These dudes are fucking legit. They don’t just show up one day in court, either, they actually make friends with the kids and let them know they have a support system and that there are people in the world who care about them and will always have their back. And less important, but also cool, is that the few times a couple of them have come into my cafe, they’ve been super friendly and polite and when I told one of the guys that I noticed his Bikers Against Child Abuse patch and wanted him to know how awesome I thought he was because of it, he got kind of shy and blushed and said, “The kids are the awesome ones, we just let them know they’re allowed to be brave.”
The source is long, but so, so good. These men and women are available in 36 states, 24 hours a day to stand guard at home, in court, at school, even if the child has a nightmare. Many of them are survivors of childhood abuse as well, and know what it’s like to feel scared and alone.
In court that day, the judge asked the boy, “Are you afraid?” No, the boy said.
Pipes says the judge seemed surprised, and asked, “Why not?”
The boy glanced at Pipes and the other bikers sitting in the front row, two more standing on each side of the courtroom door, and told the judge, “Because my friends are scarier than he is.”
Actual tears.. hnngh
Show me more of people like this, world. I give up on humans too easily.
where do i sign up for this,i want to be in this gang
This is fucking amazing. It may be out of character for me to say this but rock on
Bikers Against Child Abuse was founded in 1995 by a Native American child psychologist whose ride name is Chief, when he came across a young boy who had been subjected to extreme abuse and was too afraid to leave his house. He called the boy to reach out to him, but the only thing that seemed to interest the child was Chief’s bike. Soon, some 20 bikers went to the boy’s neighborhood and were able to draw him out of his house for the first time in weeks.
Chief’s thesis was that a child who has been abused by an adult can benefit psychologically from the presence of even more intimidating adults that they know are on their side. “When we tell a child they don’t have to be afraid, they believe us,” Arizona biker Pipes told azcentral.com. “When we tell them we will be there for them, they believe us.” ( Article)
My parents are a part of this organization and they are metal af
They go on runs to protect the child if they feel even the slightest threatened no matter where. If the child needs them to go on vacation with them, they do. Bikers come from across the nation to watch over and take shifts for these kids. And the best part is once you’re adopted into this family as a BACA kid, you’re always one. Even when you’re 40 and the perp gets released from jail, they’ll come meet with you and find your best options for avoiding the person and maintaining the life you’ve built for yourself. Once a BACA child, always a BACA child. In Florida, there’s 100% rate for identifying the perp based on the child’s testimony. Why? Because BACA stands with the child and supports the child so they feel comfortable enough to point out their attacker.
What’s better than a badass biker gang being on your side???
NATIVE AMERICAN CHILD PSYCHOLOGIST WHO IS A BIKER AND NAMED HIMSELF CHIEF HELL YES I’M HERE FOR THAT AND BIKERS BEING BAD ASS TO PROTECT KIDS. HELL YEAH.
it’s back! I will always reblog BACA
Damn good people.
I know they wouldn’t consider themselves such, but these people are freaking heroes and the world is a better place because of them.
This is EXACTLY who I fashioned Barry the Biker (aka Barachiel the Caretaker angel) after!! His vessel was a member of BACA, and they have a very symbiotic relationship (as I envision all angels and vessels were SUPPOSED to have).
Fandom: Supernatural Rating: Teen Characters:
Sam, Dean, Mary, Castiel, Gabriel, Raphael, Morpheus, Sariel, Nuriel, Zadkiel Ships: Destiel is unfurling her sails (slowest. burn. ever.) Word Count: 107,187 Status: UNFINISHED, 12/? chapters
Summary:
The time has come for Sam to learn how to control his grace. But he’s already gone through training as a child once, and he hated it. Now, Sam will test his own limits–and the limits of everyone around him.
Warnings (posted at the start of each chapter–none specific to ch12)
PLEASE CONSIDER SUPPORTING A MOVING & STRUGGLING WRITER/ARTIST & BUY ME A KO-FI!
Fandom: Supernatural Rating: Teen Characters:
Sam, Dean, Mary, Castiel, Gabriel, Raphael, Morpheus, Sariel, Nuriel, Zadkiel Ships: Destiel is unfurling her sails (slowest. burn. ever.) Word Count: 94,413 Status: UNFINISHED, 11/? chapters
Summary:
The time has come for Sam to learn how to control his grace. But he’s already gone through training as a child once, and he hated it. Now, Sam will test his own limits–and the limits of everyone around him.
Warnings (CH 11 SPECIFIC) DISCUSSION OF CHILD ABUSE, anxiety attacks,
flashbacks, and as per usual INTENSE EMOTIONAL ANGST!!
Summary: It’s been three days since Dean and Castiel had left for the nightmare apocalypse world. Three days of research Sam had no way of sharing across dimensions. Three days of existing off black coffee and dry cereal. Three days of clutching a phone that never rang. Sam didn’t like waiting alone—he wasn’t used to it. But you’re not alone, his mind whispered. Word Count: 8,657 Characters: Sam, Gabriel, Castiel, Dean Pairings: Hints of Sabriel and Destiel (can be read as not) Warnings: Past Torture, Anxiety Attacks ***SPOILERS FOR 13×13***
Notes: Would anyone be interested in a companion fic to this?
He was never going to die. Never going to stop feeling sharp hunger pains in his stomach, never not going to feel his own blood sliding down his skin. Never going to get rid of wires sealing his lips shut so he couldn’t even scream out his agony. It was a fact he was slowly resigning himself to.
Then his cell door opened.
His cell door never opened, not even when they fed him. They just shoved the food through a slot in the door. It usually didn’t land anywhere near him, forcing him to crawl forward as far as his chains would let him and eat off the floor like a dog. (He hadn’t eaten in a while. The wire got in the way.) Even when they tortured him, they knocked him out with magic so they could move him to the room with all the weapons without letting him learn the layout of the place and possibly plan his escape.
“Gabriel?”
Gabriel raised his head, muscles screaming in protest, and squinted through the blood in his eyes. Whoever it was was so tall and broad they blocked most of the light that came through the open door. God, he couldn’t even see their soul. He almost wept.
The person approached Gabriel and he didn’t even bother to flinch, just let his head drop forward and closed his eyes. The person didn’t draw on his skin with a knife or sow wires into his skin, though. They were doing something with his chains – taking them off? Were they going to move him somewhere? The chains clattered against the stone bench Gabriel sat on. The person squatted down to take off the chains around his ankles.
They stood up and picked him up like he was a rag doll. Their shirt was too rough on his skin and their hands were too tight on his wounds. Gabriel’s head lolled back and he tried to moan pitifully, but between the wires in his lips and the dried blood gluing them together, no noise came out.
Read the rest on AO3 (because it’s apparently too long for tumblr mobile to handle and I can’t post it from my laptop at the moment).
Sam couldn’t help how he stared at the man standing there in
front of them. They’d seen so much over the years, been through so many things.
Deaths and resurrections and everything in between the two. Yet still none of
it had prepared him for seeing his father standing there in the middle of
Bobby’s kitchen looking just the same as he had all those years ago before
they’d lost him. Somehow even though Sam was older his Dad still looked just as
big and just as powerful as he always had. Sam had seen true power since then –
he’d seen archangels who could smite him with just a thought. He’d been to hell
and suffered torture beyond imagining. He’d been soulless and had been resouled
by Death himself, had been crazy and
broken and healed again by an archangel they’d all thought was dead and gone.
Sam had faced so much in his life since the last time he’d seen their father.
Yet still, he stood at Dean’s side and fought not to lean into his big brother,
to duck back and hide from this giant of a man who would always seem larger
than life in Sam’s eyes.
The smile that curved John’s lips was familiar and painful
and just a bit wonderful. “Hey, boys. Long time no see.”
“Dad.” Dean’s voice was low, the single word a croak that
Sam wasn’t sure he’d meant to pass his lips.
Off to the side, Bobby watched their reunion with a smile on
his lips and worry showing in his eyes. He anticipated their first question and
answered it before they had the chance to give it voice. “It’s really him. I
did all the tests – it’s him.”
It seemed too good to be true. How on earth had their Dad
been resurrected? How was he here?
When John took a step forward, Sam moved instinctively,
pressing himself just the tiniest bit closer to Dean. It was a move he’d done
countless times before when faced with something bigger and stronger than him.
Not even Lucifer had been able to destroy that belief in Sam that Dean was his
one safe place. Nothing the devil had done had been able to get rid of that
sense of safety in Dean’s presence.
Dean responded to it the same way that he always had. He
shifted his weight on his feet in a subtle move that slid him more in front of
Sam than behind him. He sheltered Sam without even having to think about it.
“Dad.” He repeated, this time a little steadier, a little more awed, like it
was finally sinking in.
When Dean moved forward to hug their father, to wrap him up
and cling in a way the Winchesters had only ever done when things were serious,
when emotions were too high and they couldn’t give in to the words because that
wasn’t who they were, Sam took a small step back.
Was this… was this real? Was that actually John standing
there? Sam curled his one hand in tight and dug his fingernails into his palm
over top of the scar that had helped him to keep as sane for as long as he had
once the wall had been broken in his mind. But not even the pain of his nails
cutting into his skin broke through the image of John and Dean hugging. That
meant – did that mean he was real? He was really here?
The two broke apart and John’s smile turned Sam’s direction.
It was open and warm in a way Sam couldn’t remember seeing there all that
often. This was a happy John. One who was happy to see his boys. Who wasn’t
angry or disappointed or any of the things that Sam knew he should be. “Hey,
Sammy.”
That nickname was enough to have Sam actually flinching
backwards. They echoed in his head, a remembrance, a memory of a different
time. A time that, despite Gabriel’s healing, still burned around the edges of
Sam’s mind sometimes. John’s face had been one that Lucifer liked to use a lot.
One that he knew hurt Sam quite a bit. Was that what this was now? Was this
just, was he going crazy again and this was Lucifer torturing him somehow?
Sam’s flinch had worry flashing into John’s eyes. But it had
Dean reacting in a different way entirely. He cursed in a low voice and then
stepped right past John and firmly placed himself between the two. All of his
attention was fixed on Sam, though. “Hey, Sammy, look at me. Look right here.”
His right hand lifted and he pointed at his face. His gaze was steady as it
locked on Sam. “That’s it, little brother. Look right here at me. You’re okay.
You’re all right.”
Until then Sam hadn’t realized that he was shaking. He
became abruptly aware of it when Dean took a step towards him and reached out,
closing one of his hands over Sam’s shaking fist. He never held Sam’s wrists,
not after the last time when Sam had almost had a panic attack because of it.
It felt like Sam’s thoughts were all over the place. This, it
couldn’t be real. It couldn’t! This had to be some sort of torture. Which meant
that soon, things were going to get decidedly less nice. John or Dean or
someone was going to start doing the things that still haunted Sam’s dreams at
night. He’d thought that Gabriel had gotten rid of most of the crazy! This
shouldn’t be happening!
“What’s going on?” John asked, looking even more worried
than before. He moved to step up beside Dean, stopping when Dean shot a hand
out to block him.
“Stay back.” Dean warned. His eyes never broke away from
Sam’s. When he spoke again, his voice gentled, turned to that softer tone that
only ever was directed at Sam. “Focus on me here, Sammy. You know I’m real. I’m
right here with you.”
“Dean?”
Sam’s voice was low and questioning. Pleading, really. He
knew and he couldn’t seem to bring himself to care. Something was wrong here.
Something was so wrong. What was happening?
Another low curse sounded from Dean. He took another small
step forward and kept his hold on Sam’s hand without any of the hesitation or
shame that might’ve been there around John years and years ago. A lifetime ago.
“Yeah, all right, kid. Whatever you need.” Dean said, hearing the unasked
questions in just that one word, just the sound of his name. He’d always been
able to read Sam better than anyone. The next second he proved that by calling
out “Hey Gabriel, get your feathery butt on down to Bobby’s. We got a situation
here and Sam needs you – now.”
It took only a second – during which Sam could hear John
demanding once more “What’s going on?” – and then there was the sound of wings
that Dean swore he never could hear, but Sam always could.
The archangel didn’t even bother with any sort of pretenses
or any of his usual games. He landed right at Sam’s side, the side opposite the
one that Dean was holding on to. One look around the room in what Sam knew was
a sweep for threats – a brief widening of his eyes as they passed over John –
and then those golden orbs were locked right on Sam’s face. In the next instant
Gabriel was stepping right between Sam and Dean without ever breaking Dean’s
hold and he was reaching up to cup Sam’s face in both his hands. The flow of
grace was instant and, as always, it washed away some of Sam’s panic. “Take a
deep breath for me, kiddo. Focus here on me and take a deep breath.”
That was something he could do. Sam drew in a breath and
then let it back out, slowly. He did that twice, mimicking Gabriel’s breathing
almost unconsciously. When he spoke again, his voice was just a bit steadier,
but full of questions. “Gabriel?”
“Yeah, I know.” Gabriel said, just as good as Dean at
reading Sam. He stepped in closer so that their bodies pressed together and he
smiled sweetly up at him. A smile that was pure Gabriel, and that was just for
Sam. Only ever for him. “You’re not there, all right? Just keep focusing on me.
You know the drill. This is just your brain trying to flashback and we’re not
gonna let it. Keep looking at me and focus on what you see. What you feel.
You’re stronger than these memories, Samshine. Kick ‘em in the ass.”
It had been six weeks since they’d found him. Six weeks since they’d dragged him back to the bunker, one arm over deans shoulders and one over Sam’s, with Cas ready to fight in front of them and Jack trailing behind asking questions and clutching a blade like a foreign object.
“Is this my uncle?”
“I guess so, yeah,” Sam grunted under the weight of Gabriel. It wasn’t that he was even particularly heavy, but the dead weight of his barely-conscious body, even shared with Dean, required effort that Sam had to muster up somehow from who-knows-where.
“Is Asmodeus going to find us?
“No,” Castiel replied possesively. Sam knew that Jack had become Castiel’s charge, almost his son, from the moment he and Kelly had gone on the run. He was glad the kid had someone to parent him. Sam was enjoying his role of honorary uncle.
So out they had dragged him and into the world, with Gabriel squinting like he hadn’t seen the sunlight in forever – and, of course, he hadn’t – and then they had packed into the impala, with the general consensus being that Jack was to sit in the front and stay away from the trauma that Gabriel radiated.
Six weeks on from watching Castiel hold Gabriel’s knee as the archangel cried pitifully, Gabriel hadn’t made much progress.
They had kitted him out with new clothes, a phone, a room and a whole lot of Winchester-style issues… well, actually, he had that last one covered on his own.
Even after they’d freed him from the physical and ritualistic bounds over his speech, he’d refused to say a word. He hadn’t eaten, drunk, slept- anything. He didn’t have to, but it was Gabriel- he used to want to.
He’d only used his phone twice- once, in a gleaming moment of hope, to ask for a sandwich, which when served to him he’d stared at for an hour then walked away in a daze, as though he hadn’t even seen it; and once to text Sam ‘Nightmare. Help.’.
So when the text came through, Sam was shocked. He was up the table with Dean, drinking old scotch and talking strategies when he got it.
“Let me just check this- shit. Gabriel.”
That was all the explanation his brother had needed. Dean had called an unwritten truce on anything he’d had against Gabriel, as had Sam. In fact, Sam had found himself growing close to Gabriel, even with the barrier of trauma and mutism.
All Gabriel had text was ‘Lips.’
When Sam ran into Gabriel’s room, he saw him sat on the bed. He was not bound once more, like Sam had imagined, or bleeding. He was simply sitting, staring into space, like he always did.
When he saw Sam in his peripheral, however, his head swung round sharply and he stared at him.
“Hey, buddy. Can I sit down?”
Gabriel nodded.
“Lips, huh? They hurt? Memories?”
“No and… sort of.”
Gabriel just spoke. He spoke! Sam’s face breaks out into a grin.
“Rude… laughing at me when I’m- I’m- I’m- suffering,” Gabriel said, his words stilted but somehow carrying his old sarcastic tone regardless.
“This is… this is fantastic.”
“My lips, Sam. Remembering. They don’t… feel real.”
“Okay. Well, is there- is there anything I can do to help?”
“Yes.”
“What can I do, Gabriel.”
“Kiss me.”
“What?” Sam responded in shock, leaning instinctively away and then back again, staring at Gabriel in a new way now. He wanted him to kiss him and-
Oh god, this was a joke. There was the flirting the first time they met, and then Sam had forgotten it all. But now, nursing Gabriel, of course he’d picked up that Sam was crushing like a child. Of course he had.
“Kiss me.”
“Very funny.”
“I said-“
“I heard you. Okay. Hands up. You got me. But in this family, we don’t play with each other’s feelings.”
“Family?”
“Yes. You’re family now,” Sam said, the words becoming truer in his mind as he spoke them.
“Well… Cas and Dean do.”
“They don’t mean to. It’s complicated.”
“Sheesh.”
“But- and I know you’re the trickster, I get it- you can’t do that to me.”
“‘M serious, Samster. Give me a new memory for my lips.”
“I’m sure you’ve got plenty of those.”
“Thousands. But they’re old.”
“Gabriel, I’m not here for some one-sided, pity-party mess, okay? I care about you, yes. But I’m not going to kiss you just ‘cause.”
“‘Just ‘cause’? Asking you to help me out here, Sam!” Gabriel replied, his ever-growing voice showing indignation.
“Okay. I get that, but-“
“Always did think you were special,” Gabriel cuts him off. “Never knew you made me feel special, too. Not ‘til recently. But… I feel like some dumb human with you nursing me. But in a good way. Guess I have a nurse kink now!”
Sam couldn’t help but laugh at Gabriel’s joke, and his heart sped up as he processed the rest of what Gabriel had said fully.
“Let me kiss you, Sam.”
“Okay.”
So Gabriel leaned closer, looking the most engaged he had in months. He locked a hand into Sam’s hair and pulled slightly. Sam leaned into him and when their lips touched, the light flickered for just a second.
Not that Sam knew, because his eyes were shut tight as he melted into the kiss.
Neither knew how long it lasted, but it wasn’t stopping any time soon. No, they both needed this. They both wanted this.
When Gabriel’s lips parted slightly wider, allowing him to slip his tongue out, Sam’s body shuddered for a moment. He hadn’t been kissed properly, tenderly, in so, so long now. He’d forgotten what it felt like.
Eventually, inevitably, they both pulled back, seeming to know when it should end, when it was enough to keep it beautiful, magical, healing. But neither were ready to pull away, either. So they just sat there, foreheads leaning together. Sam’s hand had found itself caressing Gabriel’s cheek, and Gabriel’s grip on Sam’s hair had softened.
When they eventually pulled away completely, Sam opened his eyes, and Gabriel was smiling.
——
Should I also write some smut for this? I really wanna but haven’t written smut in FOREVER so I just don’t know. Opinions?
“What the hell?” Who put a sticker on the milk carton? Dean just wants to make pancakes, a mindless activity that will let him wake up gently, accompanied by the peaceful gurgling and vitalizing aroma of coffee being freshly brewed. Not having to decipher some shitty mystery at fuck o’early in the morning. In his own kitchen. After pouring the correct measure of milk into the batter bowl, Dean puts the carton back in the fridge with the sticker out of sight.
Dean finds a second sticker on the bottle of beer he just took from the six-pack he bought this morning. “Cas, let me check yours.” Without waiting for permission, Dean grabs the bottle from Cas’s hands. No sticker. “Why?” Cas snatches his bottle back and takes a swig. He squints at the sticker Dean shows him. “Why is there a tulpa symbol hovering over that sofa?” “Beats me.” Dean pushes back his chair. “Wait here.” In the kitchen, Dean takes the milk carton out of the fridge. Yep, same sticker. It shows a picture of a red sofa crosshatched with dark lines, the symbol for creating a tulpa drawn over it in yellow. He puts the milk carton back in the fridge and returns to the library. Cas is glaring at the sticker as if he’s about to smite the thing off the beer bottle. “This sofa looks a bit like one of your shirts.” Dean flops down in the chair next to Cas. “I take it you didn’t put it there.” Cas directs his smitey glare at Dean in response. Sam enters the library and for once Dean is thankful for Sam being the designated interruptor of whatever he and Cas are doing. “Guys, look what I found stuck to my shampoo bottle.” Sam sounds annoyed. “How dare someone touch your precious shampoo,” Dean says. “Let me guess, a sofa tulpa sticker.” “Yeah, how did you-“ Dean raises his beer bottle. “Guess you didn’t stick ‘m either.”
Karate, SPN Demonic Octopus Guardian 