#prince Eric (a good guy AND a monster fucker)

[teeth-draws]

“You are a scholar, are you not?”

@shepherds-of-haven‘s Red + my MC Halle as Milo and Kida for Halloween huehue

[napoleoninrags]

President Barabbas

The mob chose a mobster. Elections have consequences.

by Greg Olear

"Easter is a very special day for me ... Easter Sunday, and you'll have packed churches all over our country.” —Donald John Trump, 24 March 2020

I WAS RAISED Catholic, which meant that every Sunday, come hell or high water, we went to church. The Catholic Mass is extremely rote. There’s a lot of call-and-response, a lot of standing up and sitting down, a lot of the same material, repeated over and over and over again. The Apostles’ Creed, for example, has been recited at Mass, in much the same way, since it was codified at the Council of Nicaea during the reign of Constantine the Great, a mere 17 centuries ago.

The best day of the liturgical year, in my recollection, was Palm Sunday. The priest always shared the same story: Pontius Pilate, the Roman prefect, appeared before his subjects in Jerusalem on the occasion of Passover, and agreed to free a single Jewish prisoner. The mob had to choose: should Pilate free Jesus, the alleged “King of the Jews,” or Barabbas, a notorious criminal? Whereupon we, role-playing in the pews, would cry, WE WANT BARABBAS! My brother and I shouted with gusto, to my mother’s extreme annoyance: WE WANT BARABBAS! And so the killer was set free, and Christ condemned to die.

I didn’t know at the time that this passage, perpetuating as it does the “Jews killed Jesus” myth, was used for centuries by anti-Semites to justify their despicable deeds. I never interpreted it that way. To me, the story is about how mobs, led as they are by riled-up morons, can easily be fooled and manipulated into voting against their best interests.

The 2016 election is a recent example of how the angry masses, presented with a clear choice of good guy versus bad guy, chose unwisely. It’s not fair to either party to compare Hillary Clinton with Jesus Christ, and Pontius Pilate did not use the Electoral College system in determining whom to pardon, but notorious criminal Donald John Trump is absolutely President Barabbas. The mob went with the mobster.

Three years into the Trump Administration, and a shocking number of the president’s associates are either in prison, about to head to prison, under indictment, or under investigation. There is Paul Manafort, Trump’s campaign chair, currently incarcerated. There is Michael Cohen, Trump’s longtime personal attorney, fixer, and bagman: ditto. There is the treacherous Michael Flynn, awaiting his sentence (or, perhaps, his pardon). There is Trump’s longtime buddy and shadow campaign advisor Roger Stone, soon to toddle off to the hoosegow. There’s also those who have not yet been indicted because of the nefarious machinations of the corrupt Attorney General, William Barr: Rudy Giuliani, Jared Kushner, Mike Pompeo, Mike Pence, Mick Mulvaney, Erik Prince, and Trump’s lousy kids Ivanka, Eric, and Don Junior.

What is remarkable here, aside from the obvious fact that Trump cavorts with an uncanny number of crooks, is that none of these people has flipped. Manafort pretended to, only to ratfuck the FBI. Flynn, too, lied to investigators. Only Cohen gave up some dirt—but how much did he really surrender? The thing is, the rest of these people aren’t nearly as hard. Trump wants to pardon Roger Stone because he knows him well enough to know that he will sing to stay out of the Big House. Jared Kushner, aka Boy Plunder, has done so many illicit things that he will keep FBI agents busy for years; is Mr. Ivanka really not going to flip to avoid prison? And I can’t imagine Don Junior exhibiting the same trollish swagger around Cellblock D.

Trump’s partners in crime are all selfish assholes. They have no real loyalty. Giuliani, for example, loathes Trump with every fiber of his noxious being. He’s only protecting him out of his own self-interest. At some point, to preserve themselves, these fuckers will all turn on each other, and it will be the end of Reservoir Dogs all up in here: a bunch of petty crooks threatening to take each other down.

So why haven’t they?

A big queen sits in the middle of the stalemated chessboard, preventing all movement. The queen’s name is William Barr. He is the titular Attorney General of the United States, but his actual function is to slow-roll the Department of Justice from its takedown of Trump and his co-conspirators. To that end, he holds up witnesses. He stymies evidence from being sent to prosecutors. He cock-blocks US Attorneys, sure as he cock-blocked Mueller. He kicks the can and kicks it again and again and again, hoping to run out the clock. Barr has been so successful that the GOP is not even remotely worried about the bad stuff coming out. He’s gummed up the works so badly that we couldn’t even get witnesses at the fucking impeachment trial.

With a big, fat cork in the bottle of evidence, Trump and his fellow criminals do not have to fear retribution from law enforcement for as long as he stays in office. The only danger now is if they turn on each other. If they respect omertà, they are golden. Thus it is in all of their interests—Trump’s, but also Pence’s, McConnell’s, Pompeo’s, Kushner’s, and so on—to stay the course. These people will do anything, including exacerbate a global health crisis, to not get caught. They don’t care if we die. Repeat: they don’t care if we die. As Mr. White says in Reservoir Dogs: “The choice between doing ten years and taking out some stupid motherfucker, ain’t no choice at all.”

What are they hiding?

In Trump’s case, generations of criminal involvement with the mob—first La Cosa Nostra, later the Russian mafiya. His grandfather was a minor pimp at the dawn of the organized crime era, but Donald’s father, Fred Trump, was, as Lincoln’s Bible tells us, “a businessman front for the Genovese crime family.”

To best understand Fred, just track his rise from single-family home construction to big residential developments. From Shore Haven (1947) to Beach Haven to Trump Village, all were done with known mafia partners, in Genovese-controlled territory, and eventually with a fully Genovese-owned construction company (HRH Construction).

When the Russian mafiya began rolling in, they landed in Fred’s properties and partnered with the Genovese on some big ticket scams. This was also during the time that Fred and his attorney Roy Cohn set up S&A concrete (via Nick Auletta)—a joint venture between Tony Salerno (Genovese boss) and Paul Castellano (Gambino boss), so that donald could build in Manhattan. Remember donald’s quote, “Even my father, he said, you don’t want to go to Manhattan. That’s not our territory?” That’s because Manhattan, for construction, was Gambino territory. They controlled the concrete and unions. And Fred was a very loyal, shrewd front for the Genovese. To get his idiot, greedy kid into Manhattan, Fred and Roy Cohn had to get those two mob bosses to agree on a joint venture.

When the Russian mafiya pushed out the Italian mob after the fall of the Soviet Union, Donald Trump began laundering money for unseemly Vor associates of Semion Mogilevich. The Russians extended him credit when no US bank would touch him, and he remains in their debt—a fact the Mazars and Deutsche Bank documents will reveal, which is why Trump has moved heaven and earth to keep said documents secret.

Because the Russian mafiya works hand in glove with the Russian government, Trump is also, as Hillary Clinton correctly told us four years ago, Putin’s puppet. His ties to Russian intelligence (Putin, remember, is ex-KGB) go back decades. Recruitment of Trump by the KGB began in the Reagan Administration; for all we know, his succession of ex-Soviet-bloc wives better reflect his allegiance to the Soviets than his taste in women. He is also connected to the Russian organized crime via his friend Jeffrey Epstein, a collector of kompromat and money launderer for arms dealers; Epstein’s longtime partner was Ghislaine Maxwell, daughter of Robert Maxwell, the spy and former business partner of, yes, Semion Mogilevich.

Trump’s underworld ties were all there in 2016, barely below the surface, for all the world to see. Wayne Barrett wrote about them for the Village Voice. Robert Friedman alluded to them in Red Mafiya. Craig Unger covers them closely in House of Trump, House of Putin. The mainstream media knew damned well what the guy really was, but chose to equate Trump’s years of actual mobbed-up crimes with HRC’s email server. The result? Every half-wit Fox News watcher proclaims, with a straight face, that Hillary, not Donald, is the crook!

Truth: Trump is a notorious criminal, a serial rapist and sexual assailant, wholly owned by the mob, controlled by the underworld and the Kremlin. He is a latter-day Barabbas—and because of the whims of a riled-up mob, he’s now, somehow, the President of the United States. Make no mistake: If he thinks it will help him avoid prosecution, he will order the churches open for Easter without qualm or hesitation. In his calculus, Jesus gave up His life for us, so we should give up our lives for Trump. He will happily pervert the holiest of Christian holy days to get what he wants. To this monster, nothing is sacred..

[redhoodsjacket]

Splash - Tony Stark

Soooo... First time I’m writting a Tony Stark thing. Tell me what you think. Also this is a part of the mutant serie.

Mutant serie masterlist

Pairing: Tony Stark x reader

Genre: Comedy/bit of action

Word count: 2377

Warnings: The usual, y’know, language, attempt of murder by drowning, whatever.

Disclaimers: So this happens BEFORE the IW Nanotech suit

"Where am I?"  You didn't even flinch when the startled gasp resonated on the stone walls of the cavern. Tony Stark looked frantically around until his eyes stopped on you. "Who are you? Where am I? And what in hell are you doing to my suit?"  You slowly looked up from the metallic boot on your laps and gave him a small smile. "I'm (Y/N), you're in a cave somewhere in the south of the Mexican Gulf and I am fixing your left thruster" You answered calmly. His eyes scanned the small space once again, still not reassured. You went back to your fixing. "How did I even get here?"  You weren't watching him, but you just knew he was trying to stand. "I wouldn't do that if I were you" You warned. "You hit your head pretty badly on the coral reefs when you hit the bottom of the Gulf. You might be concussed"

He sat up anyway and you rolled your eyes. What else could you expect from Tony Stark? "How did I get here?" He repeated with a warning edge to his voice. You sighed and looked up once again, not threatened at all.  "Simple" You shrugged. "I brought you here before water entered the suit and drowned you" "Are-" He flinched, holding his forehead in pain. "Are you some kind of recreational diver or whatever?" "Do you see any diving equipment?" You raised an eyebrow with a sly smile. "I- I... There's none" He drew his eyebrows together in confusion. "Who are you again?" "I'm guessing that by that, you meant to ask me 'what' I am rather than who" You corrected, and the look in his eyes confirmed it. "Am I a bad guy? Did I kidnap you? Am I some sort of sea monster?"  "Yeah I'd like to know all of that" He nodded, then hissed in pain again.  "No to all three" You replied. "Well, more like not that I think of, definitely not and depends on your definition of sea monster really" "So, you live here?" He asked again.  You eyed him with humour, wanting to play with him a bit. "What would you do if I said yes?" His eyes went wide. "This is your lair? How long have you been away from society? How do you even have tools to repair a thruster?" You couldn't help but laugh at his questions, not able to continue on with your plan. "I actually live in a small house in Miami" You admitted. "This is just a cave I like to come to. My chill cave if you will. I've been away from society from approximately an hour, when I got back home to get these tools" He blinked slowly, then laid on his back again. "What the fuck" "You tell me" You scoffed. "You ain't the one who can turn into a freaking mermaid" "How does one even becomes a mermaid?" He mumbled in disbelief. "Apparently, by drowning" You said as you went back to the piece of mechanic. "I was a pilot in the army back then. It was a test flight over the gulf, until something went wrong with the engine. It sent me spiralling down into the water, and my ejecting seat was stuck. So I crashed into the water, and when I thought I was gonna die, surprise! I can breathe again" "Wow" He breathed. "That's... Unfortunate? Sorry" "Meh" You shrugged. "It wasn't bad, once the initial shock that I had grown a fish tail and gills passed. Beside, I'm like, super strong and fast when I'm in the water. Could sink a military ship, I tell ya" "Wait" He turned his head toward you. "Have you tried to do it before?" "No" You snorted. "But I wish I had. I only punched through the heavy steel of my jet to get out of there" "Why are you telling me all of this?" He frowned. "Usually people like to keep their special abilities a secret" "Who are you gonna tell?" You asked sarcastically. "The guy who turns into a giant green monster, or the guy that was turned into a super soldier back in World War 2 and survived 70 years in the ice?" "I could tell the press" He blurted out. "Oh sure you could" You grinned. "I can already see the headlines: "Tony Stark kidnapped by a mutant mermaid". That would be quite the news, wouldn't it?" "Stop being a smartass would you?" He snapped. "And also stop touching my suit! I doubt a mermaid is qualified to handle it" You playfully raised an eyebrow, lifting your hand in surrender. "You know that mermaid isn't my job right?" "Then what is it?" He pressed. "Mechanical engineer" Your smile widened. "For the army. I fix military jets for a living" He paused, his glare not leaving you. He understood that you might have been qualified to fix his thruster, after all. "... Is it just the thruster that was damaged?" "Not exactly" You said as you reached for his helmet and left blaster. "The blaster cracked and water got in. I drained it and cleaned the salt, and did my best to recalibrate it. I don't exactly have a lab here. Then your helmet wouldn't close, but that was because a piece of coral got stuck into the mechanism. That was easy to fix" "Wait" He sprung up again. "I was being chased by this psychopath-" "Yeah, I figured. They came for you but scattered when I showed up, mermaid style and all" You explained. "That's why I brought you here to recover, so they wouldn't find you" "Oh" He sighed in relief. "Uh. Thanks. I guess" "You're welcome" You chuckled. "It's not every day you get to save Tony Stark" "Saving?" He repeated, offended. "I didn't need saving" "Alright then..." You trailed off. "It's not every day you get to rescue Tony Stark" "That's worse!" He exclaimed as you busted with laughter. "No you don't get to say you rescued me!"  "Alright Mr. Big Shot, no rescue then" You said when you caught back your breath. "By the way, you really should have pressure released floaters in there in case you crash into the ocean again" You suggested. "You have a parachute, but that's not good in water now is it?" "Did you snoop around my suit?" He asked yet again. "No. I mean I did, but only because I wanted to check if there wasn't any more coral damage" You justified yourself. "Those fuckers are beautiful, but a major pain in the ass" "Alright whatever so is it fixed?" He asked hurriedly.  "Do I smell that much of fish?" You joked, but he didn't laugh. "Okay fine Mr. Grumpy Billionaire. Your suit is fixed"  You pressed the thruster's core back in the booth, and just like that it was functional again. He snatched the pieces out of your hands and he shakily stood up, making his way to the rest of the suit. He started to put it back on himself, careful not to slip on the humid rocks and moss. He was almost done, but then he paused before putting his helmet on. "Thank you" "You're welcome" You smirked. He put his helmet and looked down at the crystal clear water. You called after him before he jumped. "Hey Megatron! Don't forget me" "That will be very hard to, Ariel" You nodded with a laugh as he jumped feet first into the water, disappearing under the surface. ///// 1 Year Later ///// "You better speak little girl" A rugged man with foul breath crouched in front of you. You were tied on a chair in a humid room, with two armed goons at the door plus two flanking that annoying man. "Or you'll die a painful death" "Won't I die anyway?" You asked, feigning innocence. "Oh you will" He smirked. "But telling us where are your little friends will grant you a quick, painless death" "Okay" You nodded. "You can still go fuck yourself though. I ain't telling you a thing my good bitch" He chuckled dryly, looking away. Then his hand came into hard contact with your cheek. He gripped your jaw and forced it up so you could look at him directly. "What's even your power uh?" He asked. "Surely they wouldn't have sent a simple whore to do the job" You tried to smile through his grip. "Ih a ehhaid" You poorly managed to say, so he released your jaw. "Ah, thanks. As I was saying, I'm a mermaid" He stayed stoic for a second, before he and his good erupted in laughter. You joined in with your fakest laugh.  "Of course you are" He grinned wickedly. "So you won't have any problem with drowning, would you?"  You masked all feeling of smugness at managing your plan and forced your eyes to widen in fear. He nodded at his goons, who now flanked you. The man walked to the sink in the corner and started filling it while you were taken by the arms and lifted up easily.  "No wait!" You resisted, trashing around in their grip. "Please, don't do this" "Should have thought about it before playing all smartass, darlin" He mocked. "No! No please" You cried as the guards tightened their grip around your arms. They brought you to him, hovering your head above the water.  "Let's get this over with" He ordered, and your head was plunged under the surface. You trashed like you were truly choking and drowning. But you just allowed your gills to take their place on your neck and counted the seconds to move around the expected amount of time before going still. When you did, they released you and left you in the water. You vaguely heard them say they'd come back for the body, followed by the door closing. You waited another minute to be sure, but the room was dead quiet. You were alone.  You used your half shift strength to break the tie wrap with one hard tug, then retracted your gills and pulled yourself out of the water. You dried your face on your sleeve and grabbed the earplug in your pocket, turning it on and putting it in your ear.  "Ariel in position" You said with a satisfied smile. "Sebastian?" "Hell yeah baby" Tony exclaimed. "I can't believe you pulled that off"  "Of course I did" You huffed as you took off your wet shirt. Your shape shifting accommodating tactical suit was conveniently under. "Prince Eric?"  "Ready to go" Steve answered his cue, and you could hear the laughter in his voice at the nickname. "Wait, how does HE get to be Eric?" Tony spoke again. "I'M your boyfriend" "Sorry Tones, Rogers plays the part better" You teased. "Besides, you’re the one with the hard shell"  "We'll talk about this later" He grumbled. "Sure" You rolled your eyes. "Flounder? Scuttle?"  "In position" Nat confirmed. "You know, I'm really digging these codenames" Clint interjected. "Who would have thought?" "That's all Tony" You said. "And Triton? How are we looking?" "We are looking good" Bruce spoke, clearly entertained by these exchanges. "All paths are clear around your position" "Perfect" You nodded. "I'm going out in three, two..." You shut up and opened the door quietly, stepping outside in the hallway. You made your way out of the maze undetected and took the main staircase to go up. That ship was large, but it was similar to any other military ship you've been on before.  Steve, Nat and Clint were there to clear your path while you extracted the latest Peace Nobel Prize recipient from the hostage situation. Terrorists had taken him on a ship financed by shady organizations, but you were right there to intervene.  You managed to get to the room he was kept in, where two big guys were guarding the door. They noticed you and immediately pointed their guns at you. "Who are you?" One barked. You slowly held up your hands in surrender. "I'm Ariel" You said cautiously. "My father Triton has all the powers of the sea"  You hinted, and right at that moment the lights went off. You took your three seconds of darkness to cross the distance and disarm them. As the lights flickered back on, all that was left to do was to knock them out cold. "Thanks Triton" You huffed. "May I have the door now, please?" "Right away" Bruce replied, and the access pad flashed green in front of your eyes. "You're welcome"  You pushed the door open, to see the man you had to extract in poor shape and terrified. "I'm here to get you out of this hell" You nodded toward the hallway. "Come" He didn't hesitated as he followed you out. You took a second to grab the knocked out guard's glock, then guided the Nobel Prize up to the deck. Tony was already waiting for you there, securing the parameter. "Hi honey" He greeted, then turned toward the man. "Sir" "Hi babe. When is the chopper set to arrive?" You asked, shielding the man in between you and Tony, just in case.  "In twelve sec..." He trailed off as heavy footsteps approached your position. Soon enough, a small army was closing on you.  "We don't have that time! Take him!" You yelled, still facing the terrorists.  "But-" "I'll get out, now go!" You ordered, and he complied. You felt him take off with the man behind you, and you backed up until you hit the rail. Soon enough, you were surrounded. You dropped your weapon and kicked it overboard.  The man who ordered your execution pushed his way to the front of the crowd and looked at you with disbelief. "How the fuck did you survive?" "I told you" You smirked. "I'm a mermaid" "I'll make sure you don't survive this time" He grunted as he took one step forward. "Who said you'll get another chance?" You challenged.  "You're surrounded, little girl" He snorted. "How are you gonna even escape?" "You'll sea" You winked and you threw yourself overboard backward.  The last thing you heard before water ruined your earpiece was your boyfriend's discouraged sigh. "I'm in love with the biggest drama queen"

•••

Tag list

@thehabssuck-getoverit @potato-with-possible-standards “@ fortisetgloriosusinarduis

[dreamwritesimagines]

Face From The Past

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Request:  Hi! Could you write a DeanxReader in which the reader and the boys have known each other since they were kids and the reader has always loved Dean, but for some reason they lost touch and never saw each other again. However, one day they are hunting the same thing and the reader recognises Dean immediately, but he has no idea who she is? Sorry if it is too specific. I don't mind if it gets long :) Warnings: Swearing Word Count: 1213 A/N:Thank you for the amazing feedback on “How to Get A Guy To Like You”! This was my first request, I hope it was quite good, and friendly reminder, I love feedback! <3  Gif’s not mine! 

There had to be someone who was messing with you on purpose because there was no way this could be happening right now.

You know something, universe? You thought as you stared at one and only Dean Winchester When I said I wanted my life to be like a fairy tale, I didn’t mean the most depressing part of Little fucking Mermaid.

20 Years Ago

“Dean!” You ran to him as he turned his head, his green eyes filled with guilt.

“Yeah?”

“Is that true what Sam said? Are you…?”

“Yeah.” He cut you off and turned his glances to the horizon. You gulped.

“When are you leaving?”

He shrugged, “Dad says tomorrow.”

“But why? I thought since the hunt went so well, and Mr Winchester and my dad are getting along well-“

“Dad doesn’t get along well with anyone.” The 10 year old shook his head “We’re supposed to pack up and be ready to leave tomorrow.”

You could feel the tears filling your eyes and you rubbed at your eye furiously.

“You will write me, right?”

Dean nodded fervently and you sniffled, making him hesitate for a second before he leaned in and kissed your cheek, then pulled back, blushing hard. Before you could say anything, he was already running back to the house.

And that right there was your first heartbreak, the one that had left a mark on you forever. You had an idea why both he and you were in the same sleazy bar of a small town, everything about him just screamed hunter.

Of course you had heard of the rumors. He and Sam had become legends and you didn’t even think they took simple cases anymore, such as the Vetala that you had come here to hunt. For a second, you wondered where Sam was but it wasn’t like you could go over there and ask him.

Judging by the fact that he had only eyed you up and down, then sipped his beer, keeping his eyes on the potential Vetala.

Hence the Little Mermaid situation. Seriously, not that you expected confetti and a parade, but it would be nice if he could at least recognize you.

“Fuck that fucker Prince Eric.” You mumbled, keeping an eye on Vetala as well while he talked to a girl by the bar, and took a big gulp of your beer.

Well, all things considered, you could go over there and introduce yourself, but what were you going to say? That you had waited for years for the letters that would never come? Pfft, as if. Way to be a hunter groupie, if that kind of thing existed.

Wait, did it exist? You were going to be so furious if you were missing out your chances to be civilian Brad Pitt and George Clooney lookalikes that were dying to give you their gratitude in form of mind blowing sex-

“Ohh, Christ on a cracker, where are you?” You snapped out of it as you realized the Vetala was nowhere to be seen and you put your beer to the counter, then made your way out of the bar, your hand automatically finding the silver knife in your leather jacket before you stopped under a street light, looking around in the alley.

“Okay, for any not monster who might happen to be listening for completely innocent reasons…” You called out, “I’m very huntable tonight, I mean look, I’m wearing a dress! It has stripes on it!”  

There was a silence and you rolled your eyes.

“I mean, not that I could ever do anything to a big, strong monster!” You called out again, looking around, “Oh wow me, no one will ever look for me! I’m completely vulnerable, and-“ You turned around fast with the knife ready at your hand when someone grabbed your shoulder, and your jaw dropped when you saw Dean, frowning at you.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he asked, but before he could say anything else, you heard a growl and two Vetalas jumped onto you both in a second. You pushed one of them away as the other one got in a fight with Dean.

“So um…” You dodged the Vetala, “Hi, do I look familiar to you for some reason?”

Dean shot you a look as the other one tried to strike, “What?!”

“You know, do I look like a face from your past?”

“What the hell- do you really wanna talk right now?!” Dean asked as he pushed the  other Vetala away from his face, then went to stab her with his knife but she only hissed and dodged his attack. You twirled the knife in your hand, you and the Vetala circling each other.

“Like, do I remind you of someone whose heart you broke? And made her never want to eat Skittles again? And now, never will be able to look at The Little Mermaid the same way again? So Prince Eric of you-“ you stuck your knife into the Vetala’s chest and twisted it as soon as he threw himself at you, and watched his body crumble apart and when you turned around, you saw Dean had also stabbed the other one and she dropped to the ground, leaving Dean to stare at you.

“Okay, I don’t know how many hunts you’ve been to,” He said as he tried to catch his breath, “But it’s usually not a great place to chit chat.”

“Okay, seriously, look at my face.” You motioned at his eyes, “Look at me. Look.”

Dean raised his brows and shot you a glare, “I’m looking.”

“Jesus, how can you not remember me, Dean?!”

Dean frowned, “How do you know my name?”

“Because you broke my heart when I was 8, asshole!” You exclaimed, throwing your hands up, “Seriously, I used to love Skittles before you ruined them for me!”

Dean only stared at you for a couple of seconds before it dawned on him and a shocked expression took over his face, “Y/N?!”

“Yeah! Finally, jackass!”

“What the hell are you doing here?!” He took a step to hug you but you took a step back, crossing your arms,

“Why did you never write me?” You demanded, “You said you would.”

He looked uncomfortable all of a sudden and shifted his weight, looking elsewhere. “Dad said it was for the best.”

“I’m gonna kill John.”

“Too late, already dead.”

“Wait what?!” You exclaimed, “When- how?!”

“Long story.” He shrugged and you pressed a hand over your chest.

“I’m sorry.” You muttered, “And um… where’s- where’s Sam?”

“Oh, he’s fine.” He waved a hand “He-um… we’re hunting separately for a while. He’s gonna freak though, when he hears about you.” He pulled you into a hug and held you tight as you closed your eyes and relaxed in his grip.

“I’m still pissed at you.” You muttered and he chuckled before pulling back.

“Can I make it up to you with beer?”

“Beer and a lot of stories of what you’ve been up to, Winchester.”

He nodded, “Deal.” He said and started walking to the bar. You licked your lips as you eyed his figure up and down, then smiled slightly before you followed him.

Maybe the 20th year would be the charm after all. Tag List AKA Too late, you’re my friends now :d 

@lavieenlex @wonderstruckbyfandoms @emmysthougts @fallen-castiel @theskytraveler @lovely-bagel

[lincoln--22]

He Doesn’t Deserve You (Vent Fic)

This is a vent fic for @destroyed-conscience‘s fic, Good Boy, which has an abusive boyfriend Logic to Anxiety. I had to write something somewhat happy so here’s the result. (Also special thanks to @revyourmentalenginesplease for the playlist)

Warnings: Abuse, hitting, slapping, punching, cursing, yelling, screaming. This is not a happy fic, and most certainly not for those who have been in an abusive relationship before. 

Prince sighed, looking at his phone again and wondering why Anxiety hadn’t been texting him back. They’d been talking about going to a movie when the other had suddenly stopped texting him, and he had a sinking suspicion that it had something to do with his boyfriend, Logan. Just… something seemed off about him recently  Prince jumped when he heard Danny humming to himself and he turned to see his roommate going through the cabinets in the kitchen.

“Hey, Dan.” Prince said, and Danny looked at him in question, tilting his head a bit. “Have you heard from Alex?”

Danny made a thinking face before shaking his head slowly. “No, I don’t believe I have. Why, has he been talking to you?” Prince shook his head with a worried frown, beginning to pace. “Well, maybe he’s just on a date with his boyfriend?”

Prince sighed, looking down and biting his lip, and shook his head. “I don’t get a good feeling from him, Danny. He’s doing something to Alex and I don’t like it.”

“Now, come on, let’s not be rash here. Eric.” Danny said, abandoning the cabinets to head over to his roommate and boyfriend and wrap an arm around his shoulders. “What makes you think that?”

“Because! He’s been spending less and less time with us and now he’s just suddenly just stopped texting me? Alex never just… stops. Plus, he’s been looking more skittish when I get excited and start raising my voice about something. I actually had to calm him down from a panic attack the other day!” Prince exclaimed, throwing his hands up, and Danny sighed.

“Come on.” He said, and Prince stared at him in confusion, not understanding. “We’re gonna go check on him, if only to help settle your mind.” Prince smiled at him sadly before nodding and like that, they were off, heading to Logan’s and Alex’s shared house. Danny was driving, leaving Prince to keep trying to contact Alex, but no matter how many texts he sent, he wasn’t answered.

Finally, after about fifteen minutes of driving, they pulled up to the house and both of them got out of the car, only to hear the shattering of glass and yelling. Danny and Prince glanced over the car to each other before they both nodded and they ran to the door, and Prince felt his heart thump in his chest when the doorknob to the front door turned without problem.

Swallowing and taking a deep breath, he pushed the door, only to have something almost hit him, making him duck. The screaming was more distinct now, and he could swear that he heard crying mixed in with it. Making a quick decision, he quickly slammed the door open to see Alex curled into a ball on the couch and Prince’s breath caught in his throat at the scene before him. The living room was trashed, broken glass everywhere, and also an overturned table.

“What the FUCK do you think you’re doing, trying to talk to them again?!” Logan screamed, not having noticed the two stunned figures standing in the doorway. Alex whimpered, crying harder and shrinking away more, and he yelped when Logan suddenly grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked. “Did I say that you could fucking look away from me? Huh?! Answer me when I’m talking to you!” Alex was staring wide eyed at Logan, obviously trying to make words, but Logan suddenly pulled his hand back and the resounding smack that resounded snapped Prince out of his stupor.

“HEY!” Prince yelled, and Logan whipped around, his eyes wild, and Prince suddenly saw red when he took in Alex bending over the couch and holding his face in his hand, staring at the floor blankly. “You got a lot of nerve hurting my friend like that!” Logan let out a low laugh, making unease crawl up Prince’s spine.

“Oh shut up, this is none of your business, isn’t that right, Alex?” When Alex didn’t immediately respond, Logan kicked him harshly, making him whimper in pain. “I said isn’t that right, Alex?”

“Y-yeah I’m fi-fine.” Alex muttered, refusing to look up.

“Dan, take care of Alex, I’m gonna knock Logan’s damn teeth down his throat.” Prince gritted, and Logan smirked, Suddenly, Alex looked up in horror, mouth opening.

“NO! No please I swear I’m fine, I swear, I-I was bad! It’s-it’s my fault, it’s my fault, my fault…” Alex said, rocking back and forth, and Prince looked at him in shock. “J-just go, I deserve this.”

“Alex, Alex, honey, no you don’t.” Danny said softly, making his way over to the other carefully, trying to avoid the glass and he kneeled near the other, making sure to not touch him. “You don’t des-”

“SHUT UP! YOU’RE LYING TO ME! I DESERVE EVERYTHING I GET BECAUSE I’M NEVER GONNA BE GOOD ENOUGH!” Alex yelled, making Danny jump back in shock. Prince turned back to Logan to see him having an extremely guarded expression, and for some reason, that made him angrier than the smirk. Before he could think, he was slamming Logan up against the wall with fistfulls of his shirt in his hands. Suddenly, he felt someone knocking into him and he hit the floor with a crash, looking up to see Alex standing there, his face panicked and tear stained.

“Alex, what…?” Prince demanded, but the other just shook his head, pleading with his eyes. Prince winced as he stood up-- during the fall he’d gotten cut by some of the glass.

“P-please, don’t hu-hurt him.” Alex begged, and Prince stared at him in shock.

“Alex, you need to get away!” Prince cried, but the other only shook his head, looking down at the floor.

“No, you need to leave.” Logan snapped, voice cold, and Prince narrowed his eyes.

“You no good son of a bitch.” Prince said lowly, and Logan simply raised an eyebrow. “You’re abusing him and you’re telling me to leave?!”

“Well it is my house.” Logan said drily, and Prince’s eye twitched, and before he could think of the consequences, he leapt forward and his fist connected with Logan’s jaw, causing him to stumble, clutching his face.

“ERIC!” Alex cried, wide eyed and staring between the two of them, and he looked away from Logan, only to have him tackle him to the ground and start punching. “Logan! Logan, stop, babe, please!” Alex begged, sounding beyond wrecked, but when he tried to pry Logan off of Prince, Logan elbowed him in the face, causing Alex to fall, clutching his nose, and Prince saw blood dripping from it, and that’s when he lost all sense of rational thought.

“You fucker!” Prince yelled, managing to roll them both over and pin Logan to the ground before he started punching him in the face over and over. He distantly heard Danny leading Alex out of the house but he was too far gone to care. All he knew was that he needed to beat the hell out of the guy who’d been hurting his best friend. So he hit and he hit and hit until he was being pulled away from Logan, who had stopped putting up a fight a while ago, and it took him a few moments, but he finally heard someone talking through the blood pumping in his ears.

“Eric, Eric, it’s okay, he’s not gonna hurt Alex, come back to me baby, please, please.” Danny was saying, and Prince blinked, looking down at his hands, which were caked in blood, before looking to where Logan was lying motionless, his face an unbelievably bloody mess, and for a second, Prince was afraid that he’d killed him, but then he saw the other breathing and he suddenly began to cry. He had never lost it like that before, what if he’d gotten Alex hurt? Was he a monster for losing himself like that?

“No. no you’re not a monster, Eric, you were angry and that’s completely understandable. Come on, we need to check up on Alex.” Danny said, rocking him, and Prince nodded dumbly. He slowly got up and let Danny lead him outside to the car where Alex was waiting, a cloth held to his nose and looking like he’d been in a train wreck. When the two walked out, he ran over to them and Prince braced himself for a punch or something, but he certainly wasn’t expecting the other man to collapse into his chest and start crying, and… was he thanking him?

“T-thank you I… thank y-you.” Alex sobbed, and Prince hugged him tightly in return, silently swearing to himself and Alex that nothing like this would ever happen again.