#she put a razor blade in that apple

[geeky-nightphilosopher]

I still can't get over how Eliot and Hardison do their "secret" handshake- even though Eliot is miffed that Hardison ate his sandwhich.

I still can't get over how Parker calls Eliot "Sparky," and he's scared enough to rip open his apple- because he actually thinks Parker somehow got a razor blade in it.

I still can't get over how Eliot tells Hardison that he won't help him if he goes to far with "Ice Man," and when Hardison calls him out on it- Eliot blames Parker.

I still can't get over how Hardison comes to Eliot when he needs help brushing up on wine.

I still can't get over how Parker goes to Eliot when she's looking for something to love and he teaches her to love food.

I still can't get over how Parker is allowed to poke and push Eliot.

I still can't get over how Hardison riles Eliot up and it's just reflex for Eliot to say; "DAMNIT Hardison."

I can't get over how they became a little family all on their own.

[doctorbitchcrxft]

It's the Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader (...?)

Warnings: angstangstangstangstangst, canon violence, canon gore, manipulation, abusive dynamics

Word Count: 4338

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Playlist

Dean’s ghost sickness had actually been quite eye-opening for you. It made you realize that even though he had no idea what you’d done, he was still turning to you for comfort in his darkest moments. And by keeping this secret from him, you were hurting him and making him even more paranoid. 

You knew you needed to talk to him about what you’d done while he was in Hell. There was no way either of you could heal if you didn’t.

Even despite your revelation, you hadn’t exactly found the right way to bring it up to Dean yet; especially considering Dean wanted to jump straight into hunting again after his ghost sickness. 

An awkwardness you’d never had with him before had overcome the two of you. To call the two of you “extremely stubborn” would be a grave understatement. Neither of you would bring up Dean’s ghost sickness, and neither of you would bring up those dreadful four months.

Even still, you were at least able to have a conversation without ripping each other’s heads off. 

“C’mon, (Y/N), it’s almost Halloween,” Dean said. “Get into the holiday spirit, huh?”

“Yeah, I just feel like we have more pressing issues to attend to,” you replied. “Apocalypse, end of the world; ringing a bell?”

He scoffed and shrugged. “C’mon. This may be a nothing burger.”

“A guy coughed up razor blades, Dean, that doesn’t sound like a nothing burger to me. Sounds like a witch,” you replied. 

“Yeah, okay, you’re right, can we just take this one? Please?” he begged. 

“Fine, fine,” you replied.

****

Sure enough, you found a hex bag beneath the floorboards of the victim’s house. 

Dean sat on the couch in the motel room he shared with his brother, scarfing down a few pieces of candy. 

Sam grimaced. “Really? After that guy choked down all those razor blades?” 

“It’s Halloween, man,” Dean replied.

“Our everyday is Halloween,” you told him, looking over Sam’s shoulder at his laptop. “Found anything fun yet?”

“Well, we’re on a witch hunt, that’s for sure, but this isn’t your typical hex bag,” Sam replied, nodding at the contents of the bag scattered across the coffee table. There was a piece of silver about the size of a coin, a few small, charred items, and something that resembled a dried up flower. Sam picked up the latter, saying, “Goldthread, an herb that’s been extinct for two hundred years. And this—” he picked up the silver piece, “is Celtic, and I don’t mean some new age knock-off. It looks like the real deal, like, six-hundred-years-old real.” 

“Damn,” you muttered. You looked at one of the small charred objects. “Oh, holy shit.” 

“What?” Dean asked. 

“Looks like a finger bone. From… a baby,” you explained, looking a little sad. 

“Dead on,” Sam noted. “Metacarpal bone of a newborn.”

“Jesus,” you sighed. “Gotta be a pretty powerful one to put a bag like this together. More juice than we’ve ever dealt with.”

“What about you? Find anything on the victim?” Sam asked his brother. 

Dean scoffed. “This Luke Wallace? He was so vanilla that he made vanilla seem spicy. I can’t find any reason why somebody would want this guy dead.”

Sam huffed, running a hand through his hair. 

“Great,” you grumbled. “We’ll just wait for more bodies to show up, then.”

****

Sure enough, they did. Later that evening, you heard about a death at a high school party on the police scanner. A teenager’s face had been boiled off while she was bobbing for apples; of course, the witch had struck again. 

You saw the girl who’d witnessed her friend’s death talking to a police officer, and you took her aside. 

“It’s just so weird,” the girl— whose name you learned was Tracy— told you, “the water in the tub— it wasn’t hot, I had just been in there myself.”

“Did your friend know a guy named Luke Wallace?” you asked her. 

“Um, who’s Luke Wallace?” she asked. 

“He died yesterday,” you responded. 

“I don’t know who that is.” Tracy shook her head. 

You tilted your head to the side. “I’m not asking if you know him, I asked if she did.”

She looked at the floor, tucking a stray piece of blonde hair behind her ear. “Sorry, I’m sorry. I don’t think she did. If she did, she never mentioned him.”

You nodded. “Thank you. Didn’t mean to scare you. Be safe out there,” you told her, turning away. The look you gave her over your shoulder as you walked away seemed to make her greatly uncomfortable, and you took a little bit of pride in that.

****

While you were busy interviewing the witness, Sam found a hex bag in the couch cushions of the house. 

Dean sat behind your computer, scrolling endlessly while you flipped through a book on his bed. Sam was lounging on the other one, reading as well. 

“I’m telling you guys, both these vics are squeaky clean,” Dean sighed. “There is no reason for a wicked bitch payback.” Then, you realized something. “ ‘Cause I don’t think it’s about that.”

Dean scoffed. “Wow, insightful.”

“Don’t be a dick,” you scolded, giving him a look. “I think she’s working a spell.” You read from the book, crossing the room to the table Dean sat at. “ ‘Three blood sacrifices over three days, the last before midnight on the final day of the final harvest’.”

Sam noted, “Celtic Calendar, the final day of the final harvest is October thirty-first.” 

“What exactly are the, uh, blood sacrifices for?” Dean asked. 

“If I’m right about this, it’s a demon: Samhain,” you told them. 

“Am I supposed to be impressed?” 

You rolled your eyes. 

“Dean, Samhain is the damn origin of Halloween,” Sam explained. “The Celts believe that October thirty-first was the one night of the year when the veil was the thinnest between the living and the dead, and it was Samhain’s night. I mean, masks were put on to hide from him, sweets left on doorsteps to appease him, faces carved into pumpkins to worship him. He was exorcized centuries ago.”

“So, even though Samhain took a trip downstairs, the tradition stuck,” Dean said. 

Sam nodded. “Exactly, only now, instead of demons and blood orgies, Halloween is all about kids, candy and costumes.”

“Exciting stuff,” you remarked. 

“Okay, so some witch wants to raise Samhain and take back the night?” Dean gave you a skeptical look.

Sam scolded, “Dean, this is serious.”

“I am serious.”

“We’re talking heavyweight witchcraft,” you told him. “This ritual can only be performed every six hundred years.”

“And the six hundred year marker rolls around…?”

“Tomorrow night,” you said. Your mind was reeling, wondering how you’d magically happened upon this hunt. Uriel’s words of nothing being coincidence haunted you, and you suddenly remembered he hadn’t spoken to you in almost two months. 

You looked down at the page Dean had flipped to; a crude drawing of a demon standing on a huge pile of bodies covered it completely. 

“Well, it sure is a lot of death and destruction for one demon,” Dean muttered. 

“That’s because he likes company,” Sam told him. “Once he's raised, Samhain can do some raising of his own.”

“Raising what, exactly?”

“Dark, evil crap and lots of it, I mean, they follow him around like the fuckin’ Pied Piper,” the younger brother explained. 

“So we're talking ghosts, zombies… leprechauns?” 

Sam rolled his eyes. “Dean—”

“Those little dudes are scary,” the older man defended. “Small hands.”

You barely even registered what Sam said next. “Look, it just starts with ghosts and ghouls, this sucker keeps on going, by night's end we are talking every awful thing we have ever seen. Everything we fight, all in one place.”

Dean went quiet for a moment. “It’s gonna be a slaughterhouse.”

Your mind was beginning to flood with thought of the apocalypse, the seals, and everything you’d been hiding. Your breathing labored, time slowed, and you ran to the bathroom to throw your guts up into the toilet. 

****

Dean and Sam were obviously incredibly concerned about you, but you couldn’t quite spit it out.

“Dean, I promise, when we’re done with this bitch, I’ll tell you everything,” you assured him. “I just feel like I’ll throw up again if we talk about it right now.”

“Okay, alright, fine,” he responded in a grumble. 

You sighed, looking over at him from the Impala’s passenger seat. “It’s not that I don’t trust you. I trust you completely. Please, just… give me a little more time.”

Dean nodded in silent affirmation, still staring across the street at the Wallaces’  house.

“Thank you,” you said. 

His phone rang; undoubtedly a call coming from Sam. He put the phone on speaker. “Yeah?” Dean answered. 

Sam stayed behind at the motel to research while you went with Dean on a stakeout. “How’s it going?” the younger brother asked.

Dean snorted. “Awesome, yeah, we talked with Mrs. Razor Blade again. Been sitting out in front of her house for hours and got a big steamy pile of nothing.”

You huffed out a short laugh as you listened to him talk.

“Look Dean, someone planted those hex bags: someone with access to both houses. There’s gotta be some connection,” Sam replied.

“Yeah, well, I hope we find ‘em soon, ‘cause I’m starting to cramp like a motherfucker—” he stopped suddenly when he saw something in the house. “Son of a bitch.”

You followed his line of sight to where Tracy, the teenager you’d spoken to at the scene of Jenny’s death, was approaching the house. “Son of a bitch!”

Immediately, Dean headed back to the motel. He slapped his roomkey onto the table, and you stood across from Sam who laid on the bed with his laptop open. 

“So, our apple-bobbing cheerleader?” Sam asked when you’d filled him in on the situation.

“Looks like it,” you grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest. “The Wallaces' babysitter. Told me she never even heard of Luke Wallace.”

“Huh,” Sam replied, “interesting look for a centuries-old witch.”

“Yeah, well, if you were a six-hundred-year-old hag,” Dean began, sitting in the chair at the table next to you, “and you could pick any costume to come back in, wouldn't you go for a hot cheerleader? I would.”

You hit his shoulder lightly. 

“Well, Tracy’s not as wholesome as she looks. Did some digging, apparently she got into a violent altercation with one of her teachers; got suspended from school,” Sam explained. He turned the laptop around to you and Dean, allowing you to see the full page of information Sam pulled up on Tracy.

Thanks to it, the three of you were able to get to her high school. You were on the way to talk to Don Harding, the teacher she’d gotten into the altercation with. 

Various art projects littered the walls beside you and Dean, and he seemed to get particularly transfixed by one of the masks hanging up. It was a demonic-looking mask, and you were sure it was bringing back memories from Hell. 

“Bring back memories?” Sam asked his brother.

Dean looked taken aback. “What do you mean?”

‘Yep, definitely a Hell flashback,’ you thought.

“Being a teenager, all that angst.”

You giggled, looking down at your sneakers and trying to distract from Dean’s little moment. “I never went to high school, so, no.”

Sam tilted his head at you. “Really?”

You shrugged. “There was no need. Not like my parents could get arrested for not sending me if Uncle Sam didn’t know I existed.” You nodded over to the boy who’d witnessed the apple-bobbing incident. He was putting a big, bong-shaped piece into a kiln. “Now that brings back memories.”

The man you’d been waiting to see came out from around the corner. “You gentlemen— oh, excuse me, and lady— wanna talk to me?” 

“Ah, Mr. Harding,” Sam began.

“Oh, please, Don.” The teacher reached for Sam’s hand. 

“Okay, Don,” Sam smiled.

The teacher explained to you that Tracy had moved into town about a year ago and had seemed like an okay student up until recently. She would’ve “clawed his eyes out” had another teacher not intervened since Don confronted her about the nature of her drawings. The way he’d described them, they all seemed to depict graphic sacrifice rituals with various runes scrawled into the paper. He also told you she had an apartment; the witch had been posing as an emancipated teen.

However, when you went looking for her there, she was nowhere to be found. Her friends hadn’t seen her, and neither had the CCTV cameras facing the street outside her apartment building.

As the three of you headed back to the brothers’ motel room, Dean and Sam bickered about the fact that Tracy could be sacrificing another at any time. You pinched the bridge of your nose while Sam unlocked the room.

He immediately drew his gun when he’d gotten it open, and you were put on alert. You frantically searched the room for what Sam saw, and it was like the wind got knocked out of you.

“Whoa, whoa, Sam!” Dean said, making him put his gun down. “It’s Castiel, the angel.” He nodded to the more familiar figure in the room that you were having trouble processing was in front of you. “Him, I don’t know.”

“Uriel,” you breathed out.

Dean looked back at you in surprise while Sam approached Castiel.

“Hello, Sam,” Castiel told him. 

“Oh my God— er, uh, I didn’t mean to— sorry. It’s an honor, really, I- I’ve heard a lot about you,” Sam stuttered. He moved to shake the angel’s hand.

Castiel seemed not to understand what was going on for a moment but soon put his hand in Sam’s. “And I, you, Sam Winchester. The boy with the demon blood. Glad to see you’ve ceased your extracurricular activities.”

Uriel remained facing the window, but his voice sent a shiver down your spine. “Let’s keep it that way.”

“Yeah, okay, chuckles,” Dean grunted. 

“Dean—” you warned. 

His head snapped back to you in confusion as to why you were seemingly defending Uriel. You couldn’t stand to look at him. 

“This, the raising of Samhain, have you stopped it?” Castiel asked, looking directly at you. 

“Why?” Dean shot back, answering for you.

The angel was clearly not impressed. “Dean, have you located the witch?”

The older brother rolled his eyes. “Yes, we’ve located the witch,” he mocked.

“And is the witch dead?”

“No,” you answered.

“We know who it is, though,” Sam added.

Castiel walked over to the nightstand between Sam’s and Dean’s beds. “Apparently, the witch knows who you are, too.” He picked up a hex bag and showed it to the three of you. “This was inside the wall between your rooms. If we hadn’t found it, surely one or all of you would be dead. Do you know where the witch is now?”

You stepped forward, answering, “No.”

“We’re working on it,” Dean insisted.

“That’s unfortunate,” Castiel stated.

“What do you care?” the older Winchester snapped.

“The raising of Samhain is one of the sixty-six seals,” you explained, continuing to face Castiel and Uriel.

“Wh— Why do you know that?” Dean asked, coming around to stand by you. He apparently shook the thought aside and redirected his anger at Castiel and Uriel. “So, this is about your buddy Lucifer.”

“Lucifer is no friend of ours,” Uriel said. 

“It’s just an expression,” you said quietly.

Castiel carried on the conversation. “Lucifer cannot rise. The breaking of the seal must be prevented at all costs.”

“Okay, great, well, now that you’re here, why don’t you tell us where the witch is, we’ll gank her, and everybody goes home,” Dean demanded.

“We are not omniscient. This witch is very powerful; she’s cloaked even to our methods.”

“Okay, well, we already know who she is, so if we work together—”

Uriel cut Sam off. “Enough of this.”

“Okay, why should I care what you say?” Dean snapped.

“Dean!” you scolded as Uriel turned away from the window. “He’s a… a specialist.”

The angel in question stalked toward you specifically. 

“What kind of specialist?” Dean questioned, looking between you and Uriel. “What are you gonna do?”

“You need to leave this town immediately, (Y/N). Take the Winchesters with you,” Uriel ordered.

You nodded obediently. 

“What is he gonna do?” Dean asked, seeing as Uriel was providing him no answer. “(Y/N), what’s he gonna do?”

“Destroy it,” you responded, voice barely above a whisper. You knew almost everything about Uriel’s angelic powers, and you were far past questioning his practices. When an unbearable silence settled over the room, you started packing Sam’s and Dean’s things into their respective bags. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, what are you doing?!” Dean demanded, looking at you in bewilderment.

“We’re out of time,” Castiel spoke over Dean. “This witch has to die; the seal must be saved.”

“There are a thousand people here,” Sam challenged.

Dryly, Uriel stated, “One-thousand, two-hundred fourteen.”

“And you’re willing to kill them all?” 

“This isn’t the first time I’ve purified a city,” the angel replied.

Castiel stepped in as you continued packing. “Look, I understand this is regrettable—”

“Regrettable?” Dean scoffed.

“We have to hold the line. Too many seals have broken already.” 

“So you fuck the pooch on some seals and this town has to pay the price?”

“It’s the lives of one thousand against the lives of six billion. There’s a bigger picture here.”

“Right, ‘cause you’re ‘bigger picture’ kind of guys.”

Castiel’s voice grew louder. “Lucifer cannot rise. He does, and Hell rises with him. Is that something that you’re willing to risk?”

“We'll stop this witch before she summons anyone. Your seal won't be broken, and no one has to die,” Sam tried.

Uriel spat, “We're wasting time with these mud monkeys.”

“I’m sorry, but we have our orders.” Castiel turned away from Dean to face Uriel.

“No, you can’t do this,” Sam pleaded, “you’re angels, I mean you’re supposed to—  You’re supposed to show mercy.”

“Says who?” Uriel responded.

“We have no choice,” added Castiel.

“Of course, you have a choice,” Dean argued, stepping closer to the two angels. “I mean, come on, what? You’ve never questioned a crap order, huh? What are you both, just a couple of hammers?”

“Dean, cut it out,” you pleaded from your spot where you’d finished packing his and Sam’s bags.

“Look, even if you can’t understand it, have faith. The plan is just,” said Castiel.

“How can you even say that?” Sam asked.

“Because it comes from Heaven; that makes it just.”

Dean scoffed, “Oh, it must be nice, to be so sure of yourselves.”

“All of you, fucking stop it!” you shouted, effectively stopping them from talking over each other. 

Uriel seemed proud while Sam and Dean just looked hurt and confused. You stood between the four men and faced Sam and Dean. “Arguing is pointless. Believe me, I’ve tried. We can’t stay here,” you told them. “Just… let it go.”

Dean looked at you like he had no idea who you were, and it broke your heart to pieces. 

“It’d do you well to listen to her,” Uriel stated evenly. “She’s the only one with sense among you.”

You kept your pleading gaze on Dean, but he stared straight over your head at the angels. “Well, sorry, boys; looks like the plans have changed.”

“Dean, no—”

Uriel scoffed. “You think you can stop us?”

The older Winchester marched right up to Uriel and stood in his face, and you were frozen to your spot in fear. “No, but if you’re gonna smite this whole town, then you’re gonna have to smite us with it. Because we are not leaving. See, you went through the trouble of busting me outta Hell. I figure I'm worth something to the man upstairs. So, you wanna waste me, go ahead; see how he digs that.”

The angel growled, “I will drag you out of here myself.”

“Yeah, but you’ll have to kill me, then we’re back to the same problem. I mean, come on, you're gonna wipe out a whole town for one little witch. Sounds to me like you're compensating for something.” He turned to Castiel, shoulders still squared. “We can do this. We will find that witch, and we will stop the summoning.”

Uriel shouted, “Castiel! I will not let these peop—”

Castiel held his hand up to stop him from speaking. “Enough!” He looked between you, Sam, and Dean. “I suggest you move quickly.”

****

And quickly, you did. Aside from communication about the hunt, neither Sam nor Dean spoke to you. You didn’t blame them, but you were more than willing to explain yourself to both of them after the fight was over.

Sam had just as much trouble making peace with the fact that angels were real, and quite frankly, horrible. Dean liked to believe that not all angels were bad, but you’d met several. All of them were terrible.

It was suffice to say your head wasn’t in the game for your fight with Tracy and the art teacher— whom you discovered was her brother— and, as a result, Samhain had been raised. Another seal was broken, and you couldn’t stop it. 

The demon successfully got his zombies out of the ground, and you and Dean had to fight hard to subdue them all. Your lack of focus had you making all kinds of mistakes you never would in hand-to-hand combat. 

And, much to your dismay, Sam used his powers again. Thinking back on the events of the night just made your chest hurt, and you preferred not to dwell on it much.

The drive back to the motel was absolutely brutal. You’d sustained gashes in the back of your left forearm and down your left side from a zombie throwing you into a jagged iron gate, but you tried your best to make it back to the motel without making a sound of pain.

Dean would stitch you up under normal circumstances, but you didn’t want him to have to help you after you’d hurt him so badly. You just needed to be in your room, alone with your first aid kit. 

The second the car was in park, you were hobbling back to your room. 

“Where do you think you’re goin?” Dean gruffly called after you. 

“Leave me alone, Dean,” you begged, tears flooding your eyes. You jammed your key into your door, stepping inside the room with Dean hot on your heels.

“You’re not gonna run away again, (Y/N)! Not after the shit you pulled with the angels.” He slammed the door behind him, startling you.

You wobbled and nearly collapsed to the floor if it weren’t for Dean catching you. When he pulled his hand away from your side, it was covered in blood. 

“(Y/N), what the fuck?” 

“ ‘S fine,” you slurred. “Jus’ need to stitch myself up.”

“No, no way. I got it.”

While you were grateful for his help, you felt horrible about the fact that here he was, yet again, having to clean up your mess after you'd hurt him.

As he worked on your side, you muttered, “I’m so sorry, Dean.” 

“I know,” he said gruffly. “But you better have a hell of an explanation, sweetheart. ‘Cause I’m pissed.”

“I know,” you responded shamefully. You took in a sharp breath as he tied off the last stitch to your arm. “Can- Can we talk now?” 

He nodded, standing from the floor and helping you up. You winced painfully and hobbled over to your bed. 

Dean sat at the table across from you. 

You took a shaky breath, trying to gain your composure. 

“That angel had you eating out of the palm of his hand, dude,” Dean told you. “Do you know what it felt like to watch that?”

You closed your eyes. “I know, I’m sorry. It’s not because I trust him, though. I didn’t want to leave a town of people to die.”

“Okay, then, what?”

You explained it all. You told him about your shoddy plan to save him from Hell, then, how Uriel had approached you, the men you’d tortured, and what you understood about the angel hierarchy. You told him of Uriel’s threats against Dean, how he frequently belittled you, and then, Dean asked a question you couldn’t avoid. 

“Why’d you listen to him, (Y/N)? I know you’re saying he’d hurt me, but you’re smart enough to know I’m valuable to Heaven if they were willing to rescue me from Hell,” Dean stated softly; it didn’t seem like he had fully processed everything you told him yet. 

“I don’t know if that’s true, Dean,” you said.

“Why?” 

“Because I think there’s something else going on here,” you began. “Michael wanted my… talents… for something. Uriel clearly wasn’t concerned about your health and well-being, and they had me helping with their ‘angel trials,’ or whatever, for months before you were saved.” You knew you’d have to tell him another portion of the truth you’d been dreading, but it was necessary. “And I agreed to do that for them because I saw you.”

Dean didn’t seem to understand what that meant. “Saw me? Like, a ghost? Or in a dream?”

“Nightmares,” you said. “I had them every night. And you don’t have to talk to me about what happened in Hell because I already know. I saw what happened to you every time I fell asleep.”

Dean’s mouth fell agape. “What?” 

You nodded. “He wouldn’t make it stop until I did what he wanted. And he— he said he’d make me do to you what Alistair made you do—”

“(Y/N)—” Dean dropped his head and swallowed harshly. “I can’t—”

“And now you know why I did what I did,” you finished. 

Dean couldn’t look at you. He stood from the table and hurried out of the room, leaving you alone in a heap of sobs.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-nesmith @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[reinabeestudio]

Close Shave

Words: 1267

Relationships: Gold Waltz (Soldier/Cee)

A/N: I talked about this draft ages ago and finally it's DONE. Warning, it eventually gets rather suggestive. That said, there's nothing actually explicit. If I had to rate it, I guess I'd give it a 16+ (?). It's super corny and silly, I had a blast working on it ∋( :D

It even comes with its own art: a comm I got from @/beeholyshit featuring a scene from the oneshot ✨ You should read it. For context

*[divider]

Stroke. Rinse.

Stroke. Rinse.

Stroke. Rinse. The room was blanketed in a comfortable silence, only the sounds of the blade on the skin and their breathing filled the confined space. The base was often quiet after dinner, most of the mercenaries tired from the fighting during the day under the punishing heat of the desert. Soldier used this time to shave. He used to shave in the mornings... sometimes. Until he used the razor to stab a BLU son of a bitch in the throat, covering the blade in blood and little chunks of gore. A lost cause, thus he was left to use a straight razor he owned. An old gift from his father back when he was a teen growing his first stubble. A razor which belonged to his own grandfather. It had the family name inscribed on the handle: Doe. It helped his memory, looking at it and holding it. Never forget who you are, son. Using the straight razor forced him to go slow, and he didn't like it. But if there's something he learned as a trained soldier, it was to adapt. Even if that earned him a few more cuts and nicks before bed. And one day, Cee Doremi stepped in. She popped up behind him when he was on the way to his room, that was when she offered her help with the shaving. "I don't need help, Ms Doremi." "Perhaps. But such a hard-working veteran like you deserves to be serviced once in a while, yes?" Little minx, she knew how to short-circuit his brain with so little. Yet he willingly fell for it each time. He felt her presence behind him as he resumed the walk back to his bedroom.

That's how he found himself in this situation: laying down on the bed while resting his head on Cee's lap, his old helmet resting next to her, on the mattress. There was water dripping from his face down his shoulders and collarbone, drenching his white tank top.

Soldier's pale blue eyes didn't leave Cee's face for a second. She was so focused, her own gaze never shattering from her task. There was a light blush on her cheeks, barely noticeable on the dim light, and he found himself enjoying the sight above him. Her strokes were gentle yet steady, shaving his face with the straight razor, and her free hand cradling his own face with a tenderness that made fireworks go off inside his chest like the 4th of July. Her hand lifted his chin, exposing the column of his neck, and he had to internally sing the Star-Splanged Banner as he tried to not make a sound.

Her eyes flickered to his, and she smiled sweetly at him. Fuck, there was the short-circuit again.

"I'm almost done, sugar cube. Be patient." She leaned in closer, the blade grazing the warm skin. "The neck is a delicate part... Be a good boy and stay still." Cee's delicate fingers grazed his throat and his Adam's apple bobbed. Soldier bit back a groan at the contact, internally counting to five as he held back the impulse to reach out and pull her face closer.

Several minutes of silence later, the job was done. Soldier sat up, drying his face with a small towel she brought while she cleaned up and put the tools away. The towel was pure white with a flower pattern, and it was surprisingly soft.

Soldier looked at her as he wiped away the remaining shaving cream, really looked at her, taking in every detail of her. Her white hair, her hazel eyes, her kind smile, her small mole under the left eye, her calming presence. Why did she have to be so fucking beautiful? Why did she have to make him feel this way, like he was going crazy? He wanted to hug her, he wanted to yell at the sky. He wanted…

Cee's hand on his shoulder stopped his train of thought, bringing him back to reality. "Look at you. A true dashing American! Now you are ready to keep shooting people while looking handsome as ever," she said with a smile.

He wanted her.

Soldier pulled Cee flush against him and crashed his lips against hers in a desperate kiss with all the pent-up passion and longing he'd been bottling up, his hands coming up to grip her waist tightly. Cee let out a surprised sound, but she quickly started kissing back, and pouring every ounce of love for him into it.

He walked her backwards until her legs hit the edge of the bed, and then he pushed her down onto the mattress, crawling on top of her. When they finally broke apart, both of them panting heavily, he rested his forehead against hers with a dopey grin.

"Cee, you beautiful bastard. You drive me insane."

Cee laughed sheepishly. The blush on her face was more prominent now, and he really enjoyed the sight. "Being honest with you, sweet thing? I've been wanting to kiss you for a while. You have a kissable face."

Little minx, short-circuiting him even when he was on top of her. It's one of the many things he liked about her.

Soldier nuzzled into her neck then, peppering the skin with kisses. His hand slid lower, dipping beneath the hem of her black dress to caress the smooth skin of her thigh. He could feel the heat of her, the way her body responded to his touch. He let out a low, appreciative groan as Cee hugged his waist with her legs and pressed their hips together. There she was, already all warm and willing and ready for him. He forced himself to not tear the dress away.

When she surged up to kiss him, he leaned down to meet her, pressing his lips to hers deeply. Hungrily. His finger was on the hem of her underwear, ready to get it off, when a loud cry from outside pierced the night. Soldier and Cee looked at the door at the same time with panic while they listened attentively.

"Ouch, my freakin' leg! It hurts SO MUCH!" Scout whined. "Your stupid machines are broken, man!"

"I told ya, string-bean: don't touch the darn thing!" Engineer chastised with an edge of irritation. His voice was strained with effort. "Now shut it, or I'm droppin' you!"

The couple stayed still as rabbits caught in the headlights as the voices of the young Bostonian and the older Texan drifted off, until the buzzing of the fluorescent lights was the only sound plaguing the hallway outside.

Soldier was about to resume the make-out session, but Cee stopped him. Instead, she hopped off the bed. He observed her, how she opened the door, and how she looked both sides before going back inside, locking the door behind her this time.

"Coast is clear, sir," Cee said with a salute and a smile. "Permission to go back to bed, sir?"

Soldier chuckled and grinned up at her as he saluted back. How cute. "Permission granted." He opened his arms afterwards, gesturing at her to get closer. "C'mere, sweetheart."

Then she ran back to him, giggling gleefully when he caught her in his arms and pinned her under him again. His grin grew bigger when she leaned in to kiss him once more, smiling into the kiss. It was not like the desperate kisses from before, but something softer, more intimate. A promise of more to come, of finally starting to explore these feelings between them.

Perhaps shaving at night was not so bad, after all.

[bunniisms]

Chat…. I cannot hold back my OCxCanon.

Chat, I need a weirdly tense atmosphere couple trust bonding with Amity and Walter where Walter’s let her shave him with a straight razor, and they’re talking about what he always imagined the reward for vampire hunting to be

Chat, I NEED Amity gliding that blade close to his bobbing Adam’s apple when he responds frankly to her quip about him wanting them to give him a castle and title for his service to the crown.

I need these weird old fucks having weird old fuck intimate times, that are seen consistently five seconds away from being the start of a whodunit cold open murder in a noir film.

Chat, I need you to hear me out here: Amity and Walter are in this dimly lit, windowless room; the walls are lined with old wallpaper, patterned in a style that was outdated in the 50s, and the air is thick with the scent of perfume and cigarette smoke.

You'd expect it to be in the back of a bar or seedy underbelly, but instead of being in a back alley, it's Amity's office hidden away in Hellsing's dungeons, but there's no mistake. Hidden as it is, Amity's office is no less dangerous than any back alley, thanks all to its titular inhabitant.

Yet, the danger promised within does nothing to dissuade Walter from wandering down in the late evening, his formal frock forgotten and long since shed away for a more dishevelled appearance that's as uncharacteristic as his purpose down in the depths.

He's there to ask for help, Walter wouldn't ask for such a thing usually, but bad days are what they are - he can hardly keep himself stable, but he is ever the man of appearances. Knowing this and sensing his discomfort and pain, offered to take on the routine and shave for him. And- from anyone else, an offer like this would make Walter laugh. But Amity is serious, and after a moment of consideration- he takes her up on it.

AND, AND I just think - she gently wipes away all the shaving foam from his wrinkled cheeks, and she's just so taken. There's something about him in this light as he wipes away at the last bits of cream stubbornly sticking to his sideburns. Maybe it's the way the low light of the accent lamps bathes his face in warmth. Or the way the shadows pull at his smile as he analyzes her cut beneath the pads of his fingers. Or maybe... it's a realization of something.

Either way, Amity puts all the shaving things off to the side on a beaten silver platter. And, rather than walking back to her desk or some other perch, ready to reaffix the emotional mask now that she was done with her daily act of charity and fondness. She saunters back over, back to where she had previously been standing at Walter's side, gliding the razor carefully down his lined cheeks, and takes a seat on his lap - taking Walter off guard, as he'd taking off the towel from his neck, but not in a bad way as he wraps his hand around the small of her back and pulls her closer

CHAT

[mydysfunctionalvampirefamily]

Oops the chaos goblin, the carcinogen voice, 19 years old. Lmao!

Joey garlic Santoni, the jersey devil, kids should stay away from your mascot? Wait if you are in witness protection, should you be telling us your full name?

"first off, he is not a king, this is America." 😂

NOOOOOO THIS VOICE CANNOT STAY!!! Oh god thank god we get some normalcy. I love boo the bedsheets ghost though.

Oh god imagine walking around in a sticky costume all the time! Candy apple does sound very cute and scary. And the voice sounds really hot. 👀

This team of mascots is really antagonistic towards each other.

I really like the Halloween music.

Is Boo a creep that looks into candy apple's wid wos at night???

Getting wacked with a caramel apple would be worse than a candied apple.

Setting someone in fire, very wicked.

Why do they roll so bad in these one shots? 😂

"paint me like one of your French ghouls" 😂

You cannot be surprised a car door is locked.

Please tell me it's pumpkin champagne.

... Why did you specify that it was champagne...

The arguing with that boo voice is too funny.

The weird vibe between Boo and Jersey devil guy, I'm here for it.

Is an ice pick really less dark than shooting someone full of heroine?

No gods, no masters, only bedsheets.

So Tim is still the wrangler? Trying to get these fuckers where they need to go? 😂😂

Wait... Rob! This is important to me, do you think that bakery vans are for actual baking?? And not just delivery??

"Oh you wanted a plan? *full 5 second long silence*"

They forgot the costume??? And Tim had to point it out?? Lmao

Boo the be sheet ghost almost saying fucking in front of an audience.

The jersey devil guy getting distracted, and getting into a fight, and getting distracted from that by the sticky red apple.

Boo is definitely putting only his name.

Is this entire oneshot just so Erika can say wieners as much as she wants to?

How can a maffia jersey devil be the most grounded person? 😂

Tim is like you can have the hairspray! Just ground it in the world!

Boo really is on the strugglebus.

Still why is an ice pick the only humane, non brutal way? 😂😂

"we can put razor blades in it?" 😂😂

There's so much weird world building. 😂

Werthers originals are actually really good.

The fact that candy apple is so vicious and murderous only makes her hotter.

Of all people Boo gets arrested? 😂😂

They all get arrested? Oh no the dance saves him.

The slow "I think we're done..." 😂

Yay for Boo!!!! #HalloweenIsForEveryone #BooTheDrugdealer

Candy apple is going to kill Boo some day.

[candycornstudios]

Remember back when boomers would claim that people are "putting razor blades in apples"

Yeah, I turned that concept into a character. She's a villain, an evil magical girl, and one of the people that Candy Corn and her friends fight against often

[ravennasgf]

MMcgonagall: Season of hurt

prompt: family line by Conan gray

Tw: SH, mentions of abuse.

Christmas once again falls in hogwarts. Everyone has gone home for the holidays I always stay in my dorm.

To cut a long story short I had abusive father, My mother eventually managed to run with me but my little sister was stuck. I eventually found her again about 5 years ago and brought her back to mum. Mum isn't the best. Infact lve disowned them, they're Just the one's who gave me life. I've struggled with confidence and mental health issues live self harmed and have depression. So with no home or family to go to as a 11 year old i stay in my dorm.

waking up I get dressed and go to the Kitchen for some food. I grab a piece of bread and an apple leaving to return to my dorm. As I enter the corridor to the Gryffindor quarters I run into professor Mcgonagall.

“I'm so sorry professor. I wasn't looking where I was going." y/n It's ok I was expecting everyone to be home for the holidays." "I have no home to go to Professor so I'm still here." "you're only 11 you shouldn't be on your own." "It's fine i've been on my own for years. I'm used to it." "Y/n … " "sorry for taking up your time ill let you get back to what ever it was you were going to do, bye, "I say quickly running into the Common room. I stare out a window and start talking to myself.

“It's hard to put it into words how the holidays always hurt. I watch the fathers with their little girls and Wonder what I did to deserve this. How could you but a little kid. I can't forget I can't forgive you. Now I'm afraid everyone I love will leave me. " I sob. Unable to handle the pain anylonger I need to numb it, the only

Way I know how. Grabbing the razor out of my pocket, I lift my sleeve and bring it down on my skin. I collapse to the floor sobbing. “Y/n? Oh darling. " professor McGonagall says. She runs towards me kneeling by me prying the blade out of my hands. “oh darling it's ok I've got you you're safe and loved" She manages to help me get my breathing under control. "it's ok Mamas got you, you're safe." “I'm sorry." "My dear sweet girl you have nothing to be sorry for. we all struggle. can you promise that the next time you want to harm yourself you'll come and find me? no matter what I'm doing I will stop, I want you to be safe darling." " I promise. Thank you for caring Mama . " “of course, Now how do you feel about spending The Christmas holidays with me?" “I don't want to burden you any more than I already have, " “you're not a burden my dear. So do you want to come with me?" she asks again. I Just nod with a big grin.

—— It's almost Christmas day a week really. Professor McGonagall set up the adjacent room in her room for me.

waking up from another night more. My door Opens and McGonagall runs in. "are you ok darling? " “Another nightmare.” l explain. “Oh sweet heart.” She lays down beside me pulling me close.

The next fewnights were the same. The morning before christmas we're waken again not by one of my night mares but by knocking on the door. Mama as im allowed to call her opens the door. It was Dumbledore "I need you and y/n to come to my office. " he says. "we'll meet you there. " She closes the door and walks over to me. "we have to get up for a while." She says softly. I whine & try to get up just about falling off the bed before Mama catches me. "can I carry you?" She asks. I nod sleepily. She gets us to dumbledores office sitting us both down.

Minnie’s pov "y/n … Both your parents have passed away. " he says. Y/n says nothing "well y/n told me what they did to her so she never has to see them again." "She needs someone to take care of her. " Albus says. I look over to see y/n asleep with a smile on her face “I could adopt her. I've already taken on the role of her mother. I’ll get the papers today and ask her tomorrow." “I agree she trusts you.”

with that I pick up the sleeping form of y/n and carry her back to bed. I get the papers and fill it out. ——— "Merry Christmas darling " I whisper as y/n slowly wakes up. “Merry Christmas mama.” “I have something for you and you can say no. " Isay sitting-up. she's quick to follow "so with both your parents gone you need someone to legally look after you. I've filled out adoption popers which I can burn If you don't want me to." “you really want to adopt me ?" she asks. "yes sweet dove I do. " I confirm. “Thank you so much mama.” She says giving me a tight hug which I return. "of Course my darling . Merry Christmas." “Merry Christmas. Best christmas ever. " She says happily.

This girl is so special. I'm so glad I can fill a place in her life.

[littlexdeaths]

i was just listening to my halloween playlist to get in the spooky spirit and a lot of the lyrics were speaking to me! so i compiled this list of song lyrics/titles that i thought would make good fic titles! as someone who struggles with titles constantly, i hope some of y’all can make use of these!

*also no need to credit me, i’m sure some of these have been used before!

⚰︎ - she loves me ‘cause i like to give head like a zombie

⚰︎ - scaredy cat

⚰︎ - she’s a maneater

⚰︎ - in the room where you sleep

⚰︎ - pushin’ up daisies

⚰︎ - it’s the time of the season

⚰︎ - bid my blood to run

⚰︎ - dissipate like smoke

⚰︎ - fill me with your poison

⚰︎ - i’ll tell them my religion’s you

⚰︎ - you’re from a whole ���nother world, a different dimension

⚰︎ - body bag baby, i’m a goner

⚰︎ - season of the witch

⚰︎ - he’s a wolf in disguise

⚰︎ - black magic woman

⚰︎ - show me your teeth

⚰︎ - you’re my kill of the night

⚰︎ - a midwest monster

⚰︎ - baby, you’re a haunted house

⚰︎ - if she’s got a pulse, then she’s not my type

⚰︎ - he ate my heart

⚰︎ - sleep with one eye open

⚰︎ - swallowing the seeds of sin

⚰︎ - bad moon rising

⚰︎ - people are strange

⚰︎ - that boy is a monster

⚰︎ - burn the witch

⚰︎ - it’s terror time again

⚰︎ - immortal fear

⚰︎ - when we all fall asleep, where do we go?

⚰︎ - sympathy for the devil

⚰︎ - crash the cemetery gates

⚰︎ - my creation, is it real?

⚰︎ - living dead girl

⚰︎ - it will come back

⚰︎ - somebody’s watching me

⚰︎ - double, double toil & trouble

⚰︎ - with voyeuristic intention

⚰︎ - i can’t find you in the body sleeping next to me

⚰︎ - thoughts of endless night

⚰︎ - i put a spell on you

⚰︎ - under the moonlight

⚰︎ - there’s no nicer witch than you

⚰︎ - devil on your back

⚰︎ - keep you free from sin

⚰︎ - close enough to kill

⚰︎ - skin against skin

⚰︎ - freaky ghost, baby

⚰︎ - candy apples & razor blades

⚰︎ - nocturnal creatures are not so prudent

⚰︎ - six feet under

⚰︎ - psycho killer

⚰︎ - baby, i’m howlin’ for you

⚰︎ - madness takes its toll

⚰︎ - freaks come out at night

⚰︎ - dead man’s party

⚰︎ - the smell of death is all around

⚰︎ - jeepers creepers, where’d ya get those peepers?

⚰︎ - all the good girls go to hell

⚰︎ - the witching hour

⚰︎ - aren’t you scared?

⚰︎ - i see you shiver with anticipation

⚰︎ - the devil in your eyes

⚰︎ - i wanna do bad things with you

⚰︎ - every breath you take

⚰︎ - bury a friend

⚰︎ - goddamn right, you should be scared of me

[altsnowheadcannons]

Her outfit & hair ⬇️

@rot4life my first drabble for alt!snow 🫠

Alt!Snow White Halloween Drabble

Snow White had been getting ready for trick-or-treating all day; baking brownies cut into the shape of a bat, hand made goodie bags that had homemade soft sugar cookies with orange frosting and black sprinkles paired with the bat shaped brownies. She even had bought apple juice boxes and kool aid juice bottles to give to the kids besides the huge bowls of candy she filled for the soon to be treaters. While the adults could have their pick of any two small alcohol shooters; for her friends yummy hand made, carmel apples with hardened red candy drizzle down the side with a razor blade stuck in the top of them to put a creepy cute twist onto the treats. Including a couple acid tabs and a small baggie of ketamine for her group of friends.

While she finished getting the drink station set up done with the drinks in the coolers Motionless In White's Voices ended with Beartooth's Choke starting, her slink, smooth petite black cat Lucy walking outside from the open door and sitting on the porch steps. "Happy Halloween Lucy" Snow said with a smile, squatting down and petting the cat's head as Lucy nuzzled her head into her owner's hand. Snow's house was the most decorated on the block, she had hundreds and hundreds of decorations for Halloween, after all it was her favorite holiday; she loved the creepy vibes and macabre scares the time of the year brought. Not to mention the paranormal side to the time of the year as well.

She finished setting up the kids and adults treats and then went inside, turning the music up a little bit louder so she could comfortably hear it outside. "Now we wait Lucy! The trick or treaters should be coming any time now!" Snow excitedly exclaimed as she sat down, sticking a green apple sucker into her mouth as Lucy jumped into her lap. A couple parents passed by with their kids making Snow smile and wave but they avoided her house making her spitefully flip them off with a glare before she sighed and quickly returned to her happy, bubbly mood.

After a few more minutes a group of young teens walked up to her house, the group of kids that came into the gas station where she worked. "Hey Snow!" One of them said, "Hi guys! Take a handful or two a drink and a goodie bag! Happy Halloween!" She said cheerfully with a smile as the kids grabbed what they wanted. "You always give the best stuff! Thanks" Kathleen said, the other three thanking her as well, "Homemade treats are the best. Please do enjoy!" She replied.

"You kids be good now alright? Don't be out late doing anything dumb, if you do end up staying out be careful and stay safe" Snow said, softly lecturing them but not wanting them to get hurt. The group of teens smiled and rolled their eyes, knowing she meant well so they didn't mind much, they said their goodbyes and moved onto the next house as she had more kids come and grab some candy. "Trick or treat!" The kids said in unison as they opened their bags, "Happy Halloween!" Snow greeted and grabbed a handful from each bowl for the two kids.

"Would either of you like a goodie bag and drink? The treats are home made, gluten and nut free" she said, offering them to the kids as she looked at the parents to see if it was okay. The kids had looked back at their parents as well with a pleading look, when given the okay the kids happily took the drinks they wanted and then a goodie bag each. The trick or treaters left and the night went on with more and more, a couple of her friends showing up closer to 10 pm. After picking everything up with the help of her friends, Snow had given them their treats she made them and set the bucket of alcohol shooters in the middle of them all since only a couple of the adults took one during the time of trick-or-treating.

[letsstaytuned]

He's passing out candy with little skulls on them from his pumpkin bucket. "How shall we decorate for the festivities this year my dear? I was thinking we play some games perhaps? We can have apple bobbing but with a twist!" He leaned down to whisper to her. "Some will have razor blades in them, it will make if FAR more exciting!"

"We are not putting razor blades in apples, Alastor," she said firmly.

"But I do like the idea of decorating! And maybe we can do a cakewalk!"

"But no razors in the cakes," she added, feeling the need to clarify.

[ear-worthy]

American Hysteria: The Podcast About Pointless Panic

There's a country song by Garrett Hedlund called, "Timing Is Everything." 

That sentiment applies perfectly to the podcast American Hysteria.   When American Hysteria began in 2018, the flames of society-wide conspiracy theories burned hotter than ever. With then President Trump using the bully pulpit to foster conspiracy theories -- QAnon, white replacement theory, PizzaGate, vaccine denialism, Putin is being persecuted, and even wind power causes cancer -- rational thought began to exit the public consciousness replaced by a belief best described as Fox Mulder of The X Files meets "Springtime for Hitler."

It was a perfect blend of societal delusions and a podcast investigating that same rift in political, social and cultural stability.

American Hysteria explores how fantastical thinking has shaped our culture – moral panics, urban legends, hoaxes, crazes, fringe beliefs, and national misunderstandings. Poet-turned-podcaster Chelsey Weber-Smith tells the strangest stories from American history and examines the forces that create the reality we share, and sometimes, the reality, we don't.

The podcast is produced by Skylark Media, which is an entertainment network creating and producing interactive audio dramas and podcasts.

 The host, Chelsey Weber-Smith, is known for Channel Zed (2020), Behind the Bastards (2018) and You're Wrong About (2018).

Chelsey Weber-Smith also writes country music and rambles around the United States, building campfires and hoping for the best. She is a graduate of the University of Virginia's MFA program in poetry and has written and self-published two chapbooks, a travel memoir, and two full-length folk/country albums, and was recently nominated for a Pushcart Prize. Her work has been published in BOAAT, Transom, Matter, Wu-Wei Fashion Mag, the James Franco Review, and Miracle Monocle. She currently lives in Seattle.

Weber is perfect for the role in the podcast. Listen to her: "I believe in getting tangled in the weeds, in living in the often-untouched gray areas, of exploring the nuances that often get lost. I hope to use humor and poetics to ease people into difficult truths, to educate with care and understanding, especially around issues of race, class, gender, and sexuality, and the bigness and smallness of being alive."

What kinds of topics does American Hysteria cover ? Here's just a partial list.

 Early Drag Queens, including the manly soldiers of the U.S. Army who put on drag shows during the Second World War. 

The ghosts of children killed in a school bus, who are said to push cars uphill and away from danger. 

The toy riots that took place over sought-after toys, such as Tickle Me Elmo, Cabbage Patch Kids, and Beanie Babies. 

The wild stories about Halloween sadism -- razor blades in apples, rat poison in chocolate -- which turned out to be largely tall tales.

My favorite episodes so far include the show about the numerous conspiracy theories surrounding Barbie over the decades. These theories range from grooming to fat shaming, anti-feminism to body dysmorphia.

 In the episode, I discovered there's one thing Ken and Barbie can never do. Get your mind out of the gutter. It's not that. After all, they're dolls. According to Barbie creator Ruth Handler, they can never get married.

 My other favorite is about Hallmark Christmas movies. In the episode, Weber-Smith says, "Because so many Hallmark writers and directors also make horror movies, I called in podcasters Sarah Marshall and Alex Steed of 'You're Wrong About' and 'You Are Good' to discuss the similarities between these two seemingly polar opposite genres."

I learned that each Hallmark Christmas movie budgets at least $50,000 for fake snow. The movies are generally filmed in the summer.  

My other favorite is the episode about the craze in the late 80s and 90s about satanic cults. The episode details the insanity of parents claiming their children had been affected by these satanic cults that were overrunning America. Later on, we discovered that Satan is really Steve Bannon, so no worries.

Weber-Smith is charming, funny, snarky, sarcastic and utterly entertaining on this podcast. America Hysteria is hysterical in how it crafts a narrative about these events of mass hysteria and then comments on the state of our culture, society and mindset. The narrative is fascinating and educational because, in a way, this podcast is a textbook (only funnier and wittier) on American sociology. 

Chelsey Weber-Smith makes the case that America's craziness is not a recent phenomenon. Conspiracy theories have been with us since dogs were domesticated. Think about it. It's only been 60 years since parents claimed that Elvis and his gyrating hips and The Beatles and their long hair would be the end of Western Civilization as we know it.

Thanks to Fox News, American hysteria will never run dry on conspiracy theories. The network invents them every day -- Tyler Swift is a CIA agent, happy holidays is a secret Communist call sign, and when conservative white people fall asleep, their bodies are being taken over by minorities, like in the film The Invasion Of the Body Snatchers.

Check out American Hysteria. You'll learn something, have fun, laugh often, question the validity of conspiracy theories, and enjoy the warped sensibilities of host Chelsey Weber-Smith.

 Finally, the podcast does encourage feedback. The podcast urges listeners to: "Tell us about a local urban legend you grew up hearing! We may play your voice message on the show along with whatever information we can dig up."

[qierxing]

War Cry

Commissioned by the lovely Veritaventis Yan! Kaeya Alberich x OC

“Khaenri'ah, huh? You sure know a lot! The legacy of Khaenri'ah is long gone. The sinners are all that's left, and they're not worth mentioning.”

i. “Sacrifices must be made.”

Briony would like to say she’s lived to see many things.

Her life has long made its way through the wheel of fortune; and with each high and low she has always endured. Unfortunate deaths, nasty slander, betrayals from those she thought she could trust. What’s a little apocalypse on top of it all?

Where is her wheel pointing now?

She’s studied Khaenri’ah. Built by humans, for humans–she thought reading through all the old texts and inscriptions would have prepared her for–for something. A sign. A prophecy of some sorts. Anything that could have prepared her for fire, screaming, and terrible monsters heard only in stories. What good does being the leading expert on the topic do if it doesn’t help you?

It was like the gates to hell had opened: hilichurls, abyss mages, heralds, dark shadow knights, and all manners of monsters flooded the stone streets. The skies turned dark, ominous purple clouds shutting out the sun. The ground trembled as they marched amidst the screams of frightened citizens. They did not falter or stop, even as people ran this way and that.

She’s one of the luckier ones, she knows. At least she had a Vision. The abyss forces did not hold back their intimidation, whether that meant setting fire to innocent families’ houses or cutting down those who happened to be in their path. It was all she could do to pull people out of the way of monsters. 

Last she was able to remember during the chaos, Razor and Fischl were trying to hold back abyss mages from the elder Adventure Guild members while Bennett was doing his best to evacuate them to safety. That was all she was able to catch before she was lifted away screaming and pounding on Kaeya’s back. That bastard. She thought nothing could phase her anymore after her adopted brother attempted to sabotage her career in the name of family. Evidently, she was proven wrong.

She sucks in a deep breath, knuckles taut around the kitchen counter. Focus. The ingredients sit in front of her tauntingly. Apples, beef, carrots…she’s made this stew too many times to count. At this point, she’s sure she could make the dish blind.

First, the vegetables and beef. The knife in her hands feels heavy as she chops the carrots and dice the apples. Did the soldiers who came through the gates feel the same with their blades? Even as people cried out, they did not blink as they slashed through flesh as they marched on. Those abyss heralds–how could they have been humans if they could so easily cut down their own? 

Focus! She shakes her head violently. The meat and vegetables are done, so now it’s time to start caramelizing them along with the aromatics. The hiss of the butter and garlic clears her mind if only for a moment. Her hands drop in the carrots and onions automatically, moving the spoon to evenly distribute them across the bottom.

Bennet, Fischl, and Razor, were they okay? They were still so young–even if they were seasoned adventurers and fighters, they cannot take on a full legion of hilichurls and abyss mages by themselves. Archons, what if they–no, they wouldn’t do that. They wouldn’t sink so low to harm mere children…would they?

Venti, where was he in the chaos? The steak sizzles as the air is filled with a hearty aroma as she makes sure to sear each side. The apples and potatoes follow after. Briony knows that Venti is more than the weak bard he presents himself as, but she worries nonetheless. Poetic ballads do not halt the hearts of tyrants and monsters.

Almost done. She pours in water, adding seasoning and herbs, before putting on the lid. Jean. Was she okay? She once again finds herself clutching the counter, staring off into nothing. If the mere townspeople were nothing more than cannon fodder to the troops that stormed through, then she can only imagine what has happened to the Knights of Favonius order, the protectors of Mondstadt. 

“Smells good~” Warm air puffs into her ear and her world screeches to a stop.

The knife in her hands finds its way upon a defined jugular.

If there’s anything she knows, it’s that Kaeya loves his games. She swears it’s some way to stimulate the constantly active brain that he has. (If she had to make it into a thesis report, she bet she could write it in a day) So she knows that she shouldn’t give him the reactions he wants. But somehow, he just always knows how to get under her skin. Is it his inherent ability to be annoying? Or an acquired talent? Either way, it’s infuriating. 

Kaeya grins, despite the blade pin pricking his skin and letting out beads of ruby red blood.

“Whoa there, honey. This is quite a greeting for you.” 

“Maybe you shouldn’t be sneaking up on people in the first place.” She bites back.

“What can I say? You just make the cutest faces when you’re surprised.” 

She scrunches her face in disgust, and he laughs heartily, as if he weren’t close to having his throat slit. 

“What’s for dinner?” Kaeya tilts his head as she continues to glare. He opts to lean around to check the pot, and turns to her with a cat-like grin on his face.

“Let me guess. Northern Apple stew?”

She wants to smack that smug look off his face. As if he had any right to talk about how she turned to her comfort food to destress. She could write essays upon essays on Kaeya’s inordinate love of wine and all things alcoholic and how cause and effect from personality and trauma played into it. 

“If you keep acting like that, I’m not letting you have any.” She brusquely replies, removing the pot from the stove and putting out the fire. Kaeya follows her to the quaint dining table as she sets down the pot. 

He hums. “Why, you break my heart. You know I love your cooking more than anything.”

Not enough to keep your loyalty to Mondstadt, but she keeps her mouth shut. She’s so drained, she’s not sure she can play tonight’s round of psychological warfare. Instead, she watches as Kaeya sets out the cutlery and plates, waving at her to sit down.

Dinner is strangely quiet, however. She expects some kind of stupid quip as they cut into the beef and spear a fork through the potatoes. Or an exaggerated re-telling of his day of work; maybe even just a fantastical story of pirates and mermaids. But there’s none, and she finds the dead silence more unsettling than Kaeya’s smooth timber.

“You must hate me, huh?” 

She pauses, fork halfway to her mouth. Putting it down, she ruminates on what she should say.

Yes, is the first thing that comes to her mind. No, is what follows after–because even after everything he’s done, he’s one of the few to see her for her without any rose filters or expectations. She can breathe around him, talk to him without fearing the weight of her words. After spending years in stifling academic seminars and upright noble balls, Kaeya was a person she could trust to be impartial and free.

“It’d be hard for me to say that I don’t hate you right now.” She manages evenly. 

Kaeya observes her face then closes his eyes, no doubt thinking about her statement.

“I won’t ask you to forgive me,” he begins, “Just know that I had my own reasons. And this is the best outcome.”

Something in her snaps. From nerves, from anxiety, or just from being tired of having to deal with Kaeya for so long, she’s not sure. 

“The best outcome is Mondstadt being burned down?” She slams her hands on the table, standing up. “Innocent people have been assaulted, ‘all for the best outcome’? Are you hearing yourself right now?”

Kaeya’s starry eye reflects her visage angry and out of breath, sending shudders down her spine.

“The townspeople have been mostly unharmed.” Her eyes widened at the casual statement. Then, the kids, they were okay? And even the Adventure Guild elders? Oh, thank the Seven–

“And the Knights have peacefully surrendered to cooperate with Khareni’ah.” Her heart drops to her stomach. Did Jean realize the price she had to pay when those monsters stormed in? Or was her hand forced against her will?

“Peacefully, huh?” She envisions the beef she’s stabbing is Kaeya’s flesh; if only for a bitter, violent moment.

“Would you rather have them forced into submission?”

Her blood runs cold at the empty expression Kaeya’s face adorns. There’s a glint in his eyes that she’s never seen before, not even when she saw him facing enemies. Her eyes narrow into dagger points.

Is this his true face?

–

ii. “Now cut me loose: I’ll show you the meaning of sacrifice.”

Kaeya knew the consequences of taking Khaenri’ah's hand.

"This is your chance. You are our last hope."

He could’ve forgotten his father’s words when his hands clasped around his shoulders that fateful night. Turned over a new leaf when Crepus found him soaked to the bone near the vineyard, hurrying him inside before he could die of hypothermia. When Varka knighted him, he could’ve moved on from the past and broken free from his father’s heavy expectations upon him.

And yet, even after Crepus died, he could not stop but think about how even the mighty fell.

So he resolves turning his back on Diluc's betrayed face, not just once, but twice. He puts aside what Jean had taught him in protecting Mondstadt, if only to crush the guilt that came with facing her as she is surrounded by abyss heralds. He knows Lisa would’ve wiped him off the map if they tried to do anything to Jean. And Amber, the young clever outrider who has always pointed at him anytime something suspicious happened. Now, she will no longer be wrong.

But he could not turn back now.

Khaenri’ah was his home. They were humans, just like the other nations. Even if the Heavenly Principles gave judgment upon his country, they are, and still, people at their core. And when his countrymen fell, what did the other Archons do?

They turned away and closed their eyes.

Still, even if Briony had tried, he knew she could not do the same. Not when she was forced to face him and his eyes. That is the one thing he always found endearing about her. It was hard to find someone like her who is able to care, and so fiercely and genuinely at that. Even as rumors swirled around him, she still smiled and invited him in for tea on a sunny afternoon. 

“The best outcome is Mondstadt being burned down?” She slams her hands on the table, standing up. “Innocent people have been assaulted, ‘all for the best outcome’? Are you hearing yourself right now?”

But if he had to be honest, maybe what he enjoyed most, is when she gets mad.

The fire in her eyes burns brighter than even Diluc’s flames that scorched his right eye that fateful rainy night. Like the explosive burn of Death After Noon, Briony’s sharp rebuttals leave no one standing. Her words are no longer shrouded and censored by an internal review, but instead carry the blunt force of the knowledge she carries. He’s beginning to realize he’s developed quite the titillating taste for the finer things in life.

He waits for her heavy breaths to slow and regulate. 

“The townspeople have been mostly unharmed.” He watches as Briony perks up at his sentence. He knows that her pride won’t allow her to ask him directly about the people she cares about. “And the Knights have peacefully surrendered to cooperate with Khaenri’ah.”

A flurry of emotions flit by on her face. Relief for a couple moments, then worry, and finally, anger, once again. 

“Peacefully, huh?” She scoffs as she forcefully spears a fork into a piece of beef.

“Would you rather have them forced into submission?”

“Don’t be morbid.” 

“I’m just saying,” he hums, amused at her pointed glare, “it could’ve turned out a lot worse than what the current situation is.”

Her knife makes a ugly screech as she pointedly drags it across the ceramic while cutting into the beef. “And there are situations where it shouldn’t be happening at all.”

He twirls the knife in his hands as he meets her eyes. “Riddle me this, O’ leading expert on Khaenri’ah. What do you think these forces are hoping to achieve from all this?”

It’s clear that she’s taken aback at his sudden question. Her face flickers between confusion and distrust, unsure of his intentions behind the words. There’s something captivating in the way her dark eyebrows and viridian eyes scrunch in deep thought, clever mind already turning wheels upon his question.

“The forces have been ruthless, but if you are to be trusted on your word, and if the townspeople and the Knights have been spared…” Ah, there it is. That lovely expression of realization dawning upon her mien. “Don’t tell me…”

He smiles and leans forward in a conspiratory manner. “Khaenri’ah is a country for the people, by the people. My countrymen may resent the people who love the Seven, but we know better to misdirect our anger.”

She’s left frozen, staring down at her plate in muted horror. 

“We’re only asking for the Archons to help clean up the mess that they stood by on the sidelines for.” He leans back and shrugs. “Again, I’m not asking for your forgiveness. But I don’t want you to get hurt trying to do something foolish out there.”

That seems to melt her frozen stature. “Do something foolish? Like trying to make sure no one gets hurt?”

“There have been no casualties, despite the mayhem that happened.” He stands, picking up his cleared plate. “That, I will not lie to you about.”

She’s silent as he also takes her plate. As he turns around to head to the kitchen sink, a broken sigh has him stopping in place. 

“Was everything we went through a lie?” Briony hunches over with a wobbly whisper. “Was it amusing, leading me around like some kind of ignorant dog?”

Diluc said something similar that cold rainy night. Just like Briony had her trembling hands clasped together, his adopted brother had to take his claymore with both hands instead of his usual one hand technique, due to them shaking so much. With anger or sorrow, he doesn’t know.

He’s silent for a moment. It would be all too easy to lie and smile it off, but he knows that would silently close another door that could never be opened again. And he could not have her cut him off, not when he has fallen in love so deeply and ardently. He doesn’t want to be left alone on that cold, dirt road anymore.

“If I said yes, would that make you feel better?” He places the dishes into the sink, the hollow clinks filling the void.

He only gets silence in response, and when he looks over, he flinches. Briony’s tears flow down her cheeks and drip onto the pine wood table. He purses his lips in hesitation before he kneels down to eye level with her.

Lifting her head gently, he stares into her glistening eyes as he wipes away the tears oh so gently with his thumbs. Foreheads pressed together, they both stare into each other's eyes.

“I love you.” The bold declaration opens his heart for only a moment. Glacial ice thawing under her pleading gaze. “And nothing will change that, sweetheart.”

If he could drink up all the despair and sorrow reflecting in those deep forest hues, he would be a staggering drunk outside Cat’s Tail. Is it cruel of him to think that Briony looks her most beautiful now? Broken down and hanging off his every word, she looks like a painting; gleaming tears like shining pearls upon her tawny complexion, dark mossy hair like swirling tree branches framing her face, all for his viewing.

“But I don’t love you.” His heart freezes over at the genuine response.

He smirks. 

“It’s a good thing, then, that you don’t have a choice in that matter.” His voice carries no hostility as he abruptly removes his hands from her face, causing her to almost fall forward into air.  She splutters as she looks up in dazed confusion.

“Prisoners of war don’t usually get to have a say in how their jail cell or warden is.” He cheekily adds, shrugging on his fur cloak. As he approaches the door, he takes a final look back at Briony sprawled haphazardly while gazing at him with an expression that he prays to be desperation. He closes his eyes and turns away. He’s losing his touch. Not many could get under his skin or the careful facade he wrapped around himself. And yet, she manages to do so without even batting an eye.

“And as your prison warden, you won’t be going anywhere.” He swings open the door with grim determination. Remember why you’re doing this. He had long steeled himself for this when he decided to knock upon Diluc’s door and confess his dark secrets of a mission that could not be heard by unknowing ears. 

His Vision sends frigid air frothing around his shoulder and for a moment, he lets the cold envelope him once more.

The click of the door closing behind him syncs with the gongs of the bells in the Favonius Cathedral. How ironic, that the chimes that once brought hope into the hearts of others, Kaeya thinks, now strike fear of those in line for execution.

[officialleehadan]

Algol Whispering

Guiding Stars

+++

Andra was fascinated by the alien queen.

She was a beautiful creature. Many-legged, like a spider three times over, but with thin, spindly limbs that chimed softly where they skittered over the hard dur-steel of the brig’s containment cell. Her body was mostly clear, but thin threads of blue wove though her like a network of nerves that glowed from within. Her body was made up of several larger sections, but the way she moved was more serpentine than anything, and she held the front section off the ground. Four of her limbs, forked and mobile, offered utility. Two more were shaped into razor-sharp blades.

When they first released her into the cage, which was lined in every known psi-dampening material known to humanity, she spent a while flinging herself from side to side of the cage, scrambling and scrabbling to escape. Andra had watched her then too, worried that the precautions, made for a rogue psionic, not an alien hive-mind, would not be enough.

Finally though, after hours of increasingly desperate attempts to escape, the queen backed up into the furthest corner from the door and hungered down, chirring and coming to herself.

That’s where Cygnus found Andra, twelve hours after the queen’s capture.

She was sitting on a bench just outside the cell, watching the queen fidget and shift about. He didn’t know there was a bench down in the brig, but it made sense. They almost never had criminals on the base, which meant that the cell was more often filled with young psionics who hadn’t entirely gotten their abilities under control. There was another cell, fitted similarly with psi-dampers, but designed for comfort, in the medical wing.

They all agreed that this alien queen did not need to be in he medical wing, closer to their most vulnerable residents.

“You’ve been down here for two hours,” Cygnus said as he greeted Andra with a green-apple-colored mental kiss and presented her with a bowl of the fruit itself. She loved apples, and he got them for her whenever he could. She beamed up at him, mind sparkling with champagne bubbles of gratitude and took the bowl. “Learned anything interesting?”

“I can still feel her,” Andra revealed between bites of apple. Cygnus pulled an orange out of his pocket and began peeling it methodically and listened to her even as he tracked her conflicting emotions through their bond. “The queen. She’s trying to reconnect to her Hive, but she can’t find them through the dampeners.”

“Glad they’re working. We worried they wouldn’t.”

It had been a real risk, putting the queen into the cell and then letting go of their hold on her, but they couldn’t keep holding her psionically either. Only he and Andra were powerful enough to manage her, and they had to sleep sometime. The cell had been their best chance at taking the queen alive. If she had shown any sign of escaping, they would have had to kill her.

The loss of the chance to study her would have been painful, but not as bad as letting her rampage through the ship.

“She isn’t afraid exactly,” Andra said. Cygnus slipped into her mind and she welcomed him there with rose-gold love, then showed him what she was feeling. Since her capture, her empathy had been higher, although still not as high as her telepathy or other skills. All the same, it was one of Cyg’s weakest abilities, and he was interested that it was so useful now. “I don’t think she feels emotions the way we do. Fear is human. She does seem to know that we caught her, and she’s intelligent, but… it’s so inhuman that I can’t connect with her at all.”

“You’ve been trying? It was the last thing Cygnus expected, considering how Andra felt about the aliens in general and the queens specifically. Of all of them, the few survivors of Asteroid Base 42 were some of the most bloodthirsty where the aliens were concerned. “Why?”

“I think it’s why they broke me so badly,” Andra explained as her mind colored with the shocking lime green of remembered pain, sparking like fireworks through vivid, blinding blue. “They thought we’re like them and that I was just being stubborn. A queen from a different hive. If we can figure out how to speak, how to actually speak, we can at least ask them why they came for us. All I ever learned was that they thought we’re like them, and that they hate us.”

“But not why,” Cygnus murmured. Andra had, in starts and stops, shared what she survived on the alien ships. For her sake alone, he wanted to burn them out of the sky. For her sake, he would try to figure out what this queen wanted, and why she risked coming to Blood Star Base. “We still don’t know what they want. They destroy planets, but we’ve never been able to get close enough to see what they do after.”

“They want the resources I think, but it’s probably more complicated than that.”

“I imagine so,” he said and offered her a section of his orange for a few of her apple slices. She smiled and took the trade willingly. He ate while he thought, aware of her following his thoughts like a dragonfly skimming over a deep lake. There was no need to dig deeper. Not when he would part the waters of his mind and let her in if she asked. In reply, she scattered gleaming silver snow through his mind and he smiled at the feeling of it. “Alright. I’m here now. Want to try together and see what she does?”

“Not really, but better us than anyone else,” Andra said and set her bowl aside with a sigh. “No time like the present. Let’s see what an alien mind feels like when they’re not the one in power.”

+++

Guiding Stars:

Procyon Moon

Altair Chariot

Vega Dignity

Cappella Besieged

Canopus Emergent

Nihal Collision

Spica Interlude

Polaris Eclipsed

Sirius Empowered

Mizar Orbit

Dabih Risen

Ankaa Igniting

Leporis Crush (Subscriber Only!)

Porrima Chain

Menkent Ripple  (Subscriber Only!)

Atrea Rest

Arcturus Rally

Acrux Resonance 

Adhara Leap (Subscriber Only!)

Cujam Defendant

Heze Attack

Acamar Shield

Avior Triumphant

Algol Whispering (New!)

+++

MASTERLIST

[dreamgrlarchive]

Self Care 101 🦋

In this post I’ll be outlining my current routines as they relate to self care. I’ll cover everything from head to toe making sure not to skip your spirit. You cannot be a girl of ANYONE’S dreams if you aren’t taking care of the most important person in your world: you.

mornings:

wash face with gentle cleanser from curology, tone with organic Mamonde rose water and finish with rich moisturizer and spf30

brush teeth with activated charcoal toothpaste by Crest and baking soda for whitening and gum clarity

take vitamins : woman’s one a day, hair skin nails, biotin, vitamin c

drink glass of water then a cup of tea

black tea, raw cane sugar, a lemon slice, ginger

good for energy, immune function, and detox

showers:

this may sound so extra (😅), but depending on my hairstyle, I sometimes like to let the shower run for about five minutes with the door closed to create a sauna effect. this is especially if I have a mask on my hair.

my showers usually are about 20-30 minutes

I have a back brush, pink exfoliating gloves, a loofah, and tree hut body scrubs and I use them ALL.

I wash first with my dove beauty bar to assure clean skin before washing with EITHER my OGX Shea So Soft body wash or Dove Renewing Peony and Rose Oil body wash to add scent or silkiness to my skin.

hair removal:

I haven’t yet mastered the art of waxing myself so I’m still riding the shave wave. *when I do I’ll make a post 4 that*

I exfoliate throughly before AND after shaving

I shave my entire body using Tree Hut Shaving Oil and a nice conditioner I’m not using. This leaves my skin super soft and silky and helps the razor to glide without skipping. I use Gillette Venus. no less than five blades, anything less is ASKING for nicks and a hard time.

when I don’t feel like shaving, I use Nair. use at your own risk. yes, I Nair my ENTIRE BODY. only leaving it on for about 7 minutes I rinse in WARM (not hot) water and exfoliate afterwards. it is imperative to moisturize after to avoid irritation. however, Nair is much easier to do than shaving and seems to last an inkling longer.

after shaving, once a month, I pull out my KENZZI. it’s an IPL device and it has helped to slow the growth of my hair. it’s noticeable for us long, thick haired chicks. I use the second to lowest setting as a melanated babe, as the higher settings could burn me.

I know many endorse the hair on women movement and I can understand it. But I personally love my skin silky, hairless, and smooth.

nights:

after eating dinner, I wash my face and apply the tiniest bit of glycolic serum and my curology night cream. my skin has been the best it’s been in a few years. then I brush my teeth and rinse with peroxide.

every four days I give myself a facial

my favorite face masks:

The Ordinary Salicylic Acid mask

The Ordinary AHA + BHA mask

all Tony Moly sheet masks *luvvvvv those*

GLAMGLOW SUPERMUD clearing treatment *fav*

Peter Thomas Roth Pumpkin Enzyme mask

Peter Thomas Roth Cucumber Gel mask

Peter Thomas Roth Irish Moor Mud mask

Peter Thomas Roth Rose Stem Cell Bio-Repair Gel mask

ORIGINS Clear Improvement mask

An at home honey and aloe mask

I apply a rich facial moisturizer and get to bed.

I then write in my planner my new plans and what I did that day if I hadn’t already. then after that I script and make mood boards in my diary. then I read a little. currently reading: Making Faces by Kevyn Aucoin, and Live Like a hot Chick by Jodi Lipper.

emotions:

I talk to my grandmother about my feelings, she helps me sort things out. please try to find one person you trust to talk to, my messages are always open. 💓 I often overthink. I suffer from anxiety and clinical depression. sometimes these things make me FEEL limited. these experiences wax and wane. I remind myself that the darkness is temporary.

I write in my diary what I feel and track my emotions for potential patterns. I don’t manufacture or sugar coat my feelings, I just talk.

sometimes you need a good cry. let it out. clean your slate. you’ll always feel better, sometimes great after a hard, deep sobbing cry.

I try to get out of the house and get some sunlight. it helps brighten my mood sometimes.

baths:

LOVE taking baths I don’t care what the status quo is about dirt. just rinse off. I love wrapping my hair up and soaking in warm-hot water.

first I run the water. as it’s running I add my bubble bath, then body wash, then my Shea Moisture fragrant coconut oil. it smells soooo good, literally yummy. then I inevitably scream from dipping my toe in the hot water. finally I get in, scrub down my body, emphasis on feet. then I wash, and just relax. I’ve even fallen asleep in the tub once, I was so zen.

careful not to soak too long or overdo it with your products. synthetic materials lingering in your lady bits for too long cause cause infections like bv or uti

some women add tea tree oil, acv, or even Aztec clay to their baths for wellness purposes. I love adding essential oils to my baths to relax and the natural scent is just great 🥺

when I get out I always put something that feels lush and soft on. *invest in super soft, comfy bath towels, they’ll make you feel so luxurious and soft after a nice relaxing bath*

flower:

the yoni is something sensitive that needs to be taken care of thoroughly, and differently than the rest of your body. it’s not recommended to use soaps down there, it can unbalance things and make you itch. also make you prone to infection. this is why I use clear warm water to clean. if I use soap it’s a sensitive, gentle formula. don’t ever try to clean the cavity. she’s a self cleaning vessel.

to shave, I trim my hair down as close as possible and use a FIVE BLADE razor with conditioner and take my time. making sure not to pass a spot twice, I apply moderate pressure and move slowly. when finished I rinse and scrub gently. I PAT not rub dry. to finish off I apply TendSkin, and salicylic acid to avoid ingrowns. once that’s soaked in I apply shea butter. very soft and pretty 🌸

⚠️ DO NOT PUT ON TIGHT PANTIES OR RIGHT PANTS AFTER SHAVING. it restricts the hairs and causes irritation and ingrowns. throw on some comfy loose shorts for a while, let it breathe

dietary needs:

drink plenty of water

cranberry juice

vitamin c

minimal red meat

probiotics

at home vagacial for the high maintenance girlies:

*make any necessary extractions with pointed and slanted tweezers *

scrub: 

brown sugar, tea tree oil, a little shea butter

exfoliating and anti inflammatory

mask:

baking soda, fresh lemon juice, vitamin e oil, papaya juice, gelatin

fixes discoloration and brightens the skin while softening

moisturize:

aloe vera gel, rose hip seed oil

smelling sweet:

ah yes, my favorite part. I love fragrance so much. I love to smell like you could literally break off a piece of me and eat it.

I find that using fragrant washes and oils make your scent more strong and help it linger. I already mentioned the body washes I use. the tree hut scrubs I use smell amazing also. I alike to add essential oils and man made scents like strawberry and chocolate to my Shea Moisture oil (so yummy).

I also use a fragrant lotion, eau de parfum, and fragrance mist.

here’s a list of some of my favorites:

perfumes:

jimmy choo fever

coach floral blush

yves saint laurent mon paris

victoria’s secret bombshell

victoria’s secret scandalous

valentino

fragrance mists:

victoria’s secret velvet petals, pure seduction, warm and cozy

bath and body works a thousand wishes, fiji pineapple palm, warm vanilla sugar, black raspberry vanilla

oils:

coconut

sweet almond

peppermint

chocolate scented essential oil

strawberry scented essential oil

orange

grapefruit

eucalyptus

sweetest combo ever:

vanilla extract, coconut oil, shea butter, and your favorite perfume. you’ll be smelling like a warm cupcake with extra sprinkles and icing 🧁

layering:

oil, lotion, eau de parfum, mist

pulse points:

inside elbows and knees, in between thighs, inner arms, behind ears, back of neck, ankles

hair:

it’s super important to keep your hair moisturized. quenched tresses move, grow, shine and bounce. dry hair is limp, lackluster, and extremely fragile

my fav diy deep conditioner:

a banana, half an avocado, three spoons of honey, an egg, a spoonful of mayo, a spoonful of coconut, olive, and castor oil each

strength from egg, avocado, mayo and olive oil

moisture from avocado and honey

cover damp CLEAN hair and scalp in mixture and cover with a plastic bag, then towel for an hour, rinse thoroughly, and seal in moisture

fav hair products:

castor oil

fusionplex conditioner and mask

Aussie conditioner

wella goji berry mask

coconut oil

style booster edge control

helpful tips:

when shampooing, concentrate on the scalp and wash thoroughly twice, as the suds will naturally cleanse your stands without drying and stripping them

rinse hair with apple cider vinegar every now and then. it restores your ph balance, smooths the cuticle, clarifies the strands, and adds shine

always add oil and leave ins to DAMP hair, never dry; this will ensure you’re sealing in moisture

try to use smooth fabrics to dry your hair, bath towels encourage frizz and breakage

hands and feet:

and last but not least, let’s cover manicuring and pedicuring.

it’s super important to make sure your nails are either DONE or filed, shaped, and smooth. at home maintenance is super easy. make a point to scrub your hands and feet well when bathing. make sure to stay on top of your cuticles by trimming or pushing them back. I like the look that pushing them gives. I use an orangewood stick, metal pusher and cuticle softener to make the process super easy and safe. after I’m done I add my pineapple scented cuticle oil. I do this on my fingers and toes.

invest in a rasp and pumice stone for your feet and use these gently every two weeks after soaking them in warm foot salts. rough usage can cause cuts and irritation. in between treatments keep your feet soft by slathering them in a moisturizing foot cream, cocoa/shea butter then oil to seal it all in. buy some soft thick aloe infused socks and wear them to sleep. you’ll thank me 😉

for info on how I do my nails click this

well, that’s all I’ve got. I truly hope you enjoyed my post! it’s always fun sharing my advice with you all. any feedback is appreciated and question is welcomed ♡

[mrs-march-ahs]

Taking Care of Kai Anderson in Prison

I think this is kind of a weird idea, but I wanted to write it anyway!

Warnings- smut, manipulation, Daddy kink, Kai Anderson. Words- 3k

Summary- Blue hair and bearded Kai is put in prison, and it’s your job to shave his head and beard because, being a violent prisoner, he isn’t trusted with a razor. He plays mind games with you and finds out exactly what he wants to know, and uses it to his advantage.

----

You gather your necessary items and walk down the prison corridor, scanning your badge to open every double door on the way. You walk towards the door of the room you need to be in, and you look through the one-way mirror to look at the prisoner inside. Kai Anderson, the leader of a murderous cult, just went through all the paperwork and confessions needed to be locked away for the rest of his life. The guards inside hold him very firmly and get ready to sit him down. It’s a very high security room, multiple guards outside looking in, a secured metal chair with hand restraints on either side, and a locked door. You scan your badge to enter and he immediately looks at you but says nothing. This has been your job for multiple months and after years of training, being around dangerous men and convicted criminals wasn’t new to you. But something about his relaxed face, and his body looking so comfortable despite all the restraints, made you nervous. Your job so far at the prison is to take care of the vulnerable, but this man didn’t look it. You walk over to the table and lay down everything you’re holding: an electric shaver, shaving cream, knife and a towel, to try and take away as much of his identity as possible. He needed taking care of, and being in the high security wing, he wasn’t trusted with a razor. The guards finish tying his hands to the cuffs on the arm rests of the seat and look at you.

“Want us to do his feet too?”, one of the guards says, motioning to the similar cuffs at the feet of the chair.

Kai looks over at you calmly and raises his eyebrow, asking the same question.

“No don’t bother”, you pick up the towel and walk over to him. “What will he do? Trip me up?”.

This silly comment earns a slight smile from Kai and he looks at the guards. They point to the one-way mirror and walk outside, to remind you that they will be watching in case you need them. They leave and shut the heavy metal door behind them. You wrap the towel around Kai’s neck and slide your hands on his shoulders, smoothing it out before picking up the shaver and running your fingers through his greasy blue hair.

“I need to shave your head, is that okay?”, unsure whether he knew what he came in here for. He slowly nods once and continues looking ahead of him at the mirror. You take a breath and run the shaver through his thick hair, watching it fall on his shoulders and on the floor. After a few strips, the side of his head is all shaved and you look at him in the mirror. He turns his head slightly to get a better view, then looks straight forward again, completely unmoved by what you’re doing. The stillness in his face and the silence in the room unsettles you. You continue shaving him, shuffling around him, trying to be careful and thorough but also wanting this to end as soon as possible. He notices the effect he has on you and speaks up.

“When my sister was little and she had to get her first haircut, she sat and sobbed, she was so scared”, he begins telling you, looking himself dead in the eye. You glance at him in the mirror and nod to show you’re listening.

“So, I took some scissors and chopped some of my own hair off, to show her it wouldn’t hurt”.

You smile at his anecdote and look at him in the mirror, and he looks back at you. His eyes pierce through you and his serious expression doesn’t change. The stare makes you turn back to his head and shave the last few strips of head he has left.

“That’s sweet”, you say softly. “You’re a good big brother”.

You finish shaving him and rub your hand over his now bald head. He nods at your comment and tilts his head to the sides and looks at his new cut, with his face still as serious as before and eyebrows furrowed slightly. You watch him inspect his new look and mix up the shaving cream.

“They say that a girl’s relationship with her older brother is more important than the one with her dad”, you walk over to him, stirring the shaving cream and nod in agreement. You make eye contact in the mirror and you add, “I’m close with my brother, I can tell him anything”. Though you knew that anything you told the prisoners could be used against you, you couldn’t help but feel so awkward that you wanted to say anything to keep the conversation going, and not bring back the deafening silence. You lean down at his side and begin putting the shaving cream on his face.

“And your dad?”, he asks quietly. “What’s your relationship with him like?”.

A million thoughts go through your mind, debating whether to tell him anything. Although he had no right to know, it didn’t seem like a big deal to tell him a few things. As you contemplate your next move, you try to focus on the task at hand and why you’re here in the first place, but you’re interrupted when Kai turns his face to look at you. His deep black eyes look into your soul. It seems like he already knew everything there is to know about you, even though he just met you. You inhale nervously and turn your focus back on putting cream on his face.

“It’s good”, you say quietly, which prompts a single amused exhale from the criminal. You resist the temptation to question him and instead walk over to get the knife from the table.

“Why are you lying to me?”, he asks, smiling. You take the knife and squat next to him. You can’t help but give him a puzzled look and feel even more uncomfortable at him smiling than looking serious. You shave one strip up his neck and his jaw and wipe it on the towel around his shoulders.

“I was honest with you, why aren’t you being honest with me?”, he asks quietly but firmly, looking at you in the mirror, inspecting your body language. “You have Daddy issues, don’t you?”, he states, confidence dripping off every word and the question solely rhetorical.

“I said it’s good”, you reply defensively, trying to not give him satisfaction in knowing anything about you, especially without you telling him directly.

“Don’t worry, I know what it’s like to have a shit father”.

You turn his face to look at you while you carefully run the knife along his neck, curving at his Adam’s apple. You focus on looking at his lips and chin while shaving him, but you can feel the burning stare right into your focused eyes. Looking down at you, letting you shave around his lips, he stays silent but smirks slightly. After you wipe the blade, his mouth opens once again, and his words catch you off guard.

“You just want a Daddy to protect you, hm?”

His filthy and overly confident words surprise you into looking at him. A combination of his sly smirk and his black eyes staring at you make your insides burn. You feel your cheeks flush and try to look away from him, but you simply can’t. This time you could tell the question wasn’t rhetorical, but you couldn’t bring yourself to answer.

“You want Daddy to take care of you?”.

You stand up off the floor, not breaking eye contact, and breathe in a wobbly breath. You attempt to open your mouth, but you know no words will come out, so instead you clench your jaw, and remember who’s in charge. You blink hard and look away from him, taking the towel off from his shoulders and wipe his face clean, and then put it aside. When you return to your spot by his side, he glances over at your watch.

“We still have 7 minutes until o’clock, when I assume you have to go. Let me show you a trick”.

You look him up and down intrigued, completely restrained by his wrists and wonder what he could do. He bends his wrist upwards as much as the restrains will let him and sticks out his pinky finger. You squat in front of him and link your pinky with his, earning a smile from him.

“We’re linked now. If you lie, I’ll know.”

You nod slowly a few times and quickly look over your shoulder at the mirror behind you, feeling security at the fact that guards are watching you through the one view mirror. When you look back at Kai, he smirks at you softly and leans his head down, not breaking eye contact.

“Do you feel safer to know that they’re watching us?”, he asks, making you inhale nervously. Although it’s your fault for making it obvious, the prisoner isn’t meant to be he’s being watched. You take a deep breath and decide to test him.

“It’s just a mirror, I was looking at yo-”

“Weren’t you listening?”, he snaps, clearly aggravated by your lie. He clenches his jaw and takes a deep breath before repeating himself, even more condescending this time. His voice was barely raised but your heart immediately starts pounding faster. You felt so naked and vulnerable in front of this man that you wondered if he could see your heart beating right through your chest.

“If you lie, I’ll know”.  

You furiously nod at him, not daring to take your eyes off him this time.

“What are you feeling right now?”.

You inhale sharply and take a big gulp before answering as honestly as you could.

“Terror”, you reply quietly. He exhales once in amusement, and continues to burn you with his stare, thinking of another thing to ask you. But before he has the chance to think of anything else, you decide to be brutally honest with him. Perhaps more than you should be.

“Can I be honest?”, you whisper at him, looking up at him with puppy eyes, trying to control your face to maintain as blank of an expression as you can. He nods once and waits patiently for you to continue. The second that question comes out of your mouth, your stomach fills with regret, knowing that you shouldn’t say anything more. Although every bone in your body knows that this is a bad idea, you can’t help but look at his strong veiny hands and melt inside.

“The worst part a-about you isn’t the terror”, you begin. His eyebrows come closer together in intrigue.

“It’s the arousal”. You can physically see his ego grow larger as he listens to your heart-felt confession and laughs breathily, letting your words loiter in the air for a few seconds before responding.

“I’m not sure I believe you”, he says, slightly shaking his head. “Prove it”. Your eyes widen and you blink slowly not sure what he means. The warmth coming from his strong hand spreads through your body and lingers on your thighs and your heat.

“I’m not sure what you mean”. He listens to you and sighs. After a few seconds, he explains.

“Girls think they’re always so sneaky, they think all guys think about is sex, when in reality, we both know girls think about it even more”. You gulp and try to take your eyes off his, but feel like they’re glued onto him.

“When you sit on a man’s lap, he can feel the warmth coming from between your legs. But if you’re aroused, you can feel you pulsating”. You quiver your lips at his dirty words and fail to understand the simple instruction he is giving you.

“What does that mean? I mean- what do you want me to do?”. He leans closer to you, and with every approaching inch your legs almost give up. You wobble slightly when his face comes so close to yours that you can feel his breath.

“Sit on Daddy’s lap, and let him feel you throb”. The second the pet name leaves his lips, butterflies fill your tummy. Your pussy gushes out wetness at his quiet, almost secretive, tone of voice, and demands to be touched more than ever before.

For the first time in minutes, but what felt like hours, you manage to take your gaze off his hypnotizing eyes and flicker down at his lips. He was so close, if you wanted to, you could kiss him. Because of your multiple seconds of delay, he cockily reiterates, whispering to you, his lips inching even closer to yours.

“Unless of course, you’re not aroused, and you’re lying, again”. He says, emphasising the again. He of course could tell that you were not lying, but enjoyed toying with you. Although he only met you minutes ago, he knew exactly what buttons to push.

Very slowly, you nod your head and looks at his pinky holding yours. Without breaking eye contact, he straightens out his pinky to let you go and sits up proudly, trying to scoot as far forward off the chair as possible, due to his wrist restraints.

You stand up, silently begging your knees not to give up, and gulp, before straddling one of his knees. He watches you closely as you hesitantly creep your hands to hold onto his shoulders, before pulling them away. He whispers discreet words of encouragement, “Hold onto Daddy”, making you lay your hands gently on his strong shoulders, and your pussy flutter at the name again. He hums in approval at the pulsating heart beat he feels on his knee from your throbbing heat. Without being told to, or rather, given permission to, you try to gently brush your pussy against him harder, hoping to get some release. The second Kai notices and feels your wetness through all the layers of fabric between you, he decides to help you, and suddenly bounce his leg. The unexpected movement against you makes you gasp slightly, and hold onto his broad shoulders. The sheer fact that such minimal touch earned such a strong reaction from you makes Kai smirk, and start bouncing his leg rhythmically. Every time you jump slightly at fall back against his knee, you end up griding across it, making friction against your clit. The pressing and kneading against your sensitive spot makes you bite your lip as all the arousal from your entire body goes straight between your legs. The shakiness in your knees and the tingle in your thighs runs towards your heat, making you practically drip on him. With a particularly hard bounce, you can’t help but gasp and hold onto his shoulders harder, closing your eyes in pleasure and looking down, too ashamed of how good he makes you feel. The overwhelming feeling forces a moan out of your lips, making Kai smirk. He watches you bite your lip and refuse to give him the satisfaction of knowing how good he’s making you feel, and feels threatened.

“Keep your eyes on Daddy”, he says, making you open your eyes instantly, and adding enough of a sensual touch to your pussy that you are almost brought over the edge. When you look at him, his black eyes lock you in and you have no trouble maintaining eye contact, despite slowly approaching your orgasm. Embarrassment flushes your cheek as Kai watches you, about to come undone from such a soft movement on his part, and having not masturbated in a while nor had sex, you were too stressed and focused on your job to take care of yourself. Maybe he was right, you needed a Daddy to do it for you. You grab onto his broad shoulders and completely let go, not grinding on him anymore, just letting him make you cum. Just as you hit your peak, Kai looks over at your hand on his shoulder, and without warning, he puts his bouncing to a halt and looks at you with a cheeky smirk.

“I think I have to go to my cell now”, he says with a cocky expression. You breathe heavily and look at him with pleading eyes, denied your finish. The realisation of what you just did hits you and you open your mouth slightly. As you slowly get off him, he continues looking at you clearly proud of himself. You stand in front of him for a few seconds before slowly walking to the door, and unlocking it, hoping your heart slows down before it jumps out of your throat. Or drops from between your legs. The smirk on Kai’s face widens when you look back at him, and then look at all the things on the table, deciding to leave it all there. You take a deep breath and smile at Kai, before putting your hand on the door handle, and whispering to him.

“Bye, Daddy”.

He smiles and nods at you and you step out of the door and shut it behind you, trying to regain control over your body after he made you feel like jelly. When you look over at the security guards standing in front of the one-way mirror, embarrassment burns you from the inside, and you flush completely red, having forgotten that you were watched the whole time. They look at you awkwardly and one of them puts his hand in his pocket, making your eyes glance at the bulge he’s trying to hide. The eye contact between the three of you silently agrees to never speak of this, and you walk away, trying to hide the smile covering your face.

You’re left to wonder how a man so restrained can have you completely wrapped around his finger. Later than day when you go back home, the second the front door shuts behind you, memories of Kai fling back to your mind, making you shiver. That night, when you lay in bed with your hand down your pants, all you can think about is your new Daddy.

[ginwhitlock]

Hallowed Be Thy Name

NEW MOON AU: No one caught Jasper in time when Edward pushed Bella into that table. Maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe it’s all she wanted. JASPER X BELLA

tw: religious musings, descriptions of blood and sex (no actual sex)

He’s all teeth. Lips soft like the desert heat. Rose bush mouth hot and wet like an August afternoon in Washington. There’s a little league baseball game teeing off in her stomach and the curl of wheat humming against her brow and— fucking god, death has never felt this good. Not in the history of the world. It’s like Abel and Cain, and not the other way around. The scorch of ruby red blood running down her throat, sweat pilling in the crease of her nape. Her knuckles are molted white. Her dress is green. Like a forest. Like a timber house on fire.

Marble hands are trying to tear him off her, nails like crystals, blood covering every slick surface. And god is she slick, under and over her dress, and holds onto him tighter. He’s wearing a button up that reeks of another girl’s perfume and she decides her life could suffocate it if she tried hard enough. All that crimson coating her palms like split middle school nail polish. Not acetone smoke. Just copper. Just him. Just her pale skin, marred.

This is what God feels like, she says. This is prayer. The way his tongue sweeps the roof of her mouth stops her pulse and she starts her Hail Mary’s in tandem. He’s saying something. Roaring and growling and hissing with his knuckles creating screaming dents into her hips, under her dress again. She wants him in between them. She wants the heaviest parts of him fucking her into the shards beneath them. She wants she wants she needs my God— Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name; thy kingdom come— fuck his nails dig like claws into the meaty flesh of her thighs as he bites his way over her jaw, maybe it’s the blood loss— is it? The room is silent like a car crash, there’s water on the collar of his shirt and it’s soaking in, oh Lord oh Lord oh Lord there’s his beautiful teeth. Is that what a razor blade feels like? Is this what the Eve felt? Or is she the apple—

Her world is ripped away from her in milliseconds. Her vision is black and grey, white washed without the haze of a southern demon’s fingers making prints in the smooth satin of her dress. Everything is crumpled and fading like an old school box TV as it flicks off before her father tucks her into bed.

She is twelve and eighteen and six years old all at once and the cool wash of air from the doctors breath is like a lullaby. And God, she wants to sleep so badly. Why did they take him from her? Why can’t he put her to bed? She’s so cold now, without, without…

There’s a bone white piano key by her useless forefinger and she smiles.

It’s the best birthday she’s ever had.