#no one has mentioned this cookout to me directly at all I just got an email notification that I have editing access to the google sheet

[ereborne]

Alright. Alright. All the problems I've been having with work, all the uncertainty and stress and anger. I have to set them aside. I have to figure this out. What. What the hell do I do with this. A white yankee cookout.

I just got added to this contributions planning gdoc. It has existed for nearly two months, and been edited seventeen times. These are the only three people who have signed up for anything. I am. Crying.

[carryonmywaywardwriters]

One Day At A Time - Jensen x Reader

A/N: Part Three! If you’d like to be tagged, please sent an ask or message. As always, feedback is incredible. And, I hope you all enjoy <3

PSA: I am NOT a minor friendly blog. If you are below 18, please come back when you’re older. I don’t want to lose my blog because you were too eager to grow up. If I discover you, I WILL block.

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Widower!Jensen. Grieving process. Age Gap. Character pregnancy. Unrequited feelings. Online personality problems. Guilt. I believe that is all.

Word Count: Roughly 2,700

“Hi, there,” The woman giggled into the mic as Jensen played up the flirty eyebrow bounce and cheesy smile that would be cast over Tumblr within twenty four hours.

He was finished after that final panel, for the trip. Nothing sounded better than a hot shower and catching some sleep. His mind was still reeling from the news he'd been given that morning, but he couldn't focus on that. So, he buried himself behind that charming persona he'd created.

“Dude, leave her alone...she wants me,” Jared smoothed his thick, long, chestnut locks in a way that caused thirsty cries from all around. He cackled as his friend mock frowned his way; unimpressed at the turn of attention. Earning the familiar high pitched laugh from the crowd in front of them.

It was easy to play into their hands. To take the nerves that came with being shy and put it towards acting like a dork with his best friend. He appreciated the disguise more than he'd ever say. Letting it mask the worry and fear he could feel churning inside of him when it was too quiet for long.

“Actually, my question is for Jensen-”

“Ha!” The mentioned man in question leaned forward at the barked utterance, pretending to gloat. Smugly bouncing his brows at Padalecki.

With a deep, regretful sigh, the taller of the two settled back in his chair; wrapping his arms around the back of it as he sat in reverse, “Okay, I guess.” The over dramatically stated words were coupled with a theatrical sulk that drew forth more giggles.

“I was wondering if Y/N and the kids are enjoying the trip to San Diego,” It was no secret that his family had been flocked around him. Until now, that is. The way he paused at that had every eye present turning towards him.

“Uh, actually...” He forced his lips to stay upright. “They're back home, right now.” Concerned 'awes' filled the air. “No, no. It's okay. They're living it up.” Jared turned his gaze back to the man he'd been brothers with for almost two decades. Not buying into the idea that he was really alright with it. “Last time I checked, they were having some kinda dance party. Again.” The way he clenched his teeth relaxed the fans a bit. An over emphasized grimace always seemed to break the mood. “It was wild. There was pink everywhere and a herd of little girls shouting to music.”

“Odette was leading the charge on the one I got,” The taller man joined in, having received his own recording. “Kicked Zeppelin over to my place for an old fashioned dinosaur night with the boys.” More awes filled the air.

“Y/N sent you something? I thought you two still weren't talking after you tried to drown her?” His brow crooked, finding something he could latch onto. Knowing that his friend had delivered that ammo on purpose. He really did love the moose.

“I can explain!” Jared held up his hand towards the 'ooohs,' and then stopped. “No... no, I can't.” His head dipped in false shame, earning another set of rambunctious chuckles.

“I can.” Jensen easily took over. Turning to better face the crowd now that he'd successfully maneuvered around the original question. “This guy tortures my nanny. She's like the female version of Misha to Jared. It's endless.” The mentioned man's lips screwed up as he nodded proudly, accepting the label that was thrown onto you. “So, we were at a cookout over at his place. I'm flipping burgers and relaxing with a beer. You know...like a normal person.” His words only made his friend shrug. Zero shame in sight. “Next thing I know? She's screeching as he full on tosses her into the pool.”

“She called me old!” The roar that followed was deafening. “See? They get it!” He beamed at the response only serving to make Jensen over-exaggerate the roll of his green eyes. “And, it worked. What did she say after?”

“You're a child.” The admission was straightforward.

“Meaning that I'm young, and that she was wrong.” A round of applause made him get to his feet, and bow as the widower shook his head in mock shame. Cracking his own grin.

The mic was lifted back to Jensen's lips, “Dude...you started a war because she told the truth?” He knew what had been said, but the crowd was eating it up. Keeping him safe for a little while longer.

“That hurts...” A pat to the heart was thrown in. “That hurts me right there.”

“The kids all joined in. It was chaos.” Ackles explained the previous comment to the women, with a few men scattered here and there. “My kids and Y/N versus his herd and him. We needed an ark to get to the tables. They soaked everything.” His hand panned across the people in front of him, emphasizing how far the damage had spread. “Everything. Gen thought they were going to kill each other.” Jared cackled. Remembering the look on his wife's face. “Y'all know how we had to stop pranking each other, right? 'Cause it was so deadly? That's what they should be doing. Instead, she's become this...epic battle partner. I'm thinking they'll start the next apocalypse before this is over.” A proud nod confirmed it. Jared wouldn't give in until the world ended. Or, he had to go back to work. Whichever happened first.

“Do you prank Y/N?” Someone shouted, catching his attention.

“Do I... Do I prank her? Are you kidding? Do I look stupid?” More laughs filled the air as he shuddered something fierce. “Misha? Absolutely. He doesn't fight back.” His fingers tacked off each point. “He doesn't live in my house. Doesn't hang out with my kids. I like not having to worry about her sicking my spawn on me in retaliation. They'd do it in a heart beat, too.” And most importantly, it kept the professional barriers somewhat in place. “Yeah, no, Y/N and I don't....we're not...” Weren't anything other than co-parents, employer and employee, and almost friends in an odd sort of way. How's that for complicated?

“As fun as I am,” Jared finished, saving him, again. Hoping that the fans wouldn't take that last statement as he had started to. He covered his own look of interest before diving back into the panel. “Now, that we went way off topic....who's next?”

–

“How did the 'mom' thing even start?” You asked in confusion, scrolling through your Instagram notifications. Your feet thrown over the back of the couch as you sprawled. Making yourself quite at home in the Ackles house. The selfie you'd posted while cleaning the damage the girls had caused was packed.

Not that you weren't used to it by that stage. The moment Danneel had tagged you in a post, it had been over. You'd been stalked and fawned over by some. When she passed? You'd been flocked for updates about the Ackles family.

It had taken a year for you to gather the courage to begin posting again. Once you did? The fandom clung to you for offering small pieces of what life was like inside the Ackles' household. Needing to have that sense of closeness to the supernatural family, still, even with a member gone.

The simple image of you with Oscar resting his head on your lap as you sorted the makeup away had garnered the usual 'queen', 'mom', and 'I love yous' mixed with the occasional trash talker. Once Jensen had commented saying he wanted his dog back when he got home? It had grown worse. When you told him that he'd have to fight you for the golden doodle? The post had blown up. The fans demanding to know if you and him had something going on.

Apparently his panel had only cemented the idea, somehow. You hadn't watched it. Leaving you to only wonder what he'd said to garner that response. Sure it had simply been taken out of context.

You scrolled on, determined to find some answers. A few flicks of your fingers and fate intervened. The phone slipped to your face. Making you wince all the while. As if life had directly told you that social media was bad for your health.

With a sigh, you tossed your phone to the couch. Trying to not let the extreme Danneel and Jensen fans get under your skin. Too many 'you'll never be her' comments filled your mind. More than enough 'stop trying to take her place' had you questioning where you stood. You were doing everything you could to get what was needed done while not dancing on your deceased friend's toes.

Did the world really not understand? Were you really any better off than they suggested? The small crush said you weren't.

“No idea,” Genevieve stated seriously, walking towards the grey couch you were occupying with a pile of healthy snacks loaded up. Pulling you from the internal struggle. She'd been extra conscious of what she was putting into her body since she'd discovered the newest pregnancy. “I just kinda...roll with it.”

She and the kiddos were bunking with you. Tag teaming was so much simpler when the baby exhaustion hit. And it gave the both of you some grownup time together when the men were away.

“It's so strange,” You picked up one of the grapes with your fingers before plopping it in your mouth. Giving up on trying to understand the fact that you'd become an icon of sorts- and the ramifications- for simply nannying some, albeit great, kids.

At your friend's next words, you choked, “So...what's the deal with you and Jensen?”

“It's the same as its always been,” Came the broken words as you got back a hold of yourself. Brushing it off. “Why?”

“Just curious,” That wasn't it. The cool, actress's poker face she wore said as much. But, you were too sensitive to call her out on it, just then. Luckily, she changed gears. “I can't believe that this is it...The last season is being filmed this year.”

The CW had finally pulled the plug on the Winchesters once it had hit adulthood. The boys had found out in a meeting that morning. They'd known it was coming. Had even agreed to it. And yet? Hearing the finality of it? Was another nail in the coffin.

“Eighteen seasons...It's crazy.” Your hand ran through your hair as you looked at the old episode on screen. Sister Jo stood off against Michael!Dean. The tension in the scene was palpable. It didn't hurt to watch it, anymore. Instead, you focused on the fact that she'd been doing what she loved with the man she'd been head over heels for. “How's Jared holding up?”

“He's zeroed in on the kids. Telling himself that it's going to be good for us in the end.” Her hand rubbed over her still flat stomach. “But, he's definitely feeling it. He's been Sam for so long... Saying goodbye is hard.”

“That it is,” You agreed, frowning at the screen. Wondering how Jensen was taking the day.

He hadn't said a thing to you when he'd checked in. Simply had asked for an update on the household before he crashed. Dean had become his crutch. Without the Winchester in his life, you weren't quite sure what he'd do with himself.

Ackles had a passion for directing and acting. There was no doubt about it. But, Supernatural had become everything when his life had turned upside down. It had given him the consistency he'd needed to get through. And while things had been okay for a time? It would be just another major thing he was losing.

Your socked foot rubbed over the soft fur of Icarus. The cockapoo was up there in age. He'd been diagnosed with congestive heart failure at sixteen years old. The white, fifteen pounds of floof didn't let it deter him, though. A couple of pills a day kept him comfortable and loved for as long as he could be. But, it had gotten under Jensen's skin, too.

It made your stomach churn to think about how fast the negative could pile up on already weakened shoulders. And yet, he wanted you to step back. Having time away from him had cleared your head. Allowed you to see his side of things. Maybe it was time to give him some room to breathe. To let him process everything on his own. After all, you were just the nanny...

–

“Dad!” Three voices shouted in unison when the door opened. Ditching their place at the table as Jensen stumbled in with a wide smile on his face. Each kid got a big hug, and a kiss on the cheek.

When they tried to talk over each other, he slowed them down, gently with a, “One at a time.” And, miraculously? It worked. He was informed of everything he'd already had reported to him. Only this time? In child perspective. Which made it dramatic. Completely over the top. Just the way he liked it.

A nod your way was all you received as you slipped past the scene; lifting his bag for him so that no one tripped over it. Including the bumbling dog that was trying to get a kiss in, himself. Oscar had missed his human while he'd been gone.

The dog had been with Danneel's brother during her last pregnancy. She'd been too sick to handle the energetic buffoon while Jensen had been away, filming the show. Gino had fallen in love with the pup. Keeping him...until he thought Jensen needed him more. Returning him back to the Ackles' home solemnly. Oscar had, once again, latched back onto the head of the house with a fierce loyalty that most wouldn't expect from a fluffed up mixed breed. The affection was mutual. Jensen's hand stilled the squirming beast with a simple pet to the top of his curled head as you left the chaos.

Jensen's room was clean. A feat that wouldn't last long once he started unpacking. Bed made up, clothes lined nice and neat, with just a hint of his cologne still lingering in the air from before he'd left. You dropped the duffle on the mattress and turned away. Only to catch sight of the image beside his pillow. It held the dogs, his wife, and the kids all surrounding him. Everything he loved in one picture. His family.

Slowly, you slid the door shut and returned back to the reunion, “Dinner's ready if you're hungry.” You smiled softly at the way he ensured each kid knew that they were loved before climbing back up to his feet. Lumbering after you to get the food while it was still hot.

“Spaghetti,” The actor rumbled in excitement, sniffing the air as he approached the table. His lips smacked hungrily. He was a sucker for a pasta with a good meat sauce. “The wardrobe ladies are gonna be mad at me, later, but I'm piling it up.” He hadn't exaggerated. The flight had left him hungry. “God, this is good.” Came the Dean-like groan as he chowed down. Forgetting that he didn't have to eat like a man who had lived off of nothing more than pizza and beer.

“Dad!” The tiny, disapproving tone left J.J with ease. “You're not supposed to talk with your mouth full.”

He gulped down the food, and smiled sheepishly, “Sorry, J-bird.”

“It's okay. Just try to remember,” The words were so Danneel that you couldn't help but to smile gently at them. She was going to be trouble as she continued to age. But, you had faith she'd be pretty great in the end. Hell, they all would if the night was any indication.

If he was upset about the show ending, he didn't show it. Even after the kids retired for the night and he helped clean up, he didn't say a word. The only thing you got was a pat on the back and a low “goodnight” that made your skin prickle before you returned your own.

Part Four

ODAAT: @winchester-ofthe-lord​​ @smoothdogsgirl​ @ima-be-a-mongoose​ @briagallen​

Dean/Jensen: @akshi8278​​ @screechingartisancashbailiff​​

Forever: @dean-winchesters-bacon​​ @supernaturalginger​​ @lilulo-12​​​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​​ @malfoysqueen14​​​  @michealneedssomemilk

[nosferatyou]

Double Indemnity: Ch.1 (Josh Kiszka x Reader)

Summary: After an incident their freshman year they could barely stand to look at each other. Now it’s their senior year and are grouped together for their final project. What could go wrong?

Warnings: Cursing

WC: 2.3k

Authors note: Well. I flipped into Josh’s lane and thought of this sucker and couldn’t get it out of my head. After I heard the story behind the writers of “Double Indemnity” I just had to make this. Heres to me hopefully finishing a series! Enjoy!

Let’s go back to the day when I “met” Josh Kiszka and when I actually met Josh.

It was the summer before my freshman year of college, and at that point, film sets weren’t a stranger to me. But I sure didn’t have the experience that most of the already film majors around me had. I was roped in by my long time friend Jack who I hadn’t spoken to since graduation, but due to the circumstances, he needed as many crew members as possible. He had 2 days to write, shoot, and cut together a short film. I was a PA (production assistant) and was frantically running around helping in any way I could. I was smart enough to stay out of the way and speak up when needed.

 I met most of the crew except one, the cinematographer/camera op, who was the busiest on set. The exception being Jack, who was the director. I heard the camera OP was only there because he had the nicest camera, but my mind may have tainted what I heard about him that day.

With only an hour to spare we had finished the film. All of us dehydrated and starving, sleep-deprived too. I was cradling a horrendous migraine from the lack of water and was ready to leave before someone suggested we go to Cookout. Which is arguably the best food at 3 am. 

Against my will, I was dragged to the fast-food restaurant with the rest of the crew. At that point, I was barely conscious and sat in the back seat of Jack’s car. The stranger cinematographer who I hadn’t noticed was next to me until he tapped my shoulder. With a concerned look, asked me if I was okay and needed anything. Which was nice of him considering we’d never spoken. 

After the short exchange of words, he never seemed to fully leave my side. May it be his glances from across the table with the same concerned look, or him bring me cups of water, which I still don’t remember him getting up for. 

After that night it would be months until I see him again. 

I didn’t expect him to be in my Post Production class, but I was definitely happy to see him. It was my first day of classes and to see a familiar face was a nice change of pace compared to whirlwind of a day. Though it wasn’t too long after that that my feelings for him changed.

If you’re a film student you’re going to edit a Gunsmoke fight scene, it is basically a right of passage. Anyways I was an experienced editor and of course, was going to cut the fight scene to the beat of an Ennio Morricone song. If we were going to work on a western scene then Ennio was a must. 

 I was damn proud of my work, I seemed to be one of the best editors in the class, josh being right there with me. We didn’t exchange many words, but we kept each other company by simply sitting next to each other. 

Then came the critique day, when everyone watches your video and gives you notes. Usually its never good notes.

 After our class watched it everyone had a lot to say, mostly over small slip-ups I didn’t notice, that’s normal. Josh’s video was next and the moment the music played I was livid, he had used the same exact song, even cut it the same way I did. The worst part was that no one had anything bad to say about it, all good comments. I kept it contained, for the most part. I didn’t verbally say anything, but my constant tapping and dirty looks in his direction said otherwise. I don’t think he’d noticed.

I waited until everyone left and simply gave him a piece of my mind. Maybe I snapped at him… either way, it led to us getting into our first screaming match. Josh saying he “didn’t” copy my video and me disagreeing. I honestly don’t remember how it ended, but I do remember us getting kicked out of the building for it. 

Anyways that was three years ago, and we still hate each other. Yet here we are still in all the same classes, but the difference is we have silent warfares. Constantly competing with each other, showing each other our higher grades, and besting each other’s videos. I can barely stand to hear him talk anymore, but I do have to say. He knows how to make a good line. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

Even with the cold chill of the November air prickling my skin and the wind whipping my hair, my mood couldn’t be damped. Maybe “chill” is an understatement. Living in “The City by the Lake” aka Chicago brings on the harshest of winters, and as crazy as it seems, I always weirdly miss it when I go back to Michigan. Sure it has it’s many feet of snow, but Chicago makes the wind weirdly dazzling. 

This is my last coffee, I’ll switch to tea. Is something I say every morning when I get up before classes, but here I am again, with an out of place cold brew in hand and a raging caffeine addiction. In hindsight, it is better than my previous vice, cigarettes, but the headaches it brings on is just as bad as missing a cig. My one hand shoved in my pocket and the other is clutching the same cold brew as before. I may have said that I couldn’t be bothered by the weather, but I’m not immune. 

As soon as I enter Columbia’s Media Production building everything becomes flush with warmth. Its a bit uncomfortable really. I remove my gloves and quickly checked my phone, affirming that I’m right on time as always. As I stroll through the halls I tune more into the music, enjoying my free time. There is just something about Chet Baker and Chicago that just mixes so well. 

Todays a good day though, it marks my one year of quitting cigs. Did I mention that I quit? Because I quit. Anyways my roommate made a big deal out of it, I also figured out the coolest riff, I’m kind of shit at making music out of thin air so it’s a big day. 

After taking the long way to my Directing class (Cinema Directing III if you want to get technical) I finally made it to the small class. Most of the class was there, luckily for me my two-year seat partner, Gwen, was already there, waiting where she always does. We met in our Single Cam 1 class and have been inseparable since, well actually Gwen, Cora (the previously mentioned roommate), and I have been inseparable ever since. 

I made my way to my usual seat and peeled my overworn leather bomber jacket off, already feeling more comfortable. Slumping back in my chair I lazily grabbed my sketchbook and pencil out of my bag. Its become a kind of habit to draw my professors and classmates every day, something is just so fascinating about their compositions. I got to work on Gwen who was hunched over, focusing on her book in front of her. I got to work and as soon as I finished up on the basic shapes she quickly sat up, focusing on me. 

“You ready for the final project?” She questioned, stealing my coffee in the process.

“I’ve been working on a few ideas already, but then again I don’t know the assignment yet. I do know I will be grabbing the usual 4 of you the moment he says “groups.”

“Heres to hoping we can pick- Oh!” She almost spilled my coffee when she interrupted herself. 

“I forgot to text you! Happy one year of being ciggy free!” She exclaimed, handing me back the bottle.

I took a swig from the bottle when she gave it back. “Well thank you, darling. I feel like having clean lungs shouldn’t be such an achievement, but I guess here we are.”

“Be proud! Besides gives us a reason to head to Jerry’s.”

“We’d celebrate over anything if it meant going to Jerry’s and getting pissed.” I smirked at her.

“Well. You got me there. Anyways you are right, we will be getting drunk out of our minds tonight. Bless the man who decided to open a bar directly next to your apartment building.” She said, with a playful smile on her lips.

“Bless him indeed.” I laughed. 

At that moment I locked eyes with none other than the aforementioned, Josh Kiszka. It’s oddly enough what we do every time we see each other. Which is more often than I think both of us care for. But seeing him roll his eyes every time I glare at him is kind of fun. 

I followed him with my eyes as he sat down in his seat, instantly sticking his nose in- wait what is he reading? I focused and realized he was reading the screenplay for Tarantino’s “Reservoir Dogs.” Where the hell did he even get that? 

My eyes snapped up to the professor when I realized he started class.

“Alright, I’m just going to jump into this. Today we start on your final projects, and I think it’ll be very fun. A challenge for sure, but fun nonetheless.”

I slipped a sly smile to Gwen, already thinking of the best ideas in my arsenal to use.

“In groups, you all will be recreating a favorite film, but it should max be 20 minutes long. Now that’ll be your job to rewrite and format it so you can fit in the timeframe. Oh, and I swear to god if another person does Pulp Fiction I will actually scream. You can hold me to that.”

Oh Jesus okay this will be hard as hell, I guess something with a simpler plot will be easy. Ooh, or something that’s so overcomplicated I can rewrite it so it’s simpler. What’s something that’d be good for Gwen, she’s a good actress, but she can only play so much-

“I already have your groups picked out let me just put them up on the board.” My professor said, searching for the list on his computer.

Oh god. He’s never done this. We always pick groups. If Gwen and I aren’t grouped together I may just riot. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him drag the document over to the screen, so I quickly directed my attention to it.

I searched all of the lists, finally finding my name at the top of group four. Rob, Eric, and- Oh shit Gwen! Wait. There’s one more. The moment I saw the J I knew exactly who it was. My eyes darted over to Josh’s seat and had the same look I could only guess that was on my face. We both glared at each other, if we stared any harder we’d burn holes in each other.

“Motherfucker!” I whispered to Gwen, trying not to raise my voice.

“What? We are in the same group.” she looked back over to me with confusion on her face. She followed my eyes to the equally angry man across the room from me.

“Oh, shit..”

“Oh shit is right! I can’t work with that guy, I swear to god… Damn it, I can’t think of an insult! Quick help me!” I stammered out, you could practically see the steam coming out of my ears.

“Um... You can’t work with that Frodo look alike?” She suggested, both of us whispering to each other now,

“I’ll take it. I can’t work with that Frodo look alike! He’s just gonna take all of my good ideas and throw them into the lava like that fucking ring. Wait is it Frodo or sam who throws it? Know what, I don’t care. Look at what he’s making me forget important plot points in movies. I can’t work with someone who hinders my thinking process.” 

“First off, Gollum falls in with the ring in hand. Secondly, drink your coffee and focus on what movie we should do. Suggest something so good so fast that it’ll make his head spin.”

She put the almost empty coffee in my hands and I took a swig, still glancing back at josh, making the same face. 

Gwen started to ramble on, her words in the back of my mind. All I could focus on was wanting to be in any other group than his, even Leonard. He refuses to watch a Tarantino film, and simply because he thinks he’s beyond that. Leonard is someone I talk to if only necessary.

 I tuned back in to hear. “I mean if you think about it, as much as you and Josh are to Frodo and the Ring. You’re more like Billy Wilder and Ray Chandler. I mean they hated each other, but damn if they weren’t good writers. Plus, they respect a good line-”

Inspiration was swept over me. I knew exactly what we had to do. Before I knew what was happening my feet carried themself over to Josh’s seat. Same as before, we both had the same expression, except this time it was one of surprise. 

“Double Indemnity!” I blurted out a bit too loudly.

He seemed even more confused. “Double insurance money?” He questioned.

“Fuck. No. It’s the film we are going to make. It’s a fantastic idea, and it’s happening. Not even you can argue with me!” I sped out.

He sat for a moment in thought, his brows furrowed together and a cliche hand positioned on his chin. 

“Fine.” Is all he said, his arms were crossed. He seemed defeated.

I simply turned on my heel and headed back to my seat. An overexcited grin plastered to my face. 

[coolmarriagerecords]

On Chronophage

By Zachary Lipez

https://zacharylipez.substack.com/p/notes-on-the-mekons-chronophage-and

Chronophage are a band from Texas. They have been around for three years. Chronophage consists of Parker Allen (they/them) guitar and vox, Sarah Beames (she/her) bass and vox, and Cody Phifer (he/him) drums. For the new record, Parker’s brother, Casey Allen (he/him) plays synth. That’s all I know about Chronophage. The internet shows no interviews and, besides punk zines I don’t own (and presumably critics on Terminal-Boredom forums), the music press outside of Austin has ignored them. I first heard about the band from MaximumRnR, which listed their debut, Prolog for Tomorrow, released in December of 2018, as one of the best albums of 2019 (you can do stuff like that when you’re a revered punk zine). Because MRR is famously *cough* averse to cover any band that even flirts with problematicism, I don’t have to worry about my ignorance of Chronophage’s individual members potentially allowing me to big up fascists. Maybe it’ll turn out they’re Maoists (an ideology MRR is less worried about) but I guess we’ll cross that bridge when/if we come to it. Anyway, I had never even heard of Chronophage (a small miracle unto itself considering the underground’s ready access to publicists and music writers- such as myself- who love few things more than being the first to “discover” a band.). But, even while my sense of aural adventure is a bit rusty since the days of having to risk $8.99 on albums based solely on cover art and/or vibes in the air, I just knew Prolog for Tomorrow was going to scratch an itch. Maybe not an immediate itch but, when you keep as many itches on file as I do, you can afford to trust your instincts. Especially when those instincts have already been validated by some punk weirdo in Oakland who’s probably still mad at the Go-Go’s for firing Margot Olavarria fifteen years before they were born. My instincts served me well because that hypothetical punk weirdo was right! (About both things.)

I’m not sure how to describe Chronophage. I’m not a major fan of the comparisons, to Swell Maps or the Messthetics comps, that the punks made. I don’t dislike either point of reference but knowing Chronophage supposedly sounds like both doesn’t affect how I hear the band. Prolog for Tomorrow’s inner sleeve art has “Curse of Chronophage” scrawled, which may be a reference to The Curse of The Mekons. Or maybe not. I’m trying not to project my bullshit on the band. Matter of fact, Chronophage don’t sound anything like the honky-tonkin’-Mekons. Not because Chronophage aren’t honkys tonkin’ but because, historically speaking, American bands aren’t as hung up on sounding American as English bands are. The album art for Prolog is reminiscent of much of the (actually) cut and (actually) pasted Pavementisms of the ‘90s, which in turn was lifted directly from The Fall and all that band’s adherents. Like early Pavement and The Fall, Chronophage are full of hooks, some overt and many buried under transient skronk. But, unlike all the obscurist indie Chronophage shares a typewriter with, the basic template on the album, if there’s one at all, is “folk punk.” I suppose? At least the sense of that genre is present, if dependent on an expansive notion of both “folk” and “punk.” Minus any busking grotesqueries in the “Wagon Wheel” vein, there’s the strum and twang of barely distorted guitars, every string visible in the mind’s eye, maybe in need of tuning or maybe just playing those jazz chords I hear so much about at music critic parties. While only three musicians play on Prolog, horns and keys go in and out of the songs like a C Squat marching band showing up to support the potluck. Adding to the offhand spontaneity of the proceedings, there’s intermittent cowpoke yowlings, some very live sounding drums, and at least one poetry reading. There’s a real anarchist house party vibe but just when it feels like Chronophage are going to lose their train of thought or, worse, ask to borrow the touring band’s kick drum pedal, another fragile and plaintive power pop chorus arrives in time to keep me from retreating to the kitchen to bum beer off strangers.

If we’re going to (re)subscribe to my initial thesis that there are certain sounds made by certain bands that provide a messily alluring alternative to the pat and disingenuous cleanliness of overculture, therefore making a prickly honesty worth striving for (even if that striving lends itself to either self delusion or a romanticizing of failure), then Chronophage are what we’re talking about. Even if on their new album, The Pig Kiss’d (out on November 23), they kind of fuck a significant amount of my thesis over by showing that they do, in fact, know what they’re doing. Whatever. I deserve it. The whole mythology around The Mekons as a band finding dignity in the face of drunken ineptitude was a fib. While not having the chops of The Texas Playboys, and certainly often drunk, The Mekons, by the mid-’80s, were writing and performing songs as subtle and dynamic as any non-boring rock and roll, not to mention post-punk, band could aspire to. Because perfection is so oppressive, its absence will always be its own inherent virtue. But even better than not being able to play your instruments is being able to play them real pretty, but throwing some ugly in anyway. Just to show all the aesthetic bible thumpers that heaven isn’t always the hot shit it purports to be.  

The Pig Kiss’d is a sharper, more streamlined, proposition than Chronophages’s first record. The guitars, thankfully still mainly free of any distortion mush, ring out as cohesive riffs. Even while the lite-funk chunka-chunkas still occasionally approximate Desperate Bicycles covering Steely Dan (an under-appreciated subculture band influence… a lot of people don’t know that Big Black’s name was short for “Big Black Cow”), and the snare underpinning gives them a decidedly peace punk punchiness, the riffs now transform into razor-like, no wave leads instead of the decays into noise (or just silence) prevalent on Prolog. While the previous album positioned voices as hesitant souls in conversation, Chronophage’s dual singing is now consistently commanding. Not to say that either Allen or Beames are preoccupied with auditioning for American Idle anytime soon, but they both have cool, heavy-on-personality punk voices, ranging from conversating chill to accusatory growl, which the mix now accentuates. I’m not going to pretend that I don’t miss the feeling of a sinking ship, barely kept afloat by the bodies of oogles under the hull, but I’m also glad for a recording that doesn’t sound like the studio engineer is holding a personal grudge against the drummer. Of course, in no longer sounding a mess, Chronophage runs the risk of just sounding like, you know, a rock band. Of which there are plenty. Luckily this ain’t the case. The desperate, weird energy of Prolog for Tomorrow is still abundant. It’s just put in the service of songcraft more than ADD-infused mood. If there’s a newfound, almost psych, expansiveness in the songwriting, it’s a psych fueled by strychnine over any slouching towards bliss. And when the songwriting contracts, we get instant classics like the album closer, “Name Story,” which could be an undiscovered New Model Army a-side. So much does “Name Story” sound like a lost hit that I had to write the band and ask if it was a cover. (They responded that the aim was to sound like New Order… which is amazing.) Still, by contemporary indie standards, Chronophage sound like countrified First Wave of Black Metal-ers running through the American songbook. By contemporary post-punk standards, which can be applied now that New Order are on the table, Chronophage don’t sound contemporary at all. They sound out of the timeline; Richard Lloyd skipping post-punk entirely to jump headfirst into college rock, making that nerd rock hip, and vice versa. Lightning striking itself. In the face. Repeatedly. And by folk punk standards, if we’re bothering to still apply it, Chronophage continue to sound like the only true freaks in a field of future beer reps.Like I said, I don’t know much about Chronophage. While writing this, I exchanged emails with Parker but, preferring the mystery, I only asked about pronouns and whatnot. Maybe they’re apolitical. Maybe they are Maoists. Maybe they’re neither but still find my chronic naysaying abhorrent and dull. For all I know, they all campaigned hard for Pete Buttigieg and all the proceeds from The Pig Kiss’d are going towards having Chronophage Brand hostile architecture benches placed near the homeless encampments in Austin. Guess we won’t know for sure till the album comes out. But this feels like opposition music, and, more importantly (to me) it feels like music that speaks to a refusal to simply be grateful for the crumbs handed to us. Nit picking, as it were. If not exactly “dignity in the face of drunken ineptitude” then, in the face of endless war and empire and an oligarchal insistence to smile more, Chronophage make a sound that- equal parts sweet fury and sweaty sweetness and spilling over with a feisty, chaotic grace- approaches dignity. If the next few years are great, then great. We can play Chronophage at the cookout we’re all invited to. And if the next four years are instead a happy faced atrocity exhibition, at best a grinding exercise in defending cops, creeps, and landlords for the sole reason of the other side’s cops and creeps and landlords being so much worse? Then Chronophage’s sound will prove to be the kind of correct that’s too sloppy to be smug. Even under austerity, the anarcho-freak punx got bops. So even as COVID, the ice caps, or capital’s poptimist truncheon bear down on us, threatening to tickles our little chins, let us, at least, enjoy this thing.

https://zacharylipez.substack.com/p/notes-on-the-mekons-chronophage-and

* The cassette version of Th’Pig’Kiss’d Album will be available soon on Cool Marriage. Check this blog for updates. 

[eleanor-writes-stuff]

keep calm and let HR handle it [III/VI]

Rey managed to go a full year without ever directly interacting with her new CEO, but now it seems like he’s dropping by her office every single week.

(Because what else is a love-struck fool to do when he falls for his head of HR other than find reasons to visit her department?)

OR: five times Ben gets summoned down to HR, and one time Rey gets called into the CEO’s office, based on this prompt from @optimisticsprinkles​: “Rey as the director of HR at [office] and Kylo/Ben starts finding reasons to be sent down to HR”.

We’re officially halfway done with this modern AU colleagues to friends to lovers! In today’s update:  Ben leaves a board meeting armed with the perfect excuse to go visit Rey. (Fun fact: Leia and Amilyn sit on the board, and they have enough eyes and ears in the building to get all the latest gossip...)

Chapter 2 Also available on AO3. And hey, maybe check out my Twitter and Ko-fi?

To: rey_niima@organafoundation.com From: ben_solo@organafoundation.com Subject: Employee engagement efforts

Hi Rey,

I just met with the board this morning, and one of the things they want us to work on is our employee engagement. I’m guessing yours is the relevant department for me to go to on this. Would it be okay for me to drop by your office sometime today to get the discussion started? I’m free any time after lunch.

Best regards, Ben Solo, Chief Executive Officer, The Organa Foundation.

 To: ben_solo@organafoundation.com From: rey_niima@organafoundation.com Subject: Re: Employee engagement efforts

Hey Ben,

Sure! I’ve actually been looking into that too, so I’ve got some ideas I’d love to bounce off you. I’m free at 3PM, see you then!

Warm regards, Rey Niima, Head of Human Resources, The Organa Foundation.

 A shadow falls upon her office two minutes before 3PM, and Rey looks up to find the increasingly familiar sight of Ben Solo hovering in her doorway.

“Hey,” he says, and Rey blinks at the realization that she’s happy to hear his voice again, even if it is a tiny bit hesitant as he takes in the sight of her surrounded by folders and print-outs. “Is this a good time?”

“Oh, right,” Rey mutters as she looks at the somewhat-organized mess she’s made. “Come on in, I’ll just-“ She makes quick work of putting everything together into a single stack on the corner of her desk while Ben closes the door behind him and settles into his spot opposite her.

Rey looks up from her task and greets him with a grin that feels just the slightest bit too big on her face. “Hi.”

It’s hard to be self-conscious when Ben returns the gesture with a huge smile of his own, though. “Hi.”

She’s not sure how long they would’ve remained frozen like that, just smiling at each other in silence, if Rose hadn’t startled them with a barely muffled shriek of laughter from beyond the door. But she does, and the whole thing does a rather good job of snapping them both out of their unexpected little moment.

“So,” Rey says as Ben clears his throat and sits up a little straighter. “Employee engagement. Any ideas?”

Ben shrugs even as he gives her a sheepish little smile. “I was kinda hoping you’d have some, actually. Or maybe you could walk me through what my mom and Amilyn used to do?”

It’s a bit of a surprise, hearing Ben address her predecessor so familiarly when she’d remained Ms. Holdo to nearly everyone in the foundation up until the day she retired, but a hazy memory of Amilyn mentioning her godson in passing once quickly pushes its way to the forefront of Rey’s mind.

“Oh, sure! Amilyn implemented a lot of ideas over the years, she liked to call them ‘bonding opportunities’, but I think my personal favorite was probably how Leia and Han used to invite everyone over for…”

Rey trails off at Ben’s sharp inhale, and it takes every single bit of willpower she has not to clap a hand over her mouth in horror at her thoughtlessness. It’d taken most of them months, nearly a year, before their grief had run its course, before they could smile at fond memories rather than mourn lost moments. Even she still struggles to remain unaffected by Han’s memory sometimes – so why, why hadn’t she considered how his son might feel before so casually invoking him?

It’s not easy, forcing herself to look at Ben, but when she does she’s surprised to find a tiny smile on his lips and a faraway look in his eyes. “The cookouts,” he murmurs. “I remember those – Mom basically jumped at any opportunity to have everyone over, and Da- Dad always grumbled that she only liked it because he was the one who had to do all the cooking.”

Her heart cries out at his little stumble, at the reminder that this is the son who gave up everything about his former life the night his dad died and ended a ten-year cold war between him and his family just so he could rush home and be by his mom’s side. Somehow, that part always gets left out in the many retellings of Ben Solo’s troubled past.

“She- they kept up the tradition for that long?” Ben asks her, looking pleasantly surprised. “There must’ve been at least a hundred people crammed into the yard by then–” He laughs at the thought.

“Give or take,” Rey confirms with a shrug. “It was crowded, for sure, but… but that was my favorite part, I think. It felt… cozy? Like how I imagine the holidays must be for people who get to spend it with their family, grandparents and cousins and distant relatives all crammed into a tiny house filled with food and laughter and…”

Now it’s Ben’s turn to look at her with eyes that see too much – aided, no doubt, by the poorly concealed longing in her voice.

“Anyway,” Rey cuts herself off with a shrug. “That’s certainly an idea, but like you said: there are at least a hundred of us now, and I don’t suppose you happen to have a huge yard perfect for dinner parties just lying around?”

Ben shakes his head. “No yard, I’m afraid. And my tiny balcony is a tight fit even for me, so…”

She finds herself oddly charmed by the image of Ben Solo, multi-fucking-millionaire (according to Poe) and the oldest of old money, think wrinkled ballsack old (also courtesy of Poe), living in a humble little apartment with a tiny little balcony just like hers, but that’s not exactly relevant right now.

“Right,” Rey says instead. “I figured that might be the case, so I was also toying with the idea of staff lunches, maybe? We could make use of the open space downstairs, or one of the bigger conference rooms on the 36th floor, and set out a bunch of food to encourage everyone to drop by for lunch and just… mingle,” she finishes weakly, faltering under Ben’s attentive gaze – or scrutiny, more likely. It’d seemed like a good idea in her mind, but now–

A thick silence descends upon them as Ben considers the idea, and then… and then he tilts his head to the side with a smile. “That could work. Everyone loves food, right?”

Rey nods a little too enthusiastically, buoyed by relief. “Exactly! And this would have a way higher engagement rate than any after-work or weekend activities, since everyone’s already here anyway.”

“Good thinking,” Ben says with a nod, and Rey pretends the warmth that begins to spread within her is simply a reaction to earning praise from her boss. “Okay, we’ll definitely look into this. What else do you have?”

And for the first time since their initial encounter, Rey thinks she might understand Ben’s confusion over their effect on each other. Because all it takes is one approving smile, one supportive look, and suddenly she finds the courage to tell him about every possibility she’s ever entertained, from serious ideas about replacing the cookout with an annual picnic to ridiculous suggestions like a hot dog eating contest.

The thing is, Ben laughs at the more ridiculous ones. And the important thing is, Ben has a beautiful laugh – it seems to escape him despite himself, but he treats it like a welcome surprise each and every time it happens, and his smile grows wider and his eyes grow warmer and Rey ran out of ridiculous things to suggest about four ideas ago but like hell is she going to stop making this man laugh.

Not by choice, anyway. But at 4PM, Kaydel promptly knocks on her door to remind her that she has another meeting in half an hour.

“Thanks, Kay!” Rey calls out at her closed door, and looks back at Ben to find his smile slowly fading. A faint little grin remains, but the rest of him is composed now, every bit the professional CEO he’s supposed to be. The sight of him back to his usual self, slowly but surely closing himself off, reminds her of one last thing that needs to be done.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize how much of your time I was taking up–” he says as he begins to rise, and Rey reaches out to wrap her fingers around his wrist before she’s even consciously aware of making the decision to stop him.

“Ben, wait!”

He does, falling completely still as he stares at their hands.

Rey quickly lets go. “Um, I, I have one last idea.” Ben nods wordlessly for her to go on and so she does, making a mess of the little speech she must’ve rehearsed a dozen times in her mind over lunch. “So a few of us have this long-running Friday happy hour thing – it’s nothing big or fancy, we just go over to Maz’s to celebrate the end of the week. But I was thinking it might be fun if more people start showing up… especially the ones who have a standing invitation.”

“Oh,” Ben says. “I had no idea about that. Sounds like fun, though,” he offers with a smile.

“Wait, what?”

Surely Poe must’ve invited him at some point, right? And she knows for a fact he and Leia talk about how he’s settling in on a regular basis – why wouldn’t she have mentioned the long-standing tradition she regularly participated in? “But I thought… I don’t know why, I just assumed you knew you’re always invited–”

Realization is slow to dawn in his eyes. “I’m– you guys actually want– wait, so that’s what you meant when you mentioned standing invitations?”

Rey bites back the impulse to cringe; she sounds so… obvious and pushy and maybe even a little desperate when he puts it like that. But… “Yes. So um, consider this your proper, formal invitation to drop by and join us on Fridays, whenever you feel like it.”

Friends invite friends to come join them and their other friends for drinks, right? Especially when they can sense just how lonely said friend is.

Ben’s still smiling, but– “I don’t know, Rey,” he says slowly. “Won’t it be awkward, having the boss around?”

The words slip past her lips before she can even register them, let alone stop them. “I don’t know, I rather like having the boss around.”

There’s no hint of teasing in her voice, not even the slightest bit of flirtation – only the truth blurted out without thought, laid bare in all its sincerity and honesty.

But maybe that’s exactly why Ben’s smile grows wider and why his eyes light up and why he says–

“Well then, I guess I’ll see you on Friday.”

And sure enough, Friday evening finds Ben Solo sandwiched between her and Poe, his safe zone while everyone else slowly warms up to his presence.

Their arms and legs brush together all evening, and Ben keeps leaning in to whisper into her ear rather than yelling at her to be heard over the din, and all in all Rey thinks it’s her most successful employee engagement attempt to date.

. . .

Fun fact #1: I have literally no idea what it’s like running or even working in HR.

Fun fact #2: Writing is apparently not muscle memory, because I still don’t know what I’m doing. I keep waiting for it to come back to me, but... looks like we’re winging this one, friends!

I hope you’re enjoying it anyway. As always, thank you for reading and please don’t hesitate to like/reblog/comment!

[everlarkficexchange]

Prompt 105

Written by: @butrfac14​

This silly little one-shot is based on prompt 105: Katniss was naked when Peeta first saw her. [submitted by anonymous]

Believe it or not, this story is rated T. It features a probably very OOC Katniss, but I think Peeta seems about right. So forget your expectations of our Girl on Fire and enjoy reading!

I have to thank @jroseley and @567inpanem​ for their beta work. They helped me make this story into a more satisfying reading experience!

And of course thanks @xerxia31​ and @javistg​ for putting this on again. You ladies are great!

“Thanks for the ride, Dad,” I say, shutting the passenger side door of the Jeep. I glance first at my cousin’s house, and then over to my father as he climbs out of the driver’s side door and leans against the hood.

  “No problem, kid. Do you have everything you need?” He reaches around and pats the back pocket of his pants where I know he keeps his wallet. If I were a devious asshole like one of my brothers, I’d make up something on the spot to get some more cash off of him.

  But I’m not, so I just nod my head, “I think I packed everything I need, but I’m sure that Aunt Mallory can just run me to the store if I forgot something.”

  Dad is such a worrier, but I appreciate the thought. I’m definitely a lot closer to my father than I am my mother, who seems like she just wants me to stay out of her hair for the most part.

  I’m spending the first month of summer vacation with my cousin Delly this year. My parents are having a new garage added on to our house and the construction is going to mean tearing out one of my bedroom walls. To my surprise, instead of making me share a room with one of my idiot brothers while the work is going on, the two of them made plans for me to stay here.

  I can’t believe my luck, to be honest.

  Delly flies out of the front door and bounds down the steps. “Peeta!” she squeals, throwing herself at me, and before I know it there’s fluffy blond hair everywhere.

  Delly and I are the same age; both of us will be sophomores when the school year starts back up in the fall. Even though we live about an hour away from each other, we’ve always been close. She is like the sister that I wish I’d had.

  “It’s good to see you too, Dells,” I give my favorite cousin a big hug in return.

  Aunt Mallory comes outside to meet us. She is my father’s sister, and is as kind and soft-hearted as he is. Those seem to be traits that Delly and I both inherited, while my brothers are surly jerks like my mom’s entire side of the family. Not that I would mention that fact to any of them. My mom for obvious reasons, and my brothers because they would probably pound me into the ground like a tent stake.

  Mellark men don’t hit their growth spurts until late, according to my father, and I believe him. I’m only about 5’5, six inches shorter and also a good thirty pounds lighter than either of my brothers. I just try to keep my head down around them, because they usually double up on me if the mood strikes them. Which is often.

  Did I mention that I’m looking forward to spending part of the summer with the Cartwrights?

  Dad walks around to the back of the Jeep and I follow behind him, grabbing my suitcase and slinging my duffle bag over my shoulder before following him up the porch steps.

  “Thanks again, Mallory.” Dad hugs my aunt and places a kiss on top of her head. “We thought Peeta might enjoy spending some time with you guys instead of having to bunk with one of his brothers.”

  “Oh, we’re always glad to have him stay with us. Peeta is a good kid,” she pats my back and I grin sheepishly.

  “Thanks Aunt Mallory,”  She’s always had a soft spot for me.

  Dad lingers behind for a moment to catch up while I follow Delly upstairs to what once was her brother’s room. My other cousin Mark is much older than us, married with a baby on the way, so she’s the only one left at home. I’m slightly jealous.

  I set my bags on the floor while Delly plops down onto the bed. “I’m so glad that you’re here, Peeta. We’re going to have so much fun!”

  I shake my head at her. Delly has always had an over-the-top enthusiasm for everything. It can be a bit much sometimes, but I love her anyway. “I’m definitely glad to be here for the next four weeks.” I snap my fingers, and toss my suitcase on the bed. After rooting through it for a minute I find what I’m looking for. “I even got a new pair of swim trunks.” I hold them up for inspection and she gives me a thumbs up of approval.

  Delly made sure to tell me, on more than one occasion, about the inground swimming pool her dad just had installed in their backyard.

  Uncle Dave told everybody that he decided to put the pool in to celebrate his upcoming retirement, but Delly informed me that the real reason her dad had it installed was to make sure that Mark and his wife would bring the baby over all the time.

  Delly bounces on the edge of the bed a little bit. “We’re having some of my friends over tomorrow for a cookout. You’ll like them, and everyone always like you, Peeta.” I shrug, because I do have a way with people for some reason, and I’m usually well liked. It probably comes from being the third child in a family full of strong personalities. You have to learn how to schmooze.

  A thought pops into my head and I just have to ask, “Do you have any cute friends coming over tomorrow?”

  She just laughs and smacks my arm lightly. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

    Dad agreed to stay for dinner and visited with my aunt and uncle for a while before he drove back home. Before leaving he gave me a hug and told me to behave myself, and it earned him an eye roll. Like I ever did anything else, or ever had the opportunity to do anything else for that matter.

  Delly and I just end up hanging out together on the couch, listening to music and watching fail videos on the internet. The two of us stayed downstairs after her mom and dad went to bed, and finally at around eleven Delly starts to yawn. “I’m sorry Peeta, but I have to go to bed. Softball practice really kicked my butt today.”

  We both decide to go up, so after she turns off all of the living room lights I follow her upstairs. “Good night, Delly,” I call out.

  She gives me a little wave and says, “Goodnight, Peeta,” before closing her door behind her.

  I walk into the guest room that’s going to be mine for the next month and shut the door behind me. This bedroom is the only one on this side of the house, and it looks directly out over the backyard. I hadn’t gotten a good look at the new pool yet and take a minute to do so now.

  The pool sits off to the side of their yard. My eyes rake over the tall, wooden privacy fence that Uncle Dave mentioned was a city ordinance that he had to install with the pool. There is also a security light still on over the garage, and it gives a very clear view of the backyard, while the pool remains slightly darker. It seems funny to have a light there at all, because this bedroom is the only one that you can see down and into the backyard from.  

  I stare out the window and wonder if Delly does have any cute friends coming over tomorrow. That wouldn’t hurt my heart. I’ll be glad when this supposed growth spurt hits because it would certainly give me a much-needed ego boost. Getting called “shrimp” and “runt” by my much-larger older brothers doesn’t help either.

  As I’m contemplating my current woes I hear a noise coming from outside.

  What was that?

  Peering out the window, I notice what looks like someone scooting across the large tree branch that hangs over into Delly’s backyard. The branch is attached to a tree in the their neighbor’s yard, and hangs over the privacy fence that separates the house from the Cartwright’s property. I keep my eye on the tree, waiting to see who appears. Is someone trying to break in? Maybe I should go wake my aunt and uncle up.

  But I hesitate to move, and I’m glad that I did when I see a girl drop down off the branch into the backyard. From here I can see that she is petite, her body is slim and she has a dark braid slung over one shoulder. I peer more closely at the girl and decide that if f I had to take a guess at it I would say that she’s about my age.

  I should probably go grab my aunt and uncle since there’s a good chance that she’s up to something. I have no idea what that may be, but it doesn’t really matter because I’m frozen in place.

  It’s a girl, a beautiful girl at that.

  So I stand in place while she glances around the backyard. I step closer to the window to get a better look, and I see that she is grabbing the bottom of her shirt.

  Wait, what is she doing?

  Oh… shit.

  My brain must be malfunctioning because I’d swear that I just watched this girl pull her t-shirt off. My mouth drops open and I rub my eyes, just like one of those cartoons where the coyote can’t believe what he’s seeing as the roadrunner escapes another over-complicated trap to catch him.

  This can’t be happening.

  There is a real, live girl standing in my cousin’s back yard in a white bra.

  I reach a hand out to touch the glass but think better of it. What if she sees me?  Instead I stand and watch as she reaches down and unbuttons the snap on her shorts next. She kicks them off and I see cotton panites that match her bra.

  Her slim body seems to shimmer under the glow of the security light, and when my eyes wander back up her torso. I know for sure now that I must be dreaming because she reaches behind her back and unsnaps her bra.

  And then… Wow.

  There they are, just staring right up at me.

  Breasts. I’m looking at real, live breasts.

  Am I dreaming? Am I dead?

  If I’m not dead yet, I probably will be soon for standing here and watching her like this. I’m half expecting storm clouds to appear and a lightning bolt to dart out and strike me.

  Her breasts are small, her nipples seem to be slightly asymmetrical, and I’ve never seen anything so beautiful. I feel my hands start to itch and realize I’ve never wanted to touch someone as badly as I want to touch this girl right now.

  She reaches over to her braid and unravels the long strands.

  That does it. I’m sure that I’m dead now, because this is what angels must look like: long dark hair and round little breasts, smooth skin and white panties. Heaven.

  Although at this moment I feel like I deserve to go to the other place for invading her privacy like this.

  Privacy, what privacy? I ask myself. She’s in Delly’s backyard! This thought makes me feel slightly better about what I’m doing.

  Only slightly.

  And I think that the sight of this beautiful girl in nothing but her underwear is the most mesmerizing thing that I’d ever seen, until I watch her shimmy out of said underwear.

  Ughh.

  I’m pretty sure that is the exact moment that my brain explodes. I can’t breathe or move a muscle, and the death of my medulla (thank you, freshman biology) is the only reason I can come up with to explain why my body chooses to stop completing these involuntary functions.

  The only thing I’m capable of is staring at the place in between her legs. I feel my vision go fuzzy, and there is definitely drool puddling in my mouth. I lift the side of my hand up to wipe the corner of my lip where it’s leaking out, only able to do so because the action doesn’t require me to look away from the naked girl in my cousin’s backyard.

  She steps out of her panties, and walks over to the deep end of the pool. She dives in, and I step closer to the window and press my whole damn body against it, subconsciously trying to teleport myself outside and into the water with her.

  I stare at her in shock for a minute, and then my mind starts to wander to crazy places.

  I wonder what she would do if I went out there? For a moment I can picture it, strolling outside very calmly and cooly to introduce myself. She’d giggle and ask me to join her for a nighttime swim and shyly look away while I took my clothes off. I’d tell her that she could look, I wouldn’t mind. Her eyes would gaze up at me…

  Yeah right, you chickenshit. I lean my head against the glass and pound it there slightly. I would do it harder if I wasn’t afraid that the noise would scare her off.

  I’ve never wished that I were a bolder, less-chickenshit guy in my life.

  I’m completely useless.

  But then I think no, dammit! I’m not going to be that guy anymore. It’s time to grab my life by the horns, because this could be the only time in my life that I come across a girl in the middle of skinny dipping, and I’m not going to let it pass me by.

  I cross the room to open the door after taking a look down at myself. There is definitely a situation going on inside my pants, but under the circumstances it’s understandable. But I’m also determined not to let my malfunctioning (that can’t be the right word, because I’m pretty sure that my body is doing exactly what it’s supposed to do when presented with a situation like this) body screw this up for me.

  I don’t know exactly what I’m expecting to find when I get out there. The girl looks about my age, and it’s not like I’m thinking that I’m going to lose my virginity in the swimming pool tonight.

  This is real life, not a porno.

  I really just want to talk to her.

  And maybe look a little more.

  Not only is she beautiful, but she’s wild. Crazy. What kind of a girl goes skinny dipping in their neighbor’s backyard pool? That’s cool as hell and I really want to meet her.

  So I manage to calm myself down a little, along with my problem below the waist, and make it through the house without waking up Delly or her parents.

  I reach the sliding glass door to the backyard and pause for a minute. Am I really going to do this? I watch her dark hair glide across the surface of the water. She is gorgeous as she moves across the surface of the pool like some real-life mermaid.

  I take a deep breath and turn the lock. At the sound of the glass door sliding across the track, the girl looks up at me. Her eyes are wide as saucers. “Who’re you?” she whispers in a scratchy voice with a distinct mountain drawl.

  She’s not from around here? I wasn’t expecting that. Maybe I should have though, Delly’s friends I’ve met on previous visits seemed too civilized to break into their neighbor’s pool in the suburbs to skinny dip. The thought makes me smile.

  I hold my hands up and come a little closer to the edge, but not too close. I don’t want to freak her out. “I’m not going to bother you, I swear. I’m Peeta- Delly’s cousin. Who are you?”

  She relaxes a little at the mention of my cousin’s name. Her eyes scan across the backyard before she answers me. “Katniss,” she says, and looks back in my direction. Despite the fact that I know she’s naked as the day she was born under the water, I find myself fixated on her eyes. They are wide and grey, with long dark lashes framing them. Damn, she’s beautiful. “Don’t tell anyone I’m here, please. I know Delly, but…”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.” I take a small step closer and ask, “Do you mind if I stay out here with you and talk? It’s such a nice night.”

  And you’re so beautiful. And so naked in my cousin’s swimming pool.

  Katniss looks me up and down and chews on her bottom lip for a minute. “Okay,” she finally says, swimming away from me. “But only if you get in with me. I feel weird about being naked while you’re still dressed.”

  Um, what?

  Praying for my body to behave itself, I try to think. Sweaty gym socks, dead skunks, baseball, baseball…. “Really?” I ask, hoping that my voice doesn’t crack on the end.

  Katniss shrugs. “Only if you want to. But no funny business, okay? Just swimming.”

  I find that I’m nodding my head like a crazy person as I answer her, “Okay, yeah. Of course.”

  Smooth one, Mellark.

  I reach down and pull my t-shirt off. When it gets tossed on the ground I realize that Katniss is still watching me but quickly looks away. Swallowing my nerves (they aren’t necessarily a bad thing right now, they do seem to be helping me keep a better handle on the situation below my waist), I step closer to the edge of the pool before unbuttoning and quickly shoving my shorts down my hips. I step out of them and stumble a bit, barely stopping myself before I go headfirst into the water.

  “Peeta! You gotta be quiet, you’ll wake up the whole neighborhood if you cannon-ball in!” Katniss whispers loudly, covering up her mouth to try and hide her giggle.

  Wow, that’s embarrassing. But then I think, oh hell- screw you nerves. I jump in, all the while trying not to think about the fact that a really pretty girl just saw me stumble around naked.

  As I hit the water I let out a gasp. It isn’t exactly warm out tonight, and the water is cool. It’s oddly exhilarating though, and it’s a strange sensation feeling the water everywhere without a barrier. I’ve never swam naked before, but I think that I like it. Looking over at Katniss I see that she’s grinning at me.

  “Feels good, don’t it?” she asks in that slight drawl of hers.

  This whole situation is so ridiculous I can’t help but laugh, “It feels great, actually.” I shake the excess water out of my hair and she laughs at me. “What?” Now I’m self-conscious, and I wonder what’s so funny.

  I feel like telling her that I’m still waiting on a much-promised growth spurt so please don’t judge me too harshly.

  “You look like a dog that just came in outa’ the rain shakin’ yourself off like that. What’re those big, hairy blond ones called?” She teases, and begins moving through the water again. Katniss is choosing to keep her distance, and that’s fine. I’m good with whatever makes her comfortable.

  I’m just happy that she’s letting me stay out here with her.

  “Do you mean a golden retriever?” I ask her. “Believe it or not, you aren’t the first person to compare me to that particular dog.”

  Katniss pauses in her strokes to look over at me again and cock her eyebrow, “Oh yeah?”

  I shrug, “I’m friendly and kind of a people pleaser, like a golden retriever. And obviously, the physical resemblance is uncanny. And the drooling doesn’t help anything either.” That last comment gets a laugh from her, and I smile at the sound.

  Katniss has a very pretty laugh.

  She has a very pretty everything.

  “Well, Peeta, what kind of dog would you compare me to then?” She asks, flicking a little water in my direction.

  That’s an easy one. I don’t even hesitate to answer, “I wouldn’t compare you to a dog at all. You’re more like a cat, ‘cause the way that you dropped down off that tree branch actually reminded me of a panther.”

  Oh shit.

  Why did you just say that, you idiot?! Now she knows that you watched her strip!

  My face is burning but Katniss just laughs, seemingly unfazed by my words,“I actually hate cats, but I get the comparison.”

  Crisis averted. I attempt to use the old Mellark charm to segway into a different line of conversation, before I give myself a heart attack.

  “So you told me that you just moved in not long ago?” I lean further back against the pool, trying to make myself seem as non threatening as possible.  

  Katniss swims a little bit closer, and I realize that my choice to hand the control over to her is the correct one. Not that I have any other options really since I barely had the nerve to walk out here and talk to her. The reigns are completely in her hands.

  Katniss looks up at the sky before she answers me, “Yeah, we moved next door last February. My daddy was a mining foreman in West Virginia, but he got a promotion so we came here.” There is a wistful sound to her voice.

  “Do you like it?” I ask her as I bob along the side of the pool, keeping my distance, of course. “It seems like a nice neighborhood.”

  Katniss shrugs, “I like some things about this place. I’m glad that Daddy has a safer job, and that’s the main thing ‘cause mining is dangerous, but I miss home. We lived out in the country on about fifteen acres, and we had a pond close to the house. Me and my little sister used to go swimming at night. I think that must be why I sneak over here sometimes, when I get homesick.”

  I shrug, thinking that makes pretty good sense.

  “Is your sister the only one you go skinny dipping with?” I find myself asking her. I didn’t really think about the implication of the question until it’s hanging out there between us, and I quickly curse myself, “Shit. Sorry Katniss, forget I asked you that, it’s none of my business.”

  Her eyes twinkle a little, “Are you asking me if I swim naked with boys all the time?”

  I shake my head back and forth much like the earlier dog-shaking-itself-off impersonation from before, “Nope, because that’s your business, not mine.”

  With a laugh, Katniss turns around and swims away from me. “You are awful cute, Peeta. Your momma did a good job of raising you. You know how to talk to a lady.”

  I don’t know if I’d say that exactly… Wait? Did she say that I was cute?

  I watch her in silence for awhile, the only sound I hear is the whoosh of Katniss cutting through the water. She is so beautiful out here in the low glow from the security light. It’s offset, facing away from the pool so the light isn’t shining directly on the water, and it helps to obscure what is under the surface. I can just see the water glimmering off of her back and arms and her hair that looks inky in the darkness.

  She’s breathtaking, actually. I open my mouth to tell her so but she quickly ducks under the water and swims toward the opposite end of the pool.

  The security light must be on an automatic timer because it shuts off and the two of us are suddenly plunged into darkness. Katniss reaches the steps at the deep end of the pool and I hear the sloosh of water as she climbs out. “I’d better get going, Peeta. It’s getting awful late.”

  I can’t see much now due to the darkness of the backyard, but I can still make out the slight curves of her bottom and her breasts. “Are you gettin’ out?” she asks as she bends over to grab her clothes.

  I laugh weakly knowing that there is no way in hell I can get out right now without embarrassing myself. Instead I clear my throat and tell her, “No, you go ahead. I’ll be out in a minute.”

  Katniss throws her t-shirt on over her head before bending over to pull her shorts up. She stuffs her bra and underwear into her pocket and turns to look at me. She seems nervous all of a sudden. “Hey, Peeta?”

  I love the sound of my name when it comes from her mouth. “Yes, Katniss?”

  “You won’t tell anyone about this, will ya? I don’t really want anyone to know.” She shifts back and forth on her feet for a minute. “To answer your question from earlier, no, I don’t normally go skinny dipping with boys. You’re the first one, actually.” She pulls her hair around over her shoulder and starts fiddling with it, twisting it back into its original braid.

  “No, no. I won’t say a word to anybody, I promise. I’m not like that, Katniss,” I swallow the lump in my throat and tell her, “I’ve never done anything like this before, either.”

  She exhales loudly, “Good. You just seemed, I don’t know, nice. Trustworthy.”

  Trustworthy? Tell me I’m a nice guy after I watched you strip off all of your clothes. But then I remember the way that she didn’t avert her eyes from me either when I got naked. I feel slightly better, thinking that we’re pretty much even.

  But I would definitely say that I got the better end of the deal.

  “Delly invited me over for the cookout tomorrow, so I’ll see you then?” Katniss asks as she walks over to the opening in the fence to head home. I’m disappointed to see her leave but it doesn’t cut too deep, because there’s tomorrow.

  And she actually seems like she’s looking forward to seeing me again. Score one for Peeta!

  “Yeah, of course. I can’t wait.” And it’s true, even in the light of day with all of her clothes on I really can’t wait to see Katniss again.

  I think I’m in love.

  “And maybe we can do this again tomorrow night if you want,” she calls over her shoulder. “I’d like to. Goodnight, Peeta.”

  “Huh?” I say like an idiot as she disappears from sight.

  I shake my head. I’m never going to get to sleep tonight, but as I climb out and grab my own shorts to put back on, I realize that I could care less.

[eadanga]

Broken Without You Part 3

MC got out the car and walked around town. She smiled Still the same old small town I remember. Duke got out and walked over to her “Hey I got some things to buy for the ranch meet you back here?”

“Sure” Duke walked away as MC pulled out her phone “I better take some pictures”

She snapped a couple of pictures then headed into the general store where she was greeted by a friendly face

“Hi MC”

“Hi Asha how are you?”

“Me? I should be asking you that question how’s the new job?”

MC shrugged “Eh it’s ok I mean I love it but it’s not the best job in the world”

“So what brings you back to Sweetridge?”

“Work my boss wants me to right an article on the town”

Asha grins “So our little town is getting news coverage now? I love it! By the way there’s going be a cookout later wanna come?” She smirks “Sawyer’s even gonna be there”

MC blushes “W-why do you guys keep bugging me about Sawyer?”

“Oh come on everyone knows about the romance you guys had”

“Everyone has romances what’s the point?”

“Everyone saw how his eyes lit up every time you stepped in the room. Not to mention all the noises coming from-”

“Ok ok enough!” MC covered Asha’s mouth with her hand. She laughs as MC looks around making sure no one was there. She sighs and removes her hand “I’ll come to the cookout just no more reminiscing”

“Great and if I don’t see you there I’m gonna tell lots of Sawyer and MC tales like the time you and Sawyer-”

“Bye Asha!” MC dashed out the store she heard laughter as she stopped to catch her breath. She groaned and rolled her eyes Well this cookout is gonna be real fun.

****

MC started working on her article then she looked at the clock “Wow have I’ve been typing that long I better get ready”

She put her laptop to the side and headed to the bathroom to shower. She had just stepped out and wrapped herself with a towel when Sawyer stepped in she quickly covered up

“Oh didn’t know someone was in here”

“You don’t know how to knock Sawyer?!”

He chuckles “I’m sorry I’m sorry” He smirks “But it ain’t nothing I hadn’t seen before”

“Oh my god get out!” MC shoved him out the door even with the closed door she could still hear him laughing.

She headed to her room and got dressed. Then headed to the barn for her horse only to find it outside waiting for her

“What…”

“Been taking really good care of her for you” She turned around and saw Sawyer behind her.

MC smirks “Well thank you Oakley”

Sawyer tips his hat “Pleasures all mine now shall we get ridin”

“Absolutely”

They hop on their horses and head out to a small clearing where a large grill was blazing and a bunch of people were talking. MC hopped off her horse and sniffed the air “Wow that smells good”

“If you think so wait till I get on that grill” Sawyer hopped off his horse and headed straight for the grill. MC laughed He’s in his element

“MC!” She turned around and was pulled into a tight hug

“Nice to see you Juliette…please don’t break me in half”

“Whoops sorry bout that” She releases her “I’m just so excited to see you!”

“Yeah it’s good to see you city slicker!” Curly wrapped his large arm around MC’s neck

She quickly stepped out of his embrace “Ok if the hugging is done I’m gonna get drink”

“Here you are” MC turns and saw Dallas handing her a drink

“Thanks”

“Not a problem good to see you” He walks away

MC suppressed a laugh “Still the same old wandering cowboy”

“Tell me we still get to hangout just like old times?”

MC looked around at the excited faces “Yeah we can”

“Woohoo!” Juliette goes to pull her in for another embrace and MC steps out the way

“No none of that again”

Juliette giggles “Well time for girl talk how are things between you and Sawyer?”

“Things are fine”

“Just fine?” She raises an eyebrow

“Yeah were friends”

“Really? Cause a certain cowboy is checking you out now”

MC looks over her shoulder and sees Sawyer’s eyes directly on her. She blushes and turns away from his heated gaze “Is he still staring”

“Nope he’s coming over here see ya” She walks away

“Wait Juliette don’t -”

“Hey there”

MC turns around “Sawyer hey”

He smirks “Wow I haven’t even done anything and I’m already making you nervous”

“You’re not making me nervous”

He steps closer to her “How about now?”

“Sawyer!” She shoves him playfully as he chuckles. She rolls her eyes “You dork”

“But you love this dork don’t you?”

MC felt her face heat up and she immediately walked away from him. She didn’t get far before a pair of strong arms wrapped around her waist.

“Please don’t go…”

She turned and faced him “I don’t understand you why aren’t you angry with me?”

“Why would I be?”

“I mean when I left it broke you Duke told me about how you were drinking. I mean I caused all that you should be mad at me I hurt you so badly”

“MC…” He cups her cheek “I admit after you left I did go a little crazy by drinking because I wanted to num the pain of losing you. But I always had a feeling that you’ll come back or that we’ll meet again the future so I held onto that little hope matter how small it was and it paid off because you’re here”

“Sawyer…” He kisses her deeply and runs his fingers through her hair. He pulls away grinning

“Even better than I remembered”

He kisses her again pulling her closer as he deepens the kiss. She wraps her arms around his neck.

He pulls away smiling “Yeah much better than I remembered”

Mc giggles

“Stay with me tonight?”

‘Sawyer I…”

“I don’t wanna make you feel uncomfortable MC but I wanna sleep with you in my arms again”

MC smiles “Ok”

They head back to the ranch and head up to his room. Sawyer gets in the bed and MC snuggles against his chest. He wraps his arm around her “Good night MC”

“Night Sawyer” He kisses the top of her forehead and they drift off to sleep.

MC wakes the next day to half the bed empty. She creeps downstairs to the smell of bacon and eggs. She goes into the kitchen and sees Sawyer in the kitchen.

“Morning that smells good”

Sawyer doesn’t look at her and answers in a monotone “It’s be ready soon” He grabs the dishes and walks to the dining room

MC watches him with a confused look “That was weird”

Tags: @indiacater @hopefulmoonobject @annekebbphotography @the-soot-sprite @cora-nova @symonde @powdesiree0816

[supernaturalimaginetime]

(GIFS ARE NOT MINE!!!)

It seemed like everything in the world came to a pause once had heard word from his sister. Who would have thought there would actually be something lurking in the sewers? Sure, there was always that one story of there being an alligator under the city in those cheesy cartoons you used to watch; he hated every single one. Finding himself in this situation shouldn’t have been a surprise. All three of the Winchester siblings dealt with worse. Only somehow, this situation was different than others. WAY different.

Sam was still attempting to ask his older brother of their baby sister’s whereabouts. Only he followed Dean as they walked through the sewers, occasionally running into cobwebs and dead ends. Apparently Dean wanted to find their sister his own way… That was until-

“Hey! You’ve been hacked by Donatello! We’ve been informed about you by your sister and she figured you needed assistance.” The older Winchester’s phone was given a map. A red line going through the layout of the sewers as it pin pointed a route.

Sam was baffled by this, his gaze switching from the phone to Dean. Seeing the same look on his face.

“What-”

“Friends of (Y/N)…” Dean cut him off. “At least I hope so,”

—-

It didn’t take long for the Winchesters to reach the headquarters. Both of them looking around in awe.

“No way,” Sam stated.

“Yes way, apparently…” Dean added.

Once a certain (H/C) had spotted them, she quickly ran over, “Sam! Dean!” She smiled.

Dean immediately was first to wrap his arms around his baby sister in a protective embrace, “You okay, (N/N)?”

(Y/N) nodded in response, “I’m fine!”

Sam nudged Dean, “Hate to ruin the reunion but uh… You mind introducing us, (Y/N)?” He nodded his head toward the four figures that had approached.

Dean practically did a double take, “And you weren’t kidding…”

All four mutants stared, unsure of the two brothers.

“So there were aliens in New York this whole time?” Dean asked.

“Actually we’re-” Donnie started until one of his brothers stepped forward.

“We’re mutants. There’s a difference,” Raphael gritted his teeth in annoyance. The tooth pick at the corner of his mouth could snap at any split second from the look of annoyance he has.

Leonardo gave a stern look to his younger brother before stepping up, “So you’re her brothers?” He asked.

Sam answered with a nod while Dean was still trying to process the situation.

“So….” Mikey quickly stepped forward and started asking questions from the top of his head.

“So do you guys really hunt down ghosts and stuff? How are you able to do it? Wouldn’t the stuff you have in the gun go through them? What about demons? Are they just as scary as Raph or worse? What about the werewolves and vampires? Have you dealt with zombies yet?”

He had tons of questions coming all at once until Raphael had pulled him back by his shell, “Give ‘em time to breathe, ya moron!” He scolded.

Dean looked down at you, “You told them?” He whispered.

“Kinda had to!” (Y/N) responded with her hands up in defense.

Dean then turned his attention back to the four mutants, “Yes.. We’re hunters. We’re the whole package!” He said the last line with a tone of sarcasm.

“A package of packing peanuts if you ask me, shorty,” Raphael spoke with a smirk dancing on his lips while Mikey snickered.

Dean’s eyes widened at that before his expression turned to annoyance.

“Thanks for taking care of our sister,” Sam had stepped up before Dean could say anything.

“It was no problem, really,” Leonardo nodded.

“I still feel a bit skeptical about the whole… hunter thing,” Donnie spoke up.

“Believe me, Don.” You stepped in, “Everyone we helped thought that,”

The conversation seemed to go to a somewhat good start. All of a sudden, the lights had gone out in the room.

“Power shortage? No problem to fix,”

“Yeah, Donnie! Please! I need to get back to playing my video games later!”

(Y/N) immediately didn’t feel assured. She quickly went back to Dean, “I don’t think this is an ordinary blackout,” she whispered.

Sam had sauntered over as well, “Do you think it didn’t work? Do you think that spirit is still down here?”

“Nah, it worked. But this is something else.” Dean responded.

“What’re you guys talking about?” Mikey whispered as he appeared between the two brothers, making them jump.

“Never do that,” Dean warned the orange clad turtle.

The temperature seemed to get lower in the room as (Y/N) got a chill up her spine. That was until she heard a faint growling and grimaced.

Mikey had gotten stiff, “Did anybody else hear that?”

“Yeah.. Donnie?” Raphael looked in the direction of his younger brother.

“There shouldn’t be any species of wolf in the city. Not to mention having it find a way down to the sewers,” Donnie responded.

Leonardo took his turn to saunter over to the three Winchesters, “You guys see anything?”

“It could be one of Crowley’s strays..” Dean shook his head with a sigh.

“Why would it want to follow us?” Sam asked.

“It obviously wants me to go back to hell…” Dean responded, “Or it just hates all of our guts,”

(Y/N) shook her head before Mikey came near, “So um, you got any idea of what we’re dealing with, angel cakes?”

“What we’re up against is one of Crowley’s hell hounds, we can’t see them directly,” This had come to Leonardo’s attention as she explained.

“Then how do we deal with it?” The eldest asked.

“Before it rips us up like shreds of breakfast bacon, we need to work fast on this,” Dean informed them.

“We already have the holy oil and a lighter-” Sam added, “But we need a pair of glasses,”

“Easy!” Mikey went over to Donnie and took his glasses, “Sorry bro! We need to borrow these!”

—

Thankfully, it didn’t take long to prepare the glasses. Only wearing them was a tad bit tricky to to the size. As (Y/N) looked through the glasses, she spotted a blue silhouette stalking around the lounging area.

“Mikey! Jump to your left!” She informed the turtle as she readied her gun.

The youngest complied and immediately broke right.

“No, your other left!” She shouted but sighed as he was out of harms way, shooting the spot in front of where the hound stood.

The hell hound scurried, running into a couple pieces of furniture causing them to knock over and fall.

Dean had shot the hound at it’s side, causing it to let out a whimper in pain and run off back into the sewer tunnels.

“It should learn it’s place now… Of course we might get a visit from the king of bastards himself..” Dean started.

“It shouldn’t come back after that,” Sam assured them.

“Thanks for the help… But bros,” Mikey caught his brothers’ attention, “Sensei is SO sending us to the Hashii if he sees all this..”

“We can’t exactly use that one excuse of ‘the dog did it’…” Donnie informed, still squinting his eyes.

(Y/N) noticing this detail, handed over his glasses.

“Well don’t look at us, we’ve already done our job,” Dean backed up a couple steps.

With that, you all shared a laugh. Mikey giving a groan to all the cleaning they would have to do later.

—–

You and your brothers were packing up the impala that evening. The three of you were ready to head back to the bunker after the exhausting case. After meeting a couple new friends, you almost felt like you didn’t want to leave. You dropped something only to have a certain mutant catch it. Looking up your eyes met Michelangelo’s, you simply thanked him in return as you packed the duffle bag in the trunk.

“If you need some assistance. You’ll know where to find us,” Leo nodded as he had his arms crossed over his chest.

“Yeah.. 'Cause I guess we owe you one..” Raph darted his gaze to the floor as he rubbed the back of his head.

“Really, angel cakes! We could’ve been baked back there!” Mikey spoke up, putting his hands on your shoulders, “For that we worship you!”

(Y/N) simply laughed at his antics before Dean came around, “Um, excuse me? She didn’t exactly do it alone?”

Sam simply snickered, stepping up to stand beside his siblings, “We still thank you guys for finding our sister. You guys aren’t that bad,”

“Who knows! Maybe one day we’ll come back and visit. Maybe a small get together cookout?” The youngest Winchester suggested.

“Okay, okay! Slow your roll, sister,” Dean patted you on the shoulder.

“We could if we host it on the rooftop of April’s apartment complex,” Donnie informed as he adjusted his glasses and stepped forward, “Here’s something you could contact us with..” He handed her a watch, a high tech watch at that.

Another thing was that he had their contact information of Sam’s laptop and her phone. (Y/N) gave him a smile. It was noticeable how his glasses were fogging up as heat sprouted to his face. The purple clad turtle gave a nervous chuckle as he stepped back in line with his brothers.

It wasn’t long before all of them said their goodbyes. Mikey had tried to serenade the youngest sister with a song, his brothers crying out in protest. Now she find herself sleeping in the back seat, head leaning against the window with her forearm as a pillow and using her jacket as a blanket. Yeah, she was definitely going to come back to New York soon.

[monsterfactoryfanfic]

Ch 11- A Day of Fun

           Happy reunions notwithstanding, the team decided spending a few days in Second Life might be the best move. While Pam’s healing had pushed Christopher a long way toward recovery, he still needed rest. Whatever strange system of tubes and borrowed cells constituted the clone’s body wasn’t so efficient as to immediately prepare him for another inter-universe jump. And honestly, G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. thought, it was nice to be on holiday. The stress of dimensional travel certainly strained his processor, not to mention the stress brought by assailants from Pam’s past.

           Totinos turned out to be thrilled when G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. somewhat sheepishly asked if they could stay a few days. The pizza-man confided that The Mayor was more concerned about the election than he’d let on. So much so that his campaign manager thought it best if they take a detour to an old amusement park owned by the Mayor’s grandfather, abandoned after a series of grisly murders. The khajiit neglected to mention the bit about murders when proposing the idea to Pam and Chris. Among various attractions Totinos had listed was a Tunnel of Love, and G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. didn’t think a potential serial killer would facilitate a romantic atmosphere. Not that I’ll be trying to visit the Tunnel, he corrected himself. I dunno, it’d just be like a fun thing to see. Ironically.

***

             If the group hadn’t already suspected the suggestion of spectral presence or possibility at the park, the actual appearance ought to have kept them on their toes. The park was silent as a graveyard; the five of them were the only living beings in sight. Also, apparently, it had been built in the middle of the goddamn ocean, so that seemed pretty weird. Misgivings aside, it did seem like a cool park. The attractions included an enormous water slide, roller coasters and rides that presumably laid unused for years, and a variety of concession stands that miraculously still dispensed fresh goods despite having been abandoned by their operators.

Pam ran a critical eye over the machines, wondering about the rusted giants’ likelihood of killing her. The Mayor and Chris ran ahead toward the funnel cake stand, G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. and Totinos jogging behind them. They all cracked up at the absurdity of this whole escapade. All except Pam.

This was…different. Pam long ago forgot proper behavior expected of group of friends spending a day together. She wanted to join in the laughing. As the morning progressed she even attempted a joke or two, which surprised literally everyone. Perhaps she was still fixated on the dream about the hydra. Or maybe she felt this was a waste of time, seeing as she could not get stronger while dodging lemonade-flavored vomit on the Scrambler. It was just a weird emotion, the knowledge that everyone seemed to know what to say and what to do. There was no enemy to crush, no task to which she could set her mind. The only strengths she had were no use when convincing people to like her. Pam trailed behind her friends, forcing her scarred face into a smile and hoping she didn’t draw attention.

Despite her efforts, the Mayor suggested they check out the Ferris wheel while the others hit up the go-karts. “Not to be rude,” he said with an air of caution, “but it seems like you might have a significant advantage over the rest of us.” Pam’s first reflex was indignation, but remembered that time she dropped a vertibird on the Smith’s cookout and yielded the argument. The Mayor shouted their departure over the roar of engines. The others were too busy talking shit to notice.

 Pam felt distinctly on edge as they walked through the silent remains of the sprawling estate. The clack-thud of their shoes against wood and concrete were the only sound outside of go-karts revving. She wanted to say something to break the quiet. “This park good.”

The Mayor chortled. “I’m glad you think so! It’s been too long since I last visited. Ever since Grandpappy passed, it’s been sort of a bittersweet place.”

“How you have grandfather and also build this dimension?”

“Never mind that now,” he said curtly. They reached the ancient wheel. He opened the gate for her to enter first. They hopped into a creaky red basket and sat facing each other. “I’d rather talk about you.”

She’d figured as much, but it was strange for someone to directly state their interest in her. “What you want to talk about?” Her anxiety climbed several notches as the wheel began its slow rotation.

“Anything!” the Mayor exclaimed. His face, disproportioned though it was, bore an evident expression of curiosity. “We don’t often get visitors to Second Life, and you come traipsing in with a British cat and a professional wrestler!” He offered her a tub of popcorn that appeared from thin air. She politely declined and he stuffed his mouth. “What’s brought you all this way?”

She answered without hesitation. “I’m looking for someone. I will be strong, and then I kill him.” She puffed her chest and her voice was proud. Of this most important goal she was absolutely certain.

The Mayor looked back, seemingly concerned. “The person who beat up you and your gang of friends?”

She shook her head. “He is tiny bump on path to target. Strong, but I will be stronger.” She bristled at his doubtful gaze. “What?”

“I just-” he started, then placed a buttery hand on his chin, thinking. At this point they’d reached the top of their circle. “Let me say it a different way. How did you get here?”

Pam didn’t understand the purpose of the question. “The cat does teleportation. What of it?”

           The Mayor shrugged. “I just thought you were the one with all the superpowers.”

           “I’m good at death.”

           The politician chuckled nervously. “Undoubtedly. So what about Christopher?”

           A good question. Why is wrestle-boy here? She reached into obscure memories of the past few days. She remembered whooping up on him during the fight at the Cell. The urgency to escape. G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. hugging a shaking Pebble. “He’s here because cat likes him.”

           For a second the Mayor looked startled. “G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. never said they were together.”

           Pam rolled her eyes. “They’re not. Yet. But look.” They again reached the wheel’s zenith. From their vantage point they could see karts zipping around, two karts particularly close. Their laughter was unmistakable. “The only reason they aren’t already boning is cuz of spiny cat dong.”

Color drained from the bureaucratic boy but he pressed on with heroic effort. “Um, be that as it may, what I’m really curious about is what happens when you complete your quest.”

She had no reaction. She sat still, the breeze between them transparent as her thoughts. After a long moment she responded, “No need to look ahead this far. I need training.”

The Mayor smiled, reached across the bucket, and squeezed her knee. Which proved difficult, as he possessed short arms and stubby fingers. “You will need to work hard, but I think you’ll have no problem getting what you’re after. I’ve met a lot of people in my career, but none like you.” He looked her in the eyes and nodded vigorously. “The thing is, you’re still gonna have a long time to figure out what to do once you’re done with this mission.” He gestured down the karts below. The trio appeared to be bored with go-karts and were headed towards the Ferris wheel. “These two fellows, whether you think so or not, they didn’t travel all this way because of some heroic cause or to get a sightseeing trip.”

She stiffened, unsure what to say.

“Pam, I think those boys really care about you,” he continued. “They don’t care if you’re awkward or angry or confused. And those sort of people, ride-or-die type fools, they’re gonna love you no matter what.” His eager smile became serious. The Mayor’s tone shifted to that of a person discussing their last will. “So I want you to promise me two things: One, trust yourself and your friends.”

She nodded.

“Two, when you finish this fight, bring back all the friends you meet on your journey, and we’ll have the most baller-ass rager Second Life has ever seen, got it?” He couldn’t keep the straight face, yet he kept his eyes locked with hers.

Pam had to crack a smile. She grabbed his small executive hand in her own and squeezed hard. “Okay Mr. Mayor man. We come back for party. But it must knock socks off, or else I burn your world to ground.” They both laughed hard, the serious atmosphere evaporating as the wheel slowed to let them off.

 ***

 G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D and the others reached the Ferris wheel to see Boy Mayor and Pam snorting at some joke they had made. “For real though,” Pam said as she clapped the Mayor on the back. Whatever their chat entailed, the squat politician had a knack for cheering people up. G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. had been somewhat worried about his friend. She was usually quiet when conversation was unnecessary, but today he felt some concerning vibes. That anxious feeling wasn’t entirely gone, but it seemed like the talk had helped. He smiled to himself, then noticed Chris pretending to not steal glances at him while they tramped along the forsaken walkways. Something in his core circuitry flared, and he peeked back.

All five of them together now, Totinos proposed they go check out the carnival games, demanding the Mayor win him an enormous stuffed bear. The poor politician struggled to throw various rings and balls onto hooks and cups while Pam and Chris respectively booed and cheered. Out of the corner of his orbital cameras the khajiit saw Totinos beckon him over. He hung back out of earshot and whispered, “What’s up?”

Totinos bent low on his haunches and put his moustache up to G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D.’s ear. “So, uh, what’s the deal with you and Chris?”

WD-40 surged into his face. “Th-there’s no deal. We just get along well.” There was a stereotype about khajiits back in Skyrim, that they were deceitful, tricky creatures. No one trusted to get a fair deal out of them, always expecting to be cheated or backstabbed. If there was any evidence to support the alternative, it was G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D’s poker face.

Totinos produced a knowing look, one usually reserved for extended conversations about the best recipes for pizza sauce. “My boy, we took you into our home battered and bleeding. You live a dangerous life, or at the very least you live in a moment in time where your safety must be placed at a premium.” He pointed toward the long-fingered wrestler who was now instructing the Mayor on ring-tossing techniques while Pam surreptitiously levitated them into scoring position. “Similarly, the time you have with your heart’s deepest desires is not eternal.”

G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. shifted uncomfortably. He wasn’t accustomed to Italian chefs giving tips on his love life. “Totinos… I’m sort of scared.”

The man seized him by the shoulders and lifted his mechanical body into the air. “Good! Fear and arousal are based in the same parts of ‘ze brain!”

G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. was not enjoying this pep talk.

Totinos lowered him back to earth. “I just get so excited. There’s no better feeling in the world.” He squinted pointedly at the techno-feline. “And you’ve got a shot at it.” He put his hand in the small of G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D.’s back and ushered him back to the group. In a conspiratorial, whispered tone, Totinos said, “It’s now or never my boy. Wait for the signal.”

What the actual fuck?

Upon their return the Mayor, sweaty and breathing rapidly, presented Totinos with an gigantic stuffed animal. The chef scooped up the toy in one arm and the Mayor in the other and squeezed them both to his chest. Chris watched with admiration and pride. Pam’s disgust at the public display was coming close to physical manifestation. G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. felt his thoracic processor accelerate. What the bloody hell is this signal supposed to be?

Just like that, the Second Lifers were disappeared. In a blur of motion surprising everyone, Totinos and Boy Mayor yelled something about the water slide and sped off, dragging a bewildered Pam behind. Oh.

He and Chris were painfully alone now. They sort of looked at each other and laughed.

“Huh, well I guess we’d better catch up” Chris muttered. He looked at the ground, then glanced back up at G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D.

Say something you absolute tosser. “Yeah I suppose so.” Real smooth. Together they slowly trod in the same direction. G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. suppressed a sigh. Maybe next time.

A voice like a truck through a window shattered his thoughts. G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D.! Don’t fuck up. He looked up and from in the distance he could see Pam shooting infrared daggers into his face. I’ll be damned.

G.A.R.F.I.E.L.D. reached out a shaky paw and took Chrisopher’s hand. The Pebble stared at him, eyes wide. “Actually, do you wanna do something else?”

[thegirlsinthefirehouse]

Descendants, Chapter 2

-----

Abby had spent the next few days in thought.

 A lot of thought. The others had noticed, but Holtzmann had waved them off, letting Abby think in peace. She loved her wife more than anything and always knew what she was thinking or what she was needing.

And at that moment, as Abby stood on the stairs, she wanted her beloved, however crazy and insane the blonde could be.

“Holtz?” said Abby, going upstairs to the third floor. She had expected Holtzmann to be in the lab, so she had been surprised when she hadn’t. Normally about this time of day she would have been zonked out in a late afternoon nap in the large window, curled up like a cat in the sunshine. Abby had already ordered dinner for the two of them and was wanting to find her wife to talk before it got there. She entered their bedroom upstairs and found Holtz there, munching on an apple and reading a book. Abby stared at round red thing in Holtz’s hand.

“You’re eating fruit.”

“Yeah?”

“Fruit snacks, yes. But an actual apple? The last fruity thing I saw you with was gummy bears.”

Holtzmann arched an eyebrow interestingly at that.

“Don’t even,” warned Abby. She went over to the bed and sat down beside her. “Kevin’s gone home and Patty’s taking Erin out to dinner so they can finally talk about Geneva without any calls interrupting them. I think Erin brought home about 8 books on the city’s history.”

“She did. I saw them. Patty was excited,” said Holtz. “We should have sent her with Erin.”

“She had a family thing,” said Abby. “Remember?”

“Ah yes. The traditional family reunion and cookout. I think Cheyenne was making the potato salad.”

“Do you really want to do this?” blurted out Abby. “A family.”

“Abby,” said Holtzmann. “If it’s upsetting you that much, we--”

Abby launched herself on top of Holtz, kissing her. She barely had time to put down her apple on the bedside table, let alone her book. It ended up squashed between them. Holtzmann relaxed in Abby’s grip, taking a deep breath. She gently separated them.

“Honey--” she said, rubbing Abby’s cheek.

“We’ll do it,” said Abby. “Us. A family.”

“You’re serious,” said Holtz, wearing an expression of faint shock.

“Maybe it is time for us to have a personal life again,” said Abby.

“Personal lives?” frowned Holtzmann, running a hand through her curls.

“Outside the team. Just be us. On our own.”

Now Holtz was really surprised by that. She moved the book off her stomach and sat up as Abby did the same.

“You... you’re serious about this? Abs, you’ve always wanted to be immersed in the work here. I couldn’t take it away from you. No one should. You love this place.”

Abby seemed a little relieved at that. Holtz continued speaking.

“Like I said at the coffee shop, we could have a family here in the firehouse. It would be a little different, but we could make it work.” Holtzmann reached up and moved a loose piece of hair to behind Abby’s ear.

“I love that you were willing to go the full distance honey, but it’s not necessary.”

“Well, no,” said Abby. “I wouldn’t completely give up our life’s work for it.” “And no one should,” said Holtz. She looked around, as if she was searching for something.

“We’ve got to get started.”

“Doing what?” said Abby, looking curious.

“Baby-ing it up.” She saw a stack of papers on top of their dresser and pointed to them. “Full medical history with allergies and medications, plus flu vaccinations. We’ll have to have pre-conception appointments for blood tests and gynecological exams...”

Abby closed her eyes and sighed. Adoption was definitely off the table, she supposed. She briefly wondered if she could get Erin to carry a baby for her. But then remembered Erin had risked death and jumped into the ethereal plane to save her. It probably would be asking a little too much for a second life.

“--Not to mention we need to perhaps start eating a little healthier,” finished Holtzmann.

“So that’s why you were eating an apple.”

Holtz got off the bed and got the stack of papers.

“My appointment is tomorrow. Yours is the day after tomorrow. And your schedule is clear.”

Abby’s jaw couldn’t drop any lower if she had tried.

“You...” “Already did the scheduling, talked with some sperm banks as you know, and got both our medical histories, however short they are.”

“We’re not exactly the taking care of our health on a regular basis types,” said Abby.

“Tell me about it. I took me forever to find your general practitioner.”

“Do you even have one?” asked Abby to Holtz.

“Do now.” She gestured to a shoe box on their dresser.

“I also picked up some ovulation kits, a basal thermometer, pregnancy tests, a multi-vitamin, some folic acid, and printed off some charts so we can keep track of things.”

“Holtzmann...” said Abby. She was starting to feel overwhelmed.

“No take backs,” said Holtz, looking at her wife directly. Abby just sighed and smiled.

“As usual, you are your well prepared self even it looks like chaos.”

“I do want to take care of the details when it comes to this,” said Holtzmann. “I figured this would make it easier on you, Abs. You won’t have to do much worrying. We both need less stress if we’re going to try doing home conception right away.”

“We?” said Abby, a little confused at this bit of information. “As in both of us at once?”

“I... well, I guess I need to discuss it with you.” Holtzmann flopped down on the bed, putting her arms behind her head.

“I think we should both get inseminated the first time. Then we don’t have to worry about one doing it or the other. If one of us gets pregnant, then we get pregnant. No one’s making a decision. It’ll be the luck of the draw.”

Abby looked skeptical. “But what if we both end up with a bun in the oven?”

Holtz grinned cheekily. “Then I’ll feel sorry for Erin and Patty.”

“That would put two of us out of commission,” frowned Abby. “What if...”

“I’ve already been working on a project to make the packs safer and I’ve already added some cushioning for protection. Plus, we can take off the belt at the waist past a certain point. I’m thinking about making some thigh straps for balance.” She leaned up and looked at Abby.

“I’ll be safe Abs. We can make changes.”

Abby guessed that she was wearing her emotions on her face again.

“I still can’t believe you’re thinking about having a baby.”

“Think of it as a grand science experiment,” gestured Holtz lazily in the air.

“An 18+ year one,” added Abby.

“It’ll be fun,” said Holtz, smirking. “A kid that takes after us.”

“But what if they are really into books and want to go to school for classical British literature?” said Abby, looking pensive at the thought.

“Then we’ll buy them Byron & Bronte and send them to Cambridge,” said Holtz.

“Really?”

“Really,” said Holtzmann, giving Abby a genuine smile. “Or if they decide they want to bust ghosts for a living, then they can get the best education right here.”

“No better people to learn from,” said Abby with a nod.

“Darn tootin’,” said Holtzmann, mimicking Abby.

“We’re actually going to do this,” said the brunette, stunned. The alarm went off on her cell.

“Oh um, well... there went your healthy eating plan,” she said sheepishly. “I ordered in.”

“We can start tomorrow,” said Holtzmann. “I’m starving.” She grabbed her apple and raced out of the room. Abby barely caught sight of Holtz sliding down the fire pole and munching on her apple as she walked out of the bedroom. Her wife had way too much fun with that thing.

-----

“So Abby agreed?” said Patty, stunned.

“Exactamundo,” said Holtzmann, stretching out over the now empty lab table. She had to lay out some blueprints for later, and she needed the space. But right now, she was cracking her back happily. She moved out her arms to pop her elbows.

“Do not tell Cheyenne about this anytime in the near future,” said Patty, shaking a finger. “I mean it Holtzy.”

“I cannot be held to any promises if she calls me,” said Holtzmann, blinking innocently. Patty snorted.

“You don’t pull off that look girl, just sayin’.”

“Holtz doesn’t pull off what?” asked Erin, approaching them, pulling her hair out of her sweatshirt after putting it on.

“Looking innocent,” said Patty. “Never have and never will.”

“She has no faith in me,” scoffed Holtz. She looked at the time on her watch.

“I’ve got to run. Appointment ahead of me!”

“Good luck,” said Erin. Holtz waved as she headed down the stairs.

“I still can’t believe those two are going to try to have children,” said Patty, shaking her head. “Can you even picture Holtzy pregnant?”

“No more than I can picture Abby,” said Erin.

“Now see,” said Patty. “I can picture Abby more than Holtzy. She seems like the family type.”

“You didn’t grow up around her. Abby’s never been that family oriented. Not that she isn’t that dedicated to the idea of a family, but I don’t think it was a top priority.” Erin sat down on the stool Holtzmann had been using.

“Now you... I can picture with a large family.”

“Nuh-uh,” said Patty. “No. Kids are a mess.”

“And how many kids does Cheyenne want?” said Erin, smirking.

“Like eight,” sighed Patty. “What about David?”

Erin shrugged. “He’s never really said.”

“Really?”

Erin nodded.

“Maybe it’s about time you started asking,” stated Patty.

“I think I want to concentrate on work a while,” said Erin. “We’ve already going to be down one when either Holtz or Abby has a baby. And if you and Cheyenne have one...” She sighed.

“We really need to start training if we are going to start a second team for New York.”

“We can all help,” said Patty. “No one’s expecting yet.”

<-- Prev | Next -->

[maciaslucymua-blog1]

Four Essential Oils for First Aid

New Post has been published on http://www.healthgoesfemale.com/four-essential-oils-for-first-aid/

Four Essential Oils for First Aid

**This post is sponsored by Rocky Mountain Oils.**

By Jaclyn Harwell, Contributing Writer

Summer is full of opportunities for fun- water play, cookouts, vacations… there’s so much to celebrate when the sun is out! But with these fun activities comes a need to keep everyone safe and healthy. Did you know you can use essential oils for bruises, bites, cuts, and scrapes? Here, we’ll show you four essential oils that help with all of these and more!

Four Essential Oils for First Aid

I love reaching for essential oils for bruises, bee stings, and all the other ouchies my four boys get themselves into at our house! They have been dipping into the essential oil chest ever since summer arrived, and I love when they come ask for me to remedy whatever ailment they happen to have with essential oils.

Here are four essential oils that are great for first aid purposes:

Helichrysum Italicum

One of the single most healing oils, helichrysum italicum should be in everyone’s medicine cabinet! Known as the #1 oil for healing wounds, helichrysum italicum :

Helps heal cuts, scrapes, and other open wounds

Aids the healing process by stimulating the growth of new skin cells

Helps to heal and regenerate nerves

Repairs connective tissue

One of the best essential oils for bruises, inflammations, muscle aches and pains, and sprains

Can help increase muscle endurance

Helps treat many type of burns

Helichrysum italicum is the one essential oil you do not want to be without while you’re on the go this summer. Buy helichrysum italicum here.

Tea Tree

Both antiseptic and soothing, tea tree is essential for a first aid kit.  Tea tree:

Supports the immune system as well as respiratory health

Can help heal a number of skin conditions, including cuts, scrapes, and rashes, can be helpful for pesky problems like lice, or fungal infections like ringworm or candida,

One of the great essential oils for bruises, as it is anti-inflammatory, so massaging a small amount directly onto a bruised area can help reduce swelling and inflammation.

Tea tree oil should generally be diluted in a ratio of approximately 4-8 drops per 1/2 tsp. carrier oil. Buy tea tree essential oil here.

Clove Bud

Also good for fighting infections of all kinds, clove bud is another versatile oil to have on hand for first aid needs. Clove bud:

Good for skin conditions, including scabies and athlete’s foot

Antimicrobial and will help prevent infection in cuts and scrapes

Speeds healing of wounds due to its blood-circulating, anti-inflammatory properties

Clove bud oil should also be diluted in a ratio of 4-8 drops per 1/2 tsp. carrier oil, as it is a “hot” oil, meaning it can easily burn the skin. The delightfully spicy scent will, however, warm you up and energize you. Buy clove bud essential oil here.

Rosemary

Prized for its antiseptic qualities, rosemary essential oil is great to keep in your first aid kit.  Rosemary:

Great for boosting the immune system

Speeds healing by keeping infection at bay

Helps clear air passages and fight respiratory infections like sinusitis and bronchitis

Rosemary essential oil even helps with brain and memory function, helping you keep stress at bay so that you can enjoy summer festivities. Rosemary should also be diluted when used topically. Buy rosemary essential oil here.

Your Essential Oil First Aid Solution

I know it can be a little intimidating to figure out which ratios are best when combining to create the perfect blend. If you’re not familiar with essential oils, it can be downright confusing to choose the best ones for each use.

Not to mention, if you’re just starting to build your essentials oils collection, it can be pricey to buy various single oils. That’s where synergy blends come to the rescue!

Rocky Mountain Oil’s First Aid synergy blend is the perfect combination of all of the above oils to speed the healing of a number of wounds. It’s the perfect way to use essential oils for bruises, bites, stings, burns, cuts, and everything else under the (summer) sun.

  It was created to help you rebuild connective tissue that has been damaged due to injury, and can be used to help heal new and even old scars.

The oils in this blend not only help with all sorts of first aid needs, they also help to move blood to your organs, improving liver function and circulation. Additionally, you can count on First Aid to help strengthen your respiratory, endocrine, and immune systems.

Finally, First Aid reduces mental fatigue and increases clarity and alertness so that you can go strong as you enjoy summer with your kiddos, who never seem to tire!

I love having a pre-made blend so that I don’t have to calculate ratios, or determine which oil to use for what purpose.

Whether my kid gets stung (not too long ago, my seven-year-old was catching bees… yeah, he got stung), falls and scrapes his knee (my two-year-old is good at that), gets a bruise (like my rough-and-tough four-year-old often does), or gets a sunburn (like my fair-skinned oldest tends to do), First Aid is the right remedy.

If you want to read more about using essential oils safely with children, read Rocky Mountain Oils‘ helpful tips here.

Have you used essential oils for first aid? Which ones do you like best?

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<![CDATA[/* Layout */ .ck_form /* divider image */ background: #fff url(data:image/gif;base64,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) repeat-y center top; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 1.5em; overflow: hidden; color: #666; font-size: 16px; border-top: solid 20px #3071b0; border-top-color: #3071b0; border-bottom: solid 10px #3d3d3d; border-bottom-color: #1d446a; -webkit-box-shadow: 0px 0px 5px rgba(0,0,0,.3); -moz-box-shadow: 0px 0px 5px rgba(0,0,0,.3); box-shadow: 0px 0px 5px rgba(0,0,0,.3); clear: both; margin: 20px 0px; .ck_form, .ck_form * -webkit-box-sizing: border-box; -moz-box-sizing: border-box; box-sizing: border-box; #ck_subscribe_form clear: both; /* Element Queries — uses JS */ .ck_form_content, .ck_form_fields width: 50%; float: left; padding: 5%; .ck_form.ck_horizontal .ck_form_content border-bottom: none; .ck_form.ck_vertical background: #fff; .ck_vertical .ck_form_content, .ck_vertical .ck_form_fields padding: 10%; width: 100%; float: none; .ck_vertical .ck_form_content border-bottom: 1px dotted #aaa; overflow: hidden; /* Trigger the vertical layout with media queries as well */ @media all and (max-width: 499px) .ck_form background: #fff; .ck_form_content, .ck_form_fields padding: 10%; width: 100%; float: none; .ck_form_content border-bottom: 1px dotted #aaa; /* Content */ .ck_form_content h3 margin: 0px 0px 15px; font-size: 24px; padding: 0px; .ck_form_content p font-size: 14px; .ck_image float: left; margin-right: 5px; /* Form fields */ .ck_errorArea display: none; #ck_success_msg padding: 10px 10px 0px; border: solid 1px #ddd; background: #eee; .ck_label font-size: 14px; font-weight: bold; .ck_form input[type="text"], .ck_form input[type="email"] font-size: 14px; padding: 10px 8px; width: 100%; border: 1px solid #d6d6d6; /* stroke */ -moz-border-radius: 4px; -webkit-border-radius: 4px; border-radius: 4px; /* border radius */ background-color: #f8f7f7; /* layer fill content */ margin-bottom: 5px; height: auto; .ck_form input[type="text"]:focus, .ck_form input[type="email"]:focus outline: none; border-color: #aaa; .ck_checkbox padding: 10px 0px 10px 20px; display: block; clear: both; .ck_checkbox input.optIn margin-left: -20px; margin-top: 0; .ck_form .ck_opt_in_prompt margin-left: 4px; .ck_form .ck_opt_in_prompt p display: inline; .ck_form .ck_subscribe_button width: 100%; color: #fff; margin: 10px 0px 0px; padding: 10px 0px; font-size: 18px; background: #0d6db8; -moz-border-radius: 4px; -webkit-border-radius: 4px; border-radius: 4px; /* border radius */ cursor: pointer; border: none; text-shadow: none; .ck_form .ck_guarantee color: #626262; font-size: 12px; text-align: center; padding: 5px 0px; display: block; .ck_form .ck_powered_by display: block; color: #aaa; .ck_form .ck_powered_by:hover display: block; color: #444; .ck_converted_content display: none; padding: 5%; background: #fff; /* v6 */ .ck_form_v6 #ck_success_msg padding: 0px 10px; @media all and (max-width: 403px) .ck_form_v6.ck_modal .ck_close_link top: 30px; @media all and (min-width: 404px) and (max-width: 499px) .ck_form_v6.ck_modal .ck_close_link top: 57px; ]]>

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