#polish content for polish folk *winks*

[wilkoakdraws]

have at ya an unholy pile of wildly chaotic and VERY serious magnus stuff from last 6 months. happy 2024

#the magnus archives #magpod #jonathan sims #tma #the archivist #tma fanart #martin blackwood #jonmartin #basira hussain #alice daisy tonner #melanie king #georgie barker #the admiral #nikola orsinov #peter lukas #anabelle cane #ah theres also helen technically #this is a dump of things so that they dont remain unposted #polish content for polish folk *winks*

[thatredheadwriter]

Pleasure

ezra x fem!reader

So, I found this dusty old draft that just needed an ending and some polishing up, and here it is five months later. This can totally be read as a prequel to the other Ezra fic I wrote, sort of a happy accident that way. I intended this to be set a few years before the events of Prospect.

This is an NSFW oneshot for female reader with Ezra of Prospect. This work contains smut and mature language and should not be read by those under 18. As a writer, I will attempt to make accurate warnings for each of my fics, however, I cannot guarantee that I will identify each and every sensitive topic. My works regularly contain swearing, allusions to/mentions of sex, and canon-level violence.

**Content Warnings below the cut**

Content Includes (but is not limited to):

Coworkers to who the fuck even knows (they didn’t fuck, now they do)

Pet names

Mutual masturbation

Sexual competition

Dirty talk

Cum play/cum eating

Oral (fem receiving)

Fingering

Biting

Slight overstim

Slight D/s undertones, but switchy

Please read at your own discretion and remember to consume your fanfiction responsibly.

Sweat drips down your brow as you held your partner’s gaze, focus never wavering.

“You look good like this, Bug,” Ezra drawls, head leaned back on the rail of his bunk, cock leaking precum in his fist.

Your hand dips into your throbbing heat once more, fingers curling against that spongy spot that sent electricity up your spine. “I think I prefer you with the suit,” you pant as you withdraw your fingers and use the slick to rub steady circles over your clit.

It started as a joke.

Ezra liked to talk. Out in the endless sprawl of the Green, doing grueling work that somehow required all your concentration and yet left you completely bored, your partner tended to ramble. You didn’t mind so much. It filled the silence and your ears couldn’t ring as loudly when Ezra was pondering the meaning of life in your ear.

What you did mind were his little jibes–barbed words meant to provoke you to dispute. If anyone ever asked you what Ezra’s favorite activity was, you’d tell them it was arguing. Usually, you could ignore him. But every once in a while he’d find one that you just couldn’t abide. You were always rewarded for your efforts with a dazzling grin, brighter than any star you’d seen.

“You know, it’s men who’re always judged for our stamina in bed, but in my experience, a lot of you women folk are awful quick to release yourselves.”

The sudden change in topic from the rising cost of filter replacements made your head snap up, and you cursed as you nearly punctured the blister on your pod, which of course made Ezra laugh.

You tossed the acid blister aside and looked back at your partner, “What the fuck are you going on about now?”

“I was just thinking about last night. I know I’ve made many women cum in just a wink. And you cum so fast, Junebug, I don’t know how you can enjoy it,” he spoke casually as if he was commenting on the weather, but your jaw dropped in protest.

It was true, prospecting didn’t lend itself to privacy. Living in the small shelter you’d erected for the dig meant you’d seen, smelled, and heard everything the other had to give. But it was like an unspoken rule that you both pretended not to notice noises coming from the other’s bunk or the tiny shower room only separated by a wall of waxed canvas.

You bit your lip, trying to choose an answer that wouldn’t inflame the situation. “You really talk a big game, Ez. I try to be a considerate roommate, unlike some people.”

“So you like to listen?” a note of interest colored his voice.

“I like to take off my headphones and go to sleep, but I like to wait until it’s quiet.”

“That does not change my position, sugar. Fact is, I can last ten times longer than you.”

“Wanna bet?”

That was around midday yesterday. The two of you had finished too late in the day to do anything but collapse into your bedrolls, utterly exhausted and worn down by the harsh of the Green. But neither of you had forgotten, and you spent the morning discussing rules.

“No touching each other,” you started out, “And we can each wear one article of clothing.”

Ezra agreed without debate, “Whatever you want, Bug.” You work on it for a bit before he added his own rule, “No stopping for more than five seconds.”

“Makes sense,” you grumbled, focusing on not falling face-first into your dig pit.

You spent the rest of your day wondering if you were really going to do this, pleasure yourself in front of Ezra. Your partner, your only sentient contact on this armpit of a world.

That was just hours ago. Now you’re sitting across from him, legs spread wide to expose your dripping cunt to him. You weren’t sure how long you’d been doing this, but you’d lost count of the number of times you’d gone to the edge. As much as it nearly killed you to admit, Ezra was right. Lately, you’d been self-pleasuring with efficiency in mind, and your stamina has been stunted as a result.

Frankly, Ezra wasn’t fairing much better. He was a sight, pants shoved halfway down his thighs, which were currently flexing hard as he fought off his orgasm yet again. His hair was matted to his forehead with sweat, face flushed, and chest heaving. But all the while, his eyes never left you.

As yet another orgasm builds and slips through your fingers, literally, an idea forms in your cloudy brain. Maybe it’s playing dirty, but it’s not against the rules.

“I wonder what you taste like,” you say with a small, spacey smile. Ezra’s jaw flexes at your words, and you can tell you’re already getting to him.

“I’d be lying if I said I’d seen a prettier cock,” you coo. “Bet it’d fit perfectly….right here,” you slip your fingers back inside, pushing so it makes a sound that has him moaning in retaliation.

“You’re playing dirty, little Junebug,” Ezra growls, but his hand doesn’t slow down on his cock. He’s rubbing faster now, and you can see him losing control.

You chuckle, pumping your fingers in and out, putting on a show for him. “I think you like when I play dirty, Ez.”

He moans again and his head thuds against the bunk. His sounds are starting to get to you too, every time he makes a sound or the muscles under his soft tummy flex you’re inching closer and closer to a cataclysmic precipice.

“I’ve thought about it, you know,” you blurt, suddenly confessing in your pursuit to win and cum. “Wondered what it would be like, you filling me up. That’s what I think about, when I touch myself.”

Ezra shouts, and hot white ropes of cum spurt out, coating his hand and belly. He fucks his fist through his high and you wish you could exist in this moment forever.

When he’s finally finished, his hand falls away, body melting into the mattress underneath him. You realize that your hand has stilled between your legs, too distracted by the performance of pleasure in front of you to chase your own.

“You win,” he grins tiredly, popping an eye open to look at you.

“You’re the only one who’s cum,” you snort, breaking out of your daze.

It’s quiet for a moment between you two, save for your panting breath and the everpresent sound of life outside in the Green.

Your brain must have melted in the heat because your internal filter is totally gone. When Ezra starts to get up, presumably to clean the release from his body, you whimpered, and his eyes flashed to you. “Don’t. I want to taste.”

His eyes darken at your words and a sly smirk creeps across his face. “Are you going to allow me to return the favor?” Ezra asks hesitantly, careful not to ask too much. You’d agreed not to touch one another, but with the way every molecule of your body is yearning for him, you could give a shit about some stupid games.

“Yes,” you answer breathlessly, slipping down onto your knees in front of Ezra, his plump bottom lip taking the brunt of his lust as you slip between his still-clothed thighs.

It’s unusually quiet as Ezra tenses underneath you, the only sound in the suffocating silence the air purifiers–no doubt working overtime with all the sweat and heat you two were generating. His thighs are lean and muscled beneath your fingertips as your brace yourself, leaning in to taste the wet release still clinging to his stomach.

You both groan as your tongue licks a thick strip up his belly, salty release coating your tongue. Instantly you want more, so you take it. By the time you’re finished, there’s not a trace of his release left and his cock is beginning to harden again.

“Shit, Bug, is it my turn yet?” Ezra pants above you, eyes dark and wanting.

“I don’t know,” you sit back on your heels, stripping off your sweat-soaked t-shirt. “Don’t the rules say I need to cum first?”

Ezra’s fingers unclench from the fabric of his pants, the fabric still creased from his iron grip. He strokes your jaw with unmatched reverence. “I’ll have you cumming until the next revolution, Bug. Can I?” his gaze dropped to your exposed breasts, and you don’t miss the way his tongue darts out to wet his flushed lips.

“Please, Ez,” you whisper.

With his hand on your neck, he pulls you up into a feverish kiss. The other finds your chest with ease.

Ezra groans into your kiss, “I knew you were hiding somethin’ sweet under that suit, bug.”

It’s not long before you find yourself sprawled back on your cot, Ezra knelt between your spread thighs. He eyes your center greedily, and before you can make a quip about knowing where to start, he’s started a pattern on your clit that has your fingers threading through his hair.

“How do you taste so fucking good?” his voice rumbles in your cunt, making you grip tighter at his dirty brown hair.

“How can you eat me like a man starved and still be talking?” you laugh breathlessly, head dropping back onto the pillows.

“I can do a lot of things, sugar,” Ezra breaks away from the task at hand so he can slide his hand up your body, stopping only to tap two of his fingers against your lips. Without question you welcome him inside, humming with satisfaction when you taste his precum from earlier. You suck and tease your tongue around his fingers, and Ezra lets out a series of low curses before pulling them from your lips with a small ‘pop’.

His tongue returns to draw steady circles on your clit, but you nearly lose it when he slips a finger inside of you, curling it up against that perfect spongy spot that makes stars appear behind your eyes.

“Fuck, fuck, that’s it,” you cry, bucking your mouth up against him, but he’s got you pinned. Another finger joins the first and soon they’re fucking and out of you like a piston, Ezra curling them ever so slightly each time until you can’t hold back any longer.

You cum when his teeth graze against your clit. One hand fists the roots of his hair–earning you a sharp bite to your inner thigh, a growl escaping him even as his fingers and thumb continue to drive you through your orgasm.

It’s as if you black out for a moment, and when you wake, you’re jolted by the sensation of Ezra cleaning up your release with his tongue, mischievous eyes locking on yours instantly.

“I knew that mouth was good for something,” you scoff breathlessly as you sit up on your elbows to look down at him.

“Keep acting like a brat and that’ll be the last release you get this cycle,” he says even as he licks through your folds once more, eyes fluttering shut as he savors the taste. Just as he’s starting to get going again, your walls fluttering around nothing, you push him back with your foot on his shoulder.

“Uh-uh, pretty boy. It’s my turn now.”

#ezra #ezra prospect #prospect #ezra smut #ezra x reader #ezra x reader smut #ezra oneshot #ezra fanfiction #ezra fanfic #ezra fic #smutty ezra fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character

[rylandfalkov]

Ryland's show from Tarts After Dark April 2024

Contents NSFW! %t = my current target at the time

A translucent, white partition suddenly shimmers into existence near the back-middle of the stage. From the side of it hangs a very swanky, designer black suit, with matching polished oxford shoes sitting nearby. With the sight and sound of running water coming from behind the partition, it becomes obvious that you have all unexpectedly become voyeurs to a shower scene! Oh la la!

A rear spotlight flicks on, illuminating the faint silhouette of a well-proportioned, obviously naked man standing within the shower. He hums an imperceptible tune to himself while his body rolls and  hips gyrate sensually to some personal beat. The water shuts off before he reaches for the shower curtain, abruptly yanking it fully open as he stares out into the crowd. Yes, folks, he is absolutely STARTING this show the Full Monty! Naked at the day he was born. In his Birthday suit. Stark nude, buck naked, au naturel, exposed, in the buff, and wearing only a smile! How risqué, what a way to start the show!

At first, Ryland looks taken aback by his unforeseen oglers, but that expression quickly turns mischievous as that trademarked, charming grin spreads over plush lips. Arms spread to either side as he leisurely turns in a circle to give a tantalizing view of every angle before taking a welcoming bow. The man is an exhibitionist and a hedonist through and through, as is often made obvious by any encounter with him, and for damn good reason too!

The water glistens against and drips from his nude flesh beneath the stage spotlights, highlighting the dips and swells of just about everything he owns - and BOY HOWDY does he own some lovely, desirable things. The water is, most definitely and without a single doubt, quite warm. However, the startlingly erotic scene is cut short with a playful wink before he closes the shower curtain.

A familiar, classic tune begins to blast over the speakers as his silhouette rocks with the pounding rhythm. He picks up what appears to be some type of undergarment, stepping into and sliding the scanty garment up over those toned calves and robust thighs. He *snaps* the waistband into place before bits and bobbles are adjusted, likely hiding away some of those lovely and desirable things.

Ryland fully steps out from behind the partition with some truly dramatic bravado: Arms extended to either side and revealing himself to only be wearing a pair of rainbow, cheeky briefs that leave very little to the imagination! *Especially* since they are made of a thin mesh that are easily seen through - while also putting the remainder of that athletic, enticing physique on full display. Turning around to smooth a hand over and admire his posh suit, everyone now gets a full on stare at that voluptuous ass; gold coins can be and have been bounced off that beauty. In fact, it almost taunts you to do just that should you have a coin on hand!

He swivels around to the audience, an impish gaze scanning over them before he full on sprints towards the front center of the stage and jumps forward with outstretched hands. It almost seems as if he’s about to leap smack into the crowd itself, but instead a floor to ceiling silver pole unexpectedly materializes out of thin air that he grips onto at the last moment. The momentum allows him to repeatedly whip his body around the device, with legs flared out in perfectly controlled rotations; much like the movements of a breakdancing flare.

Ryland ceases the revolutions with his back pressing against and hands clutching the pole tightly overhead, the slowly rotating device giving an alluring view of this libertine’s every angle. He raises both legs in a tuck, positioning the pole in the crook of his neck as he settles one foot flat on the apparatus below his hands. Pushing outwards with that foot, he straightens his arms and planted leg, then stretches his opposite leg straight out, parallel to the floor, into a perfect split. He arches his back even further to over-extend the split, showcasing that extreme flexibility he’s known for.

He shifts his hands further apart all while maintaining the deep split before removing the planted foot from the pole and extending it outwards to join the other in a ‘flag’ position. Using his core strength, he holds the agile pose for a few moments before gracefully touching down to return to his attire. The dress pants are removed from the hanger, and with his back to the audience he steps into them, pulling them up and over that shapely rear with a couple jumps. Fitted and fine, he may be putting ON clothing (a first for him, truly) but it certainly accentuates all the right places!

With his back still to the audience, he kicks up into a balanced handstand, fully intent on testing the fabric’s flexibility - and providing an inviting view. Legs ease down to either side in a controlled center split, effortlessly shifting them front and back into a front split, back to center, then the opposite leg front split. Both feet point once more towards the ceiling as he carefully walks on his hands down the steps until (hand)standing just before the audience. Legs part once more, and his body drops, basically right onto %t’s lap, but first catches himself with his feet and knees straddling them before he’s able to put any amount of weight atop them.

Now straddling %t’s lap with his ass essentially inches from their face, he lowers his chest, braces his forearms against the ground, arches his back to provide a more rousing scene, and begins to pop and shake that rounded posterior provocatively to the beat. With a knavish glance over his shoulder, he gives his current target a teasing wink, encouraging them to play that booty like a set of sultry bongos! After a few moments, he removes himself with a forward roll, popping up to his feet and moving back towards the stage.

He returns to the pole, firmly leaning his back against it while hips continue to suggestively undulate to the beat. Hands grip high above his head and with the device once again in the crook of his neck, he gently lifts up onto his tiptoes. He takes a ‘step’ upwards onto the thin air, repeating the process to make it appear as if he’s walking on nothing until his body is parallel to the ground. With one hand over the other, he continues to pull and ‘walk’ himself skyward, demonstrating and flaunting the complete mastery he has over his nimble physique.

Nearing the top, he drops one hand to grasp beneath himself and shifts his torso to face away from the pole, all while holding the same position. Once facing the crowd, he flashes that dazzling grin before both hands loosen their grip and he begins to plummet towards the ground! Just before he slams into the stage, he tightens his hands to swiftly halt himself, only to release them once more to fall the remaining inch onto the ground - right into that irresistible, lounging ‘Jeff Goldblum-esque’ pose. You all know the one. So smooth.

He rolls up onto his feet and returns to the hanging garments, freeing the white button-up shirt from its hanger and slipping it on. Of course he leaves it unbuttoned like he’s on the cover of a cheesy romance novel, with a well-timed gust of a nearby fan dramatically blowing the shirt to add to the beguiling effect.

He dashes towards the pole and takes a leap! Hands briefly grasp the apparatus up high, aiding to swing his body forward into a dextrous, high-flying backflip. He lands in a crouch just before %t, stepping on either side of their thighs dropping to his knees as fingers comb back through the sides of his still-damp hair. With torso seductively grinding to the beat dangerously close to them, he takes their hands in his own and directs them to grope along his chest and torso as they please. Fingers press to his lips and he blows them a sparkly kiss with a wink before moving on.

He moves back to the pole and over hand he climbs the beam, and about halfway up he spaces his grasp far apart. One foot raises and extends along the pole above the top hand, while the other settles below his lower hand. Feet effortlessly slide apart until he’s in a full center split flush against the device. He tightens his core so those sweat-slicked, prominent abdominal muscles pop out as he holds in place; the devilish expression suggests that this man knows exactly what he’s doing.

Ryland eventually bends his knees around the pole to draw his legs closer together. Once about shoulder-width apart, he presses his bottom foot against the prop and hooks his top ankle around the back. From there, he ‘stands up’, extending his body directly out to the side to make it appear as if he’s standing on the apparatus and parallel to the stage. Fingers deftly begin buttoning up his shirt, leaving the top few undone, and tucking it into his pants - all while maintaining this challenging flag position and looking out over the audience with a smug grin. He makes it look easy!

He casually hops off the pole while fixing his cuffs, then snags the final hanging garment: That stylish suit jacket. Flinging it around his shoulders, he smoothly slides into the sleeves and flattens his hands down along the lavish material. Suit fitted and sleek, this man looks every part the rakish scamp ready to charm and seduce.

With both hands and feet, he ascends and crouches against the very top of the pole. There’s a brief bounce before he pitches his upper body backwards while forcefully pushing off with his legs, propelling himself into a backwards flip. Arching his back, hands quickly grab the apparatus as he revolves around, slowing his rotation so both feet land delicately against the device and not once allowing any part of himself to touch the ground in the process.

He hugs his legs around the pole, stretching his torso backwards and downwards with arms extending gracefully out to the side. Now upside down, he briefly loosens the grip with his thighs and plummets down, stopping himself with his face just a breath's width above the ground! Tucking his head down, he forward rolls off the prop and lands in a center split. There’s a bobble of his eyebrows and an air smooch before he gets to his feet and moves to the back of the stage one final time.

With his back to the audience, he slips into his dress shoes, straightens his shirt, buttons up his jacket, and slides his hand into the inside pocket to retrieve a pair of sunglasses. Pivoting to face the audience, he dons the sunglasses and sleeks his hair back with both hands while flashing that magnetic smirk. Sharp Dressed Man indeed! Tipping his head and sunglasses down, he gives a wink before strutting off the stage.

@succulent-tart

#show #performance #succulent tart #ryland #story #fwc2024 #Youtube

[emikadreams]

The Lord and the Lady

A/N: IT'S HERE FOLKS!! I hope you enjoy this chapter and let me know what you think💕 once again I highly recommend listening to this(I killed the bitch) playlist while you read this fic. song recs are always welcome! Hope you enjoy this fic...

INCYMI:  PROLOGUE

Chapter 1: THE LADY HAS ARRIVED

The wolves were howling, for their lady had come home.

The sun was shining with renewed vigour, the cherry blossoms filled the air with their fragrance and the people rejoiced and welcomed Feyre with open arms. 

The high lady was revered and loved by her people and by the Mother herself, she was Feyre, Cauldron blessed after all, after three years of denying herself her land, her birthright, her power she found herself again and accepted every fibre of her being. She breathed in the smell of her home deep into her lungs and sighed in contentment.

She was safe-she was free.

She welcomed the sweet pleasure of liberation and smiled as her people roared her name from the moment she set foot in her court. She stood with her spine straight and head held high  as her bloody clothes stood in stark contrast to her serene court. With her tattered dress blowing in the wind she walked into her home, a throng of people had gathered behind her. They followed their high lady, with unrestrained happiness. She passed merry children, stunned citizens, and busy marketplaces before walking into the garden where she came into her power. 

In the heart of her court, her throne was placed on a raised podium,and her people had lovingly painted it with a myriad of colours when she was crowned as the  High lady. The swirls of colour depicted her artistic soul and her childlike wonder that she thought was long gone. She skillfully conjured up stairs of darkness and stood at the bottom of the podium and said with a voice that resonated through the bones of every being in her court ,

 “ I’m home.” 

She outstretched her hands and her dirty, torn clothes transformed into her training leathers and a mantle adorned her shoulders. Her hair was left unbound and cascaded down to her waist.The blood, dust and grime disappeared from her body and she smiled without restraint, her happiness made the sun glow brighter, the flowers continued to blossom over the horizon, wolves howled in pride, and a chorus of  thunderous applause followed. Her general, Nesta Archeron, walked up to her with a crown in hand. Nesta held her hand before whispering, “Welcome home Fey.” Feyre could see Nesta was trying not to cry, she swallowed a lump in her throat and  nodded, her eyes conveying everything she felt when words continued to fail her. Nesta’s eyes softened and she hugged her sister tightly.

Her spymaster, Elain Archeron floated up to them and joined the hug, “We missed you, Fey. We were beyond miserable without you.” Even though Elain’s voice was muffled, Feyre heard her loud and clear. They pulled out of the hug and Feyre saw tears lining Elain’s eyes but she blinked them back and smiled. 

The Archeron sisters were whole yet again.  

The three sisters stood close, their hands linked together with Feyre in the center. The sisters flanked her on either side, forming a formidable wall of power. They were a force to be reckoned with and the world now knew that the Archerons were not be messed with. The sisters were hesitant to let go of each other but they knew what had to be done first. Nesta placed the crown on Feyre’s head and every inch of her sighed with relief at the rightness of it, Elain placed the sword of Astraeus in her hands and nodded towards Feyre.

Feyre held the sword and ascended the stairs towards her throne. Once she reached the top she placed the sword on the engraved slot along the spine of the throne, instantly illuminating it. Gasps of awe and surprise erupted from the court which only increased in tempo as vines of light and darkness snaked down the throne. The garden was at once filled with stars and mist that emanated from deep within her, she sat on her throne and Nesta, shouted on top of her lungs, 

 “Long live, High Lady Feyre Archeron.”  her voice was laced with pride,

Her people echoed the sentiment and bowed.

 Feyre smiled and rested her hands on her throne, relishing in the feel of it. Every part of the court was hers, she had betrayed, manipulated, bled and killed, for this throne. She owned every inch of it and she reveled in the knowledge. 

She scraped a nail along the inscriptions etched on the hand-rest as the mist behind her throne took the shape of large wolves that placed themselves on either side of her. They bowed their heads, welcoming her back into the pack and resumed their role as the protectors of the High Lady. The chorus of her name continued and she let them rejoice, feeling a sense of peace wash over her. After she decided that she had received  enough attention to last a life time, she walked down the stairs and stood amongst her people, cleared her throat and the garden fell silent, her people turned attentive, “So, what have I missed.” 

The garden erupted into chaos and thus began the court’s one week revel, Solely for praising the High Lady of the Dusk court and filling her in on what had happened while she was away. 

                                                             ~

A week went by and Feyre had the eerie sense that trouble would be finding her soon. She walked the halls of her estate like a ghost and carried on with her duties but she couldn’t shake the feeling that her picture perfect world would come crumbling down any moment. Later that evening as she was holding court with her sisters and her emissary, her suspicions were proven correct and her life was upturned yet again.

“Why wasn’t I aware of the fact that our borders were infiltrated!” Feyre snarled in anger at Pari, the emissary to her court who had let this crucial detail slip from her tongue. She looked around the room nervously, earning a glare from Nesta and sigh from Elain. Pari stood rooted to the spot with fear as Feyre shook with barely restrained anger.

Feyre was furious, her grip on her power slackened, the chandeliers started shaking and the mountains trembled in the distance.

“Feyre,” Nesta said cautiously , “You were preoccupied,” Nesta raised an eyebrow and shrugged nonchalantly, besides we handled it.”

“That doesn’t give you free rein to keep me in the dark about the comings and goings of my court!” Feyre snapped. She started pacing the length of her room, while the room fell silent. Nesta turned her attention back to polishing her knives and Elain returned to reading her reports, both content on letting their sister sort her thoughts out. Seeing that the spotlight was no longer on her, Pari took this as an opportunity to all but run out of the room. The gears in Feyre’s mind were turning, multiple plans already taking root. She paused in her furious pacing as an idea took shape.

“How did they get past our shields?” she asked  Elain.

“Apparently, they found a weak spot.” she replied from her spot on Feyre's bed without raising her head from her reports.

“That’s not possible.” Feyre whispered to herself but her thoughts were interrupted when Nesta cleared her throat, dragging her attention towards her eldest sister.

“ I have an idea that can help us fully understand how our borders were breached but you won’t like it,” Nesta grinned. Feyre rolled her eyes and sketched a bow,” Humor me.”

Nesta’s grin grew wider, “ It requires talking to a certain violet-eyed High Lord.”

Feyre paled at the mention of the High Lord of Night, she started shaking her head, “No way. No fucking way!”

Elain sighed in exasperation and Nesta grinned at her sisters, “Time to meet the almighty Lord of Night, dear sisters.”

Feyre groaned in frustration,“Well, Fuck me!”

“I’d be happy too but maybe later, darling” a smooth voice cut her off. The Lord of the Night and his entourage sauntered into her bedroom and bowed while Rhysand stared her down.

Nesta brushed mental claws against the adamant shield to Feyre’s mind, she opened a sliver and let her in, Feyre’s exhaustion, anger and surprise enveloped Nesta like smoke as she spoke to Feyre in her mind “ We had to speak with him so we arranged a meeting a week ago when we finally got word that you would be coming home, so, surprise?” 

Feyre wished for a hole to open in the ground and swallow her whole as she straightened her spine and lifted her chin and regarded the infamous High Lord.

The two stared at each other as if they were the only two souls in the galaxy, stars winked to life in Rhysand’s eyes and Feyre felt a shiver of excitement snake down her spine. 

“This is not going to end well.” Elain mumbled and Nesta hummed in agreement and got up to leave but Feyre glared at both of her sisters rooting them to their spots. She tilted her head as if to say that they got her into this mess, so they were going to burn with her. They sighed but drifted to her side, her General stood to her left while her  spymaster was to her right. Rhysand’s entourage grinned toothily and Feyre’s sisters snarled in defiance.

Everyone in the room sucked in a breath as the High Lady of Dusk and the High Lord of Night spoke.

“Rhysand”

“Feyre darling.”

“Oh mother have mercy,” Feyre thought to herself as two of the most powerful faes in Prythian regarded each other with apprehension.

Taglist: lemme know if you want to be tagged💕

 @story-scribbler​ @thebonecarver​  @surielandiareendgame @feysand-loml  @flyingtortillasworldsblog @feysandandnyxsworld @ratabrasileira @wintersouldier57 @tanvee1231 @kayla-2​ ​ @evolving-dreamer​ ​

*bolded tags don't work

#feysand au #feyre archeron #rhysand #nesta archeron #elain archeron #dusk court #high lady feyre #canon divergence #my writing #au #the archeron sisters #feyre #general nesta #spymaster elain

[sandershospitalau]

The Extra Late Night Show

What can I say except surprise?

CW: Surgery, Mentions of Death, suggested death, Talk Shows, POV Second Person, Remus being gross, Virgil mention, Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, Sympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, only a tiny bit of angst at the end, Mostly funny

Archive of our Own

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You blend into the Miami crowds, lost in your own world. You consistently check your pocket to make sure your phone was still there. At this point, you aren’t entirely sure where you are. It's a nice part of town by the look of it, with shiny buildings on either side of the packed road and crowds mulling around you without a care in the world. You have quite a bit to do, but who would want to be doing that? The only way you can think of procrastinating is to take a walk.

You can almost feel the endless viruses floating into your mouth as you pass a gigantic building with more windows than walls. A large open courtyard pushes the building back from the road. Smooth paths cut through tenderly planted flowerbeds, looping around a large statue. The stone statue is a woman with a cloak draped around her modest black dress. She holds her hands to her torso. One hand loosely grips a large crucifix while the other nurses a tiny bouquet of flowers. Oh, now you know where you are! This is the main entrance to St. Gemma's Hospital! You passed by the statue a year ago to visit a friend who had heart surgery here. They got stuck with a pretty big bill (the joys of the American healthcare system), but the doctors did a fairly good job. You’re so distracted by the pretty statue, you’re not prepared for something to fly into your head and send you tumbling into the nearest stranger.

As you get your bearings, you look around for whoever hit you. Standing against the hospital wall with a trash bag over their back like a greasy Santa Claus is someone wearing a dark green jumpsuit, grinning wildly at you.

“Enjoy the show!” the person squeals. Before you can say anything, they race off, the trash bag jumping against their back. You look down at what the person threw at you. It’s a DVD, sitting in a clear case. There’s something written on the case cover in Sharpie.

The Extra Late Night Show!

Starring Remus Duke!

Now, when someone throws a mysterious DVD at you, the usual reaction should probably be to throw the DVD away. But you’ve got nothing better to do. So, nursing your aching head, you pick up the case and make your way towards home. You’ve got a movie to watch.

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The footage pops to life. You see a small office space, or what someone attempted to look like an office space. Shelves line the walls covered in cleaning supplies and napkins. The desk in the middle is a child’s school desk. The nameplate on the desk reads ‘Remus Duke’. Someone begins humming from somewhere off-camera.

“Do do Do do DoOoOoOoO,” they hum. “Do do Do do dooooooooo. Do do Do do Do! DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Do do do do do!” Someone pops out from behind the desk. It’s the same greasy person you saw throw the DVD at you!

“Welcome to the Extra Late Night Show!” The person chirps. “I am your Duke of Dirt and King of Chaos, Remus! As always, I have my loyal cameraman, Mitchell!” The camera shakes slightly.

“Dude, this place is a mess,” the cameraman, Mitchell, huffs.

“It’s a janitor’s closet, I don’t know what else you expected,” Remus laughs.

“I thought you had OCD,” Mitchell mutters.

“Nah, my writer decided to throw that out,” Remus scoffs.

“Huh?” Mitchell asks.

“Anywho, welcome to tonight’s show!” Remus declares, dramatically waving his hand overhead. “We’ve got a wonderful line-up for you, folks. Starting off tonight, we’re taking you on a tour of the geriatrics bathrooms! One of the grossest places in St. Gemma’s! Sprinkled throughout this show like eyeball shavings, we’ll include everyone’s favorite segment, Dumpsters of Miami, where I review the contents of my latest dumpster dive, alongside Emergency Room Horror, What’s In My Mouth, and tonight’s Top 5 Hottest Patients! Number 3 will surprise you!”

“You do know I have to work tonight,” Mitchell scoffs.

“Like anyone is going to notice one missing anesthesiologist!” Remus grunts, sitting on his desk.

“Yeah, my boss,” Mitchell huffs. “And the people I’m operating on.”

“But those segments will be highlighting tonight’s main event!” Remus continues. “We’ll be following Dr. D on his rounds tonight as he operates on burn victims and terrifies patients with his morbid scars!”

“Hold up,” Mitchell stammers. The camera pans down, showing Mitchell’s scrubs. “Dr. D? We can’t follow that guy! He’ll rip our skin off!”

“He’s a kitten,” Remus scoffs, waving his hand dismissingly. “We’re friends! It’ll be fine, trust me. Now come on, the geriatrics ward is calling our names!” Mitchell groans and turns off the camera. You decide to fast-forward through the geriatrics ward segment.

You stop at a clip of Remus pushing a large cleaning cart down the hall. St. Gemma’s hallways are just as clean as you remember them. You’re honestly surprised as you realize the dirty man you’re watching is the one in charge of cleaning this place. He polishes off a door handle, giving it a bright shine. He finishes the clean by sticking the doorknob in his armpit.

“You done?” Mitchell grunts.

“We’re almost at Dr. D’s office!” Remus laughs, continuing down the hall. “While we’re there, we’ll get an overview of what he does and convince him not to tear our faces off and let us film him! Here we are!” The camera pans to a wooden door with the words ‘Inter Hospital Consultant’ on it. “The doc’s not a fan of having his name on the door.” Remus pushed the door open and strolled right into the office.

Now THIS is what an office should look like. The room is very professional! Diplomas line the walls, but the names are covered with sticky notes inside the glass cases. The smooth faux-wood desk is clean and tidy, with a computer, a jar of pens and pencils, a black hat, and a phone. The man you assume is Dr. D seats in a comfy modern seat. Long burn scars trail down half of his face and turn a few strains of his black hair white. He wears a black shirt with a yellow tie under his white coat and a pair of yellow gloves. He’s glaring at the camera with an intense stare that makes you look away.

“Dr. Elting,” Dr. D sighs. “Shouldn’t you be preparing for the leg surgery on the 35-year old Latina woman that’s supposed to begin in…” He looks at the clock on his computer. “An hour and a half?”

“Relax, D, he’s with me,” Remus giggles. He sits on Dr. D’s desk and crosses his legs. “I called him in sick.”

“Dude, you can’t—” Mitchell stammers.

“I told them you had explosive diarrhea,” Remus says. “They didn’t ask too many questions. So, D, how does it feel to guest star on the Extra Late Night Show?”

“Your world famous talk show,” Dr. D groans. “It’s wonderful, Remus.”

“Woo!” Remus whoops. He lays on his back, knocking over Dr. D’s jar of pens. “So here’s what we’re going to do. You, my rough-skinned friend, are the star of our show! The audience wants to know what a night in the life is like for a surgeon! What’s it like consulting at other hospitals? You ever get the urge to squeeze someone’s heart and feel it beat in your hands?”

“Remus, Remus, Remus,” Dr. D tuts, shaking his head. “I already have that power. Now leave.”

“Nah,” Remus says. You hear a soft beep from somewhere in the room. Dr. D pulls something out of his pocket. His face tightens.

“A 7-C-3 from the EMTs,” Dr. D mutters. “Emergency surgery.”

“Oooo, what’s that?” Remus purrs, but Dr. D ignores him. He launches out of his chair and out of his office. Remus scrambles off the desk.

“Remus, this is an emergency call, we can’t follow him!” Mitchell hisses as the pair stumbles out of the office. The camera shakes so much, you can’t see much of what’s happening.

“Do it or I’m putting the leftovers from the geriatrics ward in your locker, chicken,” Remus growls. “Bak-Kah!” The camera angles towards Mitchell’s feet as the pair jog after Dr. D.

“You’re lucky I like your humor, Prince,” Mitchell chuckles.

“It’s Remus Duke when we’re filming!” Remus groans. “You have to use my stage name! Get the camera up!” Mitchell pulls up the camera, and you get a better view of the St. Gemma’s halls. Remus runs alongside the edge of the camera. “So, what’s a 7-C-3?”

“I don’t know EMT code,” Mitchell explains. “I think sevens are for burns.”

“Well then no wonder they called D!” Remus laughs. “He’s the best in the business for burns! I’ve handled the ‘hazardous materials’ from those operations, they look like chicken!” You can see Remus do quotation marks around ‘hazardous materials’. The camera pans around a corner just in time to see Dr. D enter a large elevator.

“Welp, he’s gone,” Mitchell says, stopping. “We better end the show.”

“He can’t lose me that easily!” Remus barks. Remus runs into the nearest elevator and presses a button. The camera barely gets inside before the doors closed.

“Dude, you left your cleaning supplies outside Dr. D’s office,” Mitchell remarks.

“If someone steals it, hey, free food!” Remus laughs. His face pops on camera. He’s so close, you can see each individual hair of his mustache. “This seems like the perfect time to cut to the next segment of our show! We’ll be right back!” Static fills the screen before going black.

You think it glitched out for a moment before white words slide into view. ‘Getting Personal With Remus’. Remus’s messy office pops on screen, but the lights are off. The only light in the room is a small fire inside a trash can beside Remus’s desk. Remus sits on top of the desk, staring into the camera with a smile and a wink.

“Happy Valentine’s!” Remus says. “Hope you like the candle. On tonight’s ‘Getting Personal’, we’re talking about how I met Dr. D. It’s quite the story! I was looking for a job when I suddenly stumbled upon a Help Wanted sign for… can you guess? You’re right, Taco Bell! I began working that same day! I loved tossing frozen food into the fryer. Well one day I got a bit too carried away with my tossing and I got shipped to St. Gemma’s with second-degree burns! And Dr. D was my doctor. I got fired from Taco Bell. Once I was all healed up, I got a job as a janitor here, and D and I have been friends ever since!” Remus kicks his leg out. His foot knocks against the trash can and tips it over. Fire begins to crawl towards the desk. “Now back to your regularly scheduled program.” The screen goes black again.

The DVD cuts back to the elevator just as the doors slide open. You vaguely remember seeing an article online about how good the burn ward at St. Gemma’s was, back when you were trying to find where the hospital was to visit your friend. It’s tough to get a good look inside with the moving camera, but you can see plush furniture and gentle lighting over a receptionist’s desk. Voices shout and give orders somewhere in the ward. The receptionist doesn’t seem to care.

“The patient in Room 705 just kicked it,” the receptionist mutters, glancing up at Remus. “You need to clean it out.” Remus ignores the receptionist and jogs down the hall towards the voices.

“Is there enough undamaged skin for the graphs?” one person asks.

“We may have to use some cadaver skin,” another responds.

“Oh, they’re doing skin grafts!” Remus chirps. He stops by a half-open metal door. The sign on the side reads ‘Operating Theater 2, Level 7’. Remus carefully pulls the door open.

“Remus, no!” Mitchell hisses. He grabs Remus’s arm and tugs him back. “You aren’t sterile.”

“I should hope not,” Remus chuckles, wiggling his eyebrows.

“If you go in there, you could spread an infection!” Mitchell groans. “Burn victims are the most in danger from them! You could kill the guy!”

“All in the name of a good show, right?” Remus sighs, shrugging. “Here, give me the camera.” The camera switches hands, and you finally get a good look at Mitchell. His long blonde hair is tied into a ponytail behind him. He’s wearing black scrubs under a thick white sweatshirt. While Remus’s stare bounced all over the place and Dr. D glared into your soul, Mitchell had the eyes of an emotional teenager ready to do something dangerous.

“I’m not getting fired because of you,” Mitchell hisses with gritted teeth.

“Relax, Anx-Mitch,” Remus says, correcting himself halfway through. The camera pans down and slips just inside the door. The operating theater is split in half. The half you can best see is a long row of sinks below a long window. Through the window you see doctors huddling around a patient. The angle is so bad you can barely tell what they’re doing. You can pick out Dr. D, since his burns pop up under the harsh OR light. He’s focused on the task in front of him, silent while the other doctors discuss how to proceed. He simply works.

“What are you doing?” the receptionist’s harsh voice screams. The camera jumps back and flies through the air, landing in Mitchell’s arms. Remus and Mitchell zoom down the hall with the receptionist’s threats echoing behind them.

“Time for a commercial break!” Remus laughs. He grabs the camera and pushes it down as it cuts to another segment. Here, Remus is outside in the middle of the day, leaning against a large, dirty, green dumpster.

“Here at the Remus Academy of Dumpster Diving,” Remus states with the full professionalism of an actual salesman. “You’ll be taught all the best locations in Miami to score some sweet goods! But don’t come near St. Gemma’s or I’ll steal your kneecaps!” Remus flips open the dumpster with a loud clang. He hoists himself up and tumbles into the half full pit of disease. “For the simple cost of your social security number, you’ll get first hand experience at discovering the untold treasures of garage cans and curbside trash. For example…” Remus pops up with a broken baseball bat. The top half has been ripped off. “Weapons! Or…” He ducks back down and brings up a handful of shredded paper. “Confetti!” He tosses the paper in the air. “Call the number below in the next half hour and you’ll get your dumpster personally looted!” The ‘phone number’ Remus mentioned isn’t even composed of numbers. It’s A#@-JRD-(D#$. “Join the Remus Academy of Dumpster Diving today!”

The show quickly cuts back to Dr. D’s office. Remus is laying on the floor, kicking his legs in the air. The camera sits beside him.

“Can I stop filming now?” Mitchell groans. “My phone’s going to die.”

“Sadly, we couldn’t get more juicy surgery footage,” Remus huffs. “So we’ll just have to wait for D to come back!”

“Surgery takes a while, Remus,” Mitchell scoffs. “Don’t whine about it. It’s only been a few hours.” The office doors creaks open. Dr. D steps inside his office, slipping on his yellow gloves. You get a glimpse of the burns covering his fingers. Remus shoots up like a puppy. Mitchell clambers up, groaning.

“So how’d it go?” Remus chirps. Dr. D slinks to his desk and sits down.

“Do your job, Remus,” Dr. D grumbles, staring into his computer.

“What, too squeamish to share details?” Remus scoffs, sitting on the desk.

“Exactly,” Dr. D sighs.

“Come on,” Remus purrs. He pokes at Dr. D’s cheek with each word. “Come on come on come ON!” Dr. D glares at Remus and the camera takes a step back. He settles his hands flat on his desk.

“I want you to imagine you have some resemblance of medical training,” Dr. D mutters. “You’re creative, I trust it’s not too difficult. Now I want you to imagine your patient is a 30-something man who was nearly beaten to a pulp by his abusive parents.” Something drops in Remus’s gaze. He’s no longer poking at Dr. D. “I want you to imagine yourself in surgery trying to repair the damage to this man, but as soon as you fix one issue, another issue comes up. The man’s body is destroying itself on the table and there is nothing you can do until a fellow doctor announces the time of death.” Dr. D’s words come out as a violent hiss. His fingers clench inside his gaudy gloves. “Now imagine myself in that situation, but the patient was asleep as their apartment burned around them, and tell me if you would be excited to talk about it!” Remus hops off the desk. Dr. D’s hands unclench slightly, though his jaw is threatening to break his teeth.

“I am in no mood for your ridiculous show,” Dr. D grumbles. For the first time in the show, Remus seems softer. His edges aren’t so sharp. His dirty nails rest over Dr. D’s glove. Dr. D fixes his black hat and takes a deep breath. Then he glares into the camera.

“Leave,” he hisses. Mitchell takes off, out of the office and into the hall before the camera cuts. After a few seconds of darkness, Remus’s office space reappears. He’s sitting behind his desk, once again carrying his demonic smile.

“Come on, don’t be shy!” Remus laughs. Someone groans behind the camera. Dr. D steps into view and takes a spot standing behind Remus. He seems a bit calmer than earlier.

“That’s all the time we have for this episode!” Remus chirps, rocking back and forth. “We're ditching the rest of our line-up because I don't care! I’d like to give a warm thank you to Dr. D for being a fabulous guest on our show tonight!” Dr. D seems resigned to his fate, but far more happy than Mitchell ever did. “Tune in next time for live coverage of the Sanders Hospital hosted Nurse’s Rally!”

“A rally?” Dr. D asks, glancing down at Remus. He takes a phone out of his coat and types something in. “...organized by Virgil Lawson.” He puts the phone away again. His expression is unreadable, unchanged from earlier. “Remus, could I assist you in your next episode at this rally?”

“I’d love that!” Remus shouts, throwing his hands in the air. “See you next time on the Extra Late Night Show! Bye, everybody! Do do Do do DoOoOoOoO. Do do Do do dooooooooo. Do do Do do Do! DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Do do do do do! ” Remus waves goodbye. The screen turns black. The show is finally done. Without saying a word, you take the DVD out of your player. You gently put it back in its case. You walk into your kitchen. You open up the trash can and put it inside. Then you decide to look up how to rid a home of curses because you are certain there was a violent curse on that DVD.

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@purelyreblogstsedition @watchoutforthefanfics @moonlight22oa @mediocrity-at-best

#remus sanders #deceit sanders #mitchell cartoon therapy #sanders hospital #sanders hospital fanfic #sanders sides #sanders sides au #cartoon therapy #cartoon therapy au #surgery #mentions of death

[deathfm]

(  margaret qualley.  nineteen.  she/her.  )   everything’s fine,  WEDNESDAY ADDAMS,  you’re in the good place!  do you remember your last days in  THE ADDAM’S FAMILY VALUES? but don’t worry, your  ( chipped black nail polish, a sweet smile that promises nothing good, hollowness in her dark eyes, a dark monotone )  will fit perfectly with the rest of the good place, so long as you commit to the  MANIC PIXIE DREAM GIRL  despite your tendency to commit to  ( apathy )  that the architect of the good place said you were. it’ll just be like a fun acting exercise! just play along and everything will continue to be fun. (  pepper.  twenty three.  est.  she/her)

ABOUT THE MUN.  gay in the house and i’m in the house gay

hey bitch, do you really, really, really wanna go hard? hello all! my name is pepper. i meant to do this intro bit a bit earlier but i got very distracted by dr. stone so i apologize for that! i am also going to apologize in advance because i 1. have not rped in like three weeks and frankly you’re gonna be able to tell, i am very rusty and 2. i haven’t been in a multifandom rp.... in at least like a year, so i’m also very rusty at that! that said i freaking love the good place and i could not pass up this opportunity! if anyone has watched the show and wants to cry with me over jason mendoza,,,, hit your girl up. that said omg okay a bit about me: i say omg, like, and literally way too often, so sorry about that in advance. i’m also very canadian, which probably explains all the apologizing sdkjsdk. i work in a grocery store so i’m technically essential which means i will be disappearing semi often to do long ass shifts at work (rip) but i’m almort always lurking on mobile or discord so pleathe,,, hmu. and finally plotting and exchanging headcannons and things? my freaking lifeblood. i live for that shit. please talk to me, i’m beggin’. okay sdkjdskj now onto some stuff about everybody’s favourite goth girl, ms wednesday addams. 

CHARACTERIZATION.  sorry for being a dark sorcerer. as if its my fault.

okay, if you’ve ever watched any addam’s family content... i am really not deviating much from that. the daughter of a rather eccentric morbid family who grew up rather eccentric and morbid herself. has always had a facination with death that she now just gets to nurture in this environment (although lowkey wednesday is kind of dissapointed by the whole set up i’m not gonna lie). you get the vibe.

died in 1993! the height of rock and roll, pop boy bands, and chokers. 

definitely lowkey thinks that she’s a disappointment to her family for ending up in the good place in the first place. will be thrilled when it’s eventually revealed that this is the bad place. or well, as thrilled as wednesday gets. 

wednesday addams is a demigirl and you can’t change my mind. honestly considering making her straight agender tbh, because that just seems like fact to me. 

a bisexual icon. hates everybody but hates everybody equally. will fuck your shit up if you’re misogynistic, homophobic or racist. let me direct y’all to this video cause this is fact. 

kind of an arsonist honestly. loves to set things aflame. definitely did indeed set her summer camp on fire. is pretty proud of it. 

lowkey will miss her family so much while up here. she never really had friends outside of her family, like not real genuine ones. wednesday’s never really truly been on her own until the afterlife and she’s honestly a bit unsettled by it. won’t let it show in the slightest though, honestly you’d be sure pressed to see wednesday’s veil of indifference break for even a moment. that said, she definitely misses pugsley and lurch the most even though she’ll never admit it. might get lonely enough to actually attempt to find herself a friend we’ll see. 

truly a little bit witchy, but like regular person witchy considering wednesday never had any powers in cannon and certainly doesn’t now. will do a seance in her place to attempt to see if she can reach the mortal realm. is very seriously wondering where the demons are. would have a lot of medieval weapons in her place if it really was catered to her, but seeing as things are meant to be a bit off wednesday’s place is probably filled with stuffed animals and dolls, but not even creepy dolls... but cute ones. the whole room is bubble gum pink and whenever she tries to paint the walls black they just revert back... she’s mad about it honestly. 

that said wears black and only black at all times but that should be a given. 

is definitely wondering where her ex joel is. like she figured he would have popped up here after she scared him to death and so she’s a bit confused, but rolling with it. 

WANTED CONNECTIONS.  winks with my third eye

A SUSPICIOUS BYSTANDER. honestly i would die,,, for someone who realizes that wednesday definitely doesn’t belong here and mayhaps a team cockroach situation? like they both know they’re in the wrong place and they try to help each other hide it. please,,, i need it. 

PARTNER IN CRIME. kind of the new pugsley but it might be more of an equal relationship. basically someone who wednesday can drag into her messes. the person on the other side of the seance circle... they catch each other’s gaze through the incense smoke,,, the romance of it all no i’m kidding sorry sdkjdsj but i do want this connection!

UNLIKELY PAIR. an april and andy situation. they are complete opposites, one the doom and gloom and the other sunshine and rainbows,,, and yet someone it works. wednesday would kill someone for them.

TWO PEAS IN A POD. the opposite of the other connection because these two meet and just instantly click! they both have so much hate deep inside of them! and now they can share this hate with each other! it’s a match made in heaven (badum tsss) and probably one of the first times wednesday actually wants to really try to be friends with someone. 

CRUSH. either on wednesdays end or theirs i just feel like this could be really fun! 

ENEMY. someone who hates wednesday and who wednesday hates in return. their personalities just really clash, and wednesday knows that if she ever really does find herself in hell, she’s dragging them with her. 

UNSUSPECTING NEIGHBOUR. i don’t know why but i just find the concept of there just being some poor schmuck who wednesday pesters for like a lock of their hair or something. like they don’t deserve this. but she’s bored here in paradise and she’s making a bit of a game out of creeping them out. after all, what else is there to do?

and anything else under the sun folks, i would love to plot something specific to our muses out! so yes, smash that like button and i will come running!

#gplaces.intro #this is messy as hell but here it is #it's been so long since i've played a muse with a set backstory... i didn't know what to do with myself tbh but i had fun anyways so!

[savage-rhi]

it’s strange that it feels so right when nothing else does your two babies higgs and genie :33

Here you go honey 💙

The faint melody of guitar strings echoed through the early night. Gene stopped to listen upon feeling a small gust of wind travel under her chin, making the hairs on her neck stand. The song Higgs was strumming to was different than the one she had heard before. The previous tune he played was nostalgic and melancholy, whereas this one was upbeat. Spiritual, one would be bold to say. 

Snapping out of her trance, she ventured to their campsite. They took shelter in an abandoned building, where a small city once stood before a void out took the majority of it to the afterlife. Carrying scrap in one arm, she sat the items by her sleeping mat. Higgs didn’t look up from the guitar, continuing to play. 

“I hope you didn’t steal that from anybody this time around.” Gene chuckled, remembering their previous altercation. In hindsight, it was hilarious but Gene didn’t want to get chased down on account Higgs couldn’t keep his hands to himself. Nonetheless, Gene had to admit Higgs was getting better at not stealing from folks. He was making an effort to appease her. 

“Trust me, I covered my tracks. Lesson learned.” Higgs teased, looking briefly to give Gene a wink. She smiled, happy the fire hid the flush that consumed her cheeks. 

“What are you playing this time?” Gene asked curiously. 

A soft sigh escaped Higgs as he messed up a chord, the string making a slink sound that had Gene’s ears twitch. 

“An old-timer tune. Somethin’ I used to hear the geezers sing at the colonies when I was a kid.” Higgs said, briefly smiling as he got lost in the memory. It had been one of the few he cherished. 

“You know, when I first met you, I never pegged you a music enthusiast,” Gene said, watching Higgs as he went about tuning the guitar. The old thing had been tarnished by Timefall, but the instrument still had spirit left that Higgs was able to draw out with his fingertips. 

“Truth be told, I never was until I went into exile. It’s strange that it feels so right when nothing else does.” Higgs said sincerely. It was the softest Gene had heard him talk. 

“You musically inclined, darlin’?” Higgs asked, smiling like he was up to no good. 

Gene shook her head, taking a drink out of the tin cup Higgs and she had been sharing earlier on. 

“I can’t say I ever been.” Gene laughed. “I mean I like music, but I never played anything before.”

Higgs got up from his sleeping mat, going to Gene’s side while carrying the guitar over. He scooted close, putting the instrument in Gene’s lap then crawled behind her. His face peered over her right shoulder, watching to make sure she had her fingertips on the right cords. 

“Higgs what are you--”

“I’m gonna teach you. It’s easy peasy.” 

“This is embarrassing,” Gene muttered, blowing a bit of hair out of her face as she felt her nerves rise. 

“You’ve beaten the shit out of MULEs, killed folks, and you’re a porter. I’m surprised a guitar has you shittin’ bricks.” Higgs joked, chuckling at Gene’s expense as he guided her hands on where to go. 

“Point taken.” Gene nervously laughed, following his lead. When she was situated, Higgs had her strum along, whispering gently when to change. His own fingers guided the way, taking her on the journey as Gene played her first song. It was rusty, and the sounds could have been more polished, but for a beginner, it was pleasant. Higgs smiled proudly as he retreated back his hand.

“Just keep repeatin’ that,” Higgs whispered, then realizing how intimately close he was to Gene, swallowed and moved to the side. He felt his face turn red, having enjoyed the closeness far more than he should have. Nonetheless, he continued on with the lesson. 

“You’re pretty good,” Higgs commented, smiling as Gene did. 

“Not as good as you.” Gene said.

“You’ll get there, so long as you keep hangin’ out with me. It’s hard for folks to escape my influence.” Higgs joked. 

“Pfft. Just when I thought you weren’t an egotistical bastard, you proved me wrong.”

“I’d say that’s an upgrade from asshole, comin’ from you,” Higgs smirked, amused at how Gene looked away bashfully and continued on. There came a point where Higgs started humming with the tune, closing his eyes and getting lost in the sounds. Memory ended up serving Higgs, as the lyrics to the old song came back to him and he sang. 

Gene couldn’t help but look up from the guitar strings, messing up from time to time. She couldn’t take her eyes off of Higgs. Not when he sang. His voice was soothing, honeyed by how melodic the song was. Gene could feel her pulse hasten, her stomach rolling over itself in gentle massages. Fear and excitement went down her spine as it dawned on her not so subtly that she had caught feelings. It hurt as she played, wanting to stop and embraced him, but Gene continued on. Thankful she got to see this side of Higgs most people would never have the luxury of witnessing. That was good enough for her. 

**A link to my ko-fi account. If you enjoy my content and want to support me getting my monthly medication for fibromyalgia and arthritis, I would be eternally grateful. It is NOT a requirement however! All my work is free to read!**

#higgs #higgs monaghan #ds higgs #death stranding higgs #gene dawkins #gene #ds gene #death stranding gene #death stranding oc #death stranding #death stranding fandom #sky of atoms #fanfic verse #higgs x gene #gene x higgs #unrequited feelings #mutual pining #one shot #drabbles #quick write #free write #writing #request #practice #thanks hon #Anonymous

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Beautiful Loser

Summary: The Winchesters retired from hunting years ago after wiping the last traces of supernatural creatures from the planet. They’ve settled down, found homes and jobs, and Dean and the reader have created a family of their own. It’s not until they decide to take the family on a camping trip and their kids start to mention some strange things to them, that Dean and the reader start to wonder if the supernatural has found a way back into their lives…

Square: Family

Pairing: Daddy!Dean x reader (with Jason - 16, Lydia - 15 & Scarlett (Scar) - 6)

Word Count: 9,900ish

Warnings: language, angst, fluff, demons

A/N: Written for @spndeanbingo

“Hey,” you said from the kitchen counter, giving Dean and Jason a smile as they walked in around ten. “How’d the game go?”

“We won,” said Jason with a yawn, scratching his stomach as he went to the fridge and pulled out a piece of leftover pizza, chowing down on it as Dean stared at him. “What?”

“We literally just went through a drive through ten minutes ago. Also, wash your hands,” said Dean, Jason holding his up as he went to the sink, scrubbing them up and going back to his pizza. “I swear half the grocery bill goes straight to your stomach.”

“He is a teenage boy, Dean,” you said, sipping on your glass of wine with a tired smile. “You and Sam were once them...you know how it is.”

Dean hummed, giving you a look that he was glad you caught yourself. You knew when Dean was Jason’s age, food was still a valuable resource and there wasn’t always enough for him and Sam. Well, Dean always made sure Sam was taken care of at least.

“How’d Lydia’s game go?” asked Dean. You shook your head, Dean groaning. “Really?”

“Lost by one. Other team scored right before the buzzer. Lydia thought for sure they’d win and move on to playoffs,” you said.

“That sucks,” said Jason.

“She’s pretty upset about it,” you said.

“Well she is the goalie,” said Jason.

“I think what mom’s saying is maybe after you get washed up, go check on your sister bud,” said Dean.

“She’s that upset?” he asked, Dean and you both seeing all the little alarms in him go off you’d seen a million times in Dean. “I’m gonna need ice cream for this.”

“It’s in the freezer,” you said with a smile, Jason grabbing his gym bag and ice cream and heading for the stairs. “He gets that from you.”

“The overprotectiveness? I’ve noticed,” said Dean with a chuckle. “Lyd’s that bad?”

“Nah. I talked to her, told her about a game I lost in high school, said the same thing happened. She perked up, knows it’s not the end of the world,” you said.

“You didn’t play sports in high school,” said Dean.

“They don’t know that, Mr. I was the quarterback,” you teased, Dean narrowing his eyes. “Number 12, second string.”

“Someone passed the test,” he teased back, going to the liquor cabinet and grabbing some whiskey, pouring it into the empty wine glass you had out. He cheered his glass against yours and took a swig. “How’d work go?”

“Good. You?” you asked.

“Mhm,” he hummed.

“You hate being a paralegal, don’t you,” you said. Dean shrugged, chugging down his glass.

“I hate having to wear a suit everyday. I liked the garage much better,” he said.

“Then find another garage to work at,” you said.

“Yeah but Sammy’s firm pays good and they only make me work 40 hours and they’re super flexible with letting me leave and come back for the kids stuff,” he said. “This being a real adult thing sucks sometimes.”

“Tell me about it,” you said. You both sighed and poured yourself refills, trading your glasses with one another and taking long sips. “Scarlett didn’t want to go to sleep in her room tonight. She thinks there’s a monster in her closet.”

“I can 100% guarantee there isn’t,” said Dean with a chuckle. “Since we got rid of them all and everything. Did you get her to sleep?”

“Yeah. Eventually. Lydia said something last week about a weird noise in her room. I checked and didn’t find anything,” you said.

“No EMF?” asked Dean.

“Nothing. No signs of sulfur. No sign of anything,” you said. “I figured it was just the wind. The house creaks when it’s windy like that.”

“Yeah,” said Dean, grabbing your hand on the counter, running his thumb over the back of it. “Think we’ll ever stop being scared of it coming back?”

“No. I try to think of it as a healthy paranoia. It’s like when we let the kids go out driving by themselves for the first time or first days of school or first dates,” you said.

“Plus we got Scar to grow up all over again,” said Dean, resting his head on your shoulder. “We should go on vacation.”

“Kid’s are out of school in two weeks,” you said. “I can take off time whenever so it’s not an issue. Where do you want to go?”

“Camping?” asked Dean. “Take the kids, go hiking, exploring, normal stuff.”

“Remember our last camping trip,” you said, Dean laughing. “Freaking Wendigo ruined my favorite jacket ever. I was so pissed.”

“You were. You ranted about it the whole way home,” said Dean. “Whatever happened to that thing?”

“I think I left it at the bunker. Always meant to fix it but never did,” you said with a yawn. “Want to head up to bed?”

“I haven’t seen you since breakfast,” he whined.

“I said let’s go to bed, not to sleep,” you said, polishing off the rest of his drink, giving him a wink.

“This is how we ended up with Scarlett if you recall,” he teased.

“If you don’t think you can handle this, Winchester-”

“Oh, I’ll handle it alright,” he said with a smirk. “I’ll handle all of it.”

Two Weeks Later

“Guys, for the last time, your phones will not work out in the woods,” said Dean, leaning against the door to the SUV. Dean absolutely hated it but the thought of getting in a car accident with his three kids in a car built in the sixties terrified him even more. “Leave your phones at the car.”

“Fine,” said Lydia, shoving hers in the backseat, Jason following after. You watched Scarlett walk out of the bathroom area at the state park, walking over with a little smile, Dean giving you a smirk as she’d gotten more independent lately.

“Everyone gone to the bathroom?” asked Dean. He got a bunch of nods. “Backpacks? Boots tied tight?”

“Dad,” said Jason, rolling his eyes. “We’re good.”

“Alright,” said Dean, grabbing the bag from the backseat you knew the kids were going to spend the next hour grumbling about. Dean pulled out a few black strips and walked to each one of them, grabbing their wrists and sliding the bracelets on, the older two already complaining as you pulled one on for you and Scarlett. “It’s got GPS in it in case anyone gets lost. I got the tracker in my bag so-”

“Dad. It’s a state park. We’re not going to get lost,” said Lydia.

“And if your six year old little sister wandered off, you wouldn’t want to know where she went?” asked Dean. Lydia sighed, holding up her hands in defeat. “Jason, why don’t you take the lead?”

“Me?” he said, pointing to himself.

“Yeah,” said Dean with a smile.

“I thought that was always my job,” said Sam from around the side of the car, all three kids turning around with big smiles. “You guys didn’t think you were going camping without Uncle Sam did you?”

“Sammy,” said Dean, tossing one of the bracelets to Sam, Sam cocking his head before he slipped it on. Dean locked up the car and looked to Jason and then Sam. “Well somebody get walking. We aren’t camping in the parking lot after all.”

“Come on dude,” said Sam, nudging Jason’s shoulder as they started to walk into the woods.

“Scar, what’s the rule for you again?” you asked, Lydia walking next to her sister a few feet in front of you and Dean.

“Always be with somebody and no running off by myself,” she said.

“That’s right. Lyd?” asked Dean, Lydia glancing back over her shoulder with a smile.

“I’ll keep an eye on her for now, dad. Don’t worry.”

After a few hours of walking, you found a great spot to set up, Lydia and Jason setting up their tent, laughing as Scarlett kept trying to crawl inside before it was finished. Sam had his up like that, you and Dean taking a little longer, giving Sam a look to slow things down.

“Sorry. Sort of hard to turn it off sometimes. Even after all these years,” said Sam, opening up a cooler for some cold water.

“Trust us. We know,” you said, sitting down on the green cooler, Dean taking a seat on the other side, Sam chuckling as the kids finally figured out how to get the tent up. “Two of you are honor roll students. Don’t let us old folks beat you.”

“I’m on honor roll!” said Scarlett, your dad laughing.

“You graduated from Kindergarten. You’re not quiet at that stage in the game yet, Scar,” he said, walking over to help them secure the pins in the ground. “Alright. How about a little water and lunch break and then we can go exploring? There’s a lake not too far we can check out.”

“Mm, thank you, Scar,” said Dean, sitting on the shore of the lake in his swim trunks, one arm wrapped around Scarlett as they sat in the shallow water, only up to her waist. Scarlett popped another grape from her bag into Dean’s mouth, Dean laughing around it as she kept filling him up.

“Hey old man!” you heard Sam shout, Jason and Lydia laughing as they swam a bit further out with their uncle. “Yeah, you, grandpa!”

“Okay, honey,” you said, taking Scarlett off Dean’s lap and settling her on your own. “Daddy has to go tackle Uncle Sam now.”

Dean was off and out there in a matter of seconds, wrapping his arms around Sam and tackling him into the water, both men popping up from the water after a moment full of laughs. You smiled as you watched them play in the water, Scarlett content to sit still after the long walk. You traced your finger along the scar on her back, Scarlett giggling as you did so.

“Did we ever tell you we named you Scarlett because of this scar on your back?” you asked. She turned her head around and shook it, staring up with big green eyes. “You were a very sick baby when you were born. You had to have surgery right away. It all went okay but they told us you’d have this scar on your back and it’d get tinier as you got older.”

“Cool,” she said.

“You are your father’s daughter,” you said, kissing the top of her head as she polished off the rest of her grapes.

“I thought the scar was from the monster in the closet,” she said.

“Monsters aren’t real, Scar,” you said.

“The monster in the closet said he gave it to me,” she said. You tensed up, immediately trying to force your body to relax.

“Well that’s not true at all. You were sick and had to have surgery, like when Jason broke his arm a few years ago,” you said.

“The monster said he made me sick,” she said. You swallowed hard, resting your chin on top of her head as she started to play in the water a little, still wrapped in your arms.

“Dean,” you said, both his and Sam’s heads whipping your direction. They both got out, the kids oblivious to the tone in it. “Guys, let’s dry off before it starts to get dark out. We got a campfire and smores to make after all.”

“She said that?” said Dean quietly while the kids took turns with smores, Jason holding Scar in his lap. “She said the monster made her sick.”

“Isn’t that what the demon from when you were a kid did to you?” asked Sam quietly. You nodded, holding your arms around yourself. “She’s a kid, she’s just-”

“We never found it. What if it’s back? It never made any sense. I had two perfectly healthy pregnancies and so was Scarlett’s until right after she was born. I was the the third kid in my family, Sam. I have a scar on my back that I don’t know where it came from. I was six when he took me and killed my family,” you said, squeezing your eyes. “No. No. This isn’t-”

“Shh,” said Dean, placing both his hands on your face, taking a deep breath. “Calm down, Y/N. It’s okay. We destroyed everything supernatural on the planet.”

“Yes. On the planet. What if hell wasn’t part of that equation?” you said. “Just because we haven’t heard of any demon activity doesn’t mean one didn’t figure out how to come back. Of course it’d go after the hunters that shut everything down.”

“...Do you really think-“ said Sam, cutting himself off. “Jason mentioned when we were swimming...he asked if he was too old to be scared of the dark.”

“Jason was never that scared of the dark,” said Dean, rubbing his hands against his head. “He’s had his nightstand lamp on every night for the past month. I thought he was just tired and forgot to turn it off.”

“Guys. We gotta calm down. If this was a normal case, how would we work it?” you asked.

“We are not working a damn case,” said Dean, glaring at you and Sam. “These are completely rational things we’re blowing way out of proportion. She’s six. She has an active imagination. Lydia heard a weird sound because it was the wind and Jason probably watched a horror movie and got spooked. It’s all completely normal. We are normal. We made a deal that we would never bring kids into this life and we didn’t.”

He spun around, Jason and Lydia staring at him, Dean closing his eyes, realizing he’d started to raise his voice.

“Dad-”

“Sam, please take Scar in your tent tonight,” said Dean. Sam nodded, Jason handing her off as Sam grabbed her bag and shuffled the two of them away. Lydia looked to Jason, nudging him with her foot. “You two change into your pajamas and then come to our tent.”

Dean took your hand and guided the two of you inside your own tent, Dean practically shaking by the time you were inside.

“We don’t have to tell them,” you whispered. “We don’t.”

“But what if I want them to be normal so bad it puts them in danger? All of us in danger?” said Dean, closing his eyes. “I can rationalize it both ways.”

“If this were a case, we’d interview the witnesses. Jason and Lydia are old enough that we’ll get straight answers from them so let’s start with that before we tell them about our old lives. Agreed?” you asked. Dean nodded and seemed to relax a little. After a few minutes you heard the zipper of your tent be pulled down, Lydia crawling in, Jason not far behind. The both sat close to each other, both staring at you and then Dean.

“We’re going to ask you some questions and they’re going to sound strange but just go with it, okay?” you asked. They both nodded and you took a breath. “Recently, have either of you smelled sulfur? At home, school, a friends?”

“What?” asked Jason.

“Just answer the question for mom, Jason. Please,” said Dean.

“No,” he said. Lydia shook her head, Dean relaxing even more. “What’s-”

“Have any of your friends been acting strange? Anyone you know?” asked Dean.

“Besides you guys, no,” said Lydia.

“Show it to me,” you said. Dean tugged on his shirt collar, showing his tattoo to you.

“Your turn,” he said. You peeled down your shorts just so your hip was showing, Lydia dropping her jaw. “Good.”

“You guys have matching tattoos? That’s kind of adorable actually,” she said. “And since when does mom have a tattoo?”

“Lyd. Focus. They’re being weird, like super weird and I want to know why,” said Jason. You looked at Dean, thinking of how to best phrase the next question.

“Why are you sleeping with a light on?” asked Dean, looking at your son. Jason shrugged. “It’s okay. I’m a grown ass man and I don’t like the dark either. I just want to know why you suddenly got this fear.”

“I had a nightmare a month ago. It freaked me out and...it was weird. This guy, like a few years younger, he said to keep the light on to keep it away,” said Jason. “It was stupid but I just do it now. I don’t even know a Calvin.”

Dean whipped his head to you, everyone’s eyes on you as you tried to keep calm.

“Didn’t Calvin…” said Dean, your head nodding. “Hallie-”

“I had a weird dream with a girl named Hallie about a month ago too! She was like barely older than Scar is but...mom are you okay?” she asked.

“Not really, sweetie,” you said, looking to Dean. “We can’t go back to the house.”

“I know,” said Dean, closing his eyes, opening them again to give the kids a smile. “Guys...mom and I have to tell you something. It’s a big deal and it’s okay if it freaks you out and scares you.”

“Is this about how you guys lie to us about when you were younger?” asked Jason. You opened your mouth only for Dean to nod. “You guys don’t do it often but Lyd and I catch you screwing up sometimes. Like how mom said she lost a soccer game in high school but that didn’t make sense because she said she was a cheerleader too and they’re done at the same time.”

“At least we ended up with smart kids,” you said, rubbing your hand against your head.

“So...you guys like spies or something?” asked Lydia.

“No,” said Dean. “Your mom and me and your Uncle Sammy...we were hunters.”

“What’d you hunt?” asked Jason.

“Monsters.”

 About an hour later, both kids were sat staring blankly at you and Dean. You’d told them the important parts and about the demon from your childhood, about your siblings Calvin and Hallie and how you hoped they were reaching out to your kids to warn them how to stay safe this time around. But they were still freaking out as expected.

“A demon made you sick, murdered your family and kidnapped you?” asked Lydia. You hummed, her head shaking. “Well how’d you get away?”

“A hunter rescued me but this demon had been hurting me for a while so it made me a bit scared. The hunter couldn’t drop me off somewhere and he took care of me, nursed me back to health. He was super grumpy but he loved me like a dad. He was my second dad,” you said. “His name was Bobby.”

“Your grandpa was friends with Bobby which is how Sammy and me met your mom when we were kids. Y/N was my best friend growing up. She was a hunter’s kid and Sammy and I didn’t really know other ones. It was nice having a friend that you didn’t have to hide things from,” said Dean, giving your hand a squeeze. “We’ve known each other a long time.”

“So you guys all grew up to become hunters?” asked Jason.

“Basically. I went to college and so did Uncle Sam but we both came back to hunting, Sam sooner than I did,” you said.

“Why didn’t you go to college?” asked Lydia. Dean bit his bottom lip, glancing at you. “I mean, not everyone has to go to college. Right?”

“Dad didn’t have much of a choice on whether he wanted to or not,” you said, Lydia raising an eyebrow. “Your grandpa-”

“Was a controlling bastard that treated me more like a soldier than a son most of the time,” said Dean. “I’ve forgiven him for it all though. I am a crap ton of screwed up deep down but that’s not the important stuff to focus on. This demon is. It is very obviously back and you two need to be extra careful.”

“They could get tatted,” you said.

“For what?” they both asked.

“Anti-demon possession,” you said. Jason burst out laughing, your dad frowning at him.

“Why don’t you go ask your uncle how fun it is to have a demon wearing you as a meat suit and see how funny it is?” he said. Jason lowered his head and sighed. “I know this is nuts guys and we thought it was safe but it’s obviously not and you have to take this stuff seriously.”

“We will,” he said, Dean giving him a soft smile.

“How do we stop this demon?” asked Lydia. “If it’s like what happened to mom, it wants Scar, right? We aren’t going to let that happen.”

“No, we aren’t,” you said. “But your little sister is going to keep on thinking monsters are make believe for the time being. For her sake. We aren’t going to stop this thing either. We’ll kill it.”

“How do you kill a demon?” she asked.

“Angel blades, the colt. Your mom is a fan of the demon blade,” said Dean. “I gave it to her as an anniversary present.”

“It was very sweet of him,” you said.

“You guys are so weird,” she said, Jason holding up a finger.

“But how do you get close enough to use a blade on a demon?” he asked.

“You get close,” you said. “It’s scary but not as bad if you know what you’re doing.”

“No,” said Dean, giving you a side glance.

“I didn’t say anything,” you said.

“I know what you’re thinking and you are not being bait for this thing to come after again,” said Dean.

“The only things we know it has an interest in are me and Scar and she sure as shit ain’t being bait,” you said.

“...You can’t. I’m sorry but I won’t let you,” said Dean.

“That’s not your decision to make,” you said.

“If we screw up, our kids are not losing us both,” said Dean. “I can-”

“Oh, not this again, not in front of the kids,” you said. “Enough with the self-worth crap. You are not-”

“You’ve always been a far better mom than I’ve been a dad. They can get by without me,” said Dean.

“I said not in front of the kids,” you said, Dean snapping his jaw shut. You gave them both a glance, their eyes on Dean. “It’s summer so school’s not going to be a problem. I say after our trip, we take the kids to somewhere else to stay while we work the case. When the coast is clear, they come home.”

“They would be safe...there,” said Dean with a nod.

“Safe where?” asked Lydia. “And what is dad-”

“Where mom and I used to live before kids. It’s where Uncle Cas and your cousin Jack live,” he said.

“I thought they were always traveling so they didn’t have a house,” said Jason. “Has anything you’ve ever told us been the truth?”

“We love you,” you said, Jason rolling his eyes. “Jason-”

“I’m done for tonight,” he said, leaving the tent, Lydia giving him a glance before following after. You were both quiet for a moment, Dean sighing.

“We were so stupid,” said Dean. “We should have made sure.”

“This is my fault. The demon wants me,” you said. Dean cocked his head but you held up a hand. “It wants me, Dean. We both know it.”

“That is exactly why you are going to stay at the bunker with the kids and make sure none of them sneak out on us while Sam, Cas and I go hunt this thing down,” said Dean, taking a deep breath. “We’re on vacation. Let’s just try to be normal, alright?”

“We were never normal, Dean.”

“Hey, mom,” said Jason, taking a seat next to you on the shore of the lake, Dean out swimming with the girls, Sam hiking back to the car to put in a few calls to some old hunters that were still around. You gave him a smile, turning your attention back to the lake. “I’m sorry about last night.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, honey,” you said. “That was a lot to take in. We always knew it wouldn’t go great if we ever had to tell you guys.”

“To be honest, it’s not the monster stuff that pissed me and Lydia off,” he said with a shrug. “It was the lying. We just...we don’t know who you guys are anymore or what was real.”

“I understand,” you said, nodding your head.

“Dad won’t look at me,” said Jason. “Does he hate me?”

“No, no, Jason. He’s mad at himself, not you,” you said. “This was something we never wanted you guys to know about. We’re both upset about it. Your dad just deals with it in a funny way sometimes.”

“Did grandpa really treat him like a soldier?” he asked.

“You know how dad taught you how to play baseball? Or driving a car when you turned 16? Or helping you with your math homework? Grandpa taught your dad how to use a shotgun, how to research lore, how to scam at pool to make a quick buck for food. Dad and I never wanted our childhoods, our adult lives, for you guys. It wasn’t right but it’s why we lied. We wanted you to think we grew up normal too,” you said.

“You thought we’d think you guys were freaks?” he asked.

“We never wanted to scare you. We still don’t. It’s why dad and I talked last night and you and Lydia are on a need to know basis right now. We want you to stay as normal as possible,” you said.

“Why do you keep saying that? Like you think you and dad aren’t normal,” he said.

“Sweetie. We aren’t. Stuff that we’ve done...places we’ve gone...it’s not normal,” you said.

“Well you aren’t raging psychopaths and killing monsters sounds like something the good guys do so I really don’t get why you and dad are so scared of scaring Lyd and me,” said Jason.

“Jason. Our last name isn’t even Smith,” you said with a sad smile. “On paper, dad and I are technically dead. Uncle Sam too.”

“What is it?” he asked.

“Winchester. You’re a Winchester,” you said.

“Sounds cooler than Smith,” he said, giving you a smile. “So can I ask you a question?”

“You’ve already been asking questions,” you said.

“What’s the biggest monster you ever stopped?” he asked. You smiled, dipping your toes in the water. “Mom?”

“I’m not going to answer that, Jason,” you said.

“Why not?” he asked.

“I want you to keep your innocence. As much of it as you can as long as you can. There are things you’re better off not knowing,” you said.

“I already heard about the crazy demon that kidnapped my mom as a kid and killed her family. I don’t know how much worse it can get,” he said.

“Oh, that sucked, trust me. But sometimes, there are worse evils in the world than just demons,” you said.

“Like what? The devil?” he asked.

“Don’t mention the devil again,” you said.

“Why?” he asked.

“He destroyed you dad and uncle’s lives. He stole their chance at normal. They were little boys when that happened. Your father never got to be a child, Jason. He raised Sam for the most part. His favorite part of life has been you and your sisters, getting to watch you have those moments he didn’t get,” you said.

“What about you? You talk about dad a lot but stuff happened to you, right?” he asked. “Who takes care of you?”

“Your dad, your uncle Sam, even Cas and Jack,” you said with a smile. “We handle things differently. I didn’t have a little brother to watch out for and Bobby certainly did his best to keep me as normal as possible. Your dad has a lot of issues, Jason. Whether you knew it or not, you’ve helped him. All of you have.”

“So basically none of you guys got to be kids and have had to do a bunch of scary stuff and you want to keep us away from it until it’s safe again?” he asked. You nodded, Jason biting his bottom lip. “Me and Lydia will keep an extra eye on Scar. No demon’s gonna take our little sister.”

“I know they won’t. Especially when you guys are at the bunker,” you said.

“The bunker?”

“Whoa,” said Lydia, immediately taking off for the library the second you walked down the steps, Jason and Scar right after as Dean tsked them.

“Don’t wander off yet. It’s easy to get lost down here,” he said.

“This place is so cool,” said Jason, already moving around and picking things up, Dean rolling his eyes.

“Guys. No touching,” said Dean, Jack rounding the corner from the kitchen with a smile.

“S’okay, Dean. I went and cleaned up anything that might be bad,” said Jack.

“Thanks kid,” said Dean, getting a hug from Jack after yourself.

“Where’s Cas?” asked Dean.

“He’s trying to make dinner. It’s not going great,” said Jack.

“Shocker,” said Dean, whistling to get the kids attention. “Let’s show you your rooms.”

Scarlett wanted to run through the halls until cousin Jack picked her up, Jason following along with him. Lydia hung back though, swallowing as she looked around.

“I can see the gears turning in your head, Lyd,” said Dean. She spun around, looking you up and down.

“This stuff is why you always look younger than all my other friends mom’s, isn’t it,” she said. “This magic stuff.”

“Mentally I’m the age I should be. Physically, yeah, I’m about five years behind. I was on pause for a little while,” you said.

“Not exactly by choice,” Dean mumbled.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Nothing you need to know. Why don’t you go find your siblings and cousin?” you asked.

“Jack’s not really our cousin, is he,” she said. “Cause Uncle Cas looks a little older than dad but Jack looks moms age and-“

“Cousin Jack looks older but he’s...you know what? It doesn’t matter. That’s your cousin, alright?” said Dean.

“Don’t treat me like a little kid. I’m not Scar,” she said, rolling her eyes before she brushed past you both and went down a hall.

“She’s got a point Dean,” you said.

“I’m sorry. Did you want to tell her about what ‘magic’ did that to you?” he asked.

“No. I barely told you about it,” you said. “That is not happening to Scar. She is never-“

“It won’t. The kids are safe here. They got nowhere to be,” he said. You sighed but nodded, pausing when you went to head for the kitchen. “What?”

“Dean, we’re both supposed to be at work on Monday,” you said.

“Well...I’m covered. Sam’s in charge of the firm and he can put me on sabbatical. You…” he said.

“I didn’t like that job anyways,” you said, cocking your head. “Why do we even have those jobs? You should work on cars again, something you like. I can go work at that bakery.”

“Because those jobs don’t pay for our lifestyle. We talked about this years ago,” he said.

“Well now, I think we had some loaded distant relative and we start doing what we want,” you said. “If we figure out what’s going on that is.”

“Alright,” he said. “We will figure it out. Just another case. We could do this in our sleep.”

“I know. We’ll get it,” you said, taking a deep breath and forcing a smile. “I’ll go help Cas in the kitchen if you want to make sure the kids get settled.”

“Hey,” he said, catching your hand when you turned to leave. You looked over your shoulder, his thumb running over the back of your hand. “I’m not letting that thing get you either.”

“It can’t be back, can it?” you said.

“You’re speaking to a guy that’s died how many times?” he teased. “I don’t know but that’s what we’re going to find out. Until then, let’s try to keep the kids on a need to know, okay?”

“You died?” asked Lydia, poking her head around the corner. “Like died died?”

“Oh, looks who’s grounded?” he said. “Don’t eavesdrop.”

“But seriously though, you died?” said Jason, poking his head around too.

“Now I remember why we never let Jack babysit,” said Dean. “You’re grounded too.”

“We weren’t even allowed to leave in the first place,” deadpanned Jason.

“No internet. Two days,” said Dean. “Play with your sister or clean up your new rooms. Might as well make it feel like home.”

“This is really good Uncle Cas,” said Lydia, smiling at him as Jason dumped some onto her plate when she wasn’t looking at dinner that night.

“Your kindness is quite appreciated, Lydia but I’m aware it’s-“

“Garbage?” said Dean.

“Daddy, that’s not nice,” said Scar, slurping down the mess on her plate. “It’s yummy!”

“Are we sure she’s not possessed,” mumbled Dean.

“She likes burnt food. It’s not the end of the world,” you said. “Um, Cas we appreciate the effort and making the first night here so-“

“I ordered pizza and wings,” said Jack, coming back to the library.

“Excellent. I do not wish to attempt to have to cook again,” said Cas, your three kids raising eyebrows.

“Shut up,” mumbled Dean, kicking Cas’ leg under the table. “So you guys like the place? Think of it as like summer camp.”

“There’s no windows and Jason and Lydia won’t let me play outside,” said Scarlett, scowling at her older siblings.

“Well it’s rainy out today. Maybe you can play tomorrow if you ask your brother and sister nicely,” said Dean.

“But you said-“

“As long as one of the grownups or Jack is with you, then you can play in the garage, alright?” said Dean.

“Fine,” she grumbled.

“Hey, Scar, do you want to play legos after dinner?” asked Jack. She perked back up, both you and Dean giving Jack a grateful smile.

 After you got Scar in bed, you, Dean and Cas set about researching, a pair of quiet footsteps entering the library around ten.

“Guys,” you said without looking up. “Why don’t you go hangout in the man cave, watch some movies or something. This is boring anyways.”

“We decided-”

“No,” said Dean, lifting his head from a book. Cas made an excuse to leave, taking his research with him off to his room. Jason opened his mouth, Lydia making a face when Dean scowled. “We told you what you needed to know and that’s it. You two are normal teenagers and you ain’t learning this crap so get out. Now.”

“Make us,” said Jason, crossing his arms. Dean raised an eyebrow, Lydia looking at her brother and then you.

“Guys. Please. The less you know, the better,” you said. “Please?”

“What if that...what if whatever that thing is comes after Scar or us and you guys aren’t around?” said Lydia.

“You took a self defense class. You’re fine,” said Dean.

“I seriously doubt what they taught in health class will go up against a demon,” she said.

“You’re right. It won’t,” he said, shutting his book. “But the bunker is safe and nothing is getting in. Now go.”

“Stop lying to us,” said Jason, stepping closer. Dean stood up with a sigh, Jason getting in his face. “We aren’t little kids. Be honest with us for the first time in our lives. Mom told me our last name is Winchester. Is anything even real about you?”

“I am your father, Jason. Yes. my name is Dean Winchester and you are a Winchester and you will do what I say. Stay out of this,” said Dean.

“I said make me,” said Jason.

“Go to your rooms, both of you,” you said. Jason shook his head, Lydia getting a surge of confidence and stepping up behind her brother.

“No. You told us the other stuff, you can tell us more. You never even answered our question before on if dad had really died or not,” she said.

“Go to your rooms!” you shouted, all three looking at you.

“Mom, he-”

“Your father and I are trying to give you normal lives. We didn’t have a choice but you two do and you are not getting involved in this any more than you have to. Rooms. Now,” you said.

“We might as well have been raised by strangers,” said Jason, turning to Lydia. “These are who our real parents are apparently. A couple of deranged nutjobs. How do we even know they’re our parents? Maybe they took you and me and-”

“Jason,” said Lydia, looking at Dean. You saw it too, the little cracks buried deep down, the ones that had been filled in over the years, splitting open again. Jason looked back but Dean had spun around, his back to them both.

“I don’t care what you two think of me. I am your father and that is your mother and you are staying put. End of discussion,” he said.

“No. I’m leaving,” said Jason, Dean spinning around, a hardness all over his face. “I’m taking the girls and cousin Jack cause god knows where he came from and-”

Dean took a step closer to Jason, peering down into his face.

“I am not my father,” he said, taking a deep breath. “But if I have to throw you in the dungeon and have you think I’m a psychopath then fine, I’ll do it. But you are not leaving this bunker until that thing is dealt with.”

“You’re insane,” said Jason. “That’s not how you treat your kids.”

“I want you to be a kid!” shouted Dean, taking a step back, glancing at the floor as he calmed down. “I want you to be a kid, Jason. Mom and I didn’t get to be kids. We had three dead parents and two dead siblings between us by the time we were six. My father did his best and I have forgiven him for the rest but no, I didn’t get a childhood. We didn’t go to sleepovers. We didn’t go to football games or soccer practice. We didn’t go to the mall or hangout with friends or do homework at the kitchen table. We did this. You will never do this. You won’t. We will tell you what we have to but please for the love of God, don’t leave this bunker.”

“Okay,” said Lydia, grabbing her brother’s hand. “We won’t, right, Jason?”

“I want one free question to ask,” said Jason after a moment.

“Then you stay put,” you said.

“Fine but I want a question,” he said.

“Ask your question,” said Dean dryly.

“When you die, where do you go?” asked Jason.”Because you definitely died.”

“Heaven or Hell,” said Dean.

“What’s heaven like?” asked Lydia. Dean closed his eyes but smiled. She spun back around to you. “Dad totally went to heaven, right? Like no way he-”

“I’ve been to both,” said Dean. Jason opened his mouth but swallowed hard. “I made a deal to bring your uncle Sam back to life after he died. When a year was up, I went to hell.”

“What’s it like?” asked Jason after a moment. Dean paused, looking away.

“They call it hell for a reason,” said Dean. “It’s where demons are made, just like the demon that maybe is after Scar, is after you two and mom and all of us. If you go outside and it gets ahold of you…”

“It will hurt you,” you said quietly. “I know you are both upset and you can be pissed at us for ruining your summer vacations but you need to stay here. Take it from dad and I. We’ve been on the receiving end of what a demon can do before. We’ll die before we let that happen to you guys.”

“Lyd, can you give us a minute?” asked Jason. She nodded, turning and leaving, Jason waiting until she was gone to speak. “Teach me.”

“No,” said Dean.

“What if you’re right and no one is around to protect them but me? They’re my little sisters. It’s my job to protect them,” said Jason.

“Jason,” said Dean, resting his hands on Jason’s shoulders, giving him a soft smile. “I understand the urge to protect your little sisters. The things I have done for Sam...I understand. But you are their big brother and that’s it. You don’t have to be a mother and father to them, that’s our job. You keep them safe by keeping Scar out of this and keeping Lyd feeling okay. She looks up to you, even if she calls you a loser all the time. You keep calm and set an example for them. That is how you protect them right now. Okay?”

“I know I’m not as strong but-”

“Jason,” you said with a sigh. “Be a big brother. That’s your job while we get through this, okay? That’s it.”

“Please Jason,” said Dean, letting his hands fall away, moving one to rest on top of Jason’s head. “Please kiddo. For me?”

“Alright,” he said quietly, looking back at you with a nod. “But I want to know-”

“Jason,” you said.

“I want to know more about my parents,” he said, looking at the both of you. “Like real stuff. Like obviously your first date story wasn’t real.”

“Actually it was,” you said, giving Dean a shy smile. “Your father is a bit of a hopeless romantic.”

“Well your mom told me when she was six she loved me and was going to marry me someday so…” said Dean.

“You told me that, dork,” you said.

“Uh, I recall a very giggly girl during coloring time saying something along those lines,” he said.

“Uh huh,” you hummed, rolling your eyes. Jason relaxed a little, nodding to himself. “We’re still mom and dad, Jason.”

“I know. Just a lot to wrap your head around,” he said. Dean smiled and Jason returned a small one. “I’m sorry.”

“That was pretty tame for some of the arguments that have happened in this room,” said Dean, gazing around. “It’s okay. This is big stuff. Please watch your sisters and if you have anymore weird dreams, let us know.”

“Okay,” he said, turning to go. “Mom?”

“Yeah, honey?” you asked.

“Calvin was your brother right?” he asked. “He said something that didn’t make sense to me that first night.”

“What was it?” asked Dean.

“Well he said to keep the light on to keep it away but a light doesn’t actually stop a demon, right?” he asked. “Why would he say that then?”

“I don’t know,” you said. “We’ll get it though. Try to get some sleep.”

“Night,” he said.

“Night. Love you,” you heard Dean say with you, Jason nodding his head as he left.

“He’s got a point about the light. Demons aren’t afraid of light,” he said.

“Calvin was only twelve when he died. He might have been confused,” you said, shaking your head. “Cas. Cas can go up to heaven and ask Calvin what he meant.”

“Alright but you and I are checking the spell and making sure it’s not worn off or something like that,” he said. You sat back down, both your heads popping up when the front door opened, Sam trucking down the steps with his backpack. “Sammy. What are you doing here? It’s late.”

“You think I’m sleeping at home with a demon after us again?” asked Sam, setting his bag down on the table. “I took care of work for us, mail, that stuff. Swung by your house, grabbed your go bags along with Baby.”

“You see anything there?” you asked. Sam shook his head. “Alright. Coffee’s already made in the kitchen if you want a cup. Let’s work this.”

Three Days Later

“Hey Cas,” you said, catching him entering the kitchen. “You just get back?”

“Yes,” he said, grabbing your arm and tugging you to the library.

“Cas…” you said, scowling when he wouldn’t let go. Dean and Sam lifted their heads out of their books, Cas coming to a stop in front of them. “What?”

“Calvin did not mean a physical light source,” said Cas, shoving you down in a chair. You glared up at him, Dean sighing. “She is the danger.”

“What?” you said, shaking your head. “Cas, I-”

“The demon that kidnapped you, you never found it, correct?” said Cas. “You did not escape. It let you go. You were too young and frightened to remember properly that you self-inflicted those wounds by the demon controlling you.”

“What...well what did Calvin mean?” you said.

“It is a shadow demon,” said Cas.

“A what now?” asked Sam.

“Shadow demon. It is a demon but not a demon. It’s created from within a person, a very long time ago. It’s a shapeshifter offshoot, from the Alpha,” he said.

“But Scar-”

“It’s not in her. It’s simply chosen her next. It moves from person to person in a line. Calvin was referring to light as a warning so the children would be aware,” said Cas. “I spoke with your other family members. They believe it’s now in you. It has been all this time.”

“But...I’ve been tested a million times. I’m not a demon,” you said.

“No. It’s not a real demon so we wouldn’t know. It’s just buried within you, like when Dean kept Michael locked away,” he said. “When it saw you start having children, it started to move down the line. It’s likely going to move to Scarlett very soon.”

“Put me in the dungeon. Now,” you said. Dean nodded and grabbed your arm. “Don’t you let me out until you figure out how to kill it.”

“Daddy?” asked Scarlett, skipping into the room. “What’s going on?”

You opened your mouth, Dean dropping his hand away from you as he tilted his head.

“She hasn’t complained once about not playing outside the past three days,” said Dean. Scarlett made a face, a completely wrong kind of smile crossing the six year old’s face. “You’re in her, aren’t you.”

“To be fair, been in here since she was born,” she said with a tiny shrug. “There’s a bit of an incubation period before I can wake up which just so happened to be a few days ago. I’m not much of a talker and I don’t take much. Just every so often I need my fix. For old time sake’s Y/N, I won’t hurt the kid and I’ll go have some fun with some random people. I’ll be back in a few days, the kid will never remember and it’s no problem.”

“Except for the killing people part or the fact you’re in my daughter or until Scar has kids and you move down the line again,” you said. “You were in my mom, weren’t you.”

“Yeah...got impatient and killed the family. I’m not making that mistake again so everyone here is safe as long as I’m free to go, got it?” she said, scowling at you. “Mommy?”

You stepped forward, Dean throwing out an arm to push you back.

“You won’t hurt her?” asked Dean.

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” she said, giving him a smile. “Pinky promise, daddy.”

“You are not my daughter,” he said.

“If you want her back in one piece and the other two to stay that way, I get to leave. I will return her to the front door in three days. Try anything and what I do to her, you’ll be begging it was only what I’d done to Y/N. Understand?” she said.

“Why’d you hurt me?” you said, taking a step forward. She shrugged, glancing at Dean.

“You were strong, stronger than the rest of your family. As I said, I was impatient and didn’t do things right. You were fun,” she said.

“You tortured me for five years,” you growled. “For fun?”

“Well your mommy didn’t follow the rules and tried to get rid of me before the third kid. I told her the kid would pay for that. Now you seem smarter than she was being a hunter and all. I’m leaving. She won’t remember and it won’t be your problem,” she said.

“Wait,” said Dean, Scarlett raising an eyebrow, a shudder running down your back. “You can get much farther in me. Take my body.”

“Not how it works, daddy. Kids only,” he said. “Y/N, don’t you remember killing your family after all?”

“I did not-”

“No, I suppose you wouldn't. I can bring the little brat into the equation and let her watch what I do. I don’t guarantee you get a fully functional person back though,” she said. She turned and headed for the stairs, Dean staring back at you.

“W-what if there was another kid?” you asked. She paused, spinning around in her velcro sneakers, smiling darkly.

“Y/N?” asked Dean as you stepped forward past him and over to Scarlett. You bent down, getting at her eye level.

“How does it work? Tell me,” you said. “Do you have to be in me already?”

“To pass to the baby, yes,” she said, looking you up and down, smirking at you. “You’re pregnant again, aren’t you.”

“You’re pregnant?” said Dean.

“I took the test this morning. That night a month ago...what if I made you a deal?” you said. You glanced back at Dean, hoping he understood what you were doing. He only stared before you turned back to the thing in Scarlett. “What if you get back in me and then when the baby is born, you can have it. For good. It’s always yours. Do what you want with it but you leave Scar and the rest of our family out of it. Deal?”

“You’d really do that?” she asked.

“Yes,” you said with a nod. “Leave my girl alone and take whatever this is forever.”

“Alright. Deal,” it said. Scarlett fell down onto her bottom, her eyes closed as you got a wicked headache and your back burned where your old scar was briefly.

“Take care of Scar,” you said, pointing at Sam as you stood up, staring at Dean. “I’m not pregnant by the way. Now get me in the dungeon.”

 Two Days Later

“Lied to me, Y/N,” growled the demon in your head. You kept a strong face as you sat on your mattress in the middle of the devil’s trap, staring at the back of the closed bookcases. “I want my baby.”

“Tough luck,” you said.

“How long can you go without sleep? It’ll kill you at some point and then I’m free to wander right back into the kid and I’m going to save Dean for last. Let her gut the rest of ‘em and make daddy watch,” it said.

“Big talk. Now shut it,” you shot back, hearing the door open, the bookcases pull back. Dean gave you a smile. “Idiot in my head admitted it’s stuck in me until I’m dead. I’m pretty sure it can only hop up or down the line which is why it said no to you.”

“Sucks for it since we’re pretty sure we got a cure to kill it,” said Dean. “It’s gonna hurt like a bitch though.”

“Kids gone?” you asked, Dean nodding.

“Jack took ‘em someplace safe,” he said. “You ready to do this?”

“Yeah, I’m ready to get back to normal.”

You woke up in your old bedroom of the bunker, Dean flipping through a book when he saw you stirring.

“Hey, take it slow,” he said, helping you sit up. “How’s your back feel?”

“Alright. Cas heal me?” you asked.

“Yeah. Sorry about all that burning and everything,” he said.

“No, no. It’s fine. I’ll take a little pain to get rid of that thing,” you said. “It is gone, right?”

“Yeah. No more can be created because of the monster wipe out spell. That one just happened to still exist. Pretty sure it was the Alpha of it’s kind,” he said.

“Good. How’s Scar? She okay?” you asked.

“Perfect. She’s been running around like a maniac so normal,” he said, giving you a kiss. “Big kids are okay too.”

“We should have known when she wasn’t trying to get outside. She was quiet too. I can’t believe we missed it,” you said, rubbing your hands over your face. “We should have-”

“She’s alright,” he said, cupping your cheek. “Are you?”

“Yeah. I would never have given that thing our baby,” you said. He chuckled and nodded.

“I know. Good bluff. Saved Scar,” he said.

“It’s funny. I missed this place but I miss home even more,” you said.

“Let’s go home then, sweetheart.”

Two Days Later

“Well, I officially gave my notice at work,” you said, plopping down on the couch with Dean after getting Scar down for bed. “Oh, where are they this time?”

“Dallas. Nutjobs are looking for a butler’s pantry on a budget the size of…” he trailed off, a pair of footsteps walking into the family room. “Hey guys. Everything okay?”

Lydia nodded, nudging Jason forward. He scowled back at her, Dean grunting.

“Out with it guys. It’s a little late to be going out to friends if you were looking to ask,” he said.

“Well...now that everything’s over…” said Lydia.

“We still want to know about our parents. Really. Even the scary stuff,” said Jason.

“I thought we told you two we want you to be kids,” said Dean.

“Yeah but you guys like saved the world. That’s kind of cool,” said Lydia.

“Oh, kinda cool? I got a cool for letting her stay out a half hour past curfew once. World saving though…” you teased, Dean shutting off the TV.

“Sit down,” he said. They both hopped into their usual spots, Lydia pulling out a sheet of paper. “Oh, they brought questions. Nerds like Sammy.”

“You’re a nerd,” you said, slapping his chest. “Alright, alright. Ask away. It goes without saying we don’t tell Scarlett any of this.”

“Yeah, totally,” said Jason, taking the sheet from Lydia. “Okay so first one…”

“The...and...said…hm…” said Jason, putting his head down.

“Oh and dad was a demon!” you said, giving them a smile. “We fixed it though so totally cool. He did have some amazing hair during that though. Miss that hair...”

“You’re skipping again,” said Dean. “We were only up to meeting Cas.”

“Uncle Cas is an angel,” said Lydia, standing up and shaking her head. “That’s enough for one night. Okay.”

“And Jack’s a-”

“I don’t need to know right now,” she said with a nod. “Come on Jason. I’ve got enough information to filter through.”

“One more,” said Jason.

“Yes…” said Dean.

“You said you’d never bring kids into that life so...did you end the monsters before you had me?” he asked.

“That’s a great question to answer tomorrow night,” teased Dean. Jason rolled his eyes and stood up, Dean chuckling. “No, Jason. You were after. All this was after.”

“Okay,” he said, mumbling to Lydia. “Told you so.”

“Agree to never tell them but we have the coolest parents ever,” she whispered as they cut through the kitchen, both you and Dean smirking.

“Of course we don’t tell them,” whispered Jason. “We’ll come up with more stuff to ask tomorrow.”

“Night guys!” called Dean.

“Love you!” you said.

“Love you too!” they said back, their voices dying out as they headed upstairs.

“I can only imagine what they come up with next,” you said, resting your head on Dean’s shoulder.

“I think they took that better than expected,” he said. “Hey, I was thinking since our vacation got cut short, we head out again next week, have it actually be relaxing this time.”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” you said.

“Me too, sweetheart. Me too.”

#spndeanbingo #dean x reader #dean winchester #spn #supernatural #one shot #dean x reader one shot #spn fanfiction #Daddy!Dean #supernatural fanfiction #spn reader insert #supernatural reader insert

[madwomanramblings]

Suvivors

 “Being new to the supernatural life will take adjustment. Even though for some of you your change occurred overnight. We will try to help orient you to your new life,” the polished looking man said at the podium. The auditorium was full of people who looked more or less normal, but the tension stunk up the whole place. Ralph twitched his nose.

 “We are here for what exactly?” he asked the long-legged man seated next to him. Alex Ahanu, the only  coyote in a pack of wolves chuckled.

  “Anthony likes to think of this as our duty as American weres to help our fellow man. Darren says it is a public relations stunt,” he said as he winked at a pretty red head a couple of seats over who turned around to see who spoke. She blushed at the gesture and turned back around.

 Ralph harrumphed, “More like punishment relations if you ask me.” He folded his arms content to fade into the shadows of the large arena. There were so many people who were filled the seats. He knew the Lynx professional soccer team didn’t bring this big of a night on a game night with their rivals. Part of him chaffed at having to be indoors so long. His wolf did not like having so many points of entry. His attention was split. He was grateful for the work Darren gave him after all the trouble he caused in his last pack. Anthony was a strong alpha. He could find his place here.

As he scanned the space again another part of him felt sorry for all the poor saps in this place. The world’s governments became partners with the supernatural communities when the Change occurred. Some of these folks accepted what they had become. Others were cast aside or tortured or worse because of what happened to them. A crazy luck of the genetic draw. Or at least that is the way Natalie explained it to him. She had seen some things. She understood what a lot of these people had gone through firsthand. Maybe that is why Ralph felt so comfortable with this pack then he had in the last three packs.  They valued love and healing over power plays.

“Now, ladies and gentlemen, we will call you up to meet with your supe mentor,” polished guy said cutting into Ralph’s discomfort. This meant they were almost done with this show and he get back outside.

“This is a farce,” he huffed under his breath.

“Maybe it is and maybe you will make a new friend. They are all survivors here,” Alex offered, clapping a hand on Ralph’s shoulder as they headed down towards the front of the stage to meet with the new werewolves. There were three of them. One looked really young, tall and scrawny. The next was a young woman with a calm look on her face and the last was a graying hunched over old man.

“This is a pitiful looking lot. How did this group survive this long after the change?” Alex shook his head as they moved forward. Ralph’s next words stop him dead in his tracks.

“Never trust a survivor until you find out what they did to stay alive.” Ralph said as he continued towards the stage.

[redditnosleep]

The Coroner’s Son

by kmcooney

My dad used to work as an EMT back in his twenties while he saved up money for med school. Growing up, I always pestered him to tell me gross and gory details from his time in the ambulance. He used to appease me, much to my mother’s disapproval.

“Girls shouldn’t be hearing these kinda stories,” my mother would clip at us from behind a newspaper. My dad would only smirk and wink at me.

“No daughter of mine is gonna be squeamish, that’s for sure,” he’d retort as he’d pat me on the knee. “She’s gonna hear all my stories, no matter how bloody or filled with vomit.”

“Well, if she’s fucked up, it’s your doing,” my mother huffed.

I didn’t care if it wasn’t “girly” to listen to my dad’s stories. I always loved them.

He told me a story about the time where him and his partner found a severed foot hanging from a tree limb in the local park. His buddy and him tried to get it down with a broom and a coat hanger. They were only successful when the foot came crashing down on his partner’s head, covering him in pus and blood. The owner of the foot came limping out of his trailer, cursing at my dad for disturbing his “property.” I also learned about the time when my dad was called over to an old lady’s house on Christmas Eve. No one was hurt, but the old woman was so lonely that she faked a heart attack to get someone to come and sit with her for Christmas Eve dinner. My dad stayed for four courses. He came back every year after that until she passed away one Spring morning. We all attended the funeral with him. And I even heard about the time when he was called to untangle two teenagers who got, uh, piercings stuck in, uh, let’s just say delicate places.

From broken bones to bloody accidents, my dad has seen it all. And he’s shared it all. Well, at least I thought he had. That is until a few hours ago when we polished off the last of the scotch we had on the shelf.

We were sitting on the front porch, watching the rain hammer into the street, collecting into big, sluggish pools. I set my glass down on the end table and leaned back on the rocking chair. We were silent for a minute, listening to the thunder roll across the small, Pennsylvania town.

“What’s the worst thing you ever saw as an EMT?” I asked, more out of boredom than genuine curiosity. I was sure he would reiterate the story about the time he found a kid who was hit by a drunk driver, his stuffed bunny still clutched in his bloody hand.

My dad was silent for so long that I thought he must have fallen asleep. I turned towards him only to find him staring hard into the night, his knuckles gripping the wooden chair so hard that I swore they were starting to look white.

“Pappa?” I murmured, afraid that I had upset him.

He ran his hands through his greying hair and rubbed his temples. He looked at me and smiled sadly.

“Did I ever tell you why I quit?”

“I thought you quit because you got into med school?”

He chuckled. “Nah, nah that wasn’t the reason. I quit a few months before I even began applying.” He took another sip of his drink and swirled the contents around with his pinky. The ice clinked against the glass lightly.

“You know how I told you how I was close with the town folk?”

Since it was such a small town, my dad pretty much knew everyone he worked with. He knew the local cops, the firefighters, the doctors, hell, even the street cleaners. My dad had always told me about his friend “Frank on the force” or his “buddy at the firehouse.” I guess when you’re in such close proximity to other people, relationships tend to bubble.

“Well I never told you about Paul, that’s for sure,” he sighed.

My ears perked up. “No, I don’t think you ever did.”

“Paul was a town coroner. Well, actually, he was the only coroner our town had. See, we were so small that we really only needed one,” he paused then, taking another sip of his diminishing drink.

“I guess you could say that Paul and I were real close. I saw him almost every time we had a bad shift. Which was a lot, back in the day,” he exhaled. “Drunk drivers, idiotic teenagers, angry men who beat up their wives...I guess that all led to some pretty bad shifts.”

The rain began to pound harder against our roof. I scooted my chair closer to my dad so I could hear him over the roaring of the storm. He smiled and patted my knee, his eyes lingering on mine longer than they normally would have.

“Paul had a son named Kenny,” he murmured, his eyes dampening. “He, uh, well he wasn’t exactly the best son. See, he was a big partier. Always up and in some sorta trouble or another. Nothing too crazy, just a few drug busts and some childish fights. Local kids always joked that he worshipped the devil. Ha! I mean, he had a temper, I’d reckon that at least. But Paul always handled it well. He was firm with the boy, maybe too firm. But firm enough to where he made sure that Kenny knew that if he ever got behind the wheel drunk, he would never step foot in their house again.”

My dad paused for a moment, collecting himself. He watched the storm as I watched his aged face, noticing the wrinkles that lined his eyes for the first time. He seemed smaller than I remembered, more human.

“Well, I guess Paul wasn’t firm enough with Kenny. Or maybe Kenny was just going through a phase or something like you teenagers do,” he smiled sadly back at me. “Like when you dyed your hair pink just to piss off your mother. She hated it, but I always thought it was beautiful.”

“Yeah,” I chuckled. “I almost forgot about that.”

“Ha, she was real pissed when you did that, thought you were defying her or something,” my dad took another sip of his drink. “But I knew that you were just testing the boundaries. Maybe Kenny was too.”

“Dad,” I asked softly. “What happened to Kenny?”

“It was a long shift. 15 hours, I’d say. Me and my partner Bud were real tired. It was the night of the full moon. I know that you and your mom think it’s horseshit, but weird stuff always happens on a full moon. I don’t know why. Maybe people just like to cause trouble...or maybe it’s something else. But we were finally nearing the end of the long shift. We had already dealt with a drunken brawl, a beat up wife and some old lady who tried to cut her knickers off with a pairing knife.”

My dad finished the last of his drink, wincing as the scotch hit the back of his throat.

“We were called to the scene of a car accident, a real bad one too. Apparently some car had been going 120mph in a 30mph zone. It barreled right into the side of a tree and wrapped itself around its trunk real good. The whole thing burst into flames on the scene. The fire crew was able to put it out pretty quick, but they needed our help treating the crash victims.”

“When we arrived on the scene, we could tell that it was going to be a lost cause. Three fire trucks were lined up on the side of the road, accompanied by no less than five police cars. This was bad, Bud and I both knew it.”

“Scorch marks littered the road, leading us to the dented and smoking mess of a car that stood before us. Its metal was hot to the touch, glowing dimly against the moonlight. Its front hood was completely wrapped around the massive oak tree before it. We tiptoed around melted metal and pools of blood. Now that I look back on it, those were pretty weird signs. I don’t think a car is supposed to get so hot that the metal melts right off of it. But me and Bud didn’t think about that in the moment, we thought about the victims.”

“Were they still alive?” I asked, my breath caught in my throat.

My dad nodded slightly. “Just barely.”

“How did they survive that kind of a crash?”

“Because they weren’t human.”

I paused, waiting for the punch line that never came. The storm lessoned above us, the rain now falling in gentle drops.

“When we got to the driver’s side, we knew instantly that something was wrong. The driver was burnt to a crisp. Its skin was black and charred and its hands...its, its hands were still wrapped around the steering wheel. We thought for sure it was dead. I mean, it had to be. But it wasn’t. It turned its head to look right at me,” my dad paused for a second, catching his wavering breath.

“I swear, it looked right at me and it spoke. It told me to tell its dad that it was sorry, that it never meant to be a bad boy. It told me that it never meant to kill her, he just got carried away.”

“Dad—“

He put his hand up. “Don’t interrupt me.”

“But—“ my dad looked at me with steely eyes and I closed my mouth.

“It told me all of those things and then it turned its head back to the steering wheel. And it was quiet. It wasn’t breathing anymore. So Bud and I are able to get the driver out of the car and put it in a body bag. Then we move over to the passenger side and I swear, I swear that’s the part that really killed me. It was a kid. A small kid—a girl, I think. She was burnt the same way the driver was, the same impossible way. Her mouth was pulled tight into a wide smile, teeth still intact. She wasn’t breathing either. So we loaded her up too.”

“We talked to the police officers and the firemen for a bit and they all say the same thing. That they didn’t know what happened. They imagine that the driver just lost control because he was going so fast. But no one ever reported a car going that fast on that road. Not even one call came through. In fact, the only call that came through in that location was from an out of date phone booth. And it was static, just static and the name of the road—Devil’s Run. Hell, the phone booth didn’t even work no more! So they don’t know how that call was ever placed to start with.”

“So me and Bud go to move the bodies to the hospital and that’s when we get a better look at the car. It’s still a mess, mind you, but now we have time to examine it. Bud goes up to the plate and he nearly faints. He calls me over and asks if I recognize the numbers that are still intact. And I do. I recognize them better than my own license plate. It’s Paul’s car. I’ve seen it every day of my life.”

“Did Paul...”

My dad shook his head. “No, no I knew Paul was working that night. I had already seen him when I took in the old lady who bled out.”

“So, so it was Kenny?” I asked, clutching the edge of my seat.

My dad shook his head again. “That’s uh, that’s what we thought too. So we call into dispatch to let them know that this would be our last run. We wanted to tell Paul ourselves. So we get to the morgue and Paul is all bright and cheerful, he’s just excited that his shift is ending soon. And we just crack. We crack right then and there in front of him. Bud tells him that we have some bad news and I just stay stone silent. I let Bud tell him that we think we have his son. And the entire time, the entire fucking time, Paul just stares at me. Like he can’t believe I could be such a silent coward.”

“But Paul is brave. He tells us he needs to examine the body—son or not. We protest, tell him that we can find someone else to handle the autopsy, but he persists. He says he has to know. He has to know so he can tell his wife. So I stay with him. I stay with him for hours, watching him work under the harsh fluorescent lights of the lab.”

“And Paul, fuck, Paul held it together. He was stone-faced and straight-backed. And when he completed the autopsy, he turned to stare at me. And he nodded. He said that I was right, that it was Kenny. He told me that Kenny had knee surgery as a kid, and his knee matched the body lying on the table before him. Steel plates and all. Dental records matched too. It was Kenny, alright. There was no going around it.”

“So I drive with Paul back to his wife. He didn’t want to tell her alone. I don’t think anyone could do that alone. So I follow him up to his front door, my hand on his shoulder. He nods at me and opens the door with his key. His wife is sitting on the sofa, drinking a glass of wine. Her happy face bubbles into confusion as she sees me standing there. I guess I must have looked like I’ve seen a ghost or something.”

“Paul leaves me in the doorway and he moves towards her, his back slumping forward. That’s when he starts crying. Shit, he barely even makes it to the couch. He just falls on his knees in front of her and cries, telling her that their son is dead.”

“Oh my god,” I whisper. “That’s horrible.”

My dad shook his head back at me. “That’s not the worst part. See, the wife is just sitting there, listening to her husband, and then her face goes real dark. She’s furious. She smacks Paul hard across the face and tells him that this was the worst prank he’s ever pulled on her. Now, Paul is just dumbfounded. He’s sitting there on his knees in front of her, tears just pouring down his face. His wife stands up and glares at me. I swear her eyes could’ve burned a hole in my head.”

“I don’t know what to do so I start stammering on about how we found Kenny’s body and how Paul identified him by his knee surgery and dental records. Paul’s wife goes real quiet like. Then she looks up towards the stairs and yells Kenny’s name. A few seconds later Kenny comes barreling down the stairs, annoyed that his video game was interrupted.”

“Kenny...Kenny was alive?!” I stammer.

My dad nodded slowly. “We didn’t know what to think. Apparently Kenny had too much to drink at the local pub, so he called a taxi to take him home. He left his car there at the bar.” My dad laughed shortly. “I guess Paul’s firmness really did make an impression on him. With drunk driving, at least.”

“I don’t understand,” I said.

“Yeah,” my dad said gruffly. “We didn’t either. So Paul and I headed over to the pub where Kenny says he left the car and low and behold, it’s still there. It’s in pristine condition, license plate and all. Not a scratch on it from what we could tell.”

“Then what happened to the car you guys found wrapped around a tree trunk?” I asked.

My dad ran his hands through his hair. “Well, it was still there too. After we found the car at the pub we headed back to the scene of the accident. The car was still there seeing as how the fire crew hadn’t been able to remove it so quickly. Paul was confounded. He said it was the same exact car. There was even a charred disco ball hanging off of the rearview mirror, the same one he had in the car at the pub. It even had the same initials carved into it—PMK, his full name.”

“But that’s...”

“Impossible,” my dad interrupted. “I know. But that’s not the end of the story.”

“What about the people? The two bodies?”

“Well,” my dad said. “That’s what we looked into next. We headed over to the morgue where we left the teenager and the little girl. When we got there, the two bodies were gone. Straight up and vanished. The security footage didn’t notice a thing. And the records? Those were gone too.”

My dad paused for a moment as we both stared off into the distance. The rain had almost stopped entirely, creating a strange calm that seemed almost unsettling rather than enjoyable.

“Dad,” I asked hesitantly. “I know you think one of the bodies was Kenny...but what about the little girl?”

My dad frowned, scratching his head. “That’s the part that scares me most. We don’t know. We looked into missing persons reports and we couldn’t find nothing. Sure, there were a few missing persons reports of little girls, but the bodies were always found. They were always uh, abused to some degree. But not burnt. No, nothing like this. And that boy’s body was Kenny’s, Paul swears by it.”

We were quiet for a long time after that, listening to the night begin to murmur back at us.

“I quit the next day,” my dad whispered. “I never went back to that road or that hospital.”

“What about Paul?” I asked.

My dad shook his head. “Uh, well, he took his own life—after what happened next.”

“What happened, dad?” I asked hesitantly. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to hear anymore.

My dad blew his nose into his handkerchief and wiped at his teary eyes. I hadn’t even realized that he had started crying.

“Kenny was a bad kid, he was a bad kid alright,” my dad sobbed. “A few months later they found him in bed with a uh, a little girl. No more than 12. She, she had been dead for a while.”

“How could he...”

“He had been doing it for a while, they reckon. Picking up little kids in that car, touching them....hurting them. Killing them. Keeping them. I don’t, I don’t know how he could have done something like that. But when they caught him, he took off in the car with the girl’s body. He was speeding real fast, too fast.”

“Devil’s Run?” I asked.

My dad just nodded, too emotional to say anything more.

“He crashed, didn’t he?” I probed.

My dad nodded again, blowing his nose into his handkerchief.

“Paul wasn’t the same after that,” he murmured. “Paul gauged his eyes out a month later, on the next full moon. He was in the morgue when he did it. He took a scalpel to his eyeballs and he just, he just kept going. No one found him till morning. And by then, he had cut his arteries out one by one.”

“Dad, I’m so—“

“It’s fine,” he interrupted. “It was a long time ago.”

We sat in silence once more. The crickets had finally come out after the storm, blanketing the night in sound. My dad played with his empty glass, cupping it between his hands.

“Pappa,” I began. “If the crash didn’t happen for a few months later, who did you see in the car that night?”

My dad gently put the glass back on the table, looking up at me stoically.

“I saw Kenny. I saw Kenny and the girl he would murder.”

We sat side by side and watched the full moon rise above the night sky. My dad turned back towards me and grabbed my hand.

“Warnings are everywhere, we just have to listen.” His grip was tighter than normal, almost painful.

“I know, Pappa.”

“Tell your mother I’m sorry,” he pleaded. And then he got up and went back inside.

I’ve been sitting here all night, typing this out. I’m too afraid to go back inside the house—too afraid of what I will find waiting for me. See, my mother has been dead for six months.

#creepy #horror story #premonition #author: kmcooney

[sunflowerspectre]

Commission Piece | Bars and Bards

A commission for anon for their Dungeons and Dragons OCs.

Fandom: Dungeons and Dragons Summary:  A mercenary that doubles as a bard and an adventurer that moonlights as a smuggler walk into a bar to learn elvish.  Word Count Requested: 2,500 - 5k Final Word Count: 4635

Bars and Bards

To be honest, it is  a fifty-fifty shot that Bayleaf will even enter the bar, nevertheless actually teach Dia elvish. Dia was adamant that they would pay him for it, but so far no coins have exchanged hands, which meant their deal is not exactly set in stone. But the party is going to be here for a while it seems and knowing how busy things could get, Dia doubts that they would get another chance to actually sit down and learn the language any time soon.

They shouldn’t really care this much about it, and they don’t, not really. But Dia doesn’t exactly like being inconvenienced when they make plans with someone, and they do want to learn elvish and finding a teacher whose willing is harder than they would like.

Their hand fiddles with the loose coin in their pocket, tracing over its engraved features. They wave the bartender over and make their order simple with the hopes that they won’t be waiting long.

“Diamond,” a vaguely familiar, but somewhat forgotten, voice calls out, smiling eagerly as he makes his way toward her.

Dia vaguely recalls his face, and when they stare at it long enough they can see the similarities between him and his cousin. Elam only introduced them once, offhandedly, when they got into town, as a cousin of his, and Dia is fairly sure that their name was only said once during the entire exchange. She has to give a bit of credit to him for remembering it considering she’s drawing a blank on the name Elam gave and vaguely wonders if Elam actually did give them his name.

“Jeb. We met before, remember? But you had your hands full with that party of yours, lotta new people comin’ in lately, but I don’t think any of ya will be stayin’ too long if you’re the adventuring sort, but some of these people ...”

He trails off a bit, but Dia nods in a somewhat understanding. A lot of new travelers can, at times, bring trouble. For them, it can be something that is easily taken care of with a knife, or a good kick to the head when needed. But for the locals - alone, orphaned locals, locals that can’t protect themselves -  Dia can imagine it could be a bit harder for them to tame the outlaws that come into town and trash it, or worse.

Then again, they’re not against being a hired hand or a hired guard if someone is truly troubled. Troublesome people in town can mean some good jobs - though the more Dia thinks about it, the more they realize that there are bound to be some good jobs and not just from the locals.

“Are you waiting for someone,” Jeb looks around, as if he could spot Bayleaf despite not knowing who Dia is waiting for, “Didn’t get stood up on a date, I hope.”

Dia snorts, almost breaking into a laugh, and gives Jeb a friendly smile, “No date, just a lesson plan. I’m just hoping my teacher comes before I have too much of the ale.”

Jeb gives a hearty laugh at that comment, “I don’t know, I think some folks learn a bit easier after they get a few drinks in them.”

Deciding that they can not really disagree with that logic, Dia nods in agreement as Jeb takes a seat next to her as he talks animatedly, his hands moving with each word. Dia listens as much as they can, but a few things go missed due to how fast Jeb talks, jumping from topic to topic before they can process the previous one. He talks loudly, with passion, and draws a few stares their way that Dia does their best to turn away from, shrinking from the attention.

Despite that, Jeb’s company is not completely unwelcome as he provides decent company and a conversation while Dia waits for their teacher. Dia comments on a few things here and there, but is content to just listen as they drink and eat their way through their order. Jeb eagerly tells them all about the town, which shopkeepers are easier to bargain with, which inns are the cheapest, and how some of the folk are more eager for a good trade than coin. Somehow, he manages to slip in town gossip between the helpful spouts of information that Dia could actually use since they are not too keen on knowing exactly which shopkeeper is having an affair.

Jeb stops their conversation, practically mid-rant, when he spots someone at the bar. He watches them closely with squinted eyes that wrinkle and crease before he seems to recognize them. He hops up with an apology, giving a friendly pat to Dia’s shoulder.

“Hand on, lil’ Diamond. I think I spot an ol’ friend over there and they have a habit of disappearin’ on me quick if I don’t stop ‘em. If that teacher of yours doesn’t show up soon, just give me a holler.”

Dia watches him depart to the opposite side of the bar, waving toward a man who looks surprised - and mildly uncomfortable - at spotting Jeb. She snorts over the edge of her mug and after a moment of watching the way that the other man is trying to slide away from Jeb’s hug, they turn their attention toward the door as if Bayleaf will walk through any second now that they do not have any present company.

Dia vaguely wonders just how much longer they should hold up their hope that Bayleaf will come. If Bayleaf stands them up, they would have more than a few choice words to say to him. Maybe they could try to get Bayleaf to pay off the bar tab if they play their cards right, as a matter of respect.

Dia’s eyes nonchalantly wander around the bar, taking in its patrons. They spot two people in the dark corner that seem like they are about two full pints away from having a really good time together. Dia keeps their gaze on them for a good moment before giving the two strangers privacy when their tongues start to lock on each other. They give the pair about ten minutes before it gets so risue that the staff will kick them out; granted this means that the staff would actually have to notice them first.

Dia spots another pair that’s not getting along as well in the opposite corner and they can catch enough of the conversation to know what’s going on. Of course, it doesn’t take a genius to put it together when the more feminine of the pair slaps the other and slams a piece of a rejected jewelry on the counter before storming out of the bar. Dia snorts when it takes all but two minutes before the one left is flirting with the curvy barmaid.

No one else in the bar holds more than about ten seconds of their attention. Two passed out drunk and about five others looking about one pint away from doing the same. A few stumble in and out of the bar as the sun begins to set. If not for the good ale and at least edible food that isn’t rations, Dia would already be heading out as their hope of Bayleaf showing up dwindles rapidly.

Dia briefly spots Jeb again at the bar - his ‘old friend’ had apparently disappeared and Dia can’t spot them in the bar. They wonder if Jeb scared them off, or if Jeb’s short attention span had just shifted long enough for the man to escape. Either way, Jeb seems quite happy to talk the ear off the bartender, who nods as they clean a mug with a dirty rag. Jeb briefly catches their gaze and she raises her mug at him in acknowledgement and the gesture is returned with a slightly drunk smile.

Dia is about finished up the sandwich and they are already ordering a third thing of ale when Bayleaf strolls in through the doorway. His green curls barely brush against the edges of his shoulders, though it does not stop him from preening it like a bird strutting its feathers as he struts through the bar with his head head. But Dia finds the gleam in his eyes a bit hollow.

He gives a flirtatious wink to the barmaid handling a nearby table, making Dia roll their eyes at the way the barmaid giggles with flushed cheeks, before he finally takes a seat by Dia at the bar. He barely acknowledges Dia’s presence, not offering any form of greeting. Dia snorts at the way he sits on the stool, straight and stiff with his shoulders pulled back as if he is carrying a weight that is heavier than just his hair. Alternatively, the weight on Dia’s shoulders becomes lighter as they relax into their seat.

“I didn’t think you’d actually show up,” Dia comments casually, the mug in their swaying as they speak.

Bayleaf eyes the drink, briefly wondering just how much they have had. While he wouldn’t necessarily care if Dia got hammered, he is not a big fan of trying to teach a new language to a drunk; not to mention that as sloppy as drunks are, they are more likely to try something. Though, it could be an act, a way for him to relax in a bar of an unfamiliar town with unfamiliar people.

“I’m an elf of my word, you offered to pay me to teach you elvish, so here I am.”

He leans back in his seat as he gestures toward himself with a wave of a polished hand. He catches the eye of the barman, trying to nod him over, but the barman either does not notice, or is choosing to ignore him. Thick eyebrows furrow as he sits up straighter, tapping the bar as a way to signal he’s wanting a drink.

“You’re pretty late for someone who is so eager to get paid.”

Dia takes a large drink of their ale, but Bayleaf just eyes them from the corner of his eyes with a sly grin.

“I can’t be late if a certain someone only gave me a location and not a time.”

Dia does not bother to argue, they thought it was pretty obvious that they wanted him there before sundown, but it was never explicitly said. Details are always everything in the world that they live in, with everyone’s second nature is knowing how to find loopholes and fuck over the person you’re ‘partners’ with. They should know better than to expect anything better from a hired helping hand.  But still, he showed up, didn’t he?

Dia shifts their pockets before tossing him a small bag of coins. Bayleaf catches it easily, feeling the weight in his palm before looking at Dia with a raised brow.

“You’ll get the rest after you teach me.”

“And what if you happen to be unteachable?”

It would say more about you as a teacher than me as a student, Dia can’t help but to think. They don’t know anything about Bayleaf’s teaching ability, but Dia has been wanting this for a long time. The usefulness of actualling knowing elvish varies greatly, it’s something that they are actually excited for. They are more than willing to put in the work if he is.

Dia meets his gaze evenly, and for a moment, the idea of letting their eyes change into their natural form passes through their mind. It would be easy to let the dark void roll over their eyes. The level of intimidation and fear that the sheer endless darkness in their eyes could cause are tempting. But the idea of scaring off the only person willing to teach them elvish, however, is a different matter - so is them seeing her for what she is but she swallows that down and tells themselves that the cost of intimidation is just the loss of a teacher and nothing more.

They settle for a harsh glare.

“I’m a fast learner.”

Bayleaf stares for a moment, looking them over as if he is debating something. He spots the harsh serious gleam in their eyes and is almost relieved to see that Dia is not playing an odd joke on him. They’re serious. Dead serious.  If Dia really is going to want to learn (and he is getting paid), he may as well try his best to teach them. And if good teaching earns him a little extra when it’s all said and done then...

“Alright. We’ll get started as soon as I actually manage to get a drink.”

Bayleaf’s mild frustration toward the lack of service begins to seep into his tone and voice, and it does not go unnoticed by Dia. Dia glances over toward Jeb, who despite being in an animated conversation with the bartender looks their way tentatively. His eyes don’t seem to have the same spark in them when he looks over Bayleaf, his eyes focusing too long on the ears, before he gives Dia a hesitant smile and turns back to his conversation. The bartender, however, looks their way but their lips thin and they don’t give any sign of acknowledgement as they turn back to Jeb.

“Oi,” Dia whistles sharply and they relish, just a bit, in the way it makes the bartender jump, “Need another drink over here.”

The bartender seems to snap toward them as if he had just remembered that Dia is sitting at the bar. He doesn’t even glance toward Bayleaf, settling instead on focusing simply on Dia, who has their mug tipped his way. He refills it quickly, but still hasn’t acknowledged the man beside them.

“Him too,” Dia nods toward Bayleaf, who looks at them with a bit of caution. Dia glances at him through the corner of their eyes and then, after a brief moment of hesitation, continues.  “Add it to my tab.”

Their comment takes Bayleaf a bit off guard, but he is not about to argue against a free drink. The bartender turns toward Bayleaf tentatively, as if he doesn’t know how to act or what to say. His eyes are drawn to Bayleaf’s brashly colored hair before he focuses on the sharp point of Bayleaf’s ears.

“I don’t know what you elves like to drink,” the bartender’s tone is not quite friendly enough for Dia’s tastes as their knuckles go white against the handle of their mug.

Bayleaf rolls his shoulders to loosen the tension that is threatening to build up. Unfortunately, there is little he can do about the throbbing that is forming at his temples.

“I don’t know about other elves, but give me the hardest ale you have.”

Bayleaf’s tone is tense as he makes his order, but the bartender just gives a forced smile that puts Bayleaf on edge. He has a feeling that with the way this evening is going so far, he is going to need a few of the hardest ales they have.

“Ah so this is the teacher you’ve been waiting for.”

Jeb pops up and breaks the tense silence that was beginning to fall across them. He seems oblivious to any tension, even though even he eyes Bayleaf with caution. Despite the fact that Jeb’s hand easily goes to Dia’s shoulder, he seems careful to not touch Bayleaf.

“She’s been waiting for you, you know,” Jeb mildly scolds, “It’s not very nice to keep a pretty young lady waiting at the bar.”

Oh yes, Bayleaf is definitely going to have a headache before the night is over.

“Well if the pretty young lady had happened to give me a time then she wouldn’t have been waiting for so long.”

Bayleaf sends a pointed look in her direction, but Dia waves the comment off as Jeb looks him over with careful consideration before breaking out into a grin. He slaps Dia’s back so hard that it nearly tumbles them over.

“Ha! Well, can’t argue with that!”

Bayleaf squints, furrowing his brows before glancing toward Dia and mouthing a question, who is he? Dia shrugs and the vague answer only causes the hackles on Bayleaf’s neck to rise before Dia continue with a more direct answer.

Jeb. Elam Cousin. That made a bit more sense, Bayleaf can vaguely remember Elam sort of introducing them, and it at least puts Bayleaf at a little of ease now that he knows why Jeb looks so familiar.

“Well, I won’t get in the way of your lessons! I’m always here at the bar if you ever need any friendly local guide!”

At the realization that Jeb is always here, Bayleaf just knows that he will most definitely get in the way of the lessons.

_________________________________

The next week is full of slow words and carefully drawn elvish letters over drinks as the bar begins to become their regular spot to go over their lessons, with neither of them wanting to deal with any heckling from their party if they did it at camp. Of course, all of the ale that is at their ready is only a plus.

Bayleaf does not like to think too hard about what their tab looks like. After the first night, Dia made it clear that them buying his drinks is not going to be a regular thing since they are already paying him for lessons.  Though opening a tab with the bartender proved to be a hassle, though Dia’s surprising vouch for him helped considerably, Bayleaf imagines that his own tab is at least a few good jobs worth by now. Dia’s tab is likely even higher.

They don’t sit at the bar, settling on the most well-lit table that they could find. After making sure the table’s counter is free of vomit, wet spots and other unknown substances, Bayleaf spreads out their supplies of papers and quills and the lesson begins.

“What’s this word,” Dia points to a word that Bayleaf had written down earlier.

“ Please,” Bayleaf repeats the word in both elvish and common.

Dia repeats the word a bit sloppily, but fixes their pronunciation quickly. “ Please…. Why the fuck are you teaching me please?”

Dia’s hands move as they speak, barely missing their nearby mug. Bayleaf takes that moment to grab it, moving it further away from both Dia’s constantly moving hands and the limited amount of paper with a grimace. Until Dia buys the supplies themselves, he will be sure to keep the drinks a more suitable distance away.

“Because you need to learn your basics and some damn manners.”

Bayleaf waves a barmaid over offhandedly, already needing another drink.

“I have manners.”

Dia’s voice speaks of pride, and a touch of hurt, their chest puffed out.

“Limited manners, maybe, but knowing what to say to get you what you want isn’t the same thing.”

Dia visibly deflates, but hides it as best as they can despite the tenseness in their shoulders and the lock of their jaw. A part prepares for the worst, for the judgement, or a scolding while the other half already has a few smart comments and choice words at the tip of their tongue ready.

But Bayleaf meets Dia’s eyes without a sense of judgement despite the bit of frustration that seeps into his tone. He speaks simply, as if he’s just stating the facts, and he should. There’s no point in trying to act as if either of them are decent living beings. He knows exactly the type of person Dia is and they are dangerous. They both are.

“Speaking the way you do won’t work the same in Elvish. Traditional elves especially. The former speech, manners, honorifics and knowing exactly the right grammer, is how you get what you want. Being overly polite gets you a lot farther than just normal manners. If you want me to teach you elvish, then this is where we are starting.”

Despite the fact that his patience is beginning  to wear thin, Bayleaf tries his best to explain as simple as he can as he reminds himself that he still needs the other half of his ‘tutoring’ payment. Dia settles down at his comment at least, merely frowning sightly as Bayleaf whispers a quick thank you to the barmaid for the new drink.

“And for fuck’s sake, Dia, we aren’t even a week into this,” Bayleaf reminds them as he takes a much needed drink.

___________________________

A month into their lessons, Dia can at least carry a simple conversation. Their trips on words are limited, but perfection with simple words is the foundation for learning the language. But Bayleaf supposes that it is something and while simple, it is at least above a small child’s level. The more he can teach Dia, the higher his second payment is going to be.

The hardest part, he quickly finds out, is that conversing in elvish with Dia is difficult when neither of them want to say the first word.

“How’s the lessons going,” Jeb doesn’t even hesitate to sit down at their table.  “I’m still not sure what language it is, but I’m sure you’ll get it down in no time.”

“It’s elvish and it’s more complicated than it looks.”

Bayleaf’s eyes darken, glancing over at Dia as if he can’t believe that they divulge that information so easily and quickly. Though if Dia notices his glare, they don’t comment on it. With a tense sigh, he glances toward Jeb, who in turn, is looking over the elvish written on the papers. His brows are furrowed and he tries to mouth some of the letters, despite how wrong he is on what they supposedly sound like.

“Well,” Jeb begins and Bayleaf finds himself hoping that Jeb isn’t going to try to read the script aloud and butch it, but Jeb just laughs, “It definitely looks complicated, can’t make heads or tails of it! If she’s making such good progress, makes me wonder if she’s just that good of a student or are you that good of a teacher?”

Bayleaf doesn’t offer a reply, unsure of how to respond and how sincere Jeb’s statement is, but Dia takes the reigns as they glance between Jeb and Bayleaf.

“Both,” Dia finally settles on and it satisfies Jeb, who takes it in stride with a smile.

But the comment stays in Bayleaf’s head even as Jeb leaves and they continue their lesson.

Three months into their lessons, Dia is speaking more fluently than Bayleaf actually thought that they would be capable of. Not quite perfect, and he highly doubts that Dia will be giving any big, inspirational monologues in elvish just yet, but it is more than he expected of them. Their accent still needed a bit of tweaking and he needs to focus their lessons more on writing the elvish letters now.

Dia sits at the table, talking more in elvish than Bayleaf had heard them even speak in common. He sits back and just listens, offering a few corrections here and there that they catch on quickly, taking each correction with stride.

He watches them carefully, noting the ignited fire in their eyes and the passion they speak each word with.  He closes his eyes, just listening to Dia speak and offering soft-spoken corrections until he hears the familiar heart laugh of Jeb. He debates about opening his eyes to check when he hears someone pulling up a chair at their table, but he doesn’t need to check when he hears Jeb’s voice.

“I thought this was supposed to be a study lesson, not nap time!”

Bayleaf hears Dia’s  soft chuckle and he sighs, “Don’t encourage him, Dia, or he’ll never leave.”

Bayleaf’s eyes shot open as Jeb slaps him on his back hard enough to knock the wind of him. Bayleaf coughs, trying to get the air back into his lungs, glaring lightly at the way both Dia and Jeb begin to laugh.

“HA! You know you don’t want me to leave!”

______________________________________

It was a bad day for the both of them, a job not going as well as they would have liked makes their lessons tense and full of frustration with their conversations being short and crass. When it’s clear that Dia isn’t even trying to write the letters correctly, Bayleaf snaps at them harshly, wondering what is the point of them being there if they’re not even going to try.

Dia doesn’t meet Bayleaf’s gaze, refusing to look in his direction as they fiddle with the string necklace around their neck.

Bayleaf glances at Jeb when the man comes by with a hesitant expression, sitting down at their table with three fresh mugs of ale in his hand. He looks between them, as if he’s trying to decide what happened while he was gone with furrowed brows. Bayleaf immediately takes the offered mug with relish, chugging half of it in one go while Dia’s mug sits untouched.  However, when the barmaid brings by another plate of PBJ sandwiches, the entire plate is completely claimed by Dia.

“That’s the third plate of sandwiches,” Jeb breaks the silence, “I didn’t know adventurers had such big appetites.”

Jeb gives a full bellied laugh as he tries to take one of the sandwiches, only to have his hand swatted away by Dia.

“He’s right,” Bayleaf comments nonchalantly, “I didn’t think you would be such a big fan of those.”

Dia stops mid-bite, setting their food down with a grimace before they look toward Bayleaf with eyes that look a bit too haunted. He knows that look - the melancholic, reminiscing gleam in the eyes when memories surface in your mind and you’re struggling to figure out if you’re going to swim through the waves or drown in them.

He oddly wonders just which decision Dia will make.

“They just bring back memories,” Dia’s voice is rough and dry.

They don’t offer any explanation beyond that and they don’t need to as Bayleaf puts away their supplies and decides the night is better spent getting hammered, a decision that Jeb is more than happy with as he calls out for the bartender to bring them something harder than ale.

When their lessons are finished,  Dia hands him a small pouch and immediately, Bayleaf can feel the heavier difference between this batch of coins and the first. When he looks at her questioningly, Dia just offers a half-hearted shrug and a small smile.

“You’re a good teacher.”

The sincerity in their voice takes him back and he’s still stunned when Dia pats him on the back as they leave the bar to join the rest of their party. He shakes his head to clear his thoughts and heads to the bar. The last few jobs have paid well and he doesn’t plan on leaving his tab open when it’s no skin off his back to pay it off while he can.

But he’s not prepared when the bartender shakes off the payment, refusing to take it as he shakes his head.

“Oh no, that odd lil’ thing with the gray hair paid for both of your tabs.”

The bartender is quick to shut the conversation off, making it clear that he’s not too interested in having a long conversation with the elf. The bartender turns his back to Bayleaf as he turns to the paying customers, one of which is Jeb.

Jeb gives him a big, sloppy grin and wave, trying to usher him over to join him, but Bayleaf can’t quite bring himself to drink as a heavy stone settles at the bottom of his gut as it turns. Bayleaf swallows thickly as he puts his money back into his pouch. Dia paying off his tab leaves him with more worries than relief, wondering just what they could want in return.

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#dungeons and dragons #oc #original characters #myworks #mycommissions #commissions

[animalssecrets]

22 Ways to Lose 2 Inches of Belly Fat in 2 Weeks

A slimmer waist, healthier body, and reduced risk of chronic disease start today with these belly fat-fighting tips. AND  make  sur To participate in the competition to   Get a Brand New Apple Watch!                                                                                               (thise giveway is only in USA)  Let’s face it: that marshmallowy middle you’re sporting didn’t get there overnight. Stressful days at the office, indulging in one-too-many cheat meals, or finding excuses to skip a day, week, or month’s worth of workouts are all making it easy to pack on the pounds and making it difficult to get them off. Watching that extra junk around your trunk turn your body into a full-blown Buddha belly puts you at an increased risk for heart disease, diabetes, and early death. Luckily, losing the weight doesn’t have to take forever; with these 22 belly fat-fighting tips, you can shave two inches off your waistline in as little as two weeks. Think your age will stand in the way of your weight loss? The 20 Ways to Lose Your Belly When You’re Older will help folks of any age get on track to their best body ever.

Start Your Day Early

Don’t let extra hours lounging in bed stand between you and a flatter belly. While getting enough sleep can help boost your metabolic rate, sleeping in may undo any benefit you’d enjoy from catching a few extra winks. One study reveals that late sleepers who snoozed past 10:45 in the morning ate nearly 250 more calories over the course of the day, despite eating half as many fruits and vegetables as their early bird counterparts. Even worse, they chowed down on more salty, sugary, and trans fat-laden fast food than those who woke up earlier. If you happen to head out of the house early, you’re in for an additional metabolic boost; researchers at Northwestern University have found that people exposed to just a short period of early morning sunlight had lower BMIs than their late-waking counterparts.

2

Bring on the Berries

Instead of satisfying your sweet tooth with some refined sugar, turn to berries and enjoy a slimmer waistline in no time. Berries are loaded with antioxidants, which can help reduce inflammation throughout the body, and research from the University of Michigan reveals that rats given a berry-rich diet shaved off a significant proportion of their belly fat when compared to a control group. Berries like strawberries, raspberries, blueberries, and blackberries are also loaded with resveratrol, an antioxidant pigment that has been linked to reductions in belly fat and a reduced risk of dementia, to boot.

3

Skip the Hydrogenated Oils

Those trans fats on your menu are hiding out in plain sight and sabotaging your lean belly plans every time you eat them. If a food product says it contains partially hydrogenated oils, you’re eating trans fat, which can increase your risk of heart disease, high cholesterol, and obesity with every bite. In fact, research conducted at Wake Forest University reveals that monkeys whose diets contained eight percent trans fat upped their body fat by 7.2 percent over a six-year study, while those who ate monounsaturated fat gained just a fraction of that amount. Instead of letting harmful trans fat take up space on your menu, fill up with the 20 Healthy Fats to Make You Thin.

4

Switch to Sprouted Bread

While it’s often assumed that bread is off-limits when you’re trying to lose belly fat, the right bread may actually expedite the process. Switching to sprouted bread can help out carb-lovers eager to get their fix without going up a belt size, thanks to the inulin content of sprouted grains. The results of a study published in Nutrition & Metabolism reveal that found that pre-diabetic study subjects whose diets were supplemented with inulin shaved off more belly fat and total weight than those whose meal plans didn���t pack this healthy prebiotic fiber.

5

Lift

Do you even lift, bro? If you’re serious about getting rid of that belly fat fast, resistance training might just be the key. A study from the Harvard School of Public Health found that adding weight training to adult male test subjects’ workouts significantly reduced their risk of abdominal obesity over a multi-year study period, although doing the same amount of cardio had no such effect. Research from the University of Maryland even found that just 16 weeks of weight training boosted study participants’ metabolic rates by a whopping 7.7 percent, making it easier to ditch those extra inches around your middle.

6

Say So Long to Sweeteners

While many people turn to artificial sweeteners in a misguided attempt to whittle their waistlines, those fake sugars are likely to have the opposite effect. According to researchers at Yale, artificial sweeteners are actually linked with an increased risk of abdominal obesity and weight gain, possibly because they can trigger cravings for the real stuff and spike insulin levels in a similar fashion to real sugar.

7

Make Fiber Your Friend

The secret to a slimmer stomach in no time? A whole lot of fiber in your diet. Although many people are loath to add carbs to their diet when they’re trying to lose weight, adding the right, fiber-rich ones can have inches off your belly in a hurry. In fact, researchers at Wake Forest Baptist Medical Center found that every 10-gram daily increase in soluble fiber was associated with a 3.7 percent decrease in dangerous visceral fat over five years. Those who were active got even leaner, shaving off twice that much fat in the same amount of time. To start ditching that extra belly fat today, add the 30 Best Foods For Fiber to your menu!

8

Swap Out Ketchup For Salsa

Sure, ketchup is tasty, but it’s also a serious saboteur when it comes your weight loss efforts. Ketchup is loaded with sugar — up to four grams per tablespoon — and bears little nutritional resemblance to the fruit from which it’s derived. Luckily, swapping out your ketchup for salsa can help you shave off that belly fat fast. Fresh tomatoes, like those used in salsa, are loaded with lycopene, which a study conducted at China Medical University in Taiwan links to reductions in both overall fat and waist circumference. If you like your salsa spicy, all the better; the capsaicin in hot peppers, like jalapeños and chipotles, can boost your metabolism, too.

9

Score Some Rays

While few would suggest you start hitting up the tanning beds for better health, getting some natural sunlight can help you get rid of those extra inches on your waist in a hurry. Researchers at the Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research Center found that vitamin D-deficient overweight women between 50 and 75 who upped their intake of the so-called sunshine vitamin shed more weight and body fat than those who didn’t. To practice safe sun, make sure you’re limiting yourself to 15 sunscreen-free minutes per day.

10

Nosh on Some Nuts

Sometimes, to whip your body into shape, you have to get a little nutty. While nuts are high in fat, it’s that very fat that makes them such powerful weapons in the war against a ballooning belly. In fact, research from Reina Sofia University Hospital reveals that study participants who consumed a diet rich in monounsaturated fats, like those in nuts, over a 28-day period gained less belly fat than their saturated fat-consuming counterparts while improving their insulin sensitivity.

11

Think Fast

Instead of subjecting yourself to another endless workout, crank up the intensity and you’ll see results faster than you ever thought possible. The results of a study conducted at McMaster University in Ontario reveal that adult male study subjects who exercised intensely for a single minute had equivalent respiratory and metabolic changes to those who worked out at a slower pace for close to an hour, so if you want to burn through that belly fat, say so long to slow and steady.

12

Flavor Your Food With Garlic

A little garlic in your meals could mean a lot less weight around your middle. The results of a Korean study found that mice given a high-fat diet supplemented with garlic lost significantly more weight and abdominal fat than those who just ate fatty foods. Even better, they also improved their liver health, making it easier to stay healthy and burn off that excess fat in the long term. For more flavorful ways to make your food more enjoyable, turn to the 20 Spicy Recipes That Fire Up Your Metabolism and watch those pounds melt away.

13

Brush Up

Keeping a toothbrush handy can do more than polish up that smile (and counter the effects of all that belly-slimming garlic); brushing your teeth throughout the day can also help you ditch that belly fat fast. A study conducted a sample of over 14,000 participants found that brushing after every meal was linked to lower weight. That minty toothpaste flavor not only clashes with virtually every food, brushing may also trigger a Pavlovian response that tells your brain the kitchen’s closed.

14

Fill Up on Fish

If you’ve got weight to lose and you want it gone fast, try swapping out your usual proteins in favor of fish. Not only is fish lower in calories than an equivalent amount of beef or chicken, a study published in Obesity reveals study subjects who added omega-3 fatty acids, like those found in fish, to their diets shed more weight and had an easier time keeping it off than those who skipped them.

15

Don’t Give Up on Grains

You don’t have to go low-carb to ditch those extra pounds around your waist in a short period of time. In fact, opting for more whole grains might just get you there faster. Researchers at Tufts University have linked eating three or more daily servings of whole grains to as much as a 10 percent reduction in visceral body fat, the kind that ups your risk for chronic diseases, like diabetes, heart disease, and high blood pressure.

16

Add Some Acid

Don’t buy your tickets to Bonnaroo just yet; the kind of acid that will help you slim down is the stuff right inside your cabinet. A 12-week study published in Bioscience, Biotechnology, and Biochemistry reveals that obese study subjects who made vinegar part of their diet dropped more belly fat than a control group, and other research suggests that acidic foods, like vinegar, can increase the human carbohydrate metabolism by as much as 40 percent.

17

Snack on Some Veggies

Your parents weren’t kidding about how important veggies are for a healthy body. What they probably didn’t tell you, however, was that snacking on veggies is also one of the easiest ways to shed unwanted belly fat, too. According to a study published in the Journal of the Academy of Nutrition and Dietetics, opting for non-starchy veggies, like cauliflower, broccoli, and cucumber, as snacks helped overweight kids shed 17 percent of their visceral fat while improving their insulin sensitivity over a five-year period. Think snacking on veggies will leave you hungry? The Filling Fru20 Most its and Veggies will have your belly satisfied in no time.

18

Crank Up the Calcium

Say cheese! Adding some extra calcium to your diet could be the key to getting that flat stomach you’ve been dreaming about. Over just 12 months, researchers at the University of Tennessee, Knoxville found that obese female study subjects who upped their calcium intake shed 11 pounds of body fat without other major dietary modifications. To keep your calcium choices healthy, try mixing it up between dairy sources, calcium-rich leafy greens, fatty fish, nuts, and seeds.

19

Snack on Some Tart Cherries

That sour cherry is pretty sweet when it comes to your health. The results of a study conducted at the University of Michigan found that rats given high-fat foods along with tart cherries ditched nine percent more body fat than those in a control group over just 12 weeks. Cherries are also a good source of antioxidant pigment resveratrol, which has been linked to reductions in belly fat, dementia risk, and lower rates of macular degeneration among the elderly.

20

Hit the Track

You don’t have to be the next Usain Bolt in the making to enjoy some serious belly-slimming results from hitting the track from time to time. Even a moderate-rate jog a few times a week can blast through that belly fat; in fact, a study conducted at Duke University Medical Center found that, over the course of an eight-month study, overweight adult study subjects who jogged 12 miles a week lost the most belly fat and burned 67 percent more calories than participants who did an equivalent amount of resistance exercise, or a combination of cardio and resistance work.

21

Sleep It Off

Want to lose that belly fat? In your dreams! Seriously, though: a good night’s sleep is one of the best ways to get rid of that extra fat around your waist for good. Among the 60,000 women participating in the Nurses’ Health Study, those who snoozed for fewer than five hours a night were at the greatest risk of becoming obese and gaining 30 or more pounds over the course of the 16-year study period when compared to those who slept for seven or more hours.

22

Close Up Shop

Stop treating your kitchen like an all-night diner and you’ll stop seeing those unwanted pounds piling onto your frame, too. The results of a study published in Cell Metabolism found that mice who only had access to food during an eight-hour period stayed slim over the course of the study, while those who ate the same number of calories over a 16-hour period gained significantly more weight, particularly around their middle. When you’re finished with dinner at night, shut the fridge and don’t look back until morning — your belly will thank you. When you do head back to the kitchen in the A.M., make sure the 40 Things Healthy Cooks Always Have in Their Kitchen are there waiting for you.

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How you can Hang Draperies

Step ladders: Be sure you possess a steady couple of steps to never short so that you over reach. Your biceps and triceps will drop of ahead of you have used your first lesson in how to hang drapes. Not to large that you cannot reach the windows comfortably not having leaning out to the side to hold curtains throwing you off balance. Drape hooks for standard pen pleat window curtain tape Window curtain hooks Again make sure prior to starting that you have more than enough of the right type of curtain hooks Light curtains will be great with standard plastic hooks. http://mccurtaincounty.net/curtains/the-best-ways-to-select-and-also-install-a-rod-pocket-curtains/ Medium fat curtains use nylon hooks, stronger than plastic. They may flex with no breaking. Hefty curtains make use of metal nickel hooks, they can be bit difficult to handle each of them stick along the box. Just like the Chinese questions I had since a child. Curtain hooks for bucram headed window treatments You will need what are called "pin hooks" since they have a sharp pin which in turn pierces through the fabric and bucram for the back of the curtain header. This kind of planning makes for the best looking draperies. As always the very best all methods costs that bit more. An extra pair of hands When you are learning how to hang curtains large or heavy it is rather useful to possess someone ranking at walk out holding the curtain taking weight. This enables you to dangle the drape onto your trail or fishing rod with ease. How many hooks will you need? Very well for drapes with typical pencil pleat tape you will require a catch every fourth pocket. For bucram headed curtains you will want 1 for each and every pleat or goblet and one for every single end. Getting ready your bucram headed draperies prior to hanging. The good news besides putting in the pin hooks setting them down .5 inch from your top of the curtain. you cannot find any more readying to do. You just have to learn how to hang curtains and dress all of them properly. preparing your pad pleat drapes prior to holding: Standard pad pleat shades to start you will have to gather the tape on the top of your window treatments. You do this by taking out the 3 cords in the back of the curtain recording. To start move the wires out of both ends of the drape tape and tie them together within a firm knot. There are a couple of reasons for this kind of 1 . This stops you pulling the cords totally out of the video tape (not an excellent start when understanding how to hang curtains). 2 . It keeps the cords collectively on the end that you pull the cords to be able to gather the curtain. In that case continue to yank the cords out. Basic tip on gathering the curtains. Take one set of knotted cords and hook on the door take care of or some additional fixed subject. Then apply one hand to keep the curtain tape device other hand start to pull the tape away from door cope with. You will see the heading on your own curtain learn to pleat. How wide will you curtains have to be? Next check what 1 / 2 the size of your track or fishing rod measures. Lets say the track can be 100 in . long. You half this to 65 inches, in that case add on two inches allowing your window treatments to pleasantly meet in the middle when suspending. So the completed width you want to gather every of your set of curtains is certainly 52 in .. The more you learn how to dangle curtains, the more this turns into second nature. Before you hang curtains... end and check! Before you start to hang your curtain you need to place your drape down on a table as well as floor and check the gathered width is around right. Then simply if to narrow then simply pull out the tape a little. If to wide then gather in the tape a little more. what about the surplus cord? Finally sorting out everything surplus cord and nighttime up the pleats in the recording. DO NOT TRIM THE CORDS! The best alternative is to package deal the wires up simply by wrapping all of them around your entire fingers in that case tie a slip knot around the pack. This allows you in the future to alter the header tape should you want to. After the cords happen to be sorted away turn the curtain more than. You need to consider the pleats and try and even them away. Just do it approximately at this time mainly because when you arrive to hang these people the pleats will progress a little. Previous job prior to hanging your curtains Almost all most presently there, before you can hang your window curtain you have to position the curtain hooks into the wallets on the back of the cassette. On most common pencil pleat tape you will find 3 storage compartments top, middle section and lower part. How to suspend curtains by a fly fishing rod or pole If suspending under a fishing rod or person of polish lineage put the curtain hooks in the major pocket. Also note the quantity of rings on your rod or pole. This kind of determines the amount of hooks you put in the curtain cassette. As a rule of thumb you utilize less hooks on a stick or trellis than on a curtain monitor. On a monitor put a hook at any time 4th win and on a ror or perhaps pole just about every 6 to 8 pouches. Hanging via a monitor? If holding from a curtain keep tabs on then set your drape hooks in the center or perhaps bottom bank pocket. this allows the curtain for the track when closed. To decide which in turn pocket to work with try one and see what your curtain appears like hanging. In case your happy then great the actual other curtain. If not happy move the curtain shacks up or to suit. The 1st step when suspending A lot of people declare you should always commence hanging the curtains from your ends on the track or perhaps rod and work towards the center. I Disagree, I say you should always start from the center and job outwards towards the ends. The main reason I give you advice do it in this manner is because when you have too many gliders on your monitor or lots of rings with your rod you can actually remove them from the ends of the track or rod. Where if you begin with the outside to the middle the surplus gliders or rings are locked in the midst of your keep track of or fishing rod. Meaning you have to unhang your curtains to clear out them. Very little more nowadays and you will have the basics means hang drapes. Why carry out some advise to start from the heart? The reason is upon some monitors and supports, but typically the corded kind. They may have what are known as overlap arms. These are short arms manufactured from metal or perhaps platic with holes in for the last pair of curtain hooks on each top rated of your couple of curtains (edges that match at centre of your window). Theses overlap arms enable one window curtain to pass and overlap the other drape by 2 or 3 inches. Thus giving you total privacy. Therefore what's the big problem? Thus where's the challenge? the problem is the particular arms are not very strong. This means when you start to hang a low to medium to large curtain. Specifically without someone carrying the weight that they sag and twist or perhaps break totally. Avoiding the challenge! So how do we avoid that when hanging from your center with the track or rod and working outwards. Very simple genuinely, if you need two hooks to visit in the terme conseillé arm therefore count in for the 3rd fishing hook and lift this in the first actual glider or ring. Departing the 1st and 2nd curtain hooks in order to hang in space. continue hanging your curtain working from the middle section outwards. That's how to dangle curtains my personal way (the best way obviously "wink") In that case once you have reached the ends of your monitor or rod (removing virtually any surplus airplane diagram or rings). You go back to the middle and hook within the last couple of curtain hooks in to the overlap biceps and triceps. So keeping away from putting to much weight on them. Well I hope you could have picked up a few "Tips" approach hang curtains. This is only the first stage. Next is definitely the "Dressing" of your curtains. Shelter Stevens has become involved in the building and size of all kinds of window treatments for several years. He nowadays writes "How to" article content on this susceptible to help other folks create the window treatments of their dreams.

#Long length curtains #Dupioni silk curtains #contemporary shower curtain #Silent Gliss Curtain Track #shower curtain #Rod Pocket Curtains #Lace Curtains #Velvet curtains