A couple more eternal gales refs that I’ve managed to finish up the past week, goodbye staliens I will miss you so as I move on to the human kids

Bisexual Dean

9/12/20 - Is Dean canonically bisexual? That’s a fun question (it depends on where you live, I suppose). Anyway, nothing is stopping you from reading these beautiful fics involving a very bi main character.

Tabula Rasa by Dangerousnotbroken on AO3. (78,340 words).

Tags: Writer!Castiel, Bartender!Dean, Past Relationship, Magic, Canon Typical Violence, Mentions of Alcoholism, Mentions of Past Child Neglect, Mental Illness, Witches, Ghosts, Bisexual Dean, Bisexual Castiel, Angst, Slow Burn, Memory Loss.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: Once upon a time, Castiel Novak had everything. He had a happy home life, a full scholarship, and, if he played his cards right, a promising journalism career. And on top of all of that, he had Dean. Then tragedy struck, as it tends to do, and Castiel lost everything. At thirty six, he’s got none of those things. He’s got no family to speak of. He’s got a job investigating purportedly true tales of the supernatural for a magazine no one reads. And worst of all he hasn’t seen Dean in nearly twenty years. So when research for an article turns him on to a witch who apparently grants wishes in exchange for stories, Castiel figures it’s worth the risk. If making a deal with a witch can get him Dean back, what has he got to lose?

Notes: This was absolutely amazing; written beautifully, with a fantastic plot.

Take You To The Country by almaasi on AO3. (18,987 words).

Tags: Historical AU, Propositions, Eloping, Newspapers, Fluff, Forbidden Love, Misunderstandings, Pining, First Kiss, Established Relationship, Running Away Together, Moving In Together, Childhood Friends, Marriage Proposal, Businessman Dean, Farmer Dean, Emotional Dean, Bisexual Dean, Domestic Dean Winchester, Clockmaker Castiel, Autistic Castiel, Frustrated Sam.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: A Dean/Cas 1950s AU. Dean reads an elopement proposal in the town's local newspaper, written by some old soul in love with their best friend. He's mid-way through expressing to his brother how beautiful he finds it when Dean realises the proposal is for him.

Notes: I love Sam’s subsequent letters to the newspapers at the end, it was just a really good idea done really well.

A Little Slice Of Heaven by onamelancholyhill on AO3. (112,265 words).

Tags: Slow Build, Friends to Lovers, Falling in Love, POV Dean Winchester, POV Third Person, POV Castiel, Bakery and Coffee Shop AU, Episode: s4e17 It’s a Terrible Life, Alternate Universe - Human, Explicit Sexual Content, Bisexual Dean, Idiots in Love.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: Jim Morrison once said, “The most important kind of freedom is to be what you really are.” That was Castiel Novak’s motto in life, and the reason why he accepted his grandmother's inheritance and took the responsibility it implied. Dean Winchester, a remarkable accountant at Sandover Bridge & Iron Inc., however, had other priorities. He lived to serve, hidden in a mask that didn’t allow him to be honest with himself, but lonesome and boring. When destiny made their paths cross, in a less than promising way, with Dean as the instigator and Castiel as his victim, Dean’s mind started wandering, in between pies and cakes, coffees and muffins... What if Mr. Morrison was right? After all, as the guy used to say, "there can’t be any large-scale revolution, until there’s a personal revolution first."

Notes: This was so cute and I adored the plot! It’s making me want to rewatch It’s A Terrible Life but I’ll live.

Just Like You by imherecauseimnotallthere98 on AO3. (35,717 words).

Tags: Homophobia, Homophobic John, Hurt Dean Winchester, Protective Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, Protective Castiel, BAMF Castiel, Protective Sam Winchester, Angry John, Angry Dean Winchester, Angry Sam Winchester, Protective Bobby Singer, Awesome Bobby, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Scared Dean, John Being an Asshole, Swearing, Bisexual Dean, Pansexual Castiel, Past Child Abuse, Accidental Outing, Death Threats, Fluff and Angst, Implied Sexual Content, Sharing a Bed.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: When John shows up at their door in the middle of the night, the Winchesters and Cas start looking into who or what could have brought him back. Meanwhile, Dean struggles to keep his relationship with Cas a secret from his father, with some help from Sam. The tension rises between the Winchesters as Dean shows John that he is no longer the obedient little soldier he once was, and tries to establish himself as an equal with his dad.

Notes: Bobby and Sam are icons in this and should have followed through on their threats. That will be all.

Walk Through Fire For You by purple_charlie on AO3. (2,332 words).

Tags: John Winchester’s A+ Parenting, Angst, Pride, Marijuana Use, Polyamory, Gay Cas, Bisexual Dean, Bisexual Gabriel, Everyone is Queer.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: Boyfriend. The word still feels foreign in Dean’s mouth, still brings back echoes of John Winchester’s thinly-veiled (if even that) homophobia. "Man up, don’t be a sissy, I didn’t raise a fairy". It’s a swollen blister in the back of Dean’s mind, throbbing with pain whenever a stranger’s eyes linger too long on Cas’ hand in his, whenever a waitress double-takes at how close they sit in diner booths. But here, dirty dancing with Cas in a warehouse full of other queer folks, Dean wants to shout from the rooftops- I’m Dean Winchester, I drive the baddest car in town, I lift heavy things for a living, and this is my boyfriend.

Notes: This was so sweet it nearly made me start crying - Cas deserved to be told that he was loved!

Bottom’s Up by mnwood on AO3. (28,103 words).

Tags: Fluff and Crack, Wing Kink, Domestic, Smut, Bisexual Dean, Resolved Sexual Tension, Established Relationship, Wedding Planning, Partying, Weddings.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: Sam could’ve kissed them both when he got to the bunker one day to find a string of clothing (his heart nearly burst with hope when he saw the abandoned flannel and trench coat) leading to a very naked pile of limbs tangled on the couch. Just kidding. Of course it wasn’t the couch. Sam always imagined it as the couch because the fact that he actually found them on the dining room table had tainted the happiness of the memory.

Notes: Jesus, I did not need that level of detail into Dean and Cas’ sex life (but it was very funny).

Stories Are Made Of Mistakes by wildhoneypie on AO3. (4,942 words).

Tags: Human Castiel, Diners, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Bisexual Dean, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Slow Build, Case Fic, Domestic, Didn’t Know They Were Dating.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: In which Cas is human and doesn’t understand basic concepts like: clothing, Mythbusters, moisturizer, and Greek food. Dean is…Dean and doesn’t understand basic concepts like: boyfriends, language, how to tell your friend that he’s a walking miracle, and when not to quip.

Notes: This was so cute and I live for human Cas. I also love the recurring ‘no fucking quipping’ joke in this, although the idea of Cas swearing broke me a bit!

And this one, which has no Destiel content but a very bi Dean:

Uniform of a Winchester by monsterfuckerdean on AO3. (20,591 words).

Tags:  Canon Compliant, Missing Scene, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Bad Parent John Winchester, Young Sam Winchester, Young Dean Winchester, Pre-Season 1, Episode: s5e2 Free to Be You and Me, Angst and Feels, Queer Themes, Character Study, Diners, Sibling Love, Family, Friendship, HBO SPN.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: We all know the story of the amulet Dean wears around his neck. But what about everything else he wears?

Notes: Okay, I have to admit that I am loving the HBO SPN vibes even though I am fully aware that if it was a real show I wouldn’t watch it. This is so good though, and the writing is gorgeous!

My friend came out to me as bisexual this week, and paired with the mess that is the Spanish dub, I thought this would be nice as a little reminder that it doesn’t matter how the show ended, because the fans will always be here and we will always be supportive. Anyway, enjoy!

Vice Versa

Rating: Mature Relationship: Alien X Female!Human Warning: Dirty talk, strong language, Alien/human relationship, Body swapping, Extreme fluff

Word Count:4846

An Alien and his girlfriend screw around with some mysterious tech on an abandoned ship and end up switching bodies.

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"What a shit hole," I kick a wet napkin away. I tighten my hold on my toolbox as I step over the pile of damp trash.

"Probably why its abandoned, maids stopped showing up," Sander laughs to himself. I glance over my shoulder at his calm demeanor. His bottom set of hands are in the pockets of his jumper, the others are crossed over his chest. He looks around at the dark ship, stretching his neck as he looks behind him. His muscle tee is loose over his shoulders, tucked into the tied-up mechanic's jumper. Something falls from the ceiling, dusting his head with debris. He raises one hand and swipes it off his crew cut.

"well at least it looks better than my first apartment," I look around, "perhaps this place has actual running water too."

"You humans and your subpar living spaces," he shakes his head.

We walk through the hallway, searching each room we pass for any residents. The place seems truly abandoned. Trash and debris litter the walkway. No tracks or signs of the previous life is available. No one has been here for a while, which is fine by us. We are just here to see if we can’t kick start the engine. Then guide it to the U.S. Marsh to be dismantled for parts.

Working on a scavenger ship isn't a good life but it’s simple. Especially when you are a valuable asset, get better meals then. I've been working for a little over two years, having been mentored by Sander a few weeks after showing up. We both hit it off and one thing led to another. Now he is my partner in more ways than one. After a year we became inseparable, taking work together. Everyone on board knows by now that if they want something done right, it was sander and me to call.

As I’m distracted looking at the holo-map I jump when I feel something run up my leg. I jump and take a quick step back. Sander begins to laugh, watching me as I investigate my leg. I look up and see his tail flicking lazily around where I stood.

"Fucking asshole," I sneer. He laughs a little louder at my dismay.

"What," he shrugs, "You know I have no say in what that thing does."

I look down at his tail again, "Thing is just as perverted as you are."

He simply shrugs again, "at least the thing has its priorities in check, always finds its way to you."

I fight back the smile creeping on my face, "Flattery will get you nowhere." Sander walks over to me, grabbing at my arm. I playfully jerk away from him, making him fight for it. He gets a firm hold on my forearm and pulls me close to his chest. His bottom pair of arms grab onto my waist. His top plays with my hand, the other petting my hair back.

"Are you sure about that," he grins. I roll my eyes and he pecks me on the nose, "So damn cute."

I can’t stop the smile this time. I push him away and bring up the map again, "Alright, we need to get to the elevator and the engine is on the bottom floor."

"Lead the way mistress," he flourishes his hand. Sliding his bottom pair back into his pockets.

I guide us both to the elevator at the end of the hall. Making our way to the bottom floor. As the doors open, we are both hit by a rancid smell.

"God, that’s like a punch in the nose ain't it," Sander winces.

"yea, smells like damn spoiled eggs," I grimace. We both reluctantly walk out of the lift. Looking around at the complete disarray of the room. The walls are rusted, and the metal sheets are prying away. The floor is covered in an oily sheen and more garbage. Carcasses of rodents litter the corners.

"Put on your mask, I think there is a gas leak," Sander warns. I reach into my tool kit and find the small gas mask. I take it out and strap it to my face. I look over and give him a thumbs up. He copies the gesture. He doesn’t adorn a mask, having a better capacity at rejecting toxins in the air. One of the many reasons he is normally chosen for tasks like this.

We make it to the end of the hall, the door opening at our nearness. Inside the next room is what we came for. The large hydrogen-powered engine. This was an out of date ship it seems. Everyone is all about nuclear or solar-powered ships, not needing great power if you never intend to land on a planet. Just using it for long travel and orbiting.

Looking the engine over it seems a bit off. There are lines of green all around it, giving it a stereotypical alien vibe. Having some bits and pieces beaten out of the sides, leaving chunks missing. Looks like someone attacked this engine.

"Someone shut it off," Sander says from behind the machine. I follow around and see the large switch turned down.

"explains why it took the jaws of life to rip the door open," my voice coming out in echo around the mask. Getting into this disastrous beast was strangely difficult. Like someone made sure the doors were welded shut. Sander shrugs and goes to flip the switch. When it clicked there is a soft whirling then nothing.

"Can never be that easy," He sighs. He switches it off again and looks around the engine. Pulling out a flashlight to look inside the bits that are removed. I walk over to a table aside from the wall, setting down my case. I lean against the wall letting him figure out what's wrong.

Stopping at the front he squints his eyes to get a better look. I can’t help but admire the focus. Sander is amazing at his job, having done it since he was a kid. He loves doing this, this kind of stuff just makes sense to him.

"Seems to be missing a very large part right here," he mumbles to himself. I walk over and look with him. He steps aside, keeping the light still. Looking into the compartment I see what he is talking about. A bunch of wires connected to a splice lay haphazardly at the bottom of the empty space. Looks like someone yanked something out of here, ripping the cords from the connector.

"Well that’s a problem," I sigh. I lean back and look up at Sander, "What now?"

He looks around the room," Maybe it’s in here? Doubt it, but its worth a shot." I nod as we both part to investigate the room.

The tables around are littered with garbage and torn apart machines. Boxes are filled underneath the stands. We search through each one, picking any machine we find. After some time I find a large cube. In the back there are some wire protruding, seeming unnaturally welding to it.

"Hey, I found something," I shout. Turning the machine over I hear sander's footsteps. He crouches down next to me, watching as I fiddle with the wires. Feeling a soft buzz in my hand.

"Looks right," he mumbles," hand it over."

I turn and pass him the machine. As his fingers touch there is a loud pop then a pulse going up my arm then blinding my eyes. I drop the machine and lose my footing, falling against the hard floor. I faintly hear the box drop along with Sander. My eyes can’t focus, blurring and swarming with black dots. The last thing I see is sander passed out on the floor.

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

With a jolt, I snap my eyes open. I sit upright, wincing when I see the light ahead. My torso is heavy, and my feet feel sensitive. I raise my hand to my head, jumping when I see two hands raised. I stare down shocked at the dark green skin and clawed hand.

"Wha-," I start. I grip my fist, watching as both hands do so. I try to raise one but they both follow. There is something familiar about this arm like I’ve seen it a hundred times. I look down at my chest, noticing immediately my lacking parts. I’m covered by a black muscle tee. My lower half covered by a blanket. I throw the sheet back and look down at the all too familiar jumper tied around my waist.

"No," I whisper. I jump out of bed, catching vertigo as I stand. My top feeling heavy and a large weight down my spine. I turn around and catch sight of a very familiar tail. "No," I say louder. I spin in a circle, following the- my - tail. "No," I shout.

Across the room, I hear a groan, looking up I see someone lying in bed. Feeling the familiarity but not placing it I walk over. I stumble a bit, not use to having such long legs. I catch myself with my two left hands at the end of the bed. I look down at the human. She has an all too familiar look, something I know I’ve seen a thousand times. Seeing that face every day in the mirror.

I’m looking at myself in bed.

"No," I shout, stumbling away from the bed.

"God, I’m trying to fucking sleep. Shut up," I- they - say from the bed. It’s very strange to hear my own voice, it's higher than I realized.

"Jesus, do I sound like that," I wince. My voice sounding extremely deep. I cough and grip my throat, "God, I sound weird."

My body sits up from the bed in a jolt. They look at me immediately, giving a once over. Their eyes widen, pointing at me before covering their mouth.

"Wha- wait, Fuck," she says. She looks down at her hands, flipping them over multiple times. She rubs her eyes then repeats. She jerks her hands to her side, feeling along her ribs. "Where are my arms," she whimpers. I watch in shock as this person controls my body.

She jerks her head to me, "Who are you?"

"Uh, you," I wince. They look down at their body.

"Who am I," she asks. Turning towards the side table she grabs the metal bowl. Checking her reflection, turning the item this way and that. "no," they whisper. Dropping the bowl she turns to me, "Baby girl?"

"Sander," I ask back.

"No fucking way," she-he- shouts. Sander- I- jump out of bed, falling immediately onto the floor. I see his hand-my hand- slap onto the bed. Pulling himself up he glares at me. "Where did we meet?"

I stare confused, "What?"

He stands up, staring at me cryptically, "How do I know that you are who you suggest, where did we meet?"

"Uh, I worked beside Larkin in Storages. You caught me fixing the lift and offered to mentor me," I rush out.

He squints at me, "Anyone could know that, where did we first have sex?"

"That’s appropriate," I drop my hands to my hip. I wince when I see the multiple arms. It’s easy to forget.

"Answer me, where did we first make love," he snaps.

"You considered our first time as making love," I blush. He slaps his hand onto the bed.

"Answer the damn question," he shouts. It’s very strange to hear my voice yell at me.

"Was my room because yours was a shoebox compared to mine, on the living room couch" I answer. His posture relaxes and he stares concernedly at me.

"Doll, what happened," he sounds so small. Which I guess for the time he is small. My voice not helping at all, making my heart break a little.

"I have no idea; I woke up and now I have two sets of arms. Then a fucking tail," I manage to lift my tail. I stare down confused as I shift it either way. Flexing it and twirling it. "You fucking liar, you have full control of your tail," I snap at him.

"Yep, it really is you," he smiles. I have a cute smile, I notice. He walks around the bed, stumbling as he goes. He stops in front of me, giving me a once over. "Damn, you make me look good," he chuckles.

"I don’t think right now is a good time for jokes," I scold. I try to lift my hand but still manage to lift both at the same time. "Also how the fuck do you control these damn things," I wave my arms around. I lift both sides and try to drop just the bottom set. I strain with the effort and manage to drop them to my sides.

"Takes practice, Doll," he plays around with his new hands, "Also your voice is very strange to hear coming out of my mouth. Well, I guess your mouth."

"Yea, your voice vibrates through my chest," I rub a hand down my torso.

As we investigate our new bodies someone walks in. we both turn and see a nurse.

"Oh you both seem to be up and at em," the woman smiles. She is a Krattin, or Kraxin. I'm not familiar with the name but she just reminds me of my Aunt's cat, Phillip.

"Do you know what happened," Sander tries to walk around me. He stumbles still, scolding himself. "How the hell is it so hard to walk with your legs," he barks over his shoulder. The nurse stares at him confused.

"Are you having weakness in your legs miss," the nurse asks.

Sander sneers at her, "Do not call my miss. She is miss, I'm Sander." he points back at me then to himself. The nurse is more confused.

"No, that’s Sander," she points to me.

"No, I’m Sander. That’s my Girlfriend," He clarifies. I can’t help but chuckle at the situation. Sander glares which makes me laugh more. Glared at by my own face isn't that intimidating

The nurse steps closer to Sander," Perhaps you hit your head a bit too hard, lay down and ill check you out."

As the nurse reaches over, sander bats her hand away, "Babe, your help would be divine right now."

"Yea alright," I laugh, "miss, there seems to have been a mishap because I’m not who I’m supposed to be." the nurse looks up at me with her head tilted.

"What do you mean," she asks.

"Well, I’m in the wrong body for starters. I generally don’t have four arms or a pointless tail," I gesture to my tail.

"It’s not pointless, I’m hella top-heavy. It balances me out," sander scolds.

"I’ve seen plenty of men with huge torsos that don’t require a tail," I snap back.

He folds his arms," I have four arms, that’s pretty top-heavy. Your human men hardly count at such with their pathetic muscles."

"Pathetic? How would you know, you have a swimmer's body," I gesture to myself.

"Don’t give me that bullshit, you know you love my slender physique," he tries to purr. It just comes out awkward.

"It’s too weird to be hit on by yourself," I shake my head.

He looks down at his body," Yea, it weird to talk to myself as well."

The nurse stands by watching the exchange with pure confusion," OK, now I’m lost."

We both turn to her, "Right, I’m sorry. I hope that explains it. We seemed to have body swapped."

"Ugh, don’t say it like that. This isn’t that stupid movie you made me watch," Sander winces.

"Which movie? There is a bunch like that," I turn to him.

"The uh," he flips his hand about, "the two women. Switches with the mom."

"Freaky Friday?"

"Yes, that one. Fucking stupid," he goes back to crossing his arms. We turn back to the nurse who looks on the verge of calling security.

"Well, I'm going to check your vitals. Perhaps order for a scan of your brains," she says slowly.

"We aren’t crazy," Sander snaps.

"I never said you are, just sometimes in a tragic situation like near-death that people can make up things," she tries to explain.

"Do you think we are making this up," I ask.

"No, I think you honestly believe that you have swapped but most likely just mimicking their actions and believe such thing as mental swap actually happened,” she makes an excuse. It would be a solid excuse if I wasn’t the one dealing with it. I know I’m not who I should be. The ground is way too far away from my head. I have way too many arms, and I have a prehensile tail.

"Here, how bout we answer some question that only we would know," Sander suggests. He was always the one to try to quickly face a problem. "call Peter and Macy. They know more about us than anyone," he waves his hand.

With that suggested the nurse leaves the room. We both assume to collect our friends, but more likely to talk with someone about the situation. We converse amongst ourselves, admiring our new bodies while we wait.

Around an hour later the room is filled with people. Peter and Macy stand in front of us. A few nurses are poking and prodding our heads as a small group of people are surrounding us. It seems word got out fast about our predicament and a few brave souls have shown up for the freak show.

"Alright, sander," Peter starts," Last Christmas I got super hammered. What was the favor I asked you the next day?"

Sander bats the hands of the nurse away, "Easy, you asked that I don’t tell Katy about that Huxst you were hitting on." a few people around the room chuckle. A Huxst is a species of Lethargic creatures. They are very intelligent but very slow, keeping weight like no one's business.

"I should have picked a less embarrassing question," peter winces, "But she could have guessed that"

"Then why pick that question, rule was that you pick one only I would know. That only Sander would know," He corrects himself.

"Fine, give me a second," Peter thinks," ok, last week you asked me to pick up something for your girl. You wanted it to be a surprise, so I know she has no idea about it." I look over at sander, curiosity peaked.

Sander glanced up at me blushing," Different question."

"No, answer that one," Peter scolds. Sander looks up at me then back at the floor.

"Fine," He hisses, "it’s a signed copy of her favorite vinyl. It was in mint condition so I know she could use it whenever she wanted. The sleeve was worn but you could clearly see the signature from everyone in the band." I’m a bit floored by his revelation. It’s a very considerate gift. I have an old beat-up record player I got from my dad when he passed. It has fond memories every time I play one of his records. I know exactly what band he is talking about. It was a very old rock band. The fact that he didn’t just find one but one that was signed it beyond me.

"Really," I ask. I set my hand on his arm. Feeling strange touching my own skin with his.

He looks up at me," yea, it was meant for your birthday next month." I smile down at him, pressing my hand to my heart.

"I'd kiss you but I rather not kiss myself," I laugh. I get a chuckle out of him as well.

"I guess that answers it," Peter claps his hands, "They switched bodies." a few people around the room grumble as some exchange funds. I guess in that short time there were already bets.

Macy steps forward with her arms out," Wait. We have to make sure they are switched with each other. He could be anyone" She gestures to me.

"Well then Macy, ask me a question that only id know," I fold my top set of arms over my chest. Copying Sander's signature pose by putting my lower arms in my pockets.

Macy gives me a once over as she thinks, "When you first met Sander's do you remember what you told me?"

"That he is an ass," I chuckle. Sander flicks me in the arm.

"No, well yes but not what I meant," She smiles, "We sat in your room after y'alls first time. You were all gushy and giddy, hugging the pillow he slept on." I remember that day clearly. It was the afternoon after we first had sex. He stayed the night but left the next morning to work. I met up with Macy, needing to talk to her. I couldn’t stop smiling as I gave her the details of our date. I looked at her said -

"I think he is the one."

There were a few awes from the crowd, but I was too embarrassed to look up. I hid my face in my hand, not wanting anyone to see the blush on my cheeks. I felt a hand on mine, pushing it aside. I look upon my own face, filled with admiration.

"You really knew by then," He whispers. Keeping his voice down so no one can hear our private moment.

"Of course, you were wonderful," I can’t help but smile. He smiles back, bumping his head into mine.

"God you are such a softie," He has a wide smile, "I think I have to kiss you"

I lean back," No, I’m not going to kiss myself."

He grabs my face," Too bad, that was too adorable. I have to kiss you, its law." I fight against his hands, finding it easier now that I’m the stronger one. "Nope, don’t fight it," He laughs. I give in, letting him peck me on the lips. I drop my head to his shoulder.

"Fuck, I wish these people weren't here," I grumble. I feel Sander turn his head and regards the group.

"Proof enough," He asks the crowd," Now someone fix this, please. I’d like to kiss my girlfriend with my own mouth."

Everyone left the room besides the nurses who are still trying to poke and prod. We gave up trying to fight them a while ago. As we sat in relative silence we jump when the door opens. A few people roll in some machines on a dolly cart. One of the machines caught our eye immediately.

"that one," Sander shouts. He jumps out of bed, getting used to his new legs, and stops in front of the box. "this little fucker," He growls.

I hope out of bed and stop behind him. He leans down to pick it up but thinks better of it.

"Do we know what this is," He asks the workers in the room. I look around to see they are his workers. The mechanics that do more of the tinkering and fixing of the place.

"No, but it does emit a strong power. Rodney assumes it’s a battery of some kind," one of them that I recognize as Krait says.

"A battery," Sander rolls his eyes, "The thing is some magic body swapper device and you assume it’s a fucking battery."

"Chill out, they know as much as we do," I rest my hand on his shoulder.

"Excuse me for being a bit tense," He scolds over his shoulder," Fuck, I can’t even scold you properly. When did I get so damn tall!"

"Sucks being short doesn’t it," I laugh.

He sneers up at me," We better figure out how to switch back soon because I will have you on your back in seconds."

"promises, promises," I shake my head.

"Damn straight it’s a promise," he snorts. He looks down at the box, using his covered foot to nudge it a bit.

"How did you two switch to begin with," Krait asks.

"Well I found the thing and handed it to him," I point to Sander," and then there was a flash and we woke up here."

"You feel the weird buzzing up your arm and to your head first," Sander looks up at me.

"Yea, it was like being shocked," I rub my arm.

"Then let’s do that again," Krait suggests, "She picks up the box and hand it so Sander."

"I guess it’s worth a shot," Sander shrugs, "Can’t imagine we can get more fucked up."

"Hey, watch yourself. That my body you are 'fucked up' in," I nudge him.

He pets his hands down his chest, groping himself as he does so." and what a lovely body it is too." I kick him in the back of the knee, making him buckle. "Fucking ow," he winces. He rubs his knee as he eyes the box. He glances up at me next, "Ladies first?"

"According to the genitals in the room, I'm afraid to say that it’s you who is the lady," I smirk.

"On your back, screaming my name. that will happen even if we aren't switched back," He glares at me.

"Then let’s hope we can switch back because If we don’t I will be the one topping you," I laugh. He continues glaring but with a bit of mirth.

"Guys, please touch the creepy alien box before I vomit," Krait cringes. We both smile at each other at Krait's expense.

Sander reaches out first and grabs the box. Without my command, my tail wraps around his ankle. He looks down and grins.

"Told you I don’t have control over it," he glances back up. I shake my head as I tighten the tail's grip. Sander lifts the box from the dolly and turns to face me. "If you are in any pain, I want you to say so, I know how stubborn you are," he demands.

"I promise, it’s going to be ok," I console. I timidly reach out my top arms. Hovering my hands over the box, feeling the electric pulsing already. With a quick breath, I slap my hands to it.

Just like before I feel the current run up my arms and into my head. This time I feel like my skull is going to burst. I feel the heat behind my eyes and all I see is white. Then in a second, my legs buckle, and I fall to the floor. My head bouncing as it cracks against the tiles.

<<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>

I wake up with déjà vu. I'm sprawled over a hospital bed but this time I’m not wrapped in a blanket. I squint at the ceiling lights, making a note to tell the nurse to dim them for anyone who has been knocked out. I rub my eyes, feeling the softness of my own skin. I run my fingers through my long hair, brushing it away from my face.

"You are damn slow to the catch," I hear a deep voice beside me. I look over and see Sander sitting up in bed, watching me with a smile. I squint at him confused before it clicks. I jolt up in bed, "there she is. Hi, doll."

"It worked," I twist off the bed. He does the same, planting his- HIS- feet on the floor.

"Yes it did, lovely to see you again," he laughs as he walks over to me. I grab his bottom arms and pull him close. He kneels and wraps both sets around me. "God it feels so good to touch you with my own hands," He rubs his face on my head. I can’t stop the choked laugh that escapes me. It really worked, it fucking worked.

I lean back and grab his face. Pulling him down and taking his lips to mine. He gives no fight, tilting my head with his hand. His other hands petting me, memorizing everything. Perhaps having a new admiration for touching with his own skin when he lost it before. I reach up and grab his hair. Tugging on the short strands the way I know he likes. He groans into my mouth, grounding his hips into the bed.

"I’ll take it that it worked," I hear a voice call. We part and I turn to see Peter and Macy.

"Yea," I answer softly. Sander brushes his nose around my ear, still groping and petting me.

"I guess we should leave you two alone," Macy says. She grabs peter and drags him out of the room.

I turn back to Sander, resting my forehead on his.

"Hi," I smile.

"Hi," he answers back.

"What should we do now?"

"Fulfill a promise," he lifts me from the bed. His lower arms hold my thighs around his waist while his top ones hold my hips. He walks me towards the door, opening it to a nurse.

"Where are you two going," the nurse asks as she steps aside. we walk past her.

Halfway down the hallway, Sander yells out, "I'm going to make love to my girlfriend."

I laugh while peppering his face with kisses.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Refrenced the only two body swap movies i know. Vice versa and Freaky Friday. This was meant to have more to it but it was already getting long so it's cut short. still reads well in my opinion. Check out my archive

The Secret Chord pt 2 Luke Loses

Gotta keep the story moving I guess

Featuring: Interruptions x2, Angry Puppy Luke, Cuddle Piles, Betrayal of the Highest Order, and Homework

Also a lot of Juke. It’s not going to stay this fluffy forever so enjoy it while you can! 

Read it on Ao3 here

or below! ~2k words

From the Previous Chapter:

His hand cradled her face so gently, while the other pushed a strand of hair away from her face. “Now till eternity.” Slowly he moved his forehead to rest against hers. While he didn’t breathe, he could feel hers against his face. Noses touching, he asked “Can I?”

She pulled him closer in response. She could feel the momentum pulsing through her as she tilted her head, reaching for him.

And then….

-------

Then the tell-tale sound of a ghost poofing into the room followed by the sound of an impatient Reggie. “Are you two coming? You’ve been up here for awhile and ohhh!!!”

Luke and Julie sprang apart at the sudden intrusion a blush crawling up both of their faces as they remember what just nearly happened if it weren’t for Reggie’s accidental intrusion. Julie offered a soft laugh at the entire situation while Luke offered Reggie a small glare.

Reggie on the one hand kept looking back and forth between the two of them as if he couldn’t believe he’d just seen it. They’d all known about the hopeless pining, but neither him or Alex had suspected things would move this fast. What exactly should he do here?

More importantly, what did he want to do here?

A quick decision made he moved towards the two and pushed his way between them. Turning to Julie with hands clasped on her shoulders he smiled. “I’m so sorry, he’s an idiot”

“HEY”

“He’s also a dork and loyal to a fault. But also, seriously, he’s an idiot. If he hurts you, you come find me and Alex and we’ll take care of it. You’re an Angel.” Julie was struggling to stifle her giggles as Luke looked at Reggie in shock and horror.

Reggie whipped around, making sure to place Julie directly behind him. He crossed his arms and glared at the sputtering Luke who did not expect this reaction at all. Reggie started pointing a finger at him and Luke found himself subconsciously taking a step back and putting his hands up in a defensive move.

“That’s our most precious person Julie. If you hog her, we will hurt you. If you hurt her, we will find a way to kill you again. Understood?”

Luke found himself nodding rapidly as Reggie stepped out from between them. He offered a small salute before poofing into the studio presumably to update Alex. Luke was still in shock as Julie lost the battle against her laughter.

“Did that really just happen? Did Reggie really just threaten me?” Julie flomped onto her bed, curling against the headrest and pulling a pillow into her lap. “That absolutely just happened. Looks like I get the band in the breakup.”

He smiled as he settled on the other end of the bed. “You can have them, the traitors.” He looked deep into her eyes and felt the smile on his face soften. Unsure of when he became a nervous, hesitant kind of guy. But here he was, jittery and scared of this powerhouse of a girl with a voice like a wrecking ball who had the power to wreck him too.

Sheepishly he reached to rub the back of his neck, “We should probably talk about that huh?”

Suddenly quiet, Julie offered him a small smile to keep going.

“What if, you and I, were like together? I mean, I can’t really take you on any dates and I can’t really offer you anything. But I just. I just want to be able to stand beside you and call you mine. I want to make music with you and lay in the grass and stare at the stars and hold your hand at the beach. I just want to be with you and be close, but is that enough?”

As much as she loved watching her rambling, nervous, tripping over his tongue ghost boy she thought it might be time to put him out of his misery. “You’re enough Luke. You’ve always been enough. I just want to be with you too however much or little as we can. Whatever that looks like we’ll figure it out.” She reached out and covered his hand with hers, “Together.”

He looked up at her, a twinkle in his eye as he scooched closer to her on the bed. Once more he found himself leaning in until her breath was ghosting across his lips. She was holding tight to his shirt, smiling at how exciting it felt just to reach out and touch him. She leaned into him hoping this time-

Alex poofed into the room. “Wow, Reggie really wasn’t kidding”. Luke glared at Alex while muttering a soft string of curses and pouting. They’d been interrupted twice. TWICE. What exactly did he have to do to get enough privacy to kiss the girl of his dreams here?

Alex let out a laugh, clearly enjoying a disgruntled Luke. “C’mon Jukebox. Let’s hurry it up. Seriously Luke, you can’t hog Julie all to yourself.”

Julie murmured to herself “Jukebox?” Alex smiled and explained how Reggie had come up with the name. Luke on the other hand had maneuvered himself so he could pull Julie into his lap while still pouting at Alex.

“And why not exactly? She’s my girlfriend and-“

Alex held up a hand, a twinkle in his eye and a smirk on his face. Oh he was about to enjoy this. “Are you about to tell me that girlfriend trumps band mates?” The sight of Luke’s open-mouthed shock gave Alex an endless amount of pleasure. “Is THE Luke Patterson, aka The-band-is-the-first-and-only-priority Patterson, aka Music-is-the-only-thing-I-need Patterson, AKA My-Bandmates-are-my-family Patterson about to tell me, that his girlfriend trumps his band?”

Luke switched from sad disappointed puppy to angry puppy somewhere in that whole tirade, although it seemed to have very little effect on his mocking bandmate. He could feel the silent laughter from Julie, and he poked her sides whispering in her ear “Hey! You’re supposed to be on my side.” Yet he saw the glittering in her eye and a look on her face that always spelled trouble as she eased herself out of his arms.

“Well…. I am getting kind of tired andddd Alex does give the best hugs.” She’d walked over to Alex by this point and wrapped him in a hug which he was more than happy to return.

Luke flopped back onto the bed dramatically. “Betrayal! Betrayal of the highest order! She’s been my girlfriend for all of five minutes and already I’ve been betrayed.” Admittedly though, he couldn’t finish his lament with a straight face as Julie and Alex began to laugh and he did too.

Julie began to pack up all her things as Alex kept a watchful eye to make sure the two stayed focus. She’d watched Luke smack Alex in the arm when he thought she wasn’t looking. Her trio of ghosties were brothers through and through and it was nice to watch them finally be able to relax after having their afterlives on the line for so long.

Once she grabbed everything she needed, she turned to the boys and quirked up an eyebrow. “The real question is of course, once we get down there, who’s going to get to cuddle up the closest?” Alex’s face lit up as if he’d had the best idea and Luke, well, he began to eye Alex rather suspiciously as they both poofed out. She made her way down to the garage ready for whatever antics would be in store.

Inevitably, Luke lost. Upon entering the studio, Reggie had wrapped Julie in a hug and refused to let go. Add a little of Alex’s sarcasm and Reggie’s puppy pout and Luke was a goner. They’d all collapsed onto the bed Julie residing in the center, with a Reggie and an Alex curled up on either side, wrapped tightly around her. Luke was on the opposite side of Reggie but managed to reach his arm all the way across to Julie’s waist where her fingers surrounded and tangled with his.

In truth Luke couldn’t complain. He was wrapped up with his favorite people, in his favorite place, and the girl of his dreams was his. It was all he could ever ask for and he settled in to the sound of Julie’s soft breaths and the feel of her pulse on his hand.

The next morning brought sunshine and an overwhelming sense of weight. Julie couldn’t remember the last time she slept so well and so comfortably, except for the fact that she couldn’t seem to move. There seemed to be a steady, reassuring pressure which surrounded her.

At one point she’d tried to wiggle and squirm, but that seemed to make the unmovable forces surrounding her move closer and tighter. Ughhh she didn’t want to open her eyes to deal with this. All she wanted to do was drift back to sleep and she could almost grasp it. It was futile unfortunately and she slowly opened an eye to find that her ghostie boys had shifted during the night.

Alex and Reggie were still pretty much in the same places, but Luke had somehow managed to crawl over Reggie in order to end up directly on top of her. His head rested on her stomach and his arms traveled up the length of her sides while Reggie and Alex’s crisscrossed over her. Of course this brought up the mystery of where her arms were, but somehow she managed to dig one out to play with Luke’s hair.

There were certainly worst things in the world to wake up to than three cuddly ghosts, and there were certainly worst places to be than on the bottom of a ghostly puppy pile. A grumbling broke the silence however, reminding them all that Julie was human and it was time for breakfast.

Her ghost boys groaned and protested, attempting to solidify their hold into a true cocoon. Somehow though, Julie managed to squirm her way free. She padded over to the house to find her father cooking pancakes. She’d definitely had worst mornings indeed.

In fact her entire day was beginning to seem like a haze of warmth and love since she finished breakfast and curled up on the couch with Carlos for cartoons, followed by more snuggling time with her boys. Eventually, she’d gone upstairs to retrieve her homework. The boys had volunteered to help, although she was pretty sure they mostly just want to be within arms distance of her, which meant doing it at the kitchen table rather than her room.

Luke ended up sitting to her left. He sat close enough that they could brush shoulders, but also so that he could rest his hand on her knee. Occasionally, when she wasn’t using her left hand, she’d bring it down to Luke’s and he’d trace circles with his thumb over her hand. Just small undemanding touches that drifted and lingered after she would pull her hand away, needing it once more.

Reggie sat to her right since he seemed to know all the answers. He’d thrown his left arm over the back of her chair so he could better write on the page with his right. She could feel his weight on her back, and it was reassuring whenever she ended up frustrated or hit a particularly tricky equation.

Alex sat on the opposite side of Reggie and his eyes had glazed over very close to the beginning, but she could tell he was still paying attention at least to her. He’d stretched out one of his legs, so it sat directly between her own. She could bring her feet together on either side and feel him there. Every now and again, a tune would pop into his head and his foot would start moving, tapping the ground or the tops of her feet. She wouldn’t look up, but she always let herself take a moment to be distracted and smile before diving back in. Their reverie was broken at the sound of a doorbell.

Julie got up to answer the door, the boys following along like puppies while holding tightly to the back of her shirt. They stayed mostly hidden by the door as Julie opened it to reveal Nick standing on her doorstep holding a bouquet of flowers.

as a child, pokéverse lotor (like all human lotors) loved causing mischief, putting every single other troublemaking little kid on the planet to shame. bored to tears by high school even at the tender age of five, he put every single one of his prodigious IQ points to use on making trouble for his family and for everyone else around him. taking care of him was like taking care of a cat crossed with a raccoon on crack; such was his propensity for creating chaos. literally his entire childhood ages 2 - 10 was just a neverending series of shit he’d pulled, such as the things listed below.

when lotor was seven and in college for the first time, he wasn’t handling his first semester particularly well. he expected the work to be easy, and eventually it would be, but initially it hit him like a ton of bricks and he couldn’t cope with it as well as he thought he could. so to let off some steam, he played a little game: he would see if he could convince his family that they were being haunted by a ghost-type pokémon.

he did so by destroying things with his zoroark’s extrasensory, sometimes in the dead of night, sometimes during the day when no one was around, all the items getting increasingly expensive with each time this happened. cabinets of fine china, wardrobes of expensive clothing, fine furniture—all of it scratched up, smashed, ruined. but one thing aroused his family’s suspicion. and it was that not even keeping their dark-types out of their poké balls on a regular basis seemed to do anything to stop this poltergeist, which was uncharacteristically unafraid of anything the sinclines had to throw at it—and that’s what tipped honerva off to the fact that one of the children in the family was probably pulling this.

she had her confirmation that it was not in fact a ghost when lotor struck in the library. the sinclines take academic studies very seriously, so of the four stories in their manor one entire story—the top floor—is dedicated to just being a library. through zoroark’s extrasensory, lotor toppled every single one of the bookshelves like dominoes, sending all the books scattering on the floor and waking up the entire sincline family with the din at 2 in the morning. however, the extensive rare book section of the library was untouched by the damage. lotor was as much a scholar as the rest of his family, and he was not going to destroy priceless and sometimes sacred historical tomes—such as some of the oldest printed copies of the torah, or the original manuscripts of bach and beethoven—for his own amusement. this was a dead giveaway to honerva that a human was causing this trouble because a poltergeist would have probably caused the most damage to the most precious part of the collection instead of deliberately avoiding it altogether…and so her suspicion immediately turned to her chaotic bastard son. he denied, denied, denied, but she saw through him and grounded him for a whole entire year. he was allowed to use zoroark’s extrasensory to lift the bookcases back into place. however, he had to file each and every one of the thousands of fallen books into the proper place by hand.

when lotor was eight and in college, he was going to have an indoor pool party on his birthday, february 14. however, he got in trouble for swearing at one of his professors for the 987239847th time, so honerva, famous among unovan nobility for being a strict ass mom, canceled the whole damn party. lotor, as anyone might expect, was extremely upset at this, but nobody could have predicted what was coming next. that night, he stayed up until his family was asleep, took off his pajamas and put on his swim trunks…and straight up FLOODED THE HOUSE.

the sincline manor has four stories. he went to three of them, flung open every single bathroom door, plugged every drain, turned on every single sink tap and bathtub tap and showerhead, and let the water pour. honerva found out when she woke in the early hours of the morning to use the restroom, and stepped into the water that had begun to flood her bedroom. she waded through the pouring waves, then flung open the door and saw lotor and his zoroark swimming in the hallway. the two of them had a brief row before she realized her first priority should be to stop the flooding, so she went through the house turning off all the taps—only to discover that the bottom floor had already been completely flooded and the second floor was slowly filling up with water as well. angrily, she turned on lotor and asked him if he realized this would happen, if he knew that eventually the taps wouldn’t be able to be turned off anymore. lotor just sort of looked down and to the side and mumbled, “i…didn’t think that far ahead.”

the sincline family had to evacuate through the windows of their bedrooms while their water-type pokémon swam through the inundated corridors of the first and second floors to turn off all the taps, open the door and let out all the water. the damage to the nearly four hundred year old manor was so extensive that it got on the news; lotor was grounded for the rest of the year, but the sinclines told reporters that it had simply been a freak accident with the plumbing. the truth didn’t come out until many years later when lotor was champion of preuzien, when he confessed to having flooded the house in a public apology and restoration of financial damages. all he can say is, he really wanted that pool party.

but none of that will ever compare to the crowning episode of lotor’s fuckery. when lotor was five, he literally pulled so much fuckshit that he shut down his school for a year. as stated before, school bored him to tears and so he went to extreme lengths to make sure it couldn’t take place. he put rotten cat food in the air vents. he had his pokémon friends cut the legs off all the chairs and desks. he used goodra slime combined with other chemicals to create an industrial strength sticky substance and glued all the doors shut……except for the doors to the school, so that people would go in and be confused by how none of the classrooms would open, and the door to the principal’s office, so he would see the big steaming pile of iridescent garchomp shit on his desk. when the students literally had to attend classes at another location because of that, lotor used a combination of hail, blizzard, ice plate and icy rock to cause driving snowstorms that affected only the area of the school so that nobody could drive in; it didn’t let up for months. honerva homeschooled him for the rest of the semester, so he didn’t quite manage to get out of school, but given she was much more entertaining and intellectually engaging than his teachers due to actually being on the same cognitive level as he, it certainly was a win.

he blew it though in march of the spring semester, when he got a bit too clever and forged the school bully’s handwriting in a letter that blackmailed the school. the letter said that she was the person behind all of this and that she would stop in exchange for acquiescing to her demand that there would be no more homework, quizzes, tests or grades for any student at that school, indefinitely. the school immediately moved to expel the bully, but honerva, who had heard about this due to being on the school board, realized that there was something more to this than met the eye. from what lotor had told her, the school bully was the dumbest kid he had ever met, and never paid attention in any of her classes. so how could she have known how to create a substance from goodra slime that could hold doors shut for literal months on end? working backward from this inference, she discovered the full extent of what her son did, and without missing a beat turned him in to the principal. lotor was expelled instead of his target, the news went nationwide overnight, and he also lost his position as first violin of the opelucid philharmonic orchestra. but he won the PR battle in a certain way: the school’s students all knew him and still know him to this day as a living legend. he also won in another way: having deduced that he had acted out this way because he was bored of school, honerva insisted on homeschooling him until he was ready for college, which he found to be more agreeable to his needs.

that goodra slime concoction never came out of the doors, by the way. they literally had to take down the entire doorframes and rebuild them all over again.

The Fall ‘18/Winter ‘19 Edition of…

It’s a better-late-than-never situation, but it’s finally here!

*~* New to The Nail? *~*

The Nail isn’t about perfection. It isn’t about award-level contenders. It isn’t for highlighting certain genres of fics or specific ships. It’s about seeing real effort and hard work radiate off of the screen - the sole focus is quality. Character dimension. Writing with clever readers in mind. Well-built worlds. Killer starts and clutch endings. Crazy crisp dialogue. Incredibly tight plotting. More shows, less tells. Big emotion.

Find past editions HERE. Find what factors are considered when constructing this rec list, and learn how to get your recommendations to me HERE. Find info on the structure of these rec posts HERE, with answers to FAQs such as “Why did someone make up a title for my piece?”, and more.

>> The Basics On What’s Below <<

- All from the world of SPN (unless otherwise noted, i.e. cross-overs), across all genres; these are organized by length for the most part, so you’ll need to click thru to see if it is a theme of your preference; I aim to not have too much that’s of the same genre/length in a given edition, and limit the times a writer can appear on a given list (if they had more that fit the bill, I’ll chuck ‘em to next edition’s list); when applicable, unique projects, original stories, and any anecdotes/personal essays/family stories/etc. are near the end.

- You’ll see icons throughout…

If it has NSFW elements / walks an NSFW line - ⚠️

If it features / blatantly alludes to a specific ship - 🚢

If it has less than 100 notes (at time of this post) - 📌

And that last item is very important.

- A main priority of The Nail is to have at least 50% of these one-and-done SPN stories (so, drabbles and one-shots) be those which have less than 100 notes (give or take a few self-reblogs by the writer, and not counting mine) in each posting, and for this edition, out of 36, these comprise 26 so the goal was met!

Highly encourage you to at minimum hit the heart, ideally reblogging along with a note of feedback if you enjoyed. To do my part, I’ll be queuing these low-note fics one per day after this edition is published.

- Reblog of this rec list by “big blogs” (let’s say 1K followers and up) is especially appreciated, and not for my sake; it’s to get these wonderful writers with low note fics as much exposure as possible.

- Writers, make sure you scroll - you may be on here more than once!

- “Notes from Nash" at the very bottom of the post.

- For your mobile convenience, here’s The Nail Master Post of Editions

- And finally, shameless plugs....

 See Nash Write: Master List

You Totally Made That Up podcast - @youtotallymadethatup

Note: Just a line or two excerpt to paint a little picture - no specific feedback on these drabbles because each writer nailed it in the entirety - all are poignant, well-structured, thoughtful, and they did it all in a limited amount of words. Well done, all of you. 

181 words

The Wishes 📌  -  @sixtysevenandwhiskey 

It’s a lot of nothing, until nothing is all there is.

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182 words

Stars 📌  -  @covered-byroses

She loved looking at the stars.

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223 words

Storytelling 📌  -  @always-keep-writing

He shouldn’t be surprised that it ends up being a story.

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230 words

A Long Forty Years  -  @babybluecas

Sometimes, he’d wish he was so much older.

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352 words

Control 📌 -  @idreamofhazel

If only Dean knew the other, more biting things he holds under his tongue.

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370 words

His Hair 📌 🚢  -  @gabrielfallstonight  

He often wondered if, by spending as much time on Earth as he did, he was growing almost human.

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427 words

Topper  -  @alleiradayne  

Coffee. He just needed a cup. Or four. Okay, maybe the whole pot.

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483 words

Tedium 📌  -  @smi727  

This situation was something Michael simply could not abide.

555 words

Kids These Days 📌  -  @revwinchester  

A little behind-the-scenes interlude wherein Dean has an interaction with some kids in town. In medias res, OCs developed in a short amount of space, thoughtful/nice message without being preachy.

.

560 words

Four Months Expired (But Still Good) 📌 🚢  -  @bendingsignpost

A delightful scene based on a premise that could've gone saccharine but stays the just right amount of sweet and humorous.

(I cannot tag this lovely, if someone would be so kind as to try to do so in the comments, it would be appreciated!)

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570 words

Black 📌 - @sculptorofbeginningslibrary  

An introspective look at Dean in the time between waking up with his demonized soul and when he left the bunker; doesn't merely recap what we know; nice take on the physical changes; excellent characterization.

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633 words

Smoked  -  @ameliacareful

A snicker-worthy tale of what should be an ordinary shopping trip, but as we know nothing can ever be simple for the brothers; well-structured, solid characterization, concise  descriptions that put you right there with them.

(I cannot tag this lovely, if someone would be so kind as to try to do so in the comments, it would be appreciated!)

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664 words

Last Night  -  @atwistoffate

A brief interaction between you and Dean that is a perfect balance of snarky and cute, and (thank Chuck) Dean is portrayed realistically, and I personally salute the writer for not uttering a single Y/N or sweetheart (it can be done, folks). I'd also be remiss not to highlight this beauty: “You know what? I don’t even care,” Dean says, caring deeply.

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714 words

Stay  -  @there-must-be-a-lock

Absolutely beautiful moment between you and Sam that doesn't get weighed down by over-dramatic pining, in part thanks to a sandwich. In medias res; descriptions that paint the picture without diving too deep; lovely from beginning to end.  

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812 words

Carolina 📌  -  @atc74

A first-person, introspective tale of an interaction Dean has with a stranger. In medias res; sets the stage from the opening paragraph, putting you right into Dean's shoes; well-developed OC in short amount of time; great closing lines.

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841 words

Strange Gifts 📌 -  @lastactiontricia  

Michael gives you the "gift" of knowing your potential fates. In medias res; great structure/descriptions that convey the mood without being belabored; clutch open-ended ending.  

1.1K words

Syruped and Feathered 📌 -  @mrswhozeewhatsis

A snicker-worthy on-the-hunt tale where you and the Winchesters get in a... well... a sticky situation. Ahem. Sorry, couldn't resist. Oh, and there's a surprise guest star that'll make you grin. In medias res, nice flow, creative use of prompts.

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1.2K words

Don't Panic 📌  -  @koedeza

Beautifully written, somber tale about what eventually happens in the lives of hunters. In medias res, excellent structure/flow, fantastic characterization, clutch ending. Keep an eye out for this writer - they are consistently solid and do not disappoint.

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1.3K words

'Til It All Falls Apart 📌  -  @lipstickandwhiskey

Angst done right in this story about what Dean might've gone through after Michael was cast out. Good flow, no laborious explanations of what we already know, reasonable actions/reactions from all.

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1.4K words

Bite Me, BitFit 📌  -  @shy-violet-soul

Exactly what you think from the title - a funny story about Dean's battle with healthy living. In medias res, nice structure, great characterization, several killer lines.

.

1.4K words

Eggshells 📌  -  @hunenka

A coda to Nightmare Logic, this tackles Dean's internal processing of life as he now knows it, Sam in charge and what feels like a million people in his home. Beautifully written, Dean is as accurate as it gets, excellent flow, plausible scenario.

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1.7K words

Told You So   -  @there-must-be-a-lock

How to do hot and sultry without smut - read and learn. This is a story about what should have been just an ordinary post-hunt night back at the bunker, when it turned to something more. Great opening paragraph, easy flow, trifecta of snarky-sweet-sexy.

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1.8K words

Brother 📌  -  @sixtysevenandwhiskey

An exquisite look - to use the writer's words - at Dean over the years, through Sam's eyes. Excellent structure/verbiage, no unneeded repetition of things we already know, good use of song inspo, plausible within canon, feels genuine throughout.

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1.8K words

The Lie 📌 -  @sophisticated-angel

Stunning tale (and add this to the pile of "Why the hell doesn't this have more notes?!" stories) about what happens to those who are left behind after a loved one dies - but as always in the Winchester world, nothing can ever be routine. In medias res, creative plotline, moving and heart-grabbing that leaves you with both a sense of rightness and a sense of unease.

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2.9K words

The Unexpected Guest  -  @crispychrissy 

Per the writer's summary - "A day of researching takes a turn when you see something from your past that leads to some interesting discoveries." But, wait - this is so much more. Pay attention as you read, because the writer has left you clues along the way (starting with the title), and it's done quite deftly. In addition - nice blending of humor and drama, time taken to research the creature featured clearly evident, clutch ending.

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3K words

Easier To Be Me 📌 -  @alleiradayne

A Sam + Reader story labelled "floof" by the writer, but it's sweet without bending saccharine; in medias res; great opening/closing lines.

[Nominated by @atc74 who said - “So I have read a couple things of hers, this I read a while ago, but it deserves some love, because it is just that good. Hope you like it This was so wonderful. Well written and beautiful."]

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3.1K words

Teeth 📌   -  @lastactiontricia

Do you want to read something spooky that’s based on a true story, with a fantastic plot that has roots in a true story, which features well-developed characterization/accuracy in characterization, and is - in case I didn’t mention it - based on a true story?!

Read this. Find you a cozy corner, grab the drink of your choice whether it’s bourbon or hot chocolate, wrap up in a blanket, and Read. The. Story. It is unique, it is well-written, quality top to bottom, and it’ll give you the feels, tips to toes. Stop wasting your time on the same ol’, same ol’.

READ THE STORY

(Part of a collection, all are fantastic, so see also: Halloween Horror SPN One Shots Masterlist)

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3.3K words

Lay Me Down 📌  -  @stusbunker

A solid case fic here that balances itself with some cheekiness thrown in amongst the drama (and a bonus for me, not a "Y/N" in sight - it can be done, folks). In medias res, moves at a quick clip, great line here: "The spell spread quickly, like spilled water on a tabletop..."

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4.9K words

Shadow's Edge 📌  -  @saenalife 

A story of what happened one night when a routine retrieval of an item goes sideways. In medias res, excellent opening line/paragraph that perfectly sets the scene/mood (I mean - "Dark seems like too shallow a word for this. It goes beyond the absence of light - more like the light has never existed here at all..." - hello), creative plot, great structure (specifically: flashback/forward done right), and bonus kudos for switching things up with a feature not seen with regularity, that of a gender neutral lead.

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5.6K words

The Wonders of Modern Technology ⚠️ -  @littlegreenplasticsoldier

If you aren’t familiar with Greenie, she’s another one of those rare writers ‘round these parts who gives us consistently solid stories with a unique style that’s all her own, and this one is no exception, a humorous tale of a piece of equipment that doesn’t exactly malfunction, but we’ll just say there’s, ah, user error [wink]. 

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5.7K words

Like Ocean in the Desert 📌⚠️  -  @saenalife

Borrowing the writer's summary - "Baby needs some work before Dean can get back on the road. He went to the salvage yard for parts, but what he found was a human connection." In medias res, well-developed OC, nice premise, great structure/flow.

[Nominated by @littlegreenplasticsoldier who said - "Here’s a prime example of notes misaligning with quality. Pfft. Criminal. This is the third time I’ve read this."]

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6.4K words

The First Bite 📌  -  @shy-violet-soul

A story from the way-back-when, and as for feedback, I’ll let the curator take it away....

[Nom'd by @mrswhozeewhatsis who said - "Confession: I love Weechesters. So, this fic was already up my alley from word one. Add in pie mentioned just in the author’s note, and I was already a happy camper! Imagine my surprise when I was sniffling halfway through because wee!Dean was just killing me! The OCs are very well fleshed out, without being distracting, and the whole story was just so well-written I finished it just wanting to hug everyone. The grammar and other technical stuff was at least flawless enough that I didn’t notice it, and the whole story just unfolded in front of me like a cootie-catcher. I think I’m in love, and I might go read it again, even though I should be writing. *swoon*"]

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6.8K words

Gutted  -  @idreamofhazel

A case fic with some Dean + Reader sweet-n'-sultry on top. Nice opening paragraph that sets the tone, solid characterization, very creative plot/creature featured, excellent structure.

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6.9K words

About Dean's Dreams   ⚠️ -  @fanforfanatic  

This writer has yet to disappoint - and this story is damn near pristine from start to finish. It’s an actual, on god, Dean-in-character dive into the woman of his dreams. Sound fluffy or angsty? Nope. You’re wrong. It isn’t either. What it is, is just right. I’m not telling you any more - when you next have time to sit and read and really absorb an introspective Dean piece, make this your first choice.

Say hello to a new (-ish!) writer, @salt-n-burn-em-all !

Doors 📌

You will not believe this is just her 2nd SPN fanfic - captivating and moving, and even if you're swiping a tear away, I think you'll find yourself with a smile at the last three words.

East of Nowhere ⚠️  -  @thecleverdame 

You and Sam are strangers trapped in a desolate mountain town where you live alone, isolated from the outside world, for five years.

Very creative scenario that takes you on an intimate journey and - most importantly - has quite the satisfying reveal.

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How You and I Will Be  -  @katehuntington  

When a hellhound case in the mountains goes sideways, Dean and you find yourselves trapped in a small cabin, miles from civilization. Rescue is on its way, but will it be in time?

Opening paragraph sets the scene perfectly, you'll find yourself there immediately, and it's a plausible scenario of a hunt gone wrong. (We do love our case fics here at The Nail!)

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If This Is A Dream  🚢 -  @wendibird 

Sam receives a tip about a restless spirit haunting a particular patch of woods in South Carolina - one who has asked for him by name. He must now deal with the thought of putting to rest someone he once cared for, but will things go that simply?

Phenomenal opening line/paragraph that puts you in Sam's headspace from the jump, and boy howdy can we all empathize with him, and it's a plausible scenario, one I personally haven't seen tackled til this.

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Men of Cold Cases  -  @smi727

Sam had uncovered hundreds upon hundreds of cases the Men of Letters had never closed, [and the] idea was to investigate what those stodgy old nerds never got around to. Given the cases were at least 60 years old, the chances that any were still active were slim to none. They should all be milk runs…

Fantastic concept, completely original, and well-written to boot. Bonus? The writer has based the plots on actual cold cases and mysteries, and provides you links to the stories behind the story so you can learn more.

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The Ellison Lane Legacy  -  @sixtysevenandwhiskey 

Sam finds a case. You’re reminded of a past you want to forget.

Cheers for a well-rounded original female character who is tough and vulnerable all at once. Interesting and creative story that's heavy, yes, but thanks to skilled writing the flow keeps it moving vs. getting mired down.

Wrath 📌  -  @waywardjoy

Shakespeare gets a run for his money here with a small fic inspired by some of his words. Beautifully composed, from the title to the usage of the lines, flows like a dream, evokes big emotion, and puts you right there in the action, breathtaking from start to finish.

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The Runaway Vessel 📌  -  @butiaintgonnaloveem 

A creepy re-working of a popular children's story that will stay with you after you read it. Killer first line, clutch ending, and a detailed, stunning piece of artwork to boot from @lostmymuseagain, what a match made in heaven. This one dug deep, and definitely read like a cautionary fairytale about fate and choices that grandparents would tell/read to the children on a dark night around the fire, give ‘em a bit of a chill in spite of it. 

Ring-A-Ling  -  @winchester-writes & @littlegreenplasticsoldier & @mrswhozeewhatsis

To think, it all started with an innocent post about a tiny bell - get ready to laugh.

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Ten Years Gone  -  @cinnamonanddean  

This is a short-and-sweet, most worthy exception to a The Nail rule that no RPF will be on the list, wherein Jensen reflects upon his time on the show.

Carriers  -  @violetwolfraven 

Daddy Loves To Be Murdered   -  @gabesnonnie 

Slay Ride  -  @bendingsignpost 

The Awakening  -  @rmeisel 

The Chosen One  -  @copperbadge 

The Night  -  @later0varies

Bedtime Stories & How Chad Got His Name  -  @lostmymuseagain (also see the artwork related to the Chad story here)

The Author  -  @thebibliosphere

Notes from Nash

The document with my little summaries and personalized feedback for each of these got eaten - basically, I had to re-do the list and time’s been scarce, so forgive me for the lateness.

Also, there was a good handful of stories that disappeared due to what I presume was the purge/people deleting or losing their blogs. I did make effort to check AO3 but I’m afraid some stellar work has been lost for good.

There were a lot of repeat writers and folks I’m friendly with in this edition, more than I typically feature - I strive to highlight mostly lesser known writers and, as noted, mostly fics with <100 notes - but they earned it (and I even chucked a few more from some of these peeps into the folder for the next edition, that’s how hard they’re rockin’ it). That’s why it’s so important y’all let me know about the unsung writers and their undiscovered jewels - submit the story links and your reviews to me (links to your reblogs with your comments is perfectly fine) any ol’ time. 

That’s it! What’re you waiting for??? Get to reading!

when half-assed is still a great choice: task management for us race cars

Half-assed is always a good choice. In fact, I’m of the opinion that for us it’s actually the ideal choice.

For me, I deal with a lot of black and white thinking.

The way I experience and plan my day, the way I try to coordinate time, the way I approach tasks. Habitually I find my default is to use an all-or-nothing approach. It’s just what feels comfortable.

But that comes with a lot of weaknesses and limitations. I tend to try to finish things all at once to fully utilize my limited, finicky attention span and emotional energy. I don’t trust or even know if I can handle doing something tomorrow, so if I do something today I want to finish it ALL today.

Because lord knows about all those half-finished projects am I right? Not to mention out of sight out of mind. Sometimes I find something a week later like ‘shit. I was going to do that’

So knocking off a task completely so it can’t be delayed or forgotten is always my instinct.

Another factor I find is, I tend to be attracted to finishing a project in a single sitting or a single evening because... then I don’t have to do it longer. The romance in procrastinating a paper until 6 hours before it is due is- you only have to work on the stupid thing for 6 hours. And when your default mode is perfectionism, and when you have limited emotional energy, sometimes knowing there’s a hard limit of how long you have to suffer through something is the only thing that allows you to get something done.

Unfortunately, for a lot of tasks that’s not healthy or realistic. While I embrace my natural approach to tasks, it’s good to operate within some boundaries, i.e. knowing when to give up (avoid losing sleep!) and making a conscious effort to remember to eat and drink water and so on.

But there are some tasks that are literally impossible to knock off the priority list in a single go because either they are a task you’ve been avoiding that has piled up, due to other more pressing priorities or life factors (i.e. my current mountain of clean laundry)... or they just never were things that were realistically possible to finish in a single sitting or a single day.

What’s my default instinct when I can’t finish a task in a single sitting? .... avoid it! Avoid and avoid and avoid some more. Unless they become an immediate barrier to immediate needs or have a negative impact on others, the task drops to the bottom of my priority list.

The irony is, a task that could have been done easily over a short amount of time but requires a little strategizing or just -looks- like something that can’t be done in a single sitting tends to be avoided and then ultimately absolutely becomes something that -definitely- can’t be done in a single day just because the task was avoided, (making the task even less attractive!). Not the best cycle.

For one maybe it actually could have been done in two hours but you didn’t know exactly how you wanted to approach it, or had a perfectionistic idea of how to work on it, or wanted to find a way for it to be fully done in one sitting before even being willing to start it... trouble is, time and time again, I find myself in that loop. Basically, while I am absolutely most efficient doing something in one sitting, doing things that take more than that is outside my comfort zone, which leads me to be pessimistic about the possible outcome/time required by default, when really maybe it wouldn’t be all that bad. Basically, making things harder for yourself.

After all, people with ADD are very momentum-based people. It makes plenty of sense.

It is EASIER and HAS LESS ENERGY COST to do things in one go than it is to repeatedly return to something over time. Why? Because our brains have trouble with transitions. Transitions drain us. Meaning, the act of transitioning itself is a conscious effort that costs more energy than it does for a neurotypical person.

A really ungraceful metaphor is.. we ADD folks are like race cars and neurotypical people are like regular cars. Race cars are designed for going fast. Race cars use a round track, ok? Those are designed for race cars- beautiful! Smooth sailing. We are cars that go real fast are good at soft turns, sudden lane changes, those quick small directional shifts... momentum! Zoom zoom! Regular cars are designed for normal streets.. they’re designed for slowing down with ease, for making a full stop in not much time at all, for making that 90 degree turn at the corner. ....We ADD peeps just kind of suck at brakes. We’re not built for that! Sure, we can turn at the corner like normal cars. But we default to normal race car speed so we would have to slam the breaks like SCREEEEEEEE—- and finally make a full stop before making that turn. And, we finish that turn and have to reaccelerate back to that race car speed, and since we slowed to a stop we have to use a ton of energy to reaccelerate back to normal speed. This is a pretty good explanation for how transitioning between activities or tasks or categories feels for someone with ADD. (Or maybe we’re like.. those manual transition cars, where they stall if you do it wrong? Lol I don’t know. I don’t even know how to drive I have no business making car metaphors)

I can’t speak on ADHD folks because they are the same yet there are some differences in detail for some. For instance, my mom has ADHD. She didn’t use that word before, but my younger sibling had severe ADHD as a little kid and I identified my own ADD at age 25 or so (harder to spot as a kid when you’re daydreaming instead of squirming in your seat). So my mom now has the vocabulary and it’s strongly apparent that both my mom and my mom’s father (my grandfather) have ADHD..

.. so for my mom who has ADHD, she is absolutely a race car. But almost more in the literal sense too. She is a high speed creature. The irony of ADD is that.. ADD/ADHD people LIKE doing a lot of different things. They get distracted easily. But honestly I wouldn’t even use the word distracted. We are ATTRACTED easily. We quickly spot and are drawn to many different things. We spot something and then have to re-evaluate our original course of action to decide if we should prioritize the new exciting thing instead.

The thing about my ADHD mom is, she can transition WELL! She lives like a race car but she can make those sharp turns! She can reaccelerate fast! It doesn’t even cost energy! I swear! That damned H serves her well. She is hyper. She is energetic. (I have a limited understanding of how much this varies between ADHD folks but that is my experience observing myself next to the way my mom experiences ADHD, and my younger sibling as well to a degree). My mom is seamless at transitions.

So it’s funny because it took a long time for my ADHD mom to understand me, her ADD daughter. Because for her, she operates like I do, but... for me, I’m sluggish. Transitions are hard. It takes me a long time to speed back up after slowing down. Once I switch to a new task, it’s like I have to start my speed from 0 again and rebuild the momentum. My mom can switch from one task to another and only lose a few miles per hour in the process of deciding what she’s doing next. She can jump right in with very little delay or mental energy cost.

Granted, she is a bad listener, and scatterbrained as fuck. What she lacks in attention she makes up for in her fast transitions. Yeah maybe she’ll forget what she was doing or what is being said or will suddenly change subject without realizing you weren’t done, but ultimately it doesn’t matter because she easily and quickly can change right back to your subject, or will remember what she was doing and return back to it after a short detour- and can do so without any strain. And that is how she is different from me, and why I needed medication and she got away with not being medicated for her ADHD itself. (Some of this is also age and experience, I know school was hard but like many of us, she didn’t realize she had ADHD and that medication was out there. And now she’s reached the point where it just isn’t needed).

So now maybe you understand why you approach tasks the way you do but.. what the hell is one to do?

Something I’m finding beneficial is:

Accept and love the way you naturally approach tasks. Don’t shame yourself for wanting to do things in one sitting. Don’t shame yourself for marathoning things. Like many human quirks, it’s a skill. It can be extremely beneficial, not to mention satisfying as hell. There are ways our brains work and maybe they will shift with time but so long as you are not being destructive and are still attempting to operate within healthy boundaries (remember to eat!), why the hell not do things in the way that comes easiest?

A favorite metaphor I like to use for this is: flow around the rocks, not against them.

Sure you can slam yourself against a task by forcing yourself to segment it or spread it out or multitask like a neurotypical person could. But it’s going to take you a lot fucking longer than if you just relaxed and did it your own way.

But the kicker is, of course.. sometimes it isn’t the best way. As mentioned, it has limitations, we have weaknesses. We are prone to black and white thinking, which translates to perfectionism. Which turns into avoidance.

So how do we compliment and lift up those weak aspects of ourselves?

My input is the principle that: half-assing is not only a great choice, but is the best choice

Then you go ‘What? Pfft, easy for you to say. I’m a perfectionist not just out of habit- stuff is important to me! I’m not going to half-ass things!’ ..bear with me.

If you remember, in your head, as a baseline principle, that half-assing things is not only a great choice but is the best choice... you can make wonderful progress at side-stepping your default habit of avoidance entirely.

Flow around the rocks not against the rocks!

You see, this is something neurotypical people even know the truth in.

There’s a higher probability for you to meditate for 10 minutes a day more consistently if you commit to meditating 1 minute a day as opposed to if you commit to meditating 10 minutes no matter what... what I mean is.. Ultimately, you will spend more days in a month actually meditating for 10 minute sessions if you commit to 1 minute meditations minimum (allowing yourself that flexibility) than if you were to be rigid and force yourself to meditate for 10 minutes every day and eventually burn out.

We people with ADD are attracted to black and white thinking. That also means we’re really attracted to all-or-nothing. Which means we are attracted to and romanticize rigidity. Because in an abstract sense, rigidity highlights some of our natural skills. But in the bigger picture, it becomes like the meditation principle. Yeah sure maybe your success will look better when you meditate for 10 minutes every single day, but in the end you are actually losing more in the bigger picture. Especially for people with ADD, rigidity is attractive but has never been sustainable or realistic with consideration for human nature. Yes, we love clean-cut results. But ironically having a clean-cut or a rigid approach rarely brings clean-cut success in the bigger picture.

So we have to do things in a way that feels sort of like doing things backwards

You want to have perfect results in your life? To be reliable? To not disappoint people? To function well? To finish things? To do things well.

Half. Ass. Them.

Half-ass them. HALF-ASS THEM!

..Ok here’s a catch-phrase that will help you both remember this principle and find the concept more palatable in making it clear how it actually will be beneficial:

HALF-ASS IS BETTER THAN NO ASS

Bonus: half-ass always leads to full-ass!

In this case we want the ass. (...I better not go further with this metaphor).

Use this principle with great strength and enthusiasm towards areas of life that habitually end in avoidance. Don’t skimp! Give that task a nice big dash of half-assing it.

If you create and embrace this attitude- this really warm attitude towards yourself, an attitude of approaching your life that says... hey..! I’m not going to stress about the outcome or about the most efficient way to go about this, I’ve already said I love myself enough to half-ass this..! I’m just going to dive in! ...then you foster a life where you can become more reliable, more practiced, and more happy and functional and yet still super ADD. Happy functional ADD life skills! Instead of forcing yourself to change, learning how to work with yourself!

It goes without saying- rigidity is the enemy. Or at the very least the barrier in which we should become skilled at flowing around. Get good at dancing, get good at the dodge. Learn your natural habits and flow around the rocks. This is a method of that.

I hope this helps! Best wishes and don’t be too hard on yourself. Your life trajectory may look different than other people’s, but ultimately you end up thriving and succeeding just as much as anyone else. Allow yourself the room and the permission to do this your own way.

A Very Human Risk - Part 2 - Dean

Notes

Thanks for reading! Here’s Part 2. We switch back to see what Dean is up to, left at the motel. I have all of the rest of the parts of this fic finished now, so unless I tweak anything more, they should go up steadily over the next few days. Enjoy!

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

A Very Human Risk

Part 2 – Dean

Dean scrubbed his nails back and forth across his scalp, watching an assortment of small chunks decorate the plastic bottom of the beige motel shower. Ugh. That was one messy hunt. His body ached and he registered pain that needed to be dealt with, more than one spot yelling out for attention after being ignored while they drove.

There had been many more vampires than they anticipated, the planned swift decapitations quickly turning into wild, life-preserving slashes as more and more of them piled in from the darkness in the corners of the warehouse. Thank Chuck that Cas had his grace these days. There were things Dean missed about his best friend being human, but during a hunt like that he’d take powered-up Cas any day.

The filth in the shower began to drain away and he finally began to actually feel clean. He stood for a minute, looking up and letting the water cascade down onto his face. We should check in with Jack and see if we need to make any stops on the way home, he thought vaguely. Sam and Cas hadn’t been too keen to leave the kid back at the bunker, Dean knew. The case Sam had caught online, a bunch of disappearances and bloodied bodies stretching up the coasts of the Carolina's, had seemed simple enough though. They should have been able to kill the vamp, drive overnight and been back in Lebanon by lunch the next day.  Should have known. When do we ever get simple?

The pipes creaked and shuddered loudly as he shut off the water, reaching out from the aged shower curtain to grab the a towel. Pressing it roughly to his face, he took a moment to dry his eyes and take in the smell of basic laundromat detergent. A thin river of blood escaped from a long gash just above his left hip; washing the dried blood off seemed to have opened it back up. Dean assessed it with practiced eyes and decided no stitches were needed, the bleeding should stop on its own once he dried off. None the less, he pressed the towel to his side as he stepped out of the shower into the suddenly cold bathroom air, grateful again that Sam and Cas had gotten off so lightly from the fight.

Realizing his duffel of clothing was on the end of one of the beds, he paused briefly inside the bathroom door, listening to see if his brother or Cas had returned from their very sudden beer trip. Cas may be immune to my human charms but there are definitely some things Sam could do without an eyeful of, he mused idly as he stepped out into the empty motel room. He quickly rummaged through the old bag he carried on hunts and stepped into a pair of boxers, still keeping the towel pressed to his hip. Where did I put the first aid kit? He wondered, thinking that a quick swipe of peroxide couldn’t do the gash any harm. Those vampires had been dirty as fuck, after all. Briefly remembering throwing it into Sam’s bag, Dean lowered himself to perch on the end of the bed closest to the bathroom door. Gigantor didn’t even stop to throw his bag into the room before he zoomed out of here. It was strange, but in the scheme of things, whatever. If Sam wanted to run out awkwardly and do something secret then so be it. Dean had gotten much better the past few years at letting Sam do his thing. He did wish he hadn’t taken Cas though… even if he wouldn’t have admitted it out loud, Dean had tried to keep the angel by his side as much as possible since he returned to them. The idea of him being gone, even temporarily, still left a heavy weight in his stomach. Son of a bitch is too careless, it’d be just like him to get himself hurt on the way to a damn grocery store.

The crunch of gravel close to the door indicated the Impala’s return, and Dean heard a low rumbling voice outside the room. A quiet conversation seemed to be occurring, but he couldn’t quite make it out. Reluctant to open the door in just boxers and a slightly bloody motel towel, he resigned himself to standing up and sorely hobbling back and forth at the end of the bed as he waited, trying to stretch out his aching knees. The bleeding from his wound - from the blade one of the ambushing vamps had whipped out, he assumed - was already beginning to slow, so he maintained pressure and muttered under his breath about his companions’ priorities.

After a few more minutes of hushed conversation the door opened with a click, and the strikingly handsome angel swished through the gap, framed by evening sunlight and his trench coat flapping dramatically in the breeze.

“Always gotta make an entrance, huh buddy?” Dean commented dryly, stepping towards the end of the bed once more. He grimaced, pain shooting through one knee as he twisted it slightly. That sucker’s gonna be sore in the morning.

Castiel didn’t look up immediately, though Dean could have sworn he saw a tiny grin pass his face as he stepped over to the nightstand, letting his blade slide out of his sleeve so as to place it next to the lamp and cheap plastic alarm clock, where it made a gleaming friend for Dean’s resting gun. “I believe that humans think first impressions count….” he began, before his vivid eyes raked over to see Dean lowering himself awkwardly to the end of one of the beds, one leg held out stiffly in front of him and a bundle of bloodied cloth pressed to his left hip above his underwear, fresh bruises just beginning to bloom all across his otherwise undressed skin. “Dean?”

In a flash, the angel was at the older Winchester brother’s side, his eyes a fraction wider and his face intense. “You’re more injured than I had realized. Let me help.”

Dean held up a hand defensively. “I’m alright, really. No mojo to be wasted here. I just wanted to make sure the cut was sterilized before I got dressed and you two ran off so fast you took the first aid kit with you.” He glared up at the angel, but it is half-hearted, a joke more than anything. “Where’s Sam? He’s got the stuff in his duffel.”

“Oh, he… uhm.” Castiel reached up to rub briefly at the back of his neck, his other hand resting on Dean’s shoulder in concern. “He felt like getting a room of his own tonight…. I’ll go get him.”

What the hell?

* * *

“So, uh, you all good?” Sam asked, only his shoulders and head visible around the motel room door, his feet still firmly outside.

Cas had returned a moment before with the small leather wash bag that contained their first aid supplies, Sam in tow behind him, though it seemed he didn’t have any desire to actually come into the room. Dean raised an eyebrow at his oddly-behaving brother, but said nothing about it. “I’ll be fine. It’s almost stopped, see?”

He lifted the once-white towel away from his side, and Sam looked at the gash, nodding briefly as if satisfying himself that it wasn’t deep. “Alright then. I’ll be in my room having some introvert time if you need anything. I, uh…. I’m not next door.”

“Huh?” Dean raised an eyebrow at his brother’s odd wording, but he was already gone, the door thudding slightly behind him. Instead, Dean turned to Cas. “What’s up with him?”

Cas blinked, and Dean noticed him pull somewhat awkwardly on his tie at Sam’s cryptic departure. “Why would I know Dean?”

Slowly folding his sore knee back towards the bed, Dean rolled his eyes slightly heavenward and shook his head. “Nevermind. You’re all weird. Let me just get a band aid on this so we can call Jack to check in.”

“That may require more than a band aid, Dean.” Cas intoned seriously, crouching down next to the bed so that he was eye level with the wound. And eye level with my crotch too, Dean thought heatedly. All this time on Earth and still so awkward…he still has no idea of appropriate behavior sometimes...

Without asking if Dean wanted any assistance, Cas reached into the wash bag for a small black plastic bottle of peroxide and a cloth, soaking it and raising it up to the wound wordlessly. His touch was delicate, and Dean marveled for a minute at how the angel’s fingers could be so gentle and yet could so easily cause such destruction. “Thank you,” he murmured after a moment, barely breaking the silence while Cas worked.

“Of course.” The blue eyes snapped up to Dean’s face with an easy smile, and their eyes locked for a moment as they almost always did – a kind of strange magnetism of the soul that Dean had given up questioning many fights ago.

“Stand up Dean, so I can get this on straight.” Cas gestured upwards, a long strip of gauze and roll of medical tape in his hand. He stood up himself, rolling his shoulders out of the odd crouch he had maintained while cleaning the angry gash. Quickly, he placed the items on the ugly floral comforter while he shucked off his trench coat, folding it almost respectfully and resting it across the back of a nearby chair. He pushed up his white shirt sleeves as he stepped back towards Dean, and the slightly taller man finding himself dumbly thinking, Always so white. I should ask him if he puts bleach in his laundry. Does he even do laundry any more?

The quiet between them seemed charged with something odd as Dean watched Castiel’s fingers position the long strip of gauze into place, following the cut down and around from his side along the angle of his hip bone, to where it thinned out and dissipated right before his boxers began. The tape was then pressed lightly into place to hold it. Dean was so focused on watching as the angel’s fingers moved softly back and forth, smoothing the dressing down perhaps a little more than was strictly necessary, that he didn’t feel the blue eyes resting on his face until the hand stopped, resting immobile on his hip.

“Dean.” It wasn’t really a question, so Dean didn’t respond. He let his gaze meet Castiel’s and waited, holding the electric look with a calm silence that would have been suffocating with anyone else. 

Why does he look so tense today? 

He considered asking, parting his lips with a tiny lick, when he felt Cas’s forefinger slowly trailing down the path of the wound, so light as to barely touch. From Dean’s freckled hip and on down, the finger continued until the hem of his boxers just fractionally moved aside as the digit’s journey came to an end, resting on the edge of the medical tape. 

“Does that feel better now?” Cas’s voice was gravel, and his finger was fire.

Dean heard blood pounding in his ears. 

“I….uh…yup. Yup. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

The angel tilted his head to one side just a fraction, a curious glint to his eyes as he studied the man before him, and Dean was immediately taken back to the first time they met here on Earth. That same expression, looking deep into Dean’s face with a silent honesty that no human he knew had ever managed. You don’t think you deserve to be saved.

For a second, Dean thought Castiel might say something similar now, but instead he smiled slowly, his pillowy lips parted to reveal startlingly white teeth. “Yes Dean, you are fine.”

Wait…was that…. Is he flirting with me? Does he even realize? Of course not. Nope. Dumbass.

“And now you’re frowning. I said the wrong thing, again.” Castiel’s smile was gone, a tiny frown of his own creasing his brow.

“No, no man… it’s just usually when people say someone is fine, they are inferring that the person they’re talking to is attractive. It’s a flirtation.”  Dean grinned a little, thinking it’d be amusing to fluster the angel a little – but Cas was as blunt and nonplussed as ever.

“Oh. Well, the statement is correct either way. Your form is very pleasing, Dean.”

Your form is very pleasing. Jesus H. Christ. Pleasing. Like… in general? Or to him? Does he even see me like a human would?  For a bizarre fleeting second, Dean considered praying to Chuck for assistance understanding his rebel son, but immediately put the kibosh on the idea. Last thing I ever, ever want to talk to Chuck about. The asshole would probably write all about it afterwards. Or smite me… never really got around to asking what his stance actually was on how and where humans use their parts. Not that Cas would always follow what….

Cas was staring at him. Staring in confusion as Dean stood with a strange, contemplative expression on his face, running through an inner monologue that was swiftly heading towards where Cas would or would not put his…. parts.

“Drink.” Dean spluttered swiftly. “I need a drink after that drive…. Where’d you and Sam put the beer?”

Cas blinked. “Beer? Oh… uh. Right. We went to the grocery store. Yes.”

Dean doesn’t need Chucks help to understand the expression on the angel’s face then – it went, Oops. We never actually went to the grocery store.

* *  *

Dean tucked the on-sale six pack under his arm and took a couple of strides towards the cash register, before he turned back to grab a second one. It seemed like a drinking kind of night.

He had briefly yelled at Cas, not really because of the beer, but…. Stop being weird, damn it. What were you and Sam even up to? Then he had shoved the angel in the direction of the shower and grabbed the keys. There was no way he was getting through the night without a drink. Throwing down a twenty for the beers, tucked them all under his arm on the same side, so he could dig in his pocket for his phone.

Next time you need to keep a cover story intact, remember the damn beer.

A text came back immediately.

Sorry.

Dean waited…. but nothing else.

Seriously Sam? That’s all I get?

Yes.

Dean rolled his eyes and dropped the beers onto the back seat of the Impala, giving up and sliding the phone back into his jacket pocket. Fine. Sam can be a secretive bitch all he wants… he’ll tell me eventually. Always does.

That’s all for today folks! Back soon with Part 3, so we can finally get inside our wayward angel’s head.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

What exactly are the qualities must a human child have to obtain a Fairy Godparent? Meaning what do they qualify as being miserable?

HERE are some general critera about children qualifying to have fairies

HERE is a post about how godparents are assigned to children

HERE is some talk about maladaptive behavior patterns

HERE is a post specifically about Remy’s maladaptive behaviors

HERE is a post I wrote early Season 10 about why Chloe deserves fairies

HERE is some talk about the godkid green list and fairies being taken away

In summary, the main qualities Amity Angel Safety and Protective Recall Agency looks for in human kids are as follows, in order:

“Is the human in question between the ages of 7 and 17?”

If no, the human gets passed over. Amity doesn’t work with people outside this age range (Note: A kid might keep their godparents until they’re 18+, but Amity doesn’t like assigning fairies to older kids, so 17 is the cut-off). Fairies are generally terrified of human adults.

“Was this child recommended by another fairy or godkid?”

If so, odds are high that the child will be assigned a fairy

“Can we truly trust this child with knowledge of Fairy World and magic?”

If no, the child is written off as a no instantly. The safety of Fairy World is always first priority.

“What is this child’s home life like? How are their relations with their parents or guardians? What are their friends like?”

“In need” is a very subjective area. Workers of Amity fill out paperwork describing a child’s life and why they would benefit from having godparents, defending their position by drawing specific evidence from the child’s life. Obviously, whoever did Timmy’s paperwork focused a lot on his absent parents and Vicky’s cruelty.

It’s kind of like if you were registering for a service dog. You have to have a good reason for it. You shouldn’t have a service animal if you’re faking a disability (nor should you pretend your emotional support animal is a service animal and has all the rights a service animal does). That’s a crime. The rules of who deserves to have godparents aren’t quite so strict, but the general idea is that they should go to someone who needs guidance and a friend. Demand for godparents is high but supply is low. If a child doesn’t truly need them, the godparents should move on to helping the next kid.

And then by this point, if you can make a convincing case that the kid deserves to have a godparent, that’s about it. Godparents fill out reports every month that they submit to their supervisor at Amity informing them how their child is doing. 

If it’s determined a child is too old or doesn’t need their fairies anymore, then the godparents take a brief furlough before going back to work to get reassigned.

Cosmo and Wanda both know how to fill out the reports. They fill them out together, with Wanda doing most of the work and Cosmo occasionally chiming in (I imagine that they do these in pink and green pens). Wanda will say stuff like, “The relationship between Timmy and his parents is still rocky. Today, they went out to dinner and left him with his babysitter. When Vicky arrived, she made Timmy miserable by…” And so on. 

These reports also include all the wishes a godchild made during that month (thus leading us to the paperwork seen in “Timmy’s Secret Wish”). Cosmo likes to add details about some of Timmy’s wishes, like, “This was pretty dangerous, but we had fun and we all made it out okay!” and, “Boy, was that a stupid wish!”

Amanda Adams, the protagonist from the fanfic “Never Had a Friend Like Me”, was confirmed to be skipped over due to Fairies just not noticing that she has super low self-esteem and not a great home life, because she didn’t act miserable. Amanda was convinced that she was a burden on everyone, and she just shrugged and lived life without whining about it. It was just fact for her. Because she didn’t seem to be miserable, she was never brought to Amity’s attention and thus received no godparent. 

If anything, there came a point where she hit their radar, but the fairy who noticed her glanced at her home life and saw no obvious signs of abuse like yelling and physical violence, and just blew her off. Shuffled to the bottom of the “low risk” pile and that was that. Time to take a lunch break.

Fairies don’t like grown humans wandering around Fairy World. That’s why they do what they do in secret. Kids are innocent. They love magic, and the vast majority aren’t sell-outs. Teenagers and adults are trickier to deal with, because they start gathering ulterior motives. They start getting sneaky. They start telling people about Fairy World, start getting greedy, start considering catching fairies and either revealing them to the universe for fame and fortune, or abusing their powers like Crocker did in “Abra-Catastrophe”.

In fact, I like to imagine this happened with one of the alien races out there. Someone got a little too carried away and the aliens started storming into Fairy World with butterfly nets waving and probably a bunch of other weaknesses like rump roast on hand. So many fairies captured or hurt. All the godparents had to pull out and permanently cut ties with that race. Fairy World safety comes first.

Plus, teens and adults usually start getting significant others in their lives. To a fairy, it feels like they’re getting cheated on when that happens. Dump them.

mr. moreau

an unfinished scrap of a novel i am not sure ill continue

i can see it its a diamond with the crossroads its white borders from my cracked window up here

i ‘ave to get that fixed)—  just below the fog (the fog is low today)

—and its on top of the street that was just painted

oh yesterday or maybe the day before that

or something,

i think

black as my genevieve’s ‘air

two bodies crisscrossed atop of each other and splattered like paint on a black canvas, a pollack of angry reds and i cant see their face cause theyve been ravaged by the hard concrete and im so high up looking down like a dreamer into a field of rye and i shudder because oh, how painful is that but i also suppose,

when youre fallin i guess you only feel the woosh of the wind under you and maybe your soul leaves your body before your body breaks into a million teeny tiny pieces and everything inside you that youve ever dreamed flows out of you like a bucket tipping over onto a tile floor—maybe

maybe its a perpetual fear and youre trapped inside a perpetual cycle of mind numbing terror because youre falling to your doom and you regret that your feet left the edge in the first place and maybe, maybe you shoulda called your mom and then told her that you loved her one last time or apologized to the man that you bumped into while you were hurrying home yesterday and the tears are flying from your face ‘cause you can see them surrounding your grave wearin nothing but black and your father is silent but a kind of silent youve never seen before and in that second you can just SEE him taking the same path you are and then

maybe the fear grips your limbs like god coming down and punishing you but all you feel is a childish sort of aversion an “i dont wanna” cause you dont wanna—you dont wanna die cause you have so so much to live for and youre cryin to some big fat man up in the sky but whats he gonna do? he cant stop you

but i wouldn’ know but i took the elevator and went down to look at the scene anyway cause we’re all drawn to the misfortune of others anyway like nothing more than moths having an orgy on a blue flame

mr. steinway was next to me in the elevator; he lived on the 13th floor and i on the 12th i saw him smoking up on the roof sometimes. he was a gentleman by any other name, except the part where his wife left him cause hed been caught with a particularly young mistress but i suppose that didnt matter because he played ravel’s jeux d’eau like no one else in the world could and maybe he played her body like that homonymous six figure grand he has, who knows

his face was wrinkled and ugly but the melodies he played were smooth and beautiful so who cared about his damn visage i guess

“oh, mister moreau,” and for that matter, his voice wasnt particularly musical either

“steinway, are you heading down to see what happened?”

“arent we all,” he chuckled like the deaths were a funny little joke he had made up,

“i think i’ll stop by the grocery store”

“is that so?” he spoke like a conductor introducing a symphony to an ignorant audience and he was just trying to find a way to relive his days of performing inside carnegie hall’s stern auditorium because all he performed in now was his empty apartment, we around ‘im the unwilling listeners. he silently watched the floor numbers count down on the bar above the elevator doors 10 9 8 7 “i ‘aven’t been there lately.” he finally said like he had wondered how to talk without being offensive while still showing his pockets were full of gold.

dick, i thought 4 5

and waited and 2 1 and the doors opened.

our doorman greeted us. he was a fine fellow and i talked with him when it was too awkward for silence. he had a prized son about to head off to columbia on some scholarship or another and his younger daughter was expected to follow in his shoes. his mother was bedridden his dad dead and apparently he made a great deal of money working as a valet for the most expensive hotel in the city on the weekends. he liked the color orange and his ties were sometimes tied with a different knot because his daughter liked to practice on him. for lunch he preferred a simple tomato and mozzarella panini from the cafe a few blocks away but occasionally he partook in the pita bread and hummus that mrs. tomadakis on the fourth floor gave him and he always always despised it when someone moved the rug in front of the door. i didnt know his name.

“another suicide, huh?” he gave me a warm smile and mr. steinway a slightly cooler one

he said ‘another’ because it had been the eighth one this month and we were only fourteen days into it and silently, slowly we found ourselves heading towards a point of numb disassociation—when one person committed suicide it was all over the news like mr. steinway’s scandal and you learned their birthday, their name, their age,

every tiny detail of they had been, the sorrow of their friends and family,

and everything that happened between the day that they they came into the world and the day they left

and the people reacted with horror, the parents apologized to their kids and the kids to their parents, and the grief counselors opened their doors to those who had lost someone in a similar fashion and had to relive the memory through someone else’s eyes and maybe a wide-eyed girl holdin the blade to her small wrist told herself not today, not today

but of course, thats me being optimistic

sometime after the third suicide all that popped up was a name and a vague somethingorother reason they lit themselves on fire or shot themselves in the ‘ead or something and then a frown from the casters, maybe a tinge of sympathy entered their tone but then 10 seconds passed and they forgot because this was all part of a trend that would end. the people talked about the suicides in hushed tones but now the conservations were turning into a more questioning again? and a response of yeses and then it tended to be never discussed again because hey it didnt involve us anyhow

so the nameless bodies started to pile up one on top of each other and i knew the faces and names of maybe three or four but no more.

i nodded to him. “troubling,” i said, because what else could i say

“yes, definitely. my wife had me turn off the news last night because she was so… distressed at all the incidents lately” the doorman replied and there was a hint of something unknown when he said it. nonetheless he turned to the man next to me because his priorities were his own “I heard your playing the other day, mr. steinway. marvelous as always,” he said, voice turned slick because steinway gave good tips. he couldn’t hear anything from all the way on the 1st floor of course

mr. steinway looked chuffed, a prizewinning cock who fought with all the other roosters. “the debussy or the khachaturian?”

“the khachaturian, of course. i always find myself partial to the contemporary—“ the doorman said in an inviting tone to begin an conversation that would undoubtedly net him a few more dollars or maybe a lot more next week—

“interesting!” steinway murmured in that hushed tone since discussion of classical music was clearly some covert operation that no one was supposed to know about. i walked outside into the cool fall air knowing that they would be stuck there for a good ten minutes or more and noticed that the crowd around the two corpses in the middle was gone already and the first thing i wondered was not who they were but rather if dear genevieve had heard the news

there is a photographer standing by the bodies with her big old camera snap snap and she looks up and stares at me staring at her she stands up and i notice that the bottom of her pants have been scuffed by the road she smiles at me without dusting herself off,

“hello!” she was too cheery for the death in front of her “do you live here?” she is the only one out here and the world feels strangely empty

“yes, i” i pointed to the clean, modern building to the left “live just over there,”

she looked at me up and down up and down “you wouldn’t know these people would you?” no i wouldnt

“no” her face fell but then it rose again as she stuffed a card into my clammy hand and the bracelets on her hand jangled and she grinned at me with white teeth but the front two were crooked as if someone ‘ad taken a pair of pliers to them and her brown ‘air was messy, her skin lighter than mine—“i was just wondering since no one seems to know who they are” (she spoke in a rush like she was breathless) and i finally start to wonder indeed, who they are because even as corpses their hands are entwined together “i’m” and now that im down here i can see the fine details in their “photographer, i” faces and the one on the left has that dead fish look in their dark eyes and the eyes are wide open and theyre staring into “crime scenes” my very soul and i wonder if theyre blaming me for my being complicit in their deaths because i too heard the news and did nothing but “ive been in the news” my hands are shaking and i think i couldnt have done anything because i didnt know but something jabs me — a maybe i did know because i too heard the news and passed by disinterested “but i also do” and im staring back at them and theyre staring back at me in a staring contest that i know i will lose “family portraits, anything you need basically” and the one on the rights eyes are closed and the part of their face that isnt all burst open and spilling onto the floor has a tender charm and their lips are fixed in what seems like a peaceful smile but im thinking no there is no way that could be peaceful and oh “call the number if” their ‘ands are all so small if i could just have grabbed those before they jumped maybe id be staring at an empty black canvas instead of a grotesque exhibit of all that we ‘ave done wrong

work title:

artist:

medium: human on concrete

How to Be More Productive in Work and Life (5 Stress-Free Tips!)

Hiya Gorgeous!

Please be unproductive. Ha! Has anyone ever said that to you? I certainly haven’t received that luxurious request. Quite the opposite in fact. Google “how to be more productive” and you’ll get over 200 million results!

We all want to increase productivity because we think it will help us be successful, make an impact and have more freedom. If we could just be more productive, we’d finally be able to finish that project, get that promotion and do everything we’ve always wanted to do but never had time for. Right?

This probably hits especially close to home if you’re an entrepreneur like me. We’re always looking for new ways to optimize how we use our time—it’s not easy to grow a business while maintaining some semblance of a life outside of work! As a result, we often push ourselves way past our limits, sacrificing our well-being in the process.

Look, I’m all for being driven as long as it doesn’t drive us into the ground. But between the pressures coming from our work hard, play hard society AND the high expectations we have for ourselves, we simply create more than we can process. So we’re left wishing we had another hour, day, week, month, year… life.

Hmmm, there’s obviously something wrong with this picture.

Remember—we’re humans, NOT conveyor belts! Whaddya say we take a step back and look at productivity from a different angle? It’s meant to simplify our lives after all, not make them more exhausting and stressful.

The 5 practices I’m sharing today have helped me accomplish everything from simple daily tasks to building a thriving 7-figure business, all while maintaining a good work/life balance. They’ll help you use productivity to make space for pursuing your deepest desires and doing what makes you happy. Because what’s more important than that?

Here’s what you can expect to learn:

How to be more productive at work AND at home—you can apply these tips in all areas of your life!

Simple ways to maximize time and headspace for better focus, faster results and more joy.

Why it’s even more essential than you might think to get clear on your priorities (and how to do it).

What time off and self-care have to do with productivity.

How to build in time for the unexpected challenges so they don’t throw you off course.

How paying people to take care of themselves supercharges your own productivity.

Ready to discover these surprisingly simple, joyful productivity tips? Let’s dig in!

How to Be More Productive: 5 Stress-Free Tips

1. Design your ideal week.

If you want to learn how to be more productive, you’ve gotta start by examining how you manage and use your time. Because even if you have all the time in the world, it’s still possible to be unproductive.

When I say design your ideal week, I’m talking about more than just blocking off space in your calendar (although that IS part of it!). It means looking at the week ahead holistically—including your responsibilities and commitments, AND the stuff you do to support your mental and physical health—then laying out a schedule that optimizes the time you have.

Ask yourself these questions when designing your ideal week:

What times do I want to go to bed and wake up? (A consistent schedule can help improve your sleep, too… win-win!)

What days do I want to work, and what should my stop and start times be? (This one is especially key for all of you entrepreneurs and self-employed folks out there!)

What existing commitments do I have that I can’t change? Are there any I can adjust to make room for new priorities?

What does a productive day usually look like for me? When do I usually feel most alert and focused? When do I tend to get tired or have more trouble focusing on more complex/creative tasks?

Where in my schedule would it be most beneficial to have breaks? What should my breaks look like (taking a walk, meditating, stretching…)?

What tends to distract or pull me off task? Is there anything I can do to avoid or better manage those distractions?

Where am I most productive? How can I set myself up for success with my work environment (consider lighting, noise, decor, how you sit/stand at your desk and so on).

Put together a first draft of your ideal week and try it out. Stick with it for at least a couple of weeks before you decide something needs to change (change often causes discomfort, so give yourself a chance to adapt). Then, don’t hesitate to make adjustments if something isn’t working or your needs change.

Remember, this is YOUR ideal week, not your boss’s, partner’s, kid’s, etc. It won’t always be perfect or easy, but it should be in alignment with your natural flow. Following your routine should give you a sense of security and freedom. *Queue deep sigh of relief… ahhhhhh.*

2. Take a “less but better” approach to your to-dos.

In our quest for productivity, we often end up piling more onto our plates before we’re able to metabolize what’s already there. Tell me if this sounds familiar: One day, you get a lot done and feel great about yourself. The next day, your list barely budges and you feel sucky. I think we’ve all been there.

Or maybe this scenario sounds more like you: If you have three things to do and you manage to accomplish them all, you feel awesome and do a happy dance. But if you have 15 things and only get those same three done, you feel like a bum who can barely make a dent.

You’re not the problem here, toots—it’s your to-do list. Forcing constant accomplishment is like expecting yourself to be an assembly line. So let’s talk about how to be more productive with a less but better mindset.

This practice is based on a concept from Greg McKeown’s book, Essentialism: The Disciplined Pursuit of Less (which I highly recommend, by the way… it changed my life!). He talks about doing less, but better, so you can make the highest possible contribution.

Keep your to-do list short and sweet, it’s that simple! Rather than loading it up with a mess of tasks you can’t possibly complete, focus on the stuff that really matters and moves the needle on your Big Sky Goals. A more manageable list = less stress = more energy for productivity in the areas you care about!

A less but better approach is about aiming for the big wins that create a domino effect in all areas of your life and/or business.

And if you need some help getting your priorities straight, you’re gonna love my new ebook…

Do you have dreams you want to explore (hobbies, side hustles, going back to school…), but can’t seem to find the time or headspace?

Do you have a full-fledged business idea that sets your soul on fire, but you think it’s too risky, too hard, too far out of reach?

Or do you already have a business, but you feel stuck and don’t know how to reach your ultimate potential?

If any of these sound familiar, you’re going to LOVE my new ebook, How to Build Your Business without Burning Out: 10 Keys for Avoiding the Mistakes Most Entrepreneurs Make. And you don’t have to be an entrepreneur to benefit from it—this resource is for anyone with an idea they want to pursue (no matter how big or how small) while balancing a day job, family commitments and staying well.

This free ebook covers the most critical lessons I’ve learned during my 15+ years of owning and operating a thriving business, including…

How to overcome fear of failure so you can finally take the leap and start the business or project you’ve been dreaming about.

What to focus on in the morning so you can prioritize the work that actually impacts your bottom line (and sideline the tasks that don’t!).

How to grow your audience and customer base without breaking your back OR the bank by understanding what they really want and need.

Do yourself a favor and learn from my mistakes. The world needs you to share your magic… I can’t wait to see you shine even brighter than you already do!

3. Build in buffer time.

We can’t be productive 100 percent of the time. We also can’t will ideas and solutions to come to light just because we want them to! In fact, sometimes the harder we try, the further our productivity (and good ideas) plummet. It’s not convenient, but it’s the truth.

That’s why we need to build in buffer time—for when we’re stuck, things don’t go as planned or the crap hits the fan (trust me, it will)! Having buffer time is a way to give your brain SPACE. Like brainstorming without a looming deadline, doodling your way through a challenge or just resting. Good ideas have a way of bubbling up when you just let your smart noggin relax and do its thing. Haven’t you ever wondered why you get your best ideas in the shower?

So next time you feel stuck or stagnant, don’t harass yourself for not being productive enough. Instead, step away from the task at hand and breathe. And if you want to take it a step further, proactively work buffer time into your schedule. That way, it’ll be there when you need it (and you probably need it even when you don’t realize you do, so give it a shot!).

Buffer time is also a must for when life throws you a curveball, because if you pack your schedule too tight, one small hiccup can turn into a full-blown disaster. For example, let’s say you’re on a team of people preparing for a new product launch. You map out your timeline leading up to the big day and divvy up the tasks with respective due dates. Then, one of your teammates gets sick and misses a deadline by a couple of days. And of course, the next step is contingent on the previous one! Without buffer time, a small blip quickly creates a domino effect that pushes back the whole launch. Ouch.

On the other hand, if you plan for the unexpected, productivity doesn’t suffer if someone falls behind. Your buffer is your safety net—it’ll help you bounce back quickly if you miss the mark for any reason (which is normal because we’re human, remember?!). Let your buffer catch you, then jump right back in.

4. Prioritize simple self-care.

Sometimes we’re so busy thinking about how to be more productive, we forget to take care of ourselves in the most basic ways. I’ve been there! But you know as well as I do that when you throw yourself out with the bathwater, it all goes to hell. Your ideas dry up. Your relationships suffer and so does your health (mental and physical). To avoid that hot mess, commit to supporting yourself through simple, consistent practices.

These are some of my personal favorites:

Wind down earlier: I know what it’s like to try and cram in a bunch of tasks at the end of the day, but getting enough quality rest is essential for productivity. Start your nighttime routine a bit earlier to prepare yourself for sleep—put devices away and wean yourself off the late night putter! For more sleep tips, check out my Ultimate Guide to Better Sleep here.

Center yourself: How you start your day sets the tone for your overall success. Doing just 10 minutes of mindful meditation in the morning (or during a midday break) can be a game changer for productivity throughout the day. Check out my video on how to make meditation easier here or treat yourself to my Self-Care for Busy People meditation album here!

Protect time off: You can’t maintain a high level of productivity if you never take time off! For me, that means planning for at least three week-long breaks throughout the year. They can be vacations or staycations, but it must be time to disconnect and refuel. Find a balance that works for you and whatever you do, schedule and protect it like your life depends on it!

These are just ideas from my toolkit. Try them out or use the self-care practices you already love! Whatever you do, it doesn’t have to be complicated. Self-care comes in many different forms—yours doesn’t have to look like anyone else’s as long as it replenishes and grounds you.

Psst.. If you’re an entrepreneur, self-care should be a part of your business plan. That’s what I call holistic entrepreneurship. Your business is an extension of you—if you’re not healthy, it can’t be either. And at the end of the day, your well-being is far more important than any amount of productivity or success.

5. Pay people to take care of themselves.

While I couldn’t do this in the early days of my business, I’m so grateful I have the ability to do it now. This tip is especially critical for all of my entrepreneurial friends out there, so listen up! I know from personal experience how easy it is to fall into the do-it-all-yourself mentality. Your business is your baby, so relinquishing control can be really uncomfortable. But you can’t be your most productive self if you’re trying to do it all.

The trick is to hire folks you trust so you can be at ease with sharing the responsibility. My Crazy Sexy Team consists of full-time folks, freelancers and consultants—all of that unique experience and perspective makes for a top-notch crew if I do say so myself! I wouldn’t be able to be as creative, focused and productive as I am if it weren’t for my incredible team.

But while saying how much you appreciate your team members is valuable, it’s not everything. So at Crazy Sexy Wellness, we make sure that sentiment also comes through in the way we pay and treat our people. That means offering competitive salaries and benefits packages, plenty of perks and, perhaps most importantly, LOTS of paid time off (remember what I said about protecting time off in tip #4?!).

Productivity doesn’t appear out of thin air—it grows where people feel valued, rested, secure and inspired! If you want people to thrive, set them up for full-body, holistic success. Listen to their ideas, respect their independence and show them how much you appreciate them by contributing to their self-care.

This tip isn’t just for work teams—it’s really about getting comfortable with delegating in all areas of your life. Your team might include your babysitter, hair stylist, therapist, partner, moving company… you get the idea. Whoever helps YOU be more productive needs your support to be productive (and happy and healthy!) too.

There you have it, my take on productivity!

I hope these tips help you get more done without creating more stress! Keep in mind that there’s no one-size-fits-all productivity plan. Your ability to get ‘er done will shift as life shifts. Babies change the game and so does sickness, family needs, unplanned renovations and car troubles. Our lives should be able to expand and contract based on what comes up. Be kind to yourself. Less but better. I love you.

If today’s tips resonated with you, don’t forget to grab my free ebook, How to Build Your Business without Burning Out: 10 Keys for Avoiding the Mistakes Most Entrepreneurs Make! It’s a must-read whether you’re already an entrepreneur or have always dreamed of starting a business, or if you have a burning passion you’ve been waiting for the right time to pursue (hint: the time is now!).

Your turn: What are your favorite productivity hacks? Or if you’re feeling unproductive these days, what’s standing in your way? Let’s support each other in the comments below!

Peace & simplicity,

The post How to Be More Productive in Work and Life (5 Stress-Free Tips!) appeared first on KrisCarr.com.

Battle shout definitions Preface

Here it is. massive post combining thought that happened as the battle shout fully emerged as my brand of all disciplines. Fragment - battle shout chapter - Combined story telling segments (Curated from the different WIP posts) EDIT NOTES - these are fragments from my social pages where I am in the battle shout and adventure basics thought. It’s incomplete as it only goes back to a gengar picture in my feed. There is more I still need to add. — Newer to older (will create a 2nd one that is in a final decided order for a reader, may jump between different moments in the time line, kept to a minimum for helping comprehension ——— Whoever offers human growth / wellness at either no cost or a much lower cost than previously widely available is winning in capitalism. I hope to invent the No Cost solution, following the footsteps of tech brands and passionate innovators of our time. Games and medicines altering my state of mind provided me a space within which to BECOME me. They offered me the lesson of re sociating, once I started practice a desire to learn it. Here are some of the problems I inhabited and the solutions I learned after using medicines - ---calorie /nutrition deprivation : solution - making eating easier with hacks like prep, (paper dishes/cutlery), getting timing right, the decision to Breakfast and eat it slowly - replacements like the Soylent drink - medicines that fix appetite IE cbd ----hypervigilance - maybe haven’t fully escaped this one yet. It’s an ongoing conflict - using Medicines that reduce my physical anxiety cortisol which comes through as wheezing escalation attacks and very bad sleep - sleeping correctly makes me feel calmer, breathe/think clearly Medicine examples - coffee, reishi mushroom, cannabinoids, magnesium, L theanine, Lemon balm, Sleep specific - L tryptophan, Zinc, valerian root, doxylamine (unisom) -----Escapism - learning how to use mindfulness and writing to transform my self avoiding into Self Actualization ------Counterdependence - Realizing that sharing/affection and giving affirmation would make me feel good, letting me treat ppl like I deserved their attention (as a provider) not gonna stand by saying nothing while they try to trash gaming and say we are giving kids screen / media addictions, when the only things I even really know I learned from gaming, mostly online blizzard and/or adventure gaming. I’m gonna teach what I learned. It’s battle shout. how we are failing worst as a so called civilized population: Educating the youngest. We are not doing it. We are not prioritizing growth and wellness for the children here. We are breaking their families, parents and guardians instead of supporting. Dehumanism is institution. *witnessing your smiling face is the deepest privilege I will experience in living* We are not gonna save anyone until we recognize that growth is about including everyone, recognizing their individual passions and curiosity, recognizing that they themselves will be the only ones to decide how to be that self, Monetary Value will only every Destroy us all. EVERY one is struggling and i care about EVERYONE, humanity needs a bigger solution than a Lifeline reaction to the symptoms rather than the cause. {If you or someone you care about is struggling, please know you are not alone. The National Suicide Prevention Lifeline is available at 1-800-273-8255 in the U.S. or find support worldwide at ‪https://www.befrienders.org/ }‬ —schools where all gamers, creatives, learners are accepted so that human wellness growth can be placed above the falseness of Monetary Value -- available at nowhere because no innovator yet has cared with their entire life's mission to save those we currently discard. The school I'm trying to invent has a simple Main Value - School is Lunch. The target priority is non monetary. *Monetary Value will not measure our success* Human growth measures it. Human currency. what I would do with the elusive Lottery / Genie situation is create the Ultra Library whose only mission was to include as many human beings in growth wellness as possible, to offer them the place, resources, nutrition, and community safety to build the life they want to create IN essence I am trying to invent a school. I have a seething hatred for the failure of Public sector school, dealing with both neurodiversity concerns and non child centered curriculum design. Self educating is superior. Curation can only help existing curiosity and passion. my huge dream is to innovate the third place concept in fusion with educationalism, gaming cafe, the concept of Feeding every learner because it's more educational- the ultimate capitalism winner is the one whose Patrons flock simply because it is Better. =high contrast videos with songs of numbers, counting, vehicles/ramps, and piles of balls=The young children find these things very amusing. - the wise old teachers find the fact very important to distribute, although they themselves do not find it amusing they find the fact that the tiniest students are amused very important for distribution.== []2[] Operating vehicles or consuming alcohol are the most dangerous and pointlessly risky activities done by anyone (who doesn’t do employment that is specifically danger facing). Most are not qualified for these activities. It’s not safe, please leave it to the professionals few. Giving, the act of providing because I want to see human growth and learning. That’s my freedom to practice. Dehumanism makes it into a crime, after valuing it zero. Dehumanism Institution perpetuates the idea that giving, feeding, teaching, expressing can be penalized as crimes. These are the pillars of MY free speech. Giving, the act of providing because I want to see human growth and learning. That’s my freedom to practice. (Scott Warren who faces up to 20 years in prison for giving food & water to 2 men who needed help in the Arizona desert.) What I’m talkin about is this anti educationalism. Shocked ? That we aren’t already Veterans for standing rock +500K decent human beings SWARMING the sites where this has happened to tell them we won’t stand by as bystanders to Deadly Dehumanism. We are complicit in these deaths. I am not gonna be quiet about this, my brand is built upon radical educating, lifeguarding, human growth. That also means opposing bully bigotry. []3[] There is a bullying situation regarding the spectrum. Happening to one of my closest humans. It is making her suicidal (no one can handle endless mistreatment, then mental health slides) - I learned how to fight off the suicide ideas because I was in a kind of rock bottom near that for 10 years - ultimately, I defeated the boss, and I learned the strategy. learn to Tank at the front of it for the people I’m trying to educate, and keep them here on our Alive team. This is the real deal why I am the tank. The battle shout is to Shine the truth and save your life, you the most brutally dehumanized by the institutions of this economic-dystopia She has to be given the feeling she does have the power and the choice whether to stay here with us, alive. Educationalism is the desire to be surrounded by growth allies, and free from anyone who thinks a decision that reduces or infringes your growth and learning is either ok or even debatable with you Can we get Birth insurance ? I want it to function like life insurance, in the event you are born, the insurance policy covers some assurances. Wait, no, that’s not an insurance plan, that’s what School is meant to be I’ll be over hear spamming battle shout and taunt if you come at me debating seriously over contexts whose choices are outcomes that don’t abuse and compromise a child’s school environment, or hurting the child’s emotional and basic wellbeing. My Aggro will not be exceeded! Let us consult YouTube, young one. Where’s the one about the baby Shark? I will find it for u most easily. If u ever get mad at someone u got road rage or someone is gank camping. Just tell them Yo dude please go hug urself! The time has come To Learn Bout Eating breakfast! If u don’t eat it, ur brain won’t think right, ya Dingus!! Wake up and eat this health, that’s your grade. Welcome to school. Favorite offline activities - social prompt - Activities that take place on beds, furniture or desk. Followed by wandering whether by land, air, or foot. Followed by culinary making. I identify toward the feeling that being burly means being kind - a defender, a watcher, a lifeguard. So it’s cool to see brands grounding themselves in this type of thought. burly man coffee promoted by a podcast i watch Brands that literally hold up kindness and human growth as a piece of their identity are the brands with sanity to shine light in the darkness of economic institutional dehumanization No game except maybe the sims had a soap item, demonstrated a buff benefit for soap. Soap knowledge is something that legitimately is part of human excellence - mind efficiency - educationalism ^^highlight$$ What I am concepting is the fact that valuable education is about human cognitive expansion, making this brain run the way its optimized to run, repetition, medicines/enhancers, the basic sensory reboots. Thinking better, clearer, bigger, quicker, learning ABOUT thinking. {schools get blamed for inability to solve the inequality economics} Entirety of the problem: the loss of investment into human growth and wellbeing. Capitalism forgot human currency value, then got surprised when everything turns shit? School IS lunch. We don’t need schools/tests/graduation. Kids will unschool just fine for the rest, if they are fed, safe, and able to have rest and resources and tech so they can iterate Failure during Curiosity. We need to care about human wellbeing, within our economics. Parents can and will educate. Most of the educating that needs to happen can only really be done by them. Gaming zen works for human growth bolstering because it follows the pattern our brains already know - repetition, the core block of neuroplasticity. This the overarching purpose of my Adventure Basics educational learning plan. As a creative first it’s my quest to harness games, adaptogens, and shamanism/lucidity/psychadelics to find transcendence. We can pair ego repletion with deeper Re-ssociation as an ultimate healing / neurogenesis. This will allow us to grasp mental wellness and human creative excellence. ** [intent statement as disciplines] From the multi disciplinarian standpoint- •Nintendo console 8 - 64 bit thought •Logic puzzles / riddles •classic adventure / role playing •classic FPS •classic dungeon crawl •Modern Adventure (games less about puzzle solving and more about finding all paths in a very large and breathtaking expanse) •Attention + Sensory rich interactive experiences •Primal Rage - the use of violence and intensity in musical and gameplay aesthetics •Cave human Dominance and roles thought deriving from gameplay, aspects of being Front edge protector of the tiniest most important Clan members •Economics Core freedom ideal - the belief that all interaction must be voluntary and the belief in a Best unity of gathered Wills ||||||Final crusade - educating to be correctly seen as: self evident truth about human growth, spanning nutrition, medicines, tools/games/challenges and driven by self voluntary []4[] School is Breakfast Lunch and Dinner plus freedom to explore one’s own sparks to ideas This is what I am teaching with my Wow Classic Adventure Basics educational Learning plans! ~~ One of my most important lessons about video game wellness is a thought from Mike ‪@MikeLICSW‬ Langois, that taking command of a powerful or attractive identity gives us strong boosts of mental ability and cognitive balance ultimately, for small attention cost. Ego repletion. It’s proven fact generosity makes u happier person. Why is this - the act of giving sparks gratitude to come forth. Gratitude literally saves, while angry kills u. This is the difference between troll griefing and community support