fully aware of the stares.

Some are… disapproving. As much as they can be towards the King of Camden. But the ones he is most irritated by are the love sick stares of the young men who trail after you. Clearly covetous and stupid enough to be blind to the beast that walks close beside you.

He is shocked you don’t notice. When he brings it up to you, you merely laugh, “Why would I be noticing men staring? The only man I’m concerned with is you.”

That comment makes him smirk wickedly, grasping firmly to your waist as you laughed brightly, swatting his chest playfully when he growls in your ear.

For all your ferocity and fiery eyes, Alfie still dotes on you and frets over you. Little presents are common. He insists on you bundling at the slightest drop of temperature or precipitation. And begrudgingly “permits” you to attend to errands on your own (you and everyone else knows he would never forbid you unless it was truly dangerous. But he loves to rile you up and tease).

You’ll never want for anything being his bride. Nothing is off limits for you. Even if he does make a show of pulling out bank notes, groaning about how his bank account suffers. Even when he’s the one that insists on buying you new things.

He may be the older one, but you are some how so much more wiser and practical. Anchoring him to the present when the nightmares come. Secretly convening with his doctors to heal the deep aches and malaise. He insists you’re magic.

To some it’s unconventional. Your love doesn’t make sense. But to those who truly know, you’re a match made in heaven.