#and just flinging everything at the canvas and hoping something sticks

[33max]

You said soft prompts so how about some more Turkey dinosaurs?? What about what happens when they have a whole day together to just chill and play- what do they get up to? Hope you feel better soon- sending love xxx

If there is one thing about me it is that I am ALWAYS up for talking about Turkey Dinosaurs! It’s my comfort AU! Thank you so much for your message! ♥️

cw nsap, 469 words, fluff

When Max is regressed Daniel usually tries to make sure that they stick to a routine, something he knows Max is comfortable with. However, just occasionally if they have an entire day ahead of them with nothing to do but enjoy each others company, then Daniel plans something special.

It’s not like they can really go out when Max is little, so walks and outside activities are unfortunately not possible. Daniel has to get inventive, setting up elaborate things for Max to do in the apartment. All in the name of fun of course.

He recently set up a Dinosaur Dig. It was a sandpit with some dinosaur bones buried in there, it was a lot of fun to watch Max dig the bones out, flinging sand all over the apartment in the process. It was a lot less fun to clean up of course, but hey, Daniel knew what he was signing up for when he brought the sandpit into their living room.

Max has never told Daniel this, but he suspects Max was not really allowed to get particularly messy as a child. It makes Daniel so happy to see Max enjoying himself and every time they try a new messy activity Max looks equal parts horrified and delighted about the chaos caused.

As long as he’s having fun, Daniel will never complain about the cleanup. Well, maybe only to Michael, but always with love.

Today, he’s covered the tiled floor with old sheets to protect it from the worst of the mess. There is a huge canvas in the middle of the room and paint that Max can do whatever he wants with.

It’s sweet, Max is so careful at first, dipping his paintbrush in the blue paint and running it up and down the canvas. He cleans the brush off in the water and then does the same with the orange paint.

“You’re so neat, Maxy!” Daniel laughs, taking his own brush, dipping it in the neon yellow paint before splattering it against the canvas.

Max’s eyes go wide. Daniel worries for a second that Max is upset about the yellow paint.

“I’ve covered everything important with the sheet, baby… you can make a mess! It’ll be a masterpiece!” Daniel tells him, pressing a kiss onto the top of his head in reassurance.

Very slowly, Max dips his index finger into the purple paint and then runs it along the canvas creating a thin purple line.

“Cool!” Daniel tells him.

It doesn’t take long after that, Max is dipping his whole hand in and throwing paint at the canvas, less worried about the mess he’s going to make.

The apartment is filled with the sound of paint splatter, giggling and happiness. It’ll take a while for Daniel to clean up, but it’s always worth it.

#answered #anonymous #writing #turkey dinosaurs au

[hadestownmodern]

Carnival

   Hello this is Demeter and Theo’s time, thank you all for coming. I have some soft Orphydice on deck but you all know how I feel about our dear young Demeter

-Danielle

--------------        

    Theo sees her before he can hear her; Demeter, all wild curls and overalls, comes bounding over to his little honey stand waving a piece of paper in her hand. When she makes it across the market her smile consumes her, and she can barely manage greeting him with a hug before shoving the paper in his line of sight.

              “Look at this!” She gasps, “Are you going? Do you want to go together? Please?” If he had planned on saying no to her, he isn’t sure he would have been able to. The excitement illuminates her, catches in the air around her in a way that would infect anybody in her path. She’s holding the flyer out still and she grabs his hand, puts it inside and closes his knuckles around it.

              The flyer advertises a fair-one that comes to town every year, one that he and his family hadn’t been to in a long while. The hype of it all hadn’t seemed necessary; the same rides, food, games…he’d become occupied with other things, had been busy throughout these years helping his family turn their business around. He’d been so busy growing up that he’d forgotten the love of something that had always been such a staple of living in such a small community; things like this brought the world together, gave them a reason to celebrate.

              “Have you been before?”

              “No, I never got to. Nana tried-she tried a lot. But my mom always used to say things about dirt and germs and money being spent on pretty things that help you ‘show yourself’ which…explains private school perfectly.” Demeter shrugs, kicking her sandals off and sitting herself on her usual perch atop Theo’s cooler. He finds it hard to believe that the wild-natured girl had once been so spoiled, raised so intently on the value of placement in society.

              “I wish you’d have gotten to see it as a kid. Some of my best memories are from this fair.”

              “Which is why we have to go! Are you really going to deprive me of some of the best memories of your life?” the way she articulates her words, pushing her syllables out with emphasis on every other word, has Theo teasingly rolling his eyes at her. He holds his answer purposefully, watching as she impatiently taps her feet against the cooler.

              “I don’t know, I’m pretty busy.”

              “Ah, I see.”

              “Yeah, I’ve just got a ton of work, I don’t know how I could ever get out of it.” Theo fails at his attempt to hide his smiling-Demeter tilts her head, watches as he awkwardly shrugs at her. He maneuvers around his little stand under the pretense of suddenly being very busy, shifting the crates of returned jars and adjusting his sign. While Demeter watches, he turns each jar on his table so the label is facing out, continuing a rant about how business is booming lately and his grandfather needs help with something she can’t quite understand. She hops up from her perch on the cooler and follows along behind him, sneakily turning the labels any which way. When he notices her he narrows his eyes, unable to stop a laughter that mirrors hers.

              “I have a lot to do!”

              “Okay.”

              “I do!”

              “Sure.” She raises an eyebrow at him, taps her fingers on the counter before swiping a bottle of honey from the back of his stock. She twists it open with a snap, dips her finger in and pops it in her mouth with a satisfying hum. “You’re really busy, and I had the best childhood ever. Come on, bee man, we have to go!”

              “Only if you promise to buy me some cotton candy.”

              “I’ll buy you twenty.”

              “Deal.”

              Demeter pumps her fist in success, freckled cheeks lifting with a wide grin as she brings one arm lazily around his waist in thanks. She’s a flurry of energy as she gathers her things; a soft, slightly flimsy blanket, a water bottle, and sandals she sticks in a worn canvas bag. She turns to leave but immediately whirls around, snatching the open bottle of honey from the counter.

              “You’re stealing!” She throws her hands up in the air, looking at Theo from over her shoulder, airy and light.

              “You’ll have to catch me if you want this bottle back!”

              He watches her go, barefoot and waving at every person she passes, and tucks the flyer into the pocket of his apron.

              They meet on a Mondy night; the rush of the Sunday farmer’s market is over, the clean-up, count, and re-stock typically taking a good portion of the day. Theo had finished even quicker in anticipation, washing and drying jars, stacking them on shelves.

              “Where are you off in such a rush to?” His grandfather had smiled at him from his place at the sink, peeling potatoes and watching Theo check tasks off a list with ease. His grandson had never been lazy-not since the day he’d been born-but he’d also never been prone to working so quickly through his jobs.

              “My friend and I are going to the fair, and I promised I’d meet her at her house in an hour.”

              “Oh?” He picks his head up from his work, his grandfather. Years of working had brought thin lines to his features; across his forehead, in the space next to his eyes, and near the cheeks that bore the trademark dimples he’d passed down to Theo along with his name. They make his expressions sharper, more pronounced. Theo ducks his head as he watches the lines spread upward in question, unamused. “New friend?”

              “Yeah, kind of. We’ve been friends for a little while now. She moved into the old farmhouse past the Clancy’s, where that sweet old woman used to take in all the cows that weren’t needing milking anymore.”

              “I know the house. And you think this is a good idea?”

              “Let him have his fun, Theodore.” It’s his grandmother’s sweet voice that comes around the corner, and Theo looks away instinctively from her pitying eyes. His grandmother’s hands, tiny and shrunken like her stature, reach as high as they can toward his cheeks, before falling on his hands instead. She clicks her tongue, waits for him to meet her gaze. She takes him in, all six and a half feet of him, and nods her head.

              “You have fun tonight, Teddy.” She brings his big hands to her lips, kisses them softly. “And you be safe!”

---

              She’s ready when he gets to the little farmhouse, visible through the window as he pulls into her graveled driveway. When she sees him coming she hops up, disappears for a moment before flinging open the door, waving. He hasn’t even gotten out of the car before she’s gotten in, throwing her house key in the cupholder.

              “Let’s go, bee man!” She pumps her fist, exuberant as he backs out of her driveway, Theo shakes his head as she sings loudly to the radio, bops along to the familiar chords of an acoustic guitar. The ride only lasts for three songs, all of which are belted with the feeling of a performance. He drums lightly on the steering wheel and Demeter sings into her fist, stopping only to pretend to strum a guitar with careful passion.

              When they park she hops out of the car, runs to his side and waits impatiently for him to unbuckle. She’s dancing, this time to the muted sounds of the band that’s set up halfway across the fairground. Demeter’s grinning from ear to ear, still singing, grabbing hold of his hand only to reach up on her toes, pushing his side to spin him around. He isn’t much of a mover built so tall and muscular, but he shuffles his body along with hers with about as much grace as he can muster. She wraps both arms around one of his when the song ends and moves quickly toward the entrance.

              It’s a lot to take in, the lights and the crowd of people, and Demeter stops for a moment to let her wide eyes soak everything up. Her lips are parted in the beginnings of a soft gasp, completely entranced by the rickety rides and the smell of fresh buttered popcorn from a nearby stand. Then, she’s gone; he follows her rapid footsteps just as she’s fished a stack of dollar bills from her bag, placing them on the counter and giving the cashier a bright, slightly mischievous smile.

              “So, here’s the thing.” She leans effortlessly against the counter, gaze cast at the gigantic cotton candy machine. “My best friend here-you probably know him, he knows everybody around here-said that he’d come here with me if I bought him twenty cotton candy’s. The thing is, I don’t think we could eat twenty all in one night and there’s also popcorn that needs to be eaten. So I was hoping that maybe, if you’re up for a challenge, you could try something for me.”

              She looks back at Theo before leaning closer to the cashier, speaking low and intelligible. He takes only a moment to think, then shrugs and puts her money in the register. Demeter bounces on her toes as she watches the man get to work, masterfully twirling the large paper cone in the wide, circular machine. When he’s finished, she’s handed a wad of cotton candy bigger than her head.

              “Better than twenty?” She takes a big bite, puffy candy hanging from her lips before dissolving. She holds the cone out to him with a sideways nod of her head. He takes his bite and Demeter bops the cone of candy against his nose.

              “Better than twenty.”

              “I’ve never had this before.” She rips off another piece, stopping mid-air as Theo’s jaw drops.

              “You’ve never had cotton candy?”

              “Nope.”

              “Ever?”

              “Never.” Demeter shrugs, holding the cone out to him once more. “The upper crust of society frowns upon cotton candy and fun, especially fairs.”

              “Do they also frown upon wearing your own clothes?” He teases. Demeter sticks her tongue out, backs up from where they’re walking to strike a dramatic pose. She’s modeling one of his sweaters, a burnt sort of orange color that falls just above her knees. She’s paired it with slightly worn brown boots; simple, yet bold on the girl who spins lightheartedly in front of him.

              “You left it at my house!” Her argument is just as teasing as his call-out, a shrug and a brush of her hair from her face. There’s a catalogue of his things there now, shirts and socks and even a blanket. “I can give it back.”

              “That’s okay,” He holds out his hand again, gestures to a row of carnival games. “I don’t need it.”

              They play for a while, Demeter’s competitive side showing as they take turns at knocking over a pile of neatly arranged cans, a stuffed elephant the sole focus of their attention. They aren’t sure who chose it first, the white animal decorated with primary colors, but once it’s been decided the pair hangs around the carnival game without so much as another thought.

              They egg each other on, taking turns swiveling between trash talk and cheering as they attempt to knock every bottle down. As they win smaller prizes, candy and smaller toys, Theo wheels around and hands them to a group of children that had come to watch. They cheer, too-whether it’s for their win or a loss that will bring them more toys is debatable. Demeter’s in the middle of a long string of tongue-in-cheek mocking when Theo hits the center of the pile, causing all the cans to topple over. She jumps, waves her hands and lets her smile double uncontrollably as Theo holds the head-sized elephant out to her.

              “First prize for the baby.” He says. He’s so proud, so enraptured by the moment that all she can do is smile back convincingly, unable to find her focus as he leads her to the ferris wheel. She holds the toy on her lap, nodding to the inflections in his voice. As the ride begins to move, he quiets.

              “Something’s wrong.” It’s not a question; he’s known her long enough now to see the sudden change in her demeanor, the way some of the light has disappeared from her eyes.

              “It was negative again…I meant to tell you Sunday, but….”

              “Are you okay?”

              “I just…thought having a baby would be easier. That’s what they teach you in private school-that’s all they teach you. But I think I’m making it harder on myself. I know it’ll happen, I can see it. It hasn’t even been that long…I just need to relax a little bit.”

              “Words I thought I’d never hear you say.” She wrinkles her nose, pushes her side against his in defiance. The wheel whirs upward and the pair watches the ground move away from their feet. Demeter turns, watches as he stares at the lights that light the sky around them, whirring in their multicolored show. He seems lost, in a way, and she wonders if he can feel the disappointment she tries so desperately to shake from her veins. The wheel stops right as their carriage hits the top, and they lean against the railing.

              The fairgrounds aren’t as sprawling as he’d remembered, their magic having disappeared with time and familiarity. What once had felt like crowds of thousands had dissipated; from this vantage point he can see where they’d danced-where Demeter had stopped in the middle of the crowd and looked up at the lights just turning on to illuminate the places that dusk had begun to darken. He can see where she’d pulled him by the hand, asked to go on the tilt-a-whirl immediately after their feast of cotton candy. He can see where the sugar high had led them to stand apart, tossing popcorn into each other’s mouths.

              The seemingly worn-out experiences had been renewed with his company, who leans over the safety bar, pointing and narrating, unable to take in the whole scene at once. The slight breeze rustles her hair, brushes her nose and cheeks with a pink that matches the softness of her features. She hides her hands in the sleeves of his sweater, already a monstrous thing on her small frame. It’s a picture all in itself, the way she brings things to life with her wide eyes and exuberant narration. When the ride starts whirring again she settles herself back against the seat, and he softens at the feeling of her head on his shoulder. It takes Demeter a moment to collect herself, bringing her knees to her chest and her body pressed against his side.

              “Hey, at least we’re here, right? I might not have a baby yet, but I’ve still got you.” She sighs, content, and the wheel begins to make another ascent.

#hadestown #hadestownmodern #young demeter #demeter and bee man #she started calling him bee man too it's fine #my apologies to Oli and Annika they know the true ending to this fic I just can't write it #demeter #theo

[goddamnitdazai]

Love Letters From Hell

I couldn’t find this on my old blog, but I noticed it wasn’t in the line up so I’m just re-posting it here.  Pairing: Punk!Dazai x Reader  Modern AU - No abilities Genre: romance, drabble, fluff. 

Flesh oozed and slopped onto the floor in thick crimson splatters. The gnashing of teeth followed by periled screams of the damned rang between the alleyways as the victims took their last look at the living world before the beat of their heart was silenced by the un-dead swarming them. Feral and ravenous their eyes bore no similarities to that of their former lives as humans walking the earth beneath the glowing sun. Their skin hung in grey splotches falling off like chips of paint with highlighted bone sticking out from their unhinged jaw. Whoever did the make-up for this movie was your new idol, you decided, as you quickly thumbed through the movie’s IMBD page on your phone. Eyes frantically switching from your laptop to the phone in your hand you felt the sudden rush of summer air blow through the cracked window. Heat skated through the t-shirt hanging off your shoulders and the tiny black fan perched on your desk barely reached your toes at the foot of the bed. Even with your hair tugged high above your head you could still feel the dry temperature creeping up the back of your neck. The screaming from the laptop died out as the scene switched to an eerily empty park. “You dumb fuck you’re about to die.” You whisper harshly to the actors on screen. Most horror movies had become unbearably predictable, but the make-up had continued to evolve to astounding detail. No longer were people dependent on CGI to make a freshly skewered head look instant-stomach-heaving good, no this was an art that required hours upon hours of work. The blood, the gore, ah it was beautiful in your eyes. A goal worth fighting for, worth the long nights and exhaustion.  With this wave of enthusiasm and appreciate came the following cliff dive into blood-curdling annoyance. Harsh words banged around in your head as you paused the movie and rolled off your bed with your arms stretched to the ceiling. Unconditional love from parents to children was bullshit, apparently. Rolling a sweaty palm across your forehead you padded towards the window and stuck your headphones in your ears. Summer skies were always the most beautiful despite the less than astounding neighborhood. But it was affordable and safe-ish, but nothing a metal bat couldn’t handle. Unless you were ambushed, then you were fucked nine ways to Sunday. With a quick swipe of your hand you managed to reach the apple sitting on the bedside table—a reminder to yourself to eat, from yourself—but you’d forgotten, again. Soft music pumped through your ears and settled your mood as you plopped down on the roof and leaned your back against the side of the house. The only good thing about living in the garbage part of the city was being able to see the towering skyline of Yokohama. Bright, luminous, and absolutely breathtaking, and though silly it made life a bit more bearable because it gave you something to look at rather than look for. Tokyo’s skyline was nothing to scoff at, but Yokohama felt less suffocating. It sufficed for now. Apple in hand you munched lightly and let your eyes flit the other direction towards the nearly endless horizon. Over the shanty like houses with mismatched shutters and overgrown lawns a sprinkle of light fluttered through the darkness. Slowly all the thoughts racing through your head began to disappear, back to the tiny box where you tried to store everything that made your heart sink. After the bars closed and the drunken inhabitants wobbled their way into their houses the street became utterly silent. Stars twinkled above the navy blue canvas like a coat of scattered glitter. All was peaceful and that apple was damn near perfect in flavor. Nearly all of your anxiety had been drained by the stillness of this perfect night—until a squeal so familiar and loud nearly made your jaw crack in half. His bike roared and shook the trees as he zipped down the road. You’d heard him three times in the last week, and it was always at some ungodly hour. This generally happened while you were lying in bed attempting to sleep and there his happy ass would come, loud as all hell with that damn motorcycle of his, cruising down the road with his music blaring. By the time you managed to gain enough energy to hop out of bed he’d be gone, evaporated into the night like some cryptic teleporting jack-ass from hell. You’d found his bike once outside of some dive bar at the end of the road and left a nice little message about waking up the neighbors at four am. Since then he’d oh so generously made his loud appearance home before four am. His pettiness—however annoying—was impressive. As if he sensed your narrowed eyes and snarl the owner of said bike rolled his palms over his handles, thus sparking an even louder sound to emit from his black motorcycle, as he drove past your house. Something snapped in your chest like a string on a harp plucked too hard. Your wrist nearly snapped as well from the momentum you’d exerted flinging that partially eaten apple at his forehead. Before you could even rationalize your entire existence up to that point you scurried through the window as a yelp flew from his mouth. Hiding under your covers from monsters was childish, but it had always seemed to work before, right?                                                                                 ------- Morning came with an abundant declaration that nearly burned your eyes straight out of your sockets. The hellish assault of sunlight had woken you from your post – panic haze and caused a very rough start way too early in the morning. As you trudged towards your small kitchen with bedhead to the nines and your pajama shorts hanging around your hips a flash of a green apple slamming a possibly dangerous biker in the face projected in the back of your mind. Groaning you held your cup of coffee with both hands and laid your head on the kitchen counter. He deserved it, but what if that apple caused him to crash? Oh god what if he rolled off his bike and flew into a telephone pole? How would you explain that to your fellow cellmate? Does it make you a better criminal to kill someone with fruit? At least you’d get sleep in jail. Refusing to let the bitter morning go to waste you slid on your shoes and walked towards the front door with your coffee in hand. Overgrown tendrils of grass had risen their way up throughout the lawn. Curling and looping around the metal fencing and tickling your ankles as you stomped down the concrete steps. The cracked pathway was barely visible beneath the dirt and apparently ever-fruitful lawn, and unfortunately at some point you would have to cut it. Milk white clouds no thicker than a string floated carelessly across the sky. A vivid blue with tinges of tangerine igniting the world, and for a moment everything was calm again. The breeze rolled through your hair and picked up the strays dancing against the nape of your neck and brushed the scent of flowers beneath your nose. “Morning, neighbor~.” A shiver ran down your spine as your eyes popped open and immediately shifted to the left. There, strung along the top of the metal gate as if he owned the entire world, was that asshole.  At least this meant you didn’t commit a felony murder. It took a moment for your eyes to fixate on the tall, thin man before you and the fact that he had an apple in his hand. Smirking he took a bite and let the metal of his lip piercings clink against the skin of it. Beneath the soft cotton t-shirt jet black ink poked out up to his collar bone and littered both his arms. Intricate patterns and beautifully etched designs paralleled each other. He raised his free hand up to his chin, perching it within his palm while the other dangled over the top of the fence. “Why the hell is your bike so loud?” You snapped while bringing the coffee cup to your lips. His smirk broadened; your stomach folded in on itself. He took another bite of the apple before tossing it up in his hand. At first he made no noise as he straightened his posture and lifted his left hand to the back of his neck. Dramatically his mouth opened and let out a yawn. His shirt lifted off his stomach; you suddenly found the grass beneath your feet mind-numbingly interesting.  Though groggy and still miffed about your wake-up call from the brightest light known to man there was no denying this dude was unaware of his good looks. The way he tilted his head as he looked at you, chocolate brown locks swaying over his eyes and how he made it a clear habit to nibble on the right stud in his lip. He was baiting you.   “Some people like to sleep at night y’know.” Did your voice just crack? Probably, you weren’t on top of your game this early. “Says the girl screaming ‘not that door you dumbass’ at three in the morning.” An unwelcomed combination of a laugh-snort-hmph escaped your lips at his comically high imitation of your voice. This man had a talent of getting his way and getting away with everything. But not today, hopefully. Straightening your back and crossing your arms over your chest you stared back at him and hoped you looked somewhat pissed. His brow arched and lips broke into a wide smile. The apple in his hand had been tossed over the fence in the street where birds picked at it before flying elsewhere. “Are you going to keep revving that god damn thing so loud? It rattles my whole damn house.” “Ah, my apologies miss but,” he cooed while running his tattooed fingers through his hair, “but if we’re being fair you hit me with an apple so that makes us even.  “ His tone had changed, like he was egging you on to continue this little tiff. The way he stood with a prominent dominance and sweet smile that probably dropped a hundred panties made it evident he was not going to let you win so easily. His eyes glimmered in a haze of honey – brown with a tint of darkness pooling behind them.  This was a man who rarely lost at anything and more likely than not had never been told no by anyone. However, he seemed to have underestimated your willpower against his blatant charms. For this moment your panties remained on your own bedroom floor.  It was early, you were pissed, and the sun was too damn bright. Oh no, today was not the day fucker. “Once. You’ve woken me up at least three times in the week. So I can either throw three more apples or,” you tapped your finger against your lips, “or you could mow my lawn as an apology. If we’re being fair.” “Is that a euphemism? You could have just asked me to come watch a movie~” He teased as his tongue darted out to his bottom lip. “Come a little closer to me, it’s hard to hear that sweet voice of yours from so far away.” You were on the verge of a sensory overload, but this was a game you were playing to win. He was still on the edge of success but his eyes were nowhere except your hips as they swayed his direction. Inch by inch the contours of his face became prominent, chiseled, perfect. He put up a thick mask but he couldn’t hide everything. The slight thinning of his eyes as they grew a bit hazy; how his fingers curled around the fence while the rest of his body stiffened. He seemed to tower over you. Two lions, one goal. Never losing his gaze you ran the tips of your fingers up his chest to his chin and gripped it. A flash of light cut across his eyes. Amusement perked his brow higher and that smirk returned halfway up the side of his face. “Yes my sweet?” The day he dropped that teasing tone would be the day he died. “Mow my front lawn or the next thing I throw is a rock and it’s not going to hit your face. My sweet.” Calmly you reinstate your point by knocking your knee lightly against his groin through the fence before twisting your hips and walking back towards the house. “My name is Dazai. Dazai Osamu, my sweet!” he called back with a laugh as the door to your house shut loudly. The air of victory surrounded you for the next few hours until a very deafeningly loud sound woke you from your afternoon nap. Bat in hand you kicked your front door open only to be greeted by a very sweaty, shirtless Dazai Osamu mowing your lawn. He glanced up at you as he pushed the old pile of rust across your lawn and gave you a sultry wink. His pettiness was next level, and it made you too damn weak for anything good to come out of it.

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bungou sd #dazai #dazai osamu #my writing #my writing dazai #dazai x reader #LLFH #drabble series #first post on the new blog #dazai osamu x reader #fluff #one shot dazai #dazai fluff #scenario:fluff/dazai

[assholejail]

Chapter 4: Maybe the Real Treasure Was the Foes We Killed on the Way

(Part IV)

Using the velvet curtains enclosing the altar, Mellowloaf fashions himself a new pair of pants. Wrynn smashes the skull of one of the skeletons surrounding the altar with his hammer, finding nothing.

The two of them walk around the room and find that the skeletons weren’t carrying anything on their person. As they approach the double doors in the back of the room, they hear scuttling coming from behind the pillars of the room.

Lis: Coconut crabs.

The group readies themselves for combat as Dacceus and Mellowloaf decide to annoy Gulthian a bit more. Dacceus is shaking the jar when he turns his back for long enough for Mellowloaf to swipe the jar for himself. He removes the fantasy Gerber baby jar containing Gulthian from the larger jar labeled “Asshole Jail.”

Upon hearing nothing from Gulthian, Mellowloaf pockets the Gerber baby jar after placing the “Asshole Jail” label into it.

Wrynn and Shifty notice two small purple-gray creatures crawl from behind the pillars and launch onto the back of Mellowloaf’s head and Dacceus’ back, injuring them both by biting them. The creature on Dacceus takes chunks of feathers out out the back of his neck instead of skin, ultimately not doing as much damage as the creature hurting Mellowloaf.

In retaliation, Mellowloaf casts dissonant whispers and flings the creature off of him, running away from it when he sees that it can still move and potentially attack him again.

Shifty walks up to Dacceus and smacks the creature on his back, and watching it fall to the floor, she walks back to the opposite end of the group. Lis stabs one of them with her rapier, doing minimal damage, and then pulls her sword back before kicking the creature into the pillar. Upon impact, something within the creature is injured with a sickly snap.

The creature on the floor circling the group attempts to scamper away from Cassius and climb the pillar closest to it, but doesn’t quite make it. Cassius turns back to Dacceus to check on him after killing the creature with Burning Hands.

Dacceus takes the opportunity to transform into a panther in preparation for future attacks.

Wrynn runs over to the creature attempting to climb the pillar and smacks it, significantly injuring it as he sends it flying across the room. It lands facedown on the floor and does not get up again.

The remaining creature launches itself at Wrynn and ends up smashing into his shield rather than actually hitting him.

Mellowloaf uses dissonant whispers again, causing the creature to scream in pain. Shifty kicks the creature but mostly misses and does minimal damage. Lis takes Shifty’s lead and dropkicks it across the room. Dizzied and stumbling, the creature has little energy left to keep fighting.

Cassius takes advantage of this. She reaches her arms into her cloak and pulls them back out with her Lisa Frank backpack in tow. Holding it by the top straps, she swings it down and smashes the creature in the head. It is launched into the nearest pillar and slides down to the floor, motionless.

As this happens, what looks like a rottweiler of abnormally large stature with bright red eyes appears in front of the double doors at the end of the corridor. The door bursts open and all the torches in the sconces are blown out.

The party members without darkvision see only embers of a floating figure. Those with darkvision can see a man floating six inches off the ground with lit cannon fuses in his thick dark beard.

While he says nothing, the party can easily place that this ghost is, in fact, Blackbeard.

Dacceus, still in his panther form, attacks the dog and bites him in the jugular. While it doesn’t hurt the dog enough to kill it, the impact of the attack leaves it wounded.

Wrynn launches his spear at Blackbeard. The attack catches the ghost by surprise, as the blessed weapon deals radiant damage he didn’t expect to take. The spear goes clean through him and lands in the room behind him.

Blackbeard’s aura turns the room behind him a rusty, bloody red, and as he sees the crest of Celestian on Wrynn’s shield, he lets out an unearthly scream that washes over Wrynn. The former can feel a poisonous negative energy try to enter his body but fights it off.

Discouraged, Blackbeard whistles for his dog, who rams into Dacceus with enough force to stun him and bites him, only injuring him a little.

The dog disappears and reappears beside Blackbeard after attempting to ram into Wrynn, who is able to leap over the dog, roll to safety on the floor, and hold his shield before him to defend against any oncoming attacks.

Mellowloaf casts dissonant whispers on Blackbeard. As he takes the blow, Blackbeard turns back to Mellowloaf and glares at him. The bard takes this as a chance to try and begin converse with the pirate.

Mellowloaf: Dude, were you planning on attacking us before we attacked you?

Blackbeard: How dare youuuu? You cOMe into my hOUSe. And try to haaarm me and steeeeaaaallll myyyyyy loooooot.

Mellowloaf: We were exploring! There was no loot, we were just--

Blackbeard: MY MEDALLIOOOOON!

Lis: Wrynn.

Wrynn: Look, you’re not a good guy, we’re not good guys, it’s fine!

Blackbeard: I smell pirates when I see them and you are of the kind!

Lis nervously takes a couple steps back to avoid being seen anymore by Blackbeard. Blackbeard attempts to intimidate the crew by cawing menacingly, but fails.

Shifty, in one fist, hides the siren jerky, and dashes toward the spike pit. Waving it around, the rottweiler chases her with reckless abandon and clears the pit after Shifty does. As she jumps back to the other side, however, the rottweiler is not so lucky in following her back and is impaled on the spikes.

Lis looks for rum, hoping to throw it toward Blackbeard and have a magic user light it on fire, but is unable to get her hands on any.

Cassius casts charm person on Blackbeard, who is defenseless against her. Mellowloaf quickly swipes the label from Gulthian’s jar and sticks it back on its original jar as Cassius convinces Blackbeard to enter the jar.

Blackbeard, convinced that Cassius looks like his daughter, enters the jar without protest of any kind.

Dacceus changes back to his normal form and takes the jar containing Gulthian back from Mellowloaf. Cassius holds onto Asshole Jail, temporarily housing it in her backpack.

Dacceus looks at his athame and finds inscriptions in red writing on the blade. Lis grabs hold of both swords remaining on the altar, noticing one of them has a rune on the handguard. The other sword, an ornate cutlass, is silver with gold engravings and a jewel-encrusted hilt. There is a leather grip and intricate symbols on the blade. She decides it will be for decoration and emergency-only use in the bar. Wrynn grabs the bejeweled chalices and holds onto them, hoping to give them to Emelia when they return to the village.

Shifty sprints into the room behind the double doors. In front of her lay piles and piles of gold coins and precious stones on the ground. There are two canvas sacks on opposite corners of the room, each above a lit flame, appearing as though if one is taken, the other will fall into the fire.

When the gold catches Dacceus’ eye, he bolts into the room and begins filling his bags with coins. As he does so the foundation of the building begins to crumble around the party. While Wrynn is trying his best to put out the fires beneath the sacks, Shifty yanks the sack on the right and runs, causing the other to drop into the flame and engulf that half of the room in bright green flame.

Wrynn tries to dodge most of it but his shield catches on fire. The fire remains on the front of the shield but appears as though it will catch onto anything around that.

Mellowloaf, Shifty, and Wrynn dash out of the cellar. Lis heads out and fills her waterskin with rum, but remains in case Cassius and Dacceus need help. Still distracted by the gold in the room, Dacceus does not bring himself to leave. Desperate, Cassius casts charm person on Dacceus and convinces him to flee with her, and all six members of the party ascend using the ladder.

As they all leave the cellar, everything in the room around them collapses into the earth below, and the party has enough time to vault over the walls and back away by a few feet before the house is nothing more but a pile of rubble and stone on its foundations.

Concerned by his still very much on fire shield, Wrynn attempts to dim the flame using thaumaturgy, but cannot.

Lis, against the wishes of the other party members, suggests that he throw it in the ocean. Though he isn’t normally afraid of fire, Wrynn knows there is something abnormal and dangerous about this flame, and he launches the shield into the sea. As it meets the water it is engulfed in sickly green flames that remain alight even as it sinks to the murky depths below.

As the party makes its way back to the site of the spectre (whose bones Mellowloaf licked), everyone looks at their winnings and finds that everything from the treasure room except Shifty’s stolen sack, the swords, and so on has turned to dust.

Cassius hears shouts from the bag and finds that Blackbeard is now screaming, but is still trapped inside Asshole Jail without any foreseeable means of escape.

Before the troupe departs for Baratara, Wrynn stops by Amelia’s home and shows her the goblets. She immediately throws him out upon seeing that they are goblets of Maratook.

They are greeted with half-friendly faces in town, and they return to the boat. Thomas sees them all and Lis immediately hides her swords. Shifty looks in her stolen sack and hides it as well.

Lis takes a small object and smacks Asshole Jail through Cassius’ backpack.

Blackbeard: HOw daRE yoU do this to BLAckbeard.

They board and depart for home.

(End of Chapter 4)

#summaries #chapter 4 #the misdemeanor mateys #dnd #mod lis

[tigerlilynoh]

A Late Night

This is a little scene/writing exercise that probably never would've made it into Job & Family.  I sometimes write alternate scenarios like this in order to flesh out characters/dynamics for my own benefit.  In the end this scene wasn't adopted because I didn't want Dean to practice avoidance behavior in the middle of me trying to run him through the ringer.  Also, I didn't like the idea of him ditching everyone else when they needed him.  That being said, there's a lot of small stuff in here that holds true to me and in that way I feel like it's almost a what-if style Deleted Scene.

Characters: Dean x original character Words: 2,046 Spoiler alert:  Contains spoilers up through chapter 81 of Job & Family.

Dean & Jeremy walked all the way around Broken Arrow Park three times, then the two blocks back to Jeremy's apartment building.  It was almost two in the morning and they hadn't seen another person in at least an hour.  Dean had felt guilty calling so late, but he needed to get away from the bunker.  Once again he'd let Jeremy take the lead on the conversation, content to just listen to anything far removed from the turmoil of his life.  Though there was only so long that they could tiptoe around the circumstances of their meetup.

“Do you want to tell me what's going on?”  Jeremy asked when they got to the front steps of his building.  “I'm guessing you didn't call me at midnight on a Tuesday just to hear me ramble about annuities.”

“I'm having a rough time and I needed… I’m not sure.”  Dean hesitated.  He barely knew the guy.  They'd only met a night or two earlier, but Jeremy was one of the only people he knew that wasn't neck deep in the apocalypse drama.

“Do you want to talk about it?”  Jeremy offered with a sympathetic smile before breathing into his hands to warm them.

“My… my half-brother,”  That was probably the easiest way of conveying the complicated family relationship with Dylaniel.  “he was in an accident.”

“I'm sorry.”  Dean could see sincere concern in Jeremy’s eyes.  He suddenly felt a little less guilty about messing up the guy's night.  “Are you two close?”

“I only got to know him recently.  He's younger, about twenty.”  Dean remembered the bleak & bloody scene, then covered his face.  “I saw him.  He's a mess.  I don't know…”

Jeremy cautiously wrapped his arms around Dean.  It was strange to have someone he hardly knew- I quick little fling from a bar, trying to comfort him.  But at the same time he was just grateful for whatever comfort he could get.  After a moment Dean hugged him back.

“How can I help?”  Jeremy asked quietly.

“I don't think anyone can help.”  Jeremy let go of him a bit and leaned back in order to look him in the eyes.  Dean felt a bit embarrassed to be standing there, awkwardly burdening someone with his own problems.  “I'm sorry.  I shouldn't have put this on you.”

“It's okay.  I was kind of hoping you'd call- just under better circumstances.”  Jeremy's eyes flicked down bashfully.  “Maybe this is a little… Do you want to come in?  I can make you some coffee or... you can crash on my couch if you don't want to go home.”

Dean hadn't been considered actually going into Jeremy's apartment at all, but the suggestion that maybe he didn't want to go back home struck as painfully true.  The thought of going back to the bunker, it just felt like too much.  He’d have to go back and face everything eventually, but he wanted an escape so badly, even for just another hour.

“Some coffee maybe.”

“Sorry about the mess.  I don't usually have people over.”  Jeremy said as he tossed his keys into a red ceramic bowl of loose change & thumb drives on a bookshelf by the door.  “This machine brews the best coffee, but it’s so slow to warm up.”

“It's okay.”

Dean looked around at the small studio apartment.  The furniture was minimal & modern, but bright flashes of personality made the place warmer.  A large canvas depicting a red & purple sunset hung on the wall above a sleek grey couch.  A dozen issues of magazines like Economist & Foreign Affairs, three thick manila folders, a laptop, & a used glass tumbler sat on a maple coffee table.  The kitchen consisted of little more than a fridge, a stove that seemed to only serve the function of being additional counter space, & a professional grade coffee machine.  He could see the corner of a queen size bed peeking out from behind a four panel room divider of white & red paper framed with maple that matched the coffee table.

“I know it's 2am, but I don't have decaf.”  Jeremy warned as he took off his jacket and started fiddling around in the kitchen.

“That's fine.”

“Make yourself comfortable.”

Dean looked through the bookcase that had been right next to the door.  The top few shelves were packed with classic literature that Dean had never read, most of which he'd never even heard of.  But the bottom shelf held an 8” record player and a collection of vinyls.  Dean flipped through the selection, which was almost entirely jazz.

“Feel free to put something on.”  Jeremy invited from the kitchen.  “The neighbor on the right is deaf and the couple on my left are out of town.”

“Nina Simone or Miles Davis?”

“Surprise me.”  Dean  grinned at the challenge, then put on Cannonball Adderley.  Jeremy glanced over at the unexpected selection.  “That's a cheap trick.”

“You told me to surprise you.”

Dean strolled around the apartment listening to Autumn Leaves.  This was a civilian’s home.  It'd been so long since he'd been in one- at least for long enough to make himself comfortable.  He wasn't on a job.  He wasn't drunkenly having a one night stand.  He wasn't even working a cover.  He leaned against a narrow section of kitchen counter that was the equivalent to a table and watched Jeremy wash a few coffee mugs while the coffee machine was heating up.

“Serious question,”  Jeremy warned him.  “Do you want to talk about your brother or should I distract you?”

“Distract me.”  Dean replied after a few seconds of guilty deliberation.

“Do you like jazz?”

“I haven't listened to any in years.”  He wasn't exactly sure whether the answer was yes.  It just wasn't something he ever considered.  “Most of the time I stick to classic rock-”

“Rolling Stones?”

“AC/DC.”

“To each their own.”  Jeremy shrugged as he dried the mugs with a tidy dishcloth, then folded and rehung it .

“You don't like that rougher stuff?”  Dean asked, a bit confused by the idea of not liking more visceral or cathartic music.

“Life is tough enough.  I like music that slows you down.”

“Yeah, I noticed a lot of cool jazz in your collection.”

“You do know your jazz.  Aren't you the mysterious one.”  Jeremy grinned at him, then leaned against the counter opposite Dean.  “Tell me about your secret life as a jazz club owner.”

“Not quite.”  Dean hesitated for a moment before confessing his actual source of exposure.  “A year or two after high school, my family lived outside of Hermosa Beach for a few months- my little brother was still in school, so we tried not to move that much.  Anyway, there was a club I used to go to most nights, they didn't card and the jazz scene doesn't see a lot of bar fights.”

“I can see it now, a bright eyed youth, out in the world on your first adventure, dipping your toe into the shadowy night life.  Wooing women and drinking…”  Jeremy circled around to Dean's side of the counter while he chewed his lip while trying to settle on a guess.  “an old fashioned.”

The prediction felt so innocent & pure, it was sweet that someone might think he could've ever stumbled into a brave new world as peaceful as that.  He hadn't lied to Jeremy about the evenings at the club.  He was trying to just be himself and the thought that Jeremy saw him in such a light made him feel more like a real person- not just some two dimensional womanizing hunter, but secretly he was a more complex man.  Not only was he allowed to be more, someone admired it in him.

“Manhattan.”  Dean corrected.

“So I need to buy some sweet vermouth?”

Dean leaned in and kissed Jeremy.  Jeremy fumbled with the coffee mug that he was hold, attempted to put it down without turning away from the kissing, and dropped the mug to the floor.  Neither of them even checked to see if the cup was broken.  Dean lightly nibbled Jeremy's lip.  Jeremy’s fingers slid up the back of Dean's neck, into his hair, sending that incredible tingling down his spine.

Dean gripped Jeremy’s shirt, pulling him closer.  They bumped into the wall and knocked into a painting.  Jeremy redirected them away from the wall and its fragile artwork.  Dean's left leg ended up between Jeremy's as they tried to move, causing them to stumble.  Jeremy landed backwards on his bed, accidentally pulled Dean down on top of him.  Without hardly missing a beat, Dean kept kissing Jeremy while reaching for Jeremy’s belt.  

“Stop.”  Jeremy said after pulling, back breaking the ravenous kiss.

“What?”  Dean whispered in surprise, heart pounding in his chest that was resting on Jeremy's.  He was pinning Jeremy to the bed, legs intertwined, both partially hard.  

“You're upset.”  Jeremy gently pushed Dean a few inches off of him.  “I’m not going to take advantage of you.”

“But... I'm…”  He wasn't sure what he was trying to say- what he'd been hoping for.

“I’m saying no.”

Dean looked down at this guy who’d been nothing but nice to him- Jeremy had tried to take care of him, he still was.  The truth was that Dean had gotten caught up trying to drown himself in any sort of distraction or comfort.  He was in deeper than he'd meant and the fact that Jeremy had to have been the one to say no- not once, but on some level three times made his stomach knot.

“God, I'm so embarrassed.”  Dean climbed off of him, rolling onto the bed next to Jeremy.  He could feel himself turning pink.

“Please don't be.”  Jeremy reassured.  After a moment of awkward silence he rolled in his side to look at Dean.  “You want to hear embarrassing?  One time I went on four dates with a guy before I found out he was straight.  I thought his girlfriend was his sister- all you white people look alike- anyway, I went in for a kiss, but realized I messed up halfway through, so I faked passing out.  I accidentally hit my head for real on a table on my way down and was knocked out cold.”

“You're kidding.”  Dean was trying not to smile at the bizarre mental image.

“I woke up in an ambulance.”  Jeremy chuckled.  “According to the discharge nurse it wasn't the worst ER kiss story she'd heard.”

“Not a kiss, but I once passed out drunk while eating a girl out.  I nearly suffocated.”  Dean offered, then rolled onto his side to watch Jeremy laugh uncontrollably to the point of tears for a whole minute

“That sounds like the worst way to die.”  

“Maybe for you.”  Dean teased.  

“Thanks for taking no for an answer.”  Jeremy smiled and softly touched the back of Dean's hand.

“Anytime.”

They stared at each other for a long while before there was a beep from the kitchen.  Jeremy sat up a little faster than Dean had expected- he was almost a bit flustered.

“The coffee machine’s warmed up.  I'll be right back.”  Jeremy said as he walked towards the small kitchen.  Dean tried to watch him, but he was already nodding off.

Dean woke up in his shirt & boxers, snuggled up with a similarly dressed Jeremy.  For a moment he was so startled by the minimal clothes that he wanted to hop out of the bed, but he remembered that nothing had actually happened.  He'd just been too exhausted after a difficult day's emotional roller coaster and ended up falling asleep before Jeremy had been able to make him some coffee.

He reached over the edge of the bed to check his cell phone.  The shifting made Jeremy unconsciously reposition, almost spooning Dean.  He moved slower so as not to wake him.

“Where are you?”  Sam’s text was only from four minutes earlier.

“I panicked. Needed some space. How is he?”  Dean replied.

“About the same.  You ok?”  Sam answered after a few seconds.

Dean looked over his shoulder at his sleeping companion.

“I need a little more time, maybe 2-3 hours.  But call me if anything changes or if I can help somehow.”  Dean sent the text, placed the phone on the nightstand, then fell back asleep.

#job & family #Deleted Scenes #spn ficlet #spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #Supernatural fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural ficlet #dean winchester