sleek & shine

An Escort’s Favorite Products and Their Hoe Uses

For those that have asked about my self-care regimen, here are my favorite products and their uses! I’ll definitely update this as I get more escorting experience and my product selection grows. 

Body

I have sensitive, weird skin. I’m allergic to almost all BBW products. Here are the things I love! 

  • Aloe Vera Baby Oil - Shaving the cooch
  • Tend Skin - Prevents razor burn after shaving the cooch
  • Neutrogena Body Clear Scrub - Exfoliates and gets rid of random bumps
  • Aveeno Therapeutic Shave Gel - For a soft, super close shave on your legs
  • Lollia Perfumed Shower Gel - All of their scents smell amazing and they leave behind a muted scent. Plus, it’s very thick so a little bit goes a long way. Seriously, a quarter sized dollop is enough to get foamy suds over your entire body!
  • Lollia Hand Creme - Will give you the smoothest, softest hands ever. Especially important for touching wieners. 
  • Intimore Intimate Wash - My favorite wash for cleaning the vag. ALL of their varieties are safe for sensitive skin and they have great uses. The Therapeutic wash is great if you’ve been fucked raw. Very soothing!
  • Lush Sugar Scrub - Great for exfoliating, it leaves your skin very bright and radiant and it is supposed to reduce the appearance of cellulite!
  • Nip + Fab Glycolic Fix Extreme Pads - I use these to get rid of weird bumps or razor burn on my legs after shaving. Will literally clear up those weird clear bumps that aren’t quite whiteheads or pimples. 
  • Kiehl’s Soy Milk & Honey Whipped Body Butter - Will leave your entire body smoother than a baby’s butt and the scent is very light. Super hydrating. I use this every night after a hot bath. I also use this to moisturize my cooch. YES, YOU CAN AND SHOULD MOISTURIZE YOUR COOCH. It’s okay! Try it!
  • Sally Hansen Airbrush Legs - It’s like foundation for your legs! It comes in either a squeeze bottle or mist. I use the squeeze bottle more because the mist WILL STAIN your bathroom tile or toilet, if you prop your leg on it to spray. 
  • St. Tropez Express Bronzing Mousse with Mitt - I used this for the first time last night because my spray tan was wearing off. It gives a really natural tan and you only have to leave it on 1-3 hours, depending on how dark you want to go, before rinsing! I left mine on for a little less than two hours and I have a nice, NATURAL looking tan glow! 

Hair

I’m a light ashy blonde with frizzy, unmanageable hair. Here are my top picks for products. 

  • Batiste Dry Shampoo - Absolute BEST dry shampoo and it’s super affordable. Very fine powder. It comes in a bunch of varities, I like the sleek and shine the most. 
  • AG Hair Cosmetics Sterling Silver Shampoo - Great purple shampoo for blondes. 
  • Davines Alchemic Conditioner - They have different formulas for different hair colors. I use the purple conditioner for blondes and it’s a great purple mask that tones and deep conditions. 
  • Kerastase Shampoo & Conditioner - Comes in a ton of varities. I use the ones for damaged hair and frizzy hair. BEST shampoo and conditioners I have ever used. It doesn’t take much product and every product does what it says it will. 
  • Kerastase Fluidissime Blow Dry Spray - For frizzy or curly hair. It gives heat protection, shine and smoothness. I use this when I want my hair to be super straight or I want to style it after blow drying. 
  • Kerastase L’ncroyable Blow Dry - Most amazing blow dry lotion ever. Seriously. Now my most used product. 
  • Kerastase Ciment Thermique - Protecting blow dry lotion for damaged/colored hair. 
  • Davines Melu Serum - For disguising split ends. Also adds shine. 
  • Davines Minu Mask - Illuminating hair mask used to add back shine and dimension
  • Carol’s Daughter Monoi Mask - Great for softness and hydration. Smells amazing. Probably my favorite mask. 
  • Kerastase Masqueintense - Second favorite hair mask. It’s ultra smoothing and revitalizes your hair. 
  • Kerastase Elixir Ultime - Great hair oil! Lighter than Morrocanoil with the same benefits, though the smell isn’t as nice. 
  • Shu Uemura Straight Forward - Great blowdry spray oil. It really does cut down the amount of time it takes to blow out your hair. I use this with the Kerastase Incredible Blowdy. 

Skin Care

I have sensitive, combination skin. I used to get random hormonal acne. 

  • Glamglow ThirstyMud - Great for hydration and smells amazing. You can use it as rinse off or a sleeping mask.
  • Glamglow Flashmud - Brightening, revitalizing mask. I use this on my butt to help get rid of a few blemish scars. No, I am not joking. Yes, it is actually working. 
  • Glamglow Thirstycleanse - Amazing mud cleanser for whenever my skin is feeling a little dry or needs some nourishment. 
  • Glamglow Supercleanse - My favorite cleanser ever. It’s a mud-oil dual pump and it takes off every BIT of make up and keeps your skin super clear! Plus, it’s not drying!
  • Peter Thomas Roth BHA 2% Acne Wash - For if I feel a breakout coming on. One bottle will likely last you over a year. 
  • Peter Thomas Roth Blemish Buffing Beads - Great for body acne.
  • Glamglow Fizzy Lip - Great exfoliating lip scrub, plus you get twice as much product as most other lip scrubs. 
  • Glamglow Wet Lip - Intense softening lip treatment. You should definitely be using both of these to get seductive, soft, kissable lips! 
  • Sunday Riley Luna Sleeping Oil - I use this at night before bed. It’s anti-aging, moisturizing, clarifying, fights wrinkles and reduces pore size. 
  • Sunday Riley Good Genes Serum - I use this in the morning and it makes my skin look superb. Best skin product I’ve ever had. It brightens, exfoliates, gives radiance and evens out hyperpigmentation. 
  • Clarins HydraQuench Intensive Serum Bi-Phase - I use this serum as my moisturizer and it keeps my skin super nourished! It doesn’t clog up your pores and hydrates your dry areas. Definitely the best moisturizer I’ve ever used.

i love ALL kinds of dogs!!!! sunshine dogs that make your heart smile when they boop their head to your hand so you could pat them?? luv u!! fluff dogs that love to cuddle and lick your cheeks but also gets tired and sleepy easily?? luv u!! smol pups with really smol legs or with lil tummy bump right after eating their food?? luv u!! grump doggos who always act like they dont care but u know they luv u especially when it’s cuddle time?? yes, luv u!! smart doggos with all the cool tricks and gets super excited when people teach them stuffo?? luv u!!! big ole doggos with the warmest hearts and a brave lil barfbarf?? luv u!! precious puppers so smol and could fit perfectly on ur arms to cuddle and mushmush all day?? luv u!! always excited doggos? comfort n cozy doggos?? HUNGARY ALWAYS doggos??? ruffin doggos???? buff but fluff doggos????? sleek n pretty shine doggos?????? ALL DOGGOS!! I LOVE EM. i need me a bunch of friendo doggos

Moving on After Fred Weasley Passes Away - Headcanon/Would Include

Warnings: This broke my heart to write):


  • You wouldn’t cry much towards the beginning. Of course when the news hit a barricade of tears fell freely but after that, you learned how to bottle it all up. Everything was so unreal you weren’t even sure if it what was real anymore.
  • Fred was your best friend, your other half, the love of your life.
  • After the Battle of Hogwarts you’d travel back to the Burrow with the Weasley’s.
  • He was buried shortly after the Battle. His casket was a sleek black color and shined in the rain that fell. You placed a flower on the top of his casket and choked on a shaky sob. George stood behind you and his hand found it’s way into yours, giving you a squeeze of reassurance as he cried with you. You had never felt more lost in your life. Your fingers twiddled with the diamond band wrapped around your finger. It felt more like a piece of mockery, there to remind you everyday of what you could now never have.
  • Molly spent an entire week in the twins’ bedroom. She didn’t talk, hardly ate, just stared blankly at the wall next to Fred’s bed. He had pictures of his Hogwarts adventures taped to the wall and she had memorized every prospect of the photos so much she couldn’t rid the image from her brain when she closed her eyes, but she didn’t want to forget.
  • At the end of the week George entered his and Fred’s bedroom for the first time since the Battle. He spent an hour talking to his mother. You never did find out what he said, but you remember the burning visual of Molly exiting the room with reddened eyes full of heartbreak.
  • Ginny spent the nights sleeping in her room with you and cuddled against your chest, silently weeping to herself. Your presence made her feel close to her late brother, like he had never actually left.
  • George, Molly, and you would clean out Fred’s half of the room. It was full of tears and once happy now sad memories. Like the large maroon tie blanket you had made for Fred on your anniversary. Or the book on Magical Creatures that Fred had stolen on accident in Diagon Alley while he spied on you from behind a bookcase. You were shopping for all your school supplies and the redhead had torn from his family, catching glimpse of you in the robes shop and managed to follow you two stores later not wanting to leave you. You eventually caught him as he tripped over a pile of books, the binds of knowledge cascading to the floor with a crash. You smiled and helped him up while introducing yourself. The rest was history.
  • Arthur stood in the doorway of the room watching the three of you clean. Deep aging wrinkles indented his forehead making him appear older than he really was. His face was long, drowning in sorrow. He didn’t say a word, just watched.
  • Ginny cried alone in her room. Harry tried to comfort her but his success was no avail. She locked herself away for three days, lost in a sea of depression.
  • Ron turned to Harry and Hermione who welcomed him with open arms. He was the first to open up after his older brother’s death.
  • You stayed at the Burrow for a almost three weeks before flying to France. You choice was rash but you needed to get away. Molly understood and wished you well. You didn’t know how long you would be gone but you hoped it would give you some time to come to terms with the heartbreak you were experiencing.
  • Fred used to tell you when you were in school together that he always dreamed of going to France. He never knew why. He was rubbish at speaking French and had no idea how he’d survive, but it was a dream of his.
  • Percy, Bill, and Charlie all stayed at the Burrow for a month or so. Their hearts ached at the lose of their younger brother.
  • George… George no longer felt like himself. It was as if a part of himself was missing, torn from his soul. He dragged through the day’s, closing down the shop for a while. After spending two weeks at the Burrow he moved back to the apartment above Weasley Wizard Wheezes that Fred and him shared. The second he walked through the door he broke down. Tears splashed against his cheeks as he finally let all his emotions pour out. He called you, practically begging you to keep him company.
  • Of course you obliged and flew back home immediately. You lived with Fred in the apartment too. It was your home as well and you had been putting off going back to the apartment as much as possible. The home held so many items from your past involving Fred and you. Where he proposed to you, where you had you first blow up fight, where you had you first time together, where you had the million of talks about your future together, and so much more.  
  • This made Molly feel a little better when she heard you would be staying with George for a while. She hated the thought of George being all along right after losing his best friend, his twin, his other half.
  • You left France still clutching a box full of Fred’s belonging. A heavy feeling invaded your heart. You took a train to London after landing then joined George at the shop.
  • The minute the door swung open George’s arms were thrown around your frame as he pulled you into a tight embrace. The barrier you had been working so hard to uphold, crumbled at his touch. Not because you felt you could finally let go of all the emotions being kept inside. No, you cried because George’s embrace reminded you of Fred’s. The way his hold tighten as you sobbed mirrored Fred’s actions identically. Your chest ached as you came to realize you future with Fred was gone. George’s salty tears splashed on the crown of your head.
  • The first week barely any words at all were exchanged. You would mumble a small ‘good morning’ to each other during breakfast but that was usually it.
  • George spent the days in his room and the nights at a bar across the street. This continued on for a week until you confronted him. You waited up all night, worried sick. He stumbled in around three in the morning, eyes brimming red, breath stenching strong from alcohol.
  • “George Weasley, what the hell?” You would screeched. His eyes snapped up at you resembling a deer caught in headlights. His gazed quickly fell to the floor as he shut the house door and brushed past you. You yelled after him making him halt in his path,
  • “George pease just talk to me! I know this is hard for you, believe me I do. He was your brother. You two have never been apart so I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re going through. George I’m here for you and you can talk to me because I lost him too. You did everything with Fred, you two started this business together and we both know he just wants you to be happy again. Please… just try, George. Try for me, try for Fred. Please. I just want to be here for you. If there’s something I did. If you hate me-” Your voice broke at the end and your knees gave up. Crashing to the floor a echoing cry invaded the air. George stood motionless watching you fall apart before his eyes. He could almost hear Fred scolding him and urging him to act. Fred would want George to comfort you, Fred would want you two to be there for each other.
  • George hesitantly crossed the room and bent to your level. His hand reached out, brushing a strand of messy hair from your face. Glancing up at him you started in to question him but George beat you around the bush. He seemed half sobered up and shook his head.
  • “Y/n… it’s not you, I swear. You’re the most purest human being in the entirety of the world, please don’t think that way. Every moment you and Fred were together I could never shake that from my mind, how perfect you are. But god Y/n every time I see you I think of my brother. He loved you more than anything in this world and I know he would hate me right now for not being there for you. I feel like I’ve let him down and that hurts more than anything. I see Fred everytime I look in the mirror, everytime I see the pictures on the fridge, everytime I walk into the shop, everytime I come home and everytime I see you.”
  • His words took you by storm but for once, it made sense. You had been sleeping in Fred and your bed, helping start the shop back up (mainly by yourself), and it probably didn’t help that you had been stealing items of Fred’s clothing, just wanting to be close to him again. For the first time since the Battle, you admitted the burden you’d been holding inside.
  • “I wish I could’ve saved him. If I wasn’t distracted by the helping that student- if I would have been paying more attention to Fred… he’d still be here.” You quivered. George’s eye soften and he shook his head.
  • “Y/n you know no one could’ve stopped what happen. I’ve spent every night laying awake wondering if I could’ve changed something. I’m not sure what god planned this, or if there even is one, but Y/n we had no control over this.” His arms locked around you pulling you against his chest. His lips planted against your forehead sweetly covering you in a blanket of comfort.
  • You spent the rest of the night in George’s arm. You shared memories of Fred, some sweet, some funny, and some that made you cry again.
  • “Remember the time the two of you enchanted endless snowballs to pelt, well technically, Voldemort in the face and Quill in the back of the head?” You giggled into the glass of cherry red wine you held to your lips. George leaned into the cushion of the couch and shook his head with a smile. 
  • “Classic!”
  • George spent the night in Fred and your bed- to keep you company of course.
  • He kept you company for the rest of the nights to follow
  • The two of you began to drift into a weird zone
  • You had always lightly fancied George but it was Fred you loved.
  • He would randomly start bringing you home flowers and other small gifts
  • Some days George would come home to find a bundled up new sweater placed on his work desk. You always claimed the things you bought him were on sale so you just couldn’t resist but George knew better
  • A strong connection was growing and it confused you- George too. You wanted another shot at happiness but you weren’t sure if you were ready yet until another vacant Friday night rolled around and you found yourself laying on the couch in George’s arm talking about the week and before you knew it he was leaning forward.
  • The first time you kissed George you screwed your eyes shut tightly and imagined his lips as Fred’s. You knew it was horrible but you had no clue what else to do. It was like you were cheating on your fiance- your dead fiance, with his twin brother. But when you realized it was George, you didn’t entirely hate it. It was actually quite a fulfilling kiss. A part from inside of you warmed up for the first time in a long time.
  • George had a sickening vibe settling in the pit of his stomach after he pulled back. His heart sped up at the newfound affection the kiss brought although kissing you made him feel like he was betraying his brother. Fred planned to marry you for Merlin’s sake and there George was, making out with his dead twin’s girlfriend.
  • But you kissed him again the next day and he didn’t pull away
  • And the next
  • And the one after that too
  • Kissing you made George think of his brother. Fred loved you and George could understand why. Kissing you, sleeping beside you, comforting you, it all made George feel as if he was somehow growing closer to his twin.
  • At first your relationship with George was based solely on the fact that he was identical to your late lover but as time passed on George made you feel differently than Fred did. Despite you never thinking it was possible, George taught you how to laugh again. He would slowly crack back into his prankster self again. It took his almost a full year after Fred’s passing to invent a new product for the shop or even enter the store for more than passing to get to the apartment. He tested out the product on you during breakfast one morning. Pouring a lilac solution into the base of your black coffee and giving it a swirl, George carried on with breakfast as if nothing had happen. Dragging in, you hugged George from behind before taking a seat at the nook. You instantly sipped on the brewed mixture in front of you and spit it out in shock as the odd flavor set in.
  • George howled in laughed and bent over the kitchen stove pointing towards you. Furrowing your eyebrows you set the mug down and spoke up agitated,
  • “George what the hell did you put in- oh my god!”
  • You realized the change in tone quickly and covered your face in embarrassment. Your voice was as deep as a well making you sound similar to that of a male that had spent over half his life heavily smoking. George rushed over and planted a kiss to your cheek.
  • “It worked!” Although you were thoroughly ticked off at his choice of targeting you, you were happy he was back to his old ways. The bills were piling up by the second and the landlord wanted the shop either back up and running, or both of you to move out. Dumping your infected cup of coffee down the sink drain you started to make a new batch. Smiling to yourself you laughed softly,
  • “Well, I’m glad to have you back, George.”
  • That was only the beginning. George and you spent almost every moment inventing and creating new sale items. The first handful were absolute rubbish but it didn’t matter. Both of you were trying to get back in the swing of things and sometimes that took a while.
  • Within three months Weasley Wizard Wheezes was back up and running again.
  • Sales flooded in and shot straight through the roof steadily for a long term.
  • As a ‘thank you’ present for helping him get back on his feet George invited you out for a fancy meal out on the town.
  • You decided on a Muggle restaurant and dressed to the nines. George’s jaw skimmed the floor when you walked out of your room and slipped on your heels. He held your hand and escorted you out.
  • During dinner you had ntoiced how fidgety and nervous George was acting. You made the choice to question him on it over a glass of champagne right before the main course and he physically stiffened. Tilting his glass back, George chugged down the large intake and wiped his lips on the red amber napkin. His hands clasped together then unclasped at his side. His soft eyes found yours and he darted them back down to the tablecloth.
  • “It’s just- well, Y/n… what are we?”
  • It would get silent very fast and he would instantly fill it.
  • “What I mean is, I like you… I like you a lot but I know how you felt about my brother. I saw the glint in your eyes that would sparkle whenever you saw him and how happy you two were together and Y/n I want to be able to make you as happy as Fred did. With that being said I don’t want you to be with me because I remind you of him or because you can’t stop thinking about Fred. I’m not gonna lie at the start of our, uh, relationship I was hanging out with you because you made me think of Fred but all those late nights and million cups of coffee have made me realize the truth. I love you Y/n- and not because you dated my brother. I love you for you and I think I have for a very long time. What I’m asking is… Y/n would you um, like to be my girlfriend?”
  • You cried, a lot. George’s heart broke at the sight only confirming the love swelling in his heart. His feelings were genuine and it warmed your soul. You lunged across the table knocking over the bread bowl in the process and threw your arms around George’s frame.
  • “Of course I will! Oh my god, George. You’re making me cry like a bloody fool!”
  • George called his mother the second you got home. Molly was hit with a wave of shock at first. She gave both of you long speeches trying to inspect if the love was real or a mask to feign the hurt of bonding over the lose of Fred. She demanded both of you come home to the Burrow for the week so you did and the moment she looked into both of your eyes, it was clear as crystal.
  • “Good lord you are in love!”
  • It was hard for the rest of the Weasley family to accept at first. You understood completely since you had the same weary, unsure feeling as well but eventually they came to accept it. They were all happy to you and George happy once again.
  • But as happy as you were, small memories with Fred would constantly pop up.
  • Like one night when George and you were lying in bed together whispering softly realization would settle in and you’d comment,
  • “This is where he proposed. We were lying right here when Fred asked me to marry him.”
  • You knew how horrid it was to put this on George but you had no control. George thought about this all the time and was reminded of your relationship with his brother at every corner he turned.
  • You would then apologize feeling god awful for saying such a thing but George would hush you saying,
  • “It’s alright Y/n. Just because he’s not around anymore and because we’re together now doesn’t mean we have to pretend he was never alive or your relationship with him didn’t exist. He loved you, and I know how much you love him. I’m not upset- actually I’m more than thankful my brother managed to snag a girl like you. You two were perfect together and he will always love you just like how you will always love him. Fred… he is… was my brother and for a long time I thought he would hate me for me being with you and for a long time I thought my heart tricked me into loving you. That maybe it wasn’t love I was feeling but rather so the relationship my brother and I had and maybe because he loved you so much, being with you would make me feel less lonely about losing him but I know the truth. I love you, Y/n. Hell, maybe I always have but the important thing is I love you now and I will love you tomorrow and I will continue to love you years from now and that’s not because of Fred, it’s because of you and who you are. I love you.”
  • You two learned how to live your life no longer feeling guilty for the love you shared. Fred smiled down his heart warming at seeing his two favorite people in the world relying on each other and sharing a piece of their heart together.
  • He proposed to you in the middle of a busy work day right as you were restocking a shelf. The rest of his family were there to see. Molly, Hermione and Ginny cried a river while the boys patted George on the back. On your wedding day the tears were never ending, though happy ones.
  • You two eventually moved to London- kept the shop but decided you needed more room, well of course your growing stomach demanded that. One cold night in the middle of December George and you were blessed with the birth of your first son, Fred ll. He had a head of wicked red hair and a small mischievous smile toying on his face and you had never felt more complete in your life. George planted a kiss to your head muttering a string of ‘thank yous’. You knew in your heart this was exactly where you were meant to be.

- Daizy xx

bashfyl  asked:

Prompt: Sterek ;) Derek woos his mate the wolf way. :D

This is one of my favorite tropes! So glad I got to write it! Also on ao3!

Stiles wished he could say it was the first time he had found a dead animal on his doorstep. He really did. But it wasn’t.

For the past few days, five in a row to be exact, he had found all sorts of small, fluffy little woodland animals lying dead and bloody on his front porch. They ranged from squirrels, their furry tails soaked in blood, to birds, their feathers strewn around the doormat, to rabbits, who apparently were not fast enough to outrun whoever or whatever was leaving them on the front stoop.

Initially, he had thought it was one of their neighbor’s cats, the old woman a few houses down who owned a veritable army of feline companions having recently procured two more cat cadets. But on the fourth day, he had walked out of the house to check if they had gotten any mail only to find a large raccoon with its throat slashed open, blood seeping out onto the doormat that they had just replaced.

No matter how fierce those cats were, he doubted they could do such gruesome damage. And so, he had begun considering other culprits who may have been leaving the dead animals.

It had started with a dead bird, a blue jay lying on the top step of their front porch. Stiles had found it while leaving for school in the morning, taking a few minutes out of his morning rush to bury the poor thing in the front yard before heading off to school. He figured it had simply keeled over in exhaustion, no obvious injuries save for a few molted feathers, and moved on.

The next day he had found two dead squirrels, deep claw marks raked down their sides, on the front porch. He had wrinkled his nose at the grisly sight, running back inside to grab a plastic bag to shove them in before tossing them into another shallow grave by the blue jay. That was when he began having the sneaking suspicion that a cat was responsible for the morbid little deliveries.

The day after the squirrels, he found the rabbit. Its throat was open, a hole about the size of a cat’s mouth oozing bright scarlet blood onto the doormat, absolutely ruining it. Groaning, and internally cursing crazy cat people, Stiles held his nose and cleaned up the scene, again burying the poor victim and dumping the doormat into their trash can.

The raccoon was next, sullying the new welcome mat that Stiles had picked up after his last class the day before. Curiously inspecting the raccoon, finding wounds too large to have been inflicted by a cat, Stiles had reached another, new conclusion ― there was some new supernatural threat in Beacon Hills and it was killing poor, defenseless animals and dumping them on Stiles’ porch.

Why he didn’t know, but it was the only feasible thing he could think of. He had taken his theory to others, asking around to see if anyone else had noticed anything strange lately. No one else had.

He had gone to Deaton at the vet clinic to ask if he had any information about anything weird going on with any of the local animals. Deaton had denied that anything unusual was going on with any animals, neither domestic or otherwise, for once actually foregoing any cryptic responses. Though, he did mention that parvo was more common than usual that year.

After talking to Deaton, he went to Chris Argent, figuring the ex-hunter would have information on any supernatural goings-on that Deaton did not know about. Argent didn’t know anything either, indulging Stiles’ curious nature and patiently answering his strange inquisitions with as much patience as someone who had been woken up at four thirty a.m. could muster.

Afterward, he had dropped in to visit his dad at the station, hoping that it wasn’t just happening to them, even though it would be just his luck. The Sheriff let him rifle through recent reports of strange, out of the ordinary activities but all he found were reports filed about suspicious looking teenagers hanging around outside of local convenience stores. There had been no reports of rabies, either, dashing another one of Stiles’ theories.

And, of course, he had gone to the pack as soon as he began to suspect that the dead animals may have a more sinister origin than simply falling prey to some pet cat roaming the neighbor. No one in the pack had noticed anything amiss, no supernatural threats or random dead animals on any doorsteps.

Peter had made some snide little comment about Valentine’s Day coming up soon, pointing out that Stiles probably had a psychopathic secret admirer who thought that leaving dead animals on his porch was the epitome of romance. With Stiles’ luck, it was a disturbingly real possibility, one he wouldn’t discount.

The other betas had dissolved into a bout of raucous laughter, even Boyd chuckling under his breath at the comment, but Stiles hadn’t been very amused. Rolling his eyes at the remark, Stiles had noticed that the tips of Derek’s ears had been burning bright red, a sure sign that the alpha was blushing at something. Probably due to secondhand embarrassment, Stiles figured.

Now, there he was, standing on his front porch in his Spiderman pajamas, looking down at that day’s little ‘gift’ ― a twelve point buck, lying dead on the walkway in front of the porch, a large hole in its chest. Ripped out of the buck’s ripped, its bloody heart lay on the front porch just inches from his bare foot, a single red rose laid beside it.

He almost threw up.

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Where Soul Meets Body- 18

Summary: Soulmate AU. Some people went their entire lives without ever meeting their soulmates. You were one of the lucky ones, to have found and fallen in love with the owner of the initials tattooed on your hip. When your soulmate’s best friend struggles to deal with a tragedy in his own life, you discover that you might not have been as lucky as you thought.
Steve Rogers x Reader; Bucky Barnes x Reader (Not MMF)

Warnings: (Series, not specifically this chapter: bad language, unprotected sex or sexual situations, drinking/alcoholism, drug use, violence, cheating, references to death, mutilation and trauma, maybe more.)

Words: 1228

Author’s Note: Friendly reminder that I’m not doing a taglist anymore! I’ll be posting a schedule in the near future. Sorry, my life is a mess and I’m garbage but I’m trying.

Master   Part 17

Originally posted by ohevansmycaptain

There’s a warmth in your veins, settling in your chest, and at first you think it’s the fireplace. The flames lick the inside of the pit, bright and orange, your eyes focused on them as they crawl up the brick walls. They never reach past the cage, contained inside, burning slowly to ash.

It’s not just the fire. You know this, can feel it as you raise the wine glass to your lips and take a long, slow sip. You’ve had a bit too much to drink; not enough to be stupid on, but enough that you giggle at Steve’s jokes and sink into his chest when he wraps his arms around you.

Sitting on his lap in an armchair, you haven’t paid attention to the conversation he’s having with your father. His sweater is warm against your cheek, his arms around your waist comforting. You want nothing more than to lean closer, to let the knit fabric swallow you up. To sleep.

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When We Get Home

Pairing: Hercules Mulligan x reader
Word Count: 2,146ish
T/W: Smut!
A/N: For Anon’s request: “Herc and the reader are dating and they go out for dinner with the guys (Laf, John and Alex) but Herc wanted to cancel because he wanted to get busy*wink wonk* with the reader but the reader is like ‘After Dinner.’ but during dinner Herc keeps touching, groping and squeezing the reader till she had enough and said they had to go and when get home they get BUSY!”
This Anon is adorable, I can’t get over *wink wonk.*  I shall call you squishy and you shall be my squishy! Ignore my Finding Nemo reference. Anyways here we go! Side note: I picture Herc as a sports guy, just me?


“Guess who’s home!!” Herc called into the apartment, shutting the door behind him. 

“You are,” you sang back at him walking over to give him a hug, “which is perfect, because I thought I was gonna have to pick you up from work on the way-“ 

“On the way?” Herc questioned. 

“Yeah, babe, it’s Monday, you told the boys we’d meet them at the bar to watch the game,” you explained, “come on we can talk while we get ready!“ 

You waved at him to follow you, and he did. He watched you slip your robe off, revealing your underwear clad body to him. You causally asked how his day was while you buttoned up a form fitted jersey for the team you were all going to be cheering for. It hugged every curve of your chest and torso perfectly. Herc answered in short sentences while he watched you get ready, all he had to do was change his shirt to a jersey and he was ready. 

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The Horrors Of Spring | Chapter Five

Summary: Winter, Spring, Summer and Autumn. The four courts that serve as the pillars of the fae realm, united in peace, and yet their words could not be further apart. Natsu Dragneel, Prince of Summer, feels as though the weight of royalty will be his undoing. But when the Courts begin to gather, he soon discovers there are those far more trapped than he.

Rating: M                                      Words: 4352

Prologue / Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three / Chapter Four

A/N: I’m a shit person so here’s an update. Enjoy!

The Tyrants Bargain


    “You are a prince for whom a heavy crown and a powerful throne await. You         do not do whatever you want; you do what must be done.”  ― Ray Anyasi


The world was a vast expanse of hidden nooks and corners, and Natsu hadn’t the slightest clue where to start looking.

As he poured over a map of the realm for what seemed like the thousandth time in a mere day, Natsu couldn’t help but wonder if he’d bound himself in an impossible promise. He felt the weight of his words like an itch he couldn’t scratch as he pulled absently at his hair, the fingers of his free hand drumming on the table.

Summer’s scholars- who’d been extremely surprised to see him enter the palace library that morning- glanced at him nervously with every move he made. No doubt worried I’ll sneeze and set all their precious documents alight, he mused to himself. Indeed, the dust of the old books he’d picked out tickled at his nose. He’d pulled any book detailing ancient spells from the shelves in the hopes of finding something that listed a fae’s wings among the gruesome ingredients to a potion or a charm, thinking that perhaps if he found such a spell he could work out who would perform such a thing, or where they would do it.

But instead he’d only clogged his mind with long since redundant rituals and strange superstitions. Nothing that provided him with any sort of clue as to what the King of the Spring Court could do with his daughter’s severed wings.

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Slippery (Phillip Hamilton x Reader)

WARNING: SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT SMUT

this was fun to write. It’s been ages since I’ve posted smut. I had many requests for Phillip fluff/smut, so I hope this covers all of them. Props to @theimaginesofhamilton (Mother Monarch) (go follow her) for the really lit prompt. Love you all. Enjoy ;)

“Can’t we just get pizza?” you asked, beginning to get annoyed with trying to slice the meat with knives that were obviously too dull.

You did not cook a lot, and based on the look of Phillip, he hadn’t a clue what he was doing either.

“Come on, (Y/N) let’s just give this a try.” Phillip pleaded, abandoning his task and striding towards you.

You smiled as his arms wrapped around you and pulled your back into his chest.

“Besides, it gives us some time together.” he happily mumbled as he pressed soft kisses to the side of your head.

“Still, we can spend time together without having to make….what is it called again?”

He snatched the small recipe card off the counter, squinted and read the title.

“Marjoram-Grilled Lamb with Arugula and Port-Mustard Dressing.” he robotically read.

“Phillip, that’s the most pretentious thing I’ve ever heard in my life.” 

“Come on, it’ll be great!” He exclaimed, releasing you. He returned to his task of making a salad, and read off the recipe card.

“Babe?” 

“Yeah?”

“Where do we keep the olive oil?” he asked.

“It should be in the pantry, on the top shelf.” you responded, now desperately hacking at the meat which refused to be cut. Stupid lamb. Surrender already.

CRASH

You immediately jumped and spun around, feeling liquid splatter onto your blouse.

“What was that?”

Phillip had no words as your eyes ran across the room, looking for he source of the commotion until your eyes fell on the vegetable oil bottle, laying on it’s side. Phillip must have dropped it, as the top of it had broken off and now the bottle made soft glugging sounds as it released the vat of oil onto your counter. 

“Phillip!”

“I’m sorry, it was really slippery!” he defended as he placed the bottle upright and tried scooping the substance back into it with his hands.

“You’ve got to be more careful,” you chastised as you looked down at your blouse, now blotched with patches of oil, making the material stick to your skin. It felt gross.

You undid all of your buttons before carefully sliding the top off, taking notice of the ingredient overflowing from the counter and now gathering into a pool on the floor. 

“I swear I tried to be careful, but you know how clumsy I am sometimes. I c-” Phillip stopped as he looked up, eyes gazing over your shirtless top half.

You began searching  the cabinets for the paper towels, and felt his eyes still locked on you.

“What’s the big deal, Phil? You’ve seen me without a shirt before.”

“Yeah but….” he trailed off. You looked over to him to see that he had a finger pointing to your chest. 

You looked down to see that the oil once splattered on your shirt had seeped through the fabric, and spread over your chest. Your full breasts glistened under the kitchen lighting, smooth and wet with the ingredient. Phillip had a hungry spark in his eyes. 

“They’re just boobs, dork. Get over it,” you giggled as you turned your back on him, continuing to look for paper towels to clean the mess.

Hmmm…not here… not here… not here either. Where could they have run off to? You could’ve sworn you left them in the-

Your thoughts were interrupted as cold oil was poured onto the base of your neck. A shiver ran through your body as the substance slowly traveled past the valley between your shoulder blades. The cool, thick substance ran in a stream down your spine, awakening all of your senses.

“Phillip…” you breathed, struggling to bite back a moan. It seemed silly, but the gesture was almost…well…sensual.

You heard his voice chuckle behind you.

“Did you like that?” he asked as he placed his large hands on your back, spreading the oil over your skin and massaging you gently.

“Yes…” you sighed in pleasure and you heard his shirt slide off, followed by him placing his bare chest on your oiled back.

“Dinner is ruined, you know.” you suddenly stated as your eyes glanced over the lamb, now soaking with oil.

“That’s okay.” he almost immediately responded. “I think I can figure out a way to make up for it.” he offered as he slipped one of his hands off of your back, and onto your thigh. His fingers were still soaked in the ingredient as he ran them up your leg, pushed past your panties, and firmly pressed them onto your clit.

You whined and tossed your head back onto his chest, desperate for more.

He chuckled as he began to rub in gentle circles, forcing pleasure to surge through your veins and moan as he picked up speed. 

“Phillip…p-please.” you begged as he roughly played with you, sending you into a spell of over stimulation.

“Only because you asked so nicely…” he teased as he two oily fingers slid into you, vigorously pumping in and out. 

Your moans grew as he pressed you harder into the counter, your back still align on his chest and his fingers curling up inside you. It was too much.

“Phillip…fuck… I’m gonna…” 

You couldn’t even finish your sentence before shock waves ripped through your body, a strangled scream rose from your lungs as you came onto his hand. 

You felt your body cripple beneath you with the release, but Phillip’s hold, along with the support of the counter, kept you from falling.

Phillip laughed.

“I’ve never seen you like that, (Y/N).”

You blushed.

“It just felt… really good. Great actually. Better than anything I’ve done before.” you admitted as you turned around. 

You ran you eyes over Phillip: strong hands, muscular abdomen, and veiny arms glistening with oil from both the incident and pressing you into the counter.

You cocked your head sweetly and raised your eyebrow. You innocently toyed with his belt.

“Do you mind if I return the favor?” you flirted.

A grin spread across his face as you slid his belt off with one hand and admired his glossy abdomen with the other. You undid his zipper, and rolled down his pants and briefs together to reveal his erect member, pulsing with eagerness. 

You smiled as you ran an oil-soaked hand over it, tugging lightly and running your thumb over his tip as he stifled a moan. 

He grew harder and deliciously larger with every wet pull. 

You felt his hands grab your waist as you began to pull his pants off, allowing him more movement and freedom. 

You stopped him as he began to kick them off.

“Phillip, you have to be careful. The floors are slippery now; I don’t want you to fall.” you advised.

He locked his eyes onto yours.

“Well I guess I’ll just have to fuck you stupid on the counter than.”

You couldn’t stifle a response before he crouched down, hooked his built arms around your thighs and lifted you onto the counter. He expertly slid your skirt and underwear off and tossed them carelessly onto the floor. Your pussy was shining and sleek with a concoction of vegetable oil and your own slick. You looked irresistible to him. 

He quickly lined up his cock to the space between your thighs and easily slid into you. 

He grunted as you arched your back and cried out with pleasure, reciprocating his rhythm and sliding onto him as he thrusted into you. He sunk his face into the nape of your neck, biting it gently as his dark, thick head of hair fell around you. 

He continued nibbling as he shoved into you, hands moving down to play with your breasts.

You felt your pussy stretch and clench around his hard, pulsing cock, eager for more as you took him deeper and deeper.

“Phillip…I’m gonna…”

“I know. Me too.” he said into your shoulder between grunts.

You began slamming himself directly into your g-spot, over and over and over again. You were stunned with pleasure as you saw stars and let out strangled moans. His teeth bit farther into your skin. His hand sunk between your thighs once more and his thumb toyed with your clit. It sent you over the top.

You shuddered as you released yourself all over him, tossing your head back and crying his name out.

Seeing you like that is what did it for him.

He let out one final, obnoxiously hot moan as he pumped his hot cum inside you. 

He then slid his hands off of you, removed himself from you and lifted his head up, looking directly into your eyes. You crashed your lips into his.

You hungrily made out; a sloppy mess of lips, tongues and satisfaction. You bit his lip one final time before you pulled away to steady your breathing.

You remained on the counter and he still stood before you, both unmoving as you sucked in air and tried to get your breathing rate down.

Your stomach then rumbled, reminding you both of the missed meal. You glanced over at the mess of the kitchen you had created.

“I’m sorry I ruined our food.” he apologized, smirking.

“It’s okay,” you said, pulling him into a hug. “This was much more fun anyways.”

You were silent for awhile, enjoying eachother’s presence before his stomach began to grumble as well.

He looked down at you and smiled.

“Soooo….. pizza?”

Sunday Afternoon

Part 1

@butiaintgonnaloveem set an AMAZING challenge; Must be about Baby, our beloved Impala. So I picked the following song (please listen to it first) that I fell in love with and this fic is what resulted. It’s 6k words, so it’s in 2 parts… enjoy

Song: Groovin (The Young Rascals)
Characters: Reader, John, Dean, Sam
Warnings: fluff, angst, supernatural themes, death, blood…
A/N: Thank you to the marvelous @avasmommy224 for being my beta on this, you’re one amazing woman!
Summary: A shared love for an Impala brings people closer together, whether they know it or not… (shit summary but I don’t want to spoil anything)

Originally posted by abreaktocome

May 29th, 1967: I’d been saving up all my money for that bloody car. I knew exactly what I wanted. I’d even asked the bank about a loan so I could get it faster, but oh no… no loan for a travelling woman who didn’t have a solid job, or a home!
I finally had enough money for the car of my dreams, a 1965 Ford Mustang!
I almost ran to the car lot when I received my pay for the month.
I had walked past this car for the past year, the only reason it was still here was that i’d put a deposit on it last year, Gary the owner of the car yard knew me well by now. I was in every other week, just staring and mumbling to the precious baby.
3.27pm; when you’re whole life changes, you want to be able to pinpoint it when you look back.
I rushed into the car yard, looked to my left, two cars back, I already had my finger pointed and I said you’ll be all mine soon, baby, but all the cars had been moved around and it was out before I’d even realized. The sleek, shining, red, Ford Mustang had been swapped for a twinkling, black, brand new, Chevrolet Impala.
Did my world change or what?
Gary came out, waving the papers at me, but I ignored him. I went straight over to the car. I had to see her, had to touch her. She was a siren and I was caught in her song.
“YN, your car’s over here.” Gary tried to loop a hand around my waist but I wasn’t budging.
“How much is she?” I whispered. I was in a trance, I wasn’t leaving here without this beauty.
“Four thousand.” To give Gary credit, he did try and talk me round, he spent ages begging me to come over to the Ford, he mentioned the deposit more than once, but it wasn’t till I held my switchblade to him that he gave in.
And I couldn’t believe it either, she was cheaper than the Ford.
“She’s mine.” I whispered, nodding at my decision.
“But…” Gary tried again but one stern look in his direction and he got the point. He hurried off to the office for the paperwork.

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Playing the Part

Summary: Sam and Dean have a fun night with Gen while stuck in The French Mistake Au.

Warning: Wincest, smut, voyeurism, threesome (sort of), role play, some dirty talk, mentions of Sam’s addiction to demon blood

Word Count: 2850

A/N: If this doesn’t sound like your thing, I won’t be offended if you skip it :) Thanks to @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid for assuring me the idea was worth writing. I’ve never written anything like it before, but it was a lot of fun! XOXO


Dean’s lying on the couch- not quite asleep, but his eyes are closed, and that means he’s not up for talking- and Sam’s got nothing to do but wait for morning. They’re stuck here for at least the night.

But they’ve got a roof over their heads, a particularly nice roof with fancy and unnecessary furnishings everywhere and tons of food and imported beer in the kitchen, so Sam can’t really complain. He just grabs a bottle with a foreign label from the fridge, and enjoys the dark flavor on his tongue as he makes his way back to Dean.

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Daveed Diggs' Conditioner Put To The Test

Okay, I finally did it, guys. Before I start, here are a few things you should know:
+He uses OGX Coconut Curls (which is what I bought)
+I have curly, curly hair (the kind that, if you brush it when dry, will puff up)
+I am writing this review after 9 hours
+I did exercise today and get sweaty, which might have affected this
+My previous conditioner was Garnier Fructis Sleek and Shine (the green one)
ALRIGHT. To start off, this smells HEAVENLY. No joke, I have the bottle next to me just so I can smell it. It has a nice coconut-y scent, which I found dissipated once my hair dried. Which, if you don’t like scented things, is very good for you, but it made me sad. Once I washed this out of my hair (I left it in for about 4 minutes), I noticed it didn’t feel as silky as my hair did with my previous conditioner (see above). I added a bit more and waited, but still, not AS silky. Anyways, styling it was about the same as it always is, but more Coconut-y! So that was fun. I wore my hair down, btw. Before I talk about the claims, I’d like to inform you that I got 2 compliments today, which is 2 more than I usually get. I think the first one was because she saw me checking my hair in the mirror, so I’m not sure if that counts. Anyways: the claims on this conditioner were:
+“Helps to enhance natural softness”
This is a bit of a weird claim, but whatever. My hair DOES feel quite soft, so we’ll give it that. I’d say, on this claim, 5/5
+“Boost decadent spirals”
This was kind of worded in a strange way, but after looking at myself in the mirror, yes! My decadent spirals have been boosted! Usually, my hair unwinds a bit, but I can distinguish each curl, which is nice, of you like your hair to look like that. I’d say 4/5
+“Tame frizz for beautiful tumbling waves with bounce and shine”
NO, NO, NO!!!!! My hair is SO frizzy. Like, really. Frizzfest 2017. Not. Impressed. 1/5.
Okay, so, overall, it was okaaaay. The frizzy part definitely clouded over everything. HOWEVER,
we all know that Daveed has PERFECT. HAIR. So clearly, it works for him. One more thing: I have curly hair (I’m Hispanic), and he has, what some might call, ethnic hair. So, if you have ethnic hair and have tried this product, please reblog this post with your thoughts. Anybody who’s tried this, please reblog with your thoughts or message me about it, because I’m curious. Thanks!

Just Enjoy the Ride

Summary: It’s JB’s birthday, and you decide to bring out the handcuffs again.

Genre: Smut

Length: 2252

Note: This is sort of a sequel to Happy Birthday. You don’t have to read it before this, but you can if you want :)

You sat on the counter in your red, lacey lingerie. You had been waiting for this moment for months now, and in a few moments, it would finally be here. On your birthday a while back, JB had handcuffed you to the bed and had his way with you. When you’d suggested that next time he wear the handcuffs, he’d said, “Maybe for my birthday,” and those words had stuck with you since, waiting for the moment you could handcuff your boyfriend to the bed.

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Becoming Real - Part 2

Originally posted by livingstills

PART 1 PART 2   |   PART 3  |  PART 4

Characters: Thorin, Company, Reader.
Setting:
Erebor after BOTFA (Everyone lives, fix-it).
Synopsis: Firmly ensconced in Erebor and fed up with the tedium of their daily duties, Thorin’s company tries to revive old times by going on a camping trip. Meanwhile, Thorin is reconsidering his choice of queen and trying to avoid the company’s well-intentioned meddling into his love life, with mixed success.
Imagine: Imagine getting into a heated argument with Thorin at @imaginexhobbit​.
Warnings:
NSFW eventually. Angsty. Hurt/Comfort with a lot of hurt. 
Notes:
This is the first sequel to THE LONG DARK. It will make a lot more sense if you read that story first. My thanks go out to my darlings @hardlyfatal , @fromthedeskoftheraven​ and @snugsbunnyfluff for listening to my interminable whining about this story, making excellent suggestions and slogging through my first (and n-th) drafts without a single complaint.
Words:
2737


So I wait for you like a lonely house
till you will see me again and live in me.
Till then my windows ache.

— Pablo Neruda

For the next five weeks, you made an effort to be the happiest future queen who’d ever not-quite ruled. You sat through long, boring meetings with a smile on your face, you charmed the miners and the jewelers into a revised agreement that served both sides and toned down their rampant animosity.

At night you cried yourself to sleep hugging Thorin’s pillow as you replayed your last encounter again and again.

You hadn’t changed your opinion. It was rooted in convictions too deep to ever shake, and that was fine. But you realized that you hadn’t afforded Thorin the right to his own convictions, his own truth. You’d tried to blackmail him into the outcome you wanted, with a self-serving, manipulative maneuver that turned your stomach when you thought about it. Your relationship should never have been thrown in the balance just because you wanted to win at any cost — no matter what the stakes.

When the yearned-for outing commenced on a mild day in late spring, just before sunrise, you couldn’t dredge up an ounce of enthusiasm. You had watched for Thorin all previous evening, hoping he would return on schedule, but no such luck. In the small hours of the morning, you’d finally resigned yourself to the fact that he wasn’t coming.

After a short, exhausted sleep that left you with a crick in your neck and a mood to match Dwalin’s worst, you stumbled into the stables at the crack of dawn, blinking blearily into the gloom. Of the others, only Ori seemed chipper, chattering at Dori in a gratingly cheerful tone.

“Shut yer trap!” Dwalin barked, giving voice to your own sentiments.

You shuffled to your pony, a sweet mare you’d named Rosalind, and fed her an apple you’d hoarded for the purpose. She took your offering elegantly. You stroked her velvety snout as she chewed.

The deep tones of a familiar voice startled you. A look over your shoulder revealed only Ori, chattering at Dori in quieter, but no less excited tones. Bofur had joined them, and he winked at you in greeting. Thorin was nowhere to be seen.

You leaned your forehead against Rosalind’s snout.

You missed Thorin so much you were imagining his voice everywhere. Soon you’d start hallucinating him, and then where would you be?

You took your time saddling Rosalind once she was done with her apple. She let you, sweet-tempered as ever, and you gave her a piece of sugar in thanks before you led her out of the stables.

The sun was hard on your tired eyes, and you had to squint for a while until your sight adjusted enough for you to actually see anything.

A newcomer had joined the party, already astride on a huge black pony. You knew that pony. You knew the rider even better.

Thorin.

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A Wolf's Hunt

The forest was endless. The dark greens, woody browns, lighter shades of green on the grass were seen everywhere. Alone, prowling around, was a wolf

His fur sleek and shining against the pale silver moonlight above. Somehow it looked as if it was groomed every night, no signs of it’s life in the forest at all. The ears stood proudly ontop, pointed to a fur filled tip. The right ear contrasted his black hide, with a bright green that would stand out against even the grass’ shades.

His head had small patches of that green fur scatered around. It never went near to the left ear of black, maintaining the integrity of the monotone color. His unforgiving eyes, peering at everything and studying it, shone with that same green. They looked like beautifally cut emeralds.

As the Wold stalked it’s feeding grounds, he happened apon a small lake area. His stance swapped to a stealthily prowl. As the Wolf scanned for prey, prey appeared across the lake. A young deer drank from the fresh water reserve slowly, not afraid of anything wanting to harm it.

As the Wolf stalked it’s new target, he studied the body for it’s worth. The deer’s light brown hide, naturally smoothed down, showed no indications of wounds or diseases. The head’s gaze was fixated on the reflective liquid before it. The doe eyes a dark brown color. The more and more the Wolf watched the more his hunger grew.

The Wolf pranced in the shadows closer to the drinking Fawn. One step forward was all it took, a twig snapped underneath the Wolf paw’s weight. The Fawn threw it’s head up and peered into the darkness of the night forest. The Wolf’s instincts were stsrting to kick in, attatck or the prey is lost. One step back was what it took for the Fawn, the Wolf launched out of the shadows.

The Fawn was not so slow however, it evaded the Wolf’s predetory attack and started to escape. And so began the dance of Hunter and Hunted. No distance stopped either animals from continuing their natural instinct.

The forest was the stage for this sun and moon duet, light and darkness, Predetor and Prey. The Fawn thinking it escaped had stopped to relax, and that was it’s undoing. The Wolf appeared and suprised the Fawn. The second time seems to be the charm, the hunter has gotten a succesful hunt.

However, the noble beast would not be able to show the pack his hunt, his hunt was far too beautifal for only him to be allowed to eat. So he sat there….staring up at the sky

And thus, the Wolf refused to hunt again.

Gaulish Detroit cultus

Yeah, yeah, it’s trendy. But more importantly, it helps me give word to the unique ways that the gods manifest in my glorious iron City, a City that is very important to me and to my soul. This is just a brainstorm for now, nothing overly developed or illustrated.

  • Cernunnos of the Ways: The streets are intertwined like a modern labyrinth, winding and twisting and misdirecting. All you wanted was to find a place with some good Pad Thai, but now you’re beneath an overpass downtown between a boarded-up shop and a church. You don’t find your way home; home finds you.
  • Cernunnos of the Beggar: On certain street corners there are men and women with signs and cups and bags. In subzero weather they sometimes can’t afford a motel room. You pay them in the change from your grocery run, in restaurant takeout, in crumpled one-dollar bills. One morning they aren’t there anymore, and you’ll never know why.
  • Cathubodua of Law: The forces are spread thin, underpaid, and underappreciated, but law enforcement in Detroit does its best to keep the people safe from harm. They’re getting too old for this shit? Sure, but maybe they were born too old for this shit. The City is as beautiful as a viper beneath dappled sunlight and just as deadly.
  • Cathubodua of Alleyways: In a hoodie with bruised knuckles, sporting bandages on her face and her arms, she is a fighter, a criminal, a hood rat. She is a survivor. She knows how to look after herself. She is the knife in the dark. She will never die.
  • Cathubodua Detroit: And the City itself is a fighter, like a survivor of some terminal illness who beat it back and asked, Do you want some more?! The City grabs what it wants with tooth and nail, seeking updrafts with bedraggled but beautiful black wings. The City knows: Triumph comes.
  • Sirona of the Strait: The City’s name, “Detroit,” means “of the strait.” The Detroit River is a sharp thing, cutting a path between cities and countries, bridges arching high overhead.
  • Sirona of the Cold: When the wind drifts over the river it brings flakes of snow and sheets of ice with it. The snow muffles the city like a thick blanket. The night is cold, and clear, and silent save for the distant sirens of the police and the occasional ambulance. There is no driving, not tonight. The stars are cold above you, glittering down like ice.
  • Sirona Unseen: In the countryside, the constellations are visible and identifiable, the stars illuminating the night even if the moon has excused itself. But here, beneath the haze of air pollution, the lights overhead are faint, obscured perhaps by a floodlight or a helicopter’s flash. Of course she is there. She is always there, watching, looking down. But here, in the City, she wears a cloak of gray, and her voice is a gravelly whisper.
  • Nehelennia of the Lakes: The sea is vast, but so are the lakes, like miniature seas with mirror-smooth surfaces. Like the sea, the storms roll in across it, the water rising; like the sea, you look across it and can’t help but wonder if there is an other side at all.
  • Grannus Riverside: The water in the City is filtered, drained, washed away, siphoned, gathered, but most of it comes from the River, from the strait. All the water comes from the River. To the River it always returns.
  • Gobannos Welding: Detroit is a City built on creation, on design, on industry. We built our City with blocks forged of passion and stone-cold stoicism and welded together a future from laughter and the inner warmth of hope.
  • Gobannos Graffiti: Artists sculpt the past into the old condemned buildings, now more a canvas than a living space. We all leave our mark. Some marks, like the City itself, are colorful, bright, larger than life, executed with an artless accidental grace.
  • Epona Motor: Birthplace of the industrial manifestation of the American Dream. Our horses went from hide to shining, sleek steel. Their cries became the thunderous purr of engines. A new Hunt, all rubber and chrome.
  • Epona of the Highway: Her steeds are a raging, forceful lot, rolling down the pavement like crazed beasts. When you ride in it is to the smell of smokestacks and her sharp smile. You may leave on that same lonely road, long and winding and in the dead of night. And you may leave on another highway, a highway all paved white as bone, leading Onward.
  • Belenos Anima Detroit: The people of Detroit are a hopeful, determined, proud people, proud of their City, their heritage, their culture. When the people talk about their City it is with light in their eyes and fire in their hearts. We’re going to make our City something beautiful, they say. We’re going to heal our wounds.
  • Nantosuelta Insulator: In the winter the heaters vibrate and make rattling noises and keep you up at night, and crossing the street you hunch your shoulders, making yourself as small as possible in your quilted coat. She is there, arms around you, breathing warmth into your bones.
  • Nantosuelta Neighbor: The neighborhood communal garden is a beautiful thing, a tamed wilderness deep inside the urban sprawl. Tomatoes almost overripe, stalks of corn bent under the weight of the harvest, grown with your own hands from nothing but an empty lot.
  • Taranis Generator: Once the power went out, the transformers whirring and giving out with a great machine sigh, and the apartment was perfectly dark. In the distance the thunder rolled. I have never felt so uniquely alone, yet so much a part of something bigger, vaster, unknown.
Request: I Don't Believe In Fate

Request: can you write a fluffy dean imagine where they were childhood friends and they finally tell eachother how they feel about eachother as theyre driving to sams motel?

Word Count: 839

Thank you, I hope you enjoy it!:)

It’s been such a long time since you’d seen him. I mean, you must have been sixteen when he last left, and you haven’t seen him since.

But then the familiar figure waltzes into the small diner you’re eating at, plonks himself into the seat beside you, and greets you with a short,

“Hey, sweetcheeks. ‘Sup?”

That’s when you recognise who he is.

“Holy shit, Dean Winchester. I thought you were dead.” You’re momentarily shocked. He stares at you.

“Y/N. Jesus, you grew up.”

He’s right. You filled out just right, and although you may not be perfect, you were happy with what you had. You’d lost the baby face and the slightly frizzy hair, grown in some places and shrunk, it seemed, in others.

You smile, “How’s it going?” You ask, spinning the seat and taking a long drink of your beer. He shrugs.

“Long haul. Still hunting?”

Your dad and his were good friends, which is how you met. They would work cases together until they fell out. You hadn’t seen either hide nor hair of any Winchester since.

“How could I stop? It’s so much fun.” You say dryly, and he chuckles.

“Ever the optimist. Wow, it’s been a while. Fill me in, what have you been doing?”

You give him a brief outline of the past years- under your breath for the most part, as you talk of things that barely skim the average person’s mind. Losing your father to a vampire-werewolf alliance clan in downtown New York.

He returns the favour, telling you about his experiences after meeting up with his brother, Sam, after his girlfriend was killed. Killing the demon that murdered their mother. Accidentally, oh, whoops, opening the gates to hell.

You listen interestedly, and all the time he gazes at you, entranced. You hardly notice.

“I mean, God, we had a few close calls. It’s like there’s something watching over us, you know?”

You nod, quietly thinking for a second. “It really is sometimes. I’ve gotten out of some close ones by pure chance.”

“Isn’t it lonely, hunting alone?” He asks suddenly, and you shrug.

“Sometimes it is. I manage.”

“You should stay with us for the night. The motel is ten minutes away, spend the night and you can go in the morning if you want. You know, just…company.” He says, and your heart does a flip. Since being about twelve, you had feelings for him that weren’t strictly platonic. You kept them hidden for fear of ruining the friendship you had. They had faded with time, but had seemingly been brought back to life with vigour.

“Sure.” You nod. You finish your drinks and head out to his car, which he’d inherited from his father. It was definitely beautiful, the sleek black finish shining in the moonlight.

“Admiring baby?” He remarks, and you laugh.

“She only gets better with age.” You say, giving the door a gentle pat before sitting in the passenger seat.

“Nobody ever appreciates her like that.” He says with a smile as the engine starts with a gentle purr. “Sam thinks it’s ridiculous.”

“Maybe it is. Who cares? I’ll tell you who. Grumpy people. And probably demons. But there’s not much that they like that doesn’t involve genocide or mangling.” You shrug as he pulls out of the parking lot. He chuckles.

“You should stick around, could do with more humour on this train. Sam seems determined to change it to the Grumpy Express.”

You laugh, “Choo choo.” You say, with false enthusiasm. “All aboard the Passive Aggressive carriage. Please, join us for the Misery dinner, shortly followed by our classic night of entertainment, Angst in the City.”

It’s not that funny, but he’s laughing hard, bringing his hand down on the steering wheel. “That’s brilliant. Really.”

You laugh, a pink stain finding its way onto your face. Suddenly, he slows the car. At this hour, the road is empty, but he turns to look at you.

“Look, Y/N. I don’t believe in fate or destiny or any of that shit. But…meeting here tonight after all of these years?” He pauses, “I need to tell you something.”

“Go ahead.” You say with a smile. Apparently, your heart has become an acrobat in the last ten seconds.

“I always liked you. From being about thirteen. Not seeing you was hard, I tried to track you down but you were pretty well hidden.” He pauses. “Please, stay with us. Stay with me.”

You nod silently, “I’d love to. And to be honest with you?” You move slightly closer to him, as much as the seatbelt will allow. “I liked you too. Still do, really.”

His eyes light up as he pulls the car over, parking by the side of the road and stopping the engine. He moves over, unclicking his seatbelt.

Suddenly, his lips are on yours, his arms pulling you closer to him. You smile against his lips.

“I missed having you around. I’m officially trapping you with me.” He says quietly.

“I don’t even mind.”