#i feel so alive when stores get their halloween stock in

[silksworn]

my favorite time of the year has BEGUN

[corruptedcaps]

2 for the price of 1

“Are you sure it’s ok if I wear one of your ex’s tops while I paint? I know her death hit you hard so I don’t want to over step. It fits pretty well even though I wasn’t as physically gifted as she was. I’ve got so tired all of a sudden. I think I might just lay down for a quick nap...”

“Oh you’re such a bad boy getting your girlfriend to try on my old shirt. You knew that any of my old clothes would allow me to possess her body and transform it into something a little sexier. Of course nothing will compare to the body I had when I was alive but I’ve been able to upgrade poor little Vicky all the same. Like what you see huh? Well come here and show me your gratitude, my possession only lasts an hour. Don’t worry she won’t remember a thing.”

“Mmmm oh baby it’s been a whole week since I’ve been able to take over Vicky. You have to get her more comfortable with wearing my old things. The more she craves it the hotter I can make her and remember the naughtier the item the sexier the upgrade. Like this sports bra and thong are all well and good but I can’t do anything new with them. Ah well I guess we’ll just have to fuck anyway.”

“Only four days since the last possession. Good boy she’s getting more used to your requests but it’ll be so much better when she’s picking the clothes for herself. Then she’ll be on the road to being a hottie like me. Isn’t that what you want right? You want your bookworm of a girlfriend to be just as vain and mean as I once was don’t you? That’s what really turns you on so of course you do. She’ll love being just like me too, now fuck me before she takes her body back.”

“One day? And what a hot little outfit you convinced her to wear. Remember the Halloween when I wore this to be a slutty red riding hood. Mmmm and look at how big my tits are now. What? That’s what I said, her tits. I think you’re getting distracted by them and hearing things so why don’t you come over here get a closer look for yourself.”

“So good to be back in your body Vicky and you did this one all yourself. I know you’re loving all the new found attention my clothes and changes are causing. Seeing as our devoted boyfriend isn’t here I’ll let you in on a little secret. I’m slowly corrupting your body so I can take it for myself. The more like me you become the more control you give me. Soon I’ll be able to kick you out and take over full control. When I do the first thing I’m doing is going by Victoria, it’s a far more bitchy and hot name but your body has to deserve it first. I need to make you into a willing slut. I know I’ll go fuck this handsome store clerk in the back and let you take back control when I’m about to cum, you’ll love how it feels being a cheating bitch.”

“Mmmm that took no time at all to find another guy to sleep with after that store clerk. Definitely helped wearing one of my sexier outfits I bet. Your sense of style is progressing nicely and your choice of men even more so. Look at this apartment you’ve woken me up in, he’s got to be a stock broker with this kind of place. Oh and what’s this? A picture of his family? Oh Vicky you home wrecking little slut, I couldn’t be more proud. Well we better get back to that loser boyfriend of ours before he cuts off your access to my clothes and I’m left without a body permanently.”

“Woah slow down babe I don’t know what you’re saying? She’s been out late every night this week without you and she’s going out again? That explains my hot little outfit she decided to wear. I don’t mean it like that, I mean she probably wore this for you so you can have what she’s denying all those guys at the clubs. Trust me. Now take off those pants so I can help her get started.”

“At the beach? With a gaggle of beta girls hanging on my every word and no pathetic boyfriend in sight? Vicky you have surpassed my most insidious intentions. It’s a shame I couldn’t of had you by my side when I was alive, you would of made an excellent lieutenant and I bet you would of eaten pussy like a pro. Mmmm I’m getting wet just thinking about it. I wonder if you’ve made any of these sluts bow down for you. Judging by how that that one blonde girl hasn’t taken her eyes off of me I think she’s our little concubine and if she isn’t she’s about to be.”

“Oh yessss Merry Christmas to me and my wonderfully crafted new body. It’s taken nearly a year but I’ve turned Vicky into the rightful alpha bitch I needed her to be. Over this time I’ve become so fond of her that I want her there by my side always instead of erasing her. I can feel her soul now completely blackened by my influence and is now compatible with my own. Mmmm I can feel our minds merging and ohhhh fuck yes! Yesssss! Yesssssss! Finally we are one! We are Victoria! Oh this feels even better than I had hoped. I feel like such a fully formed bitch now. No even better than that! It’s like having two evil goddesses in the one body! Thank you my loyal and hopelessly stupid boyfriend for starting me down this path. If you had shown even an ounce of moral strength then you’d still have a girlfriend. granted she’d be boring and ugly but she’d be yours all the same. Oh didn’t I tell you? We’re breaking up. Now that myself and Vicky are in a symbiotic relationship with each other we don’t need you anymore. Take one last look at our perfect body that you helped create before we walk out of your life forever.”

Model: Sabrina Lynn

[starlightrows]

Something Sweet

Chapter 1 - Spring Festival Funnel Cakes

← Previous - Next →

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Modern!Paz Vizsla x fem!reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: None!

Summary: Spring has sprung and business is booming and the community is celebrating with a weekend long festival... that you get to spend attending a vendors booth next to the handsome baker from down the street

The depths of winter in a place where it snows is not the ideal time to be moving your whole life and business. But you didn’t have much of a choice, you had already gotten the business license taken care of, the storefront purchased, and suppliers lined up. And with the lease on your apartment being up, it’s now or never. So with a small moving truck full of your belongings all packed up, you set off towards the city to finally chase your dream of opening a flower shop.

Your new apartment is nice, a bit smaller than your previous one but that comes with living alone in the city on a tight budget. But still it’s a one bedroom and it’s enough for just you. The storefront is beautiful. It’s located downtown in what you had assumed was a historic district of the city, but somehow is not classified as such. The buildings are lovely red brick exterior with large open windows for passers by to peek in, with quaint awnings over every door. Your store is located on the corner, with plenty of space to set up floral displays and hang potted plants in the windows. Come spring time this is going to be amazing, and beautiful and everything you dreamed of. You just hoped that others would think so too and come shop there.

By the time mid February rolls around there is still snow in the mountains, and the occasional rain and snow storm that blows through the area but it’s not as bad as when you first moved. Your apartment is coming along nicely, and your store is looking pretty good as well. You’re hoping to open by March 1st, but that’s still two and half weeks away. You’ve got plenty of time to finish painting, assembling shelves, figuring out how to want to arrange your displays, and set up the black board you’re planning to use to decorate the wall behind the checkout counter. You thought it might be fun to use chalk paint to decorate it for the various seasons, write specials, and do holiday countdowns.

You’re a little frustrated with yourself that you weren’t able to get everything in order to be open this weekend. Valentine’s Day is the prime time of the year for a flower and botanical shop. But spring is coming and that means birthdays, weddings, prom season, graduations, date nights, Mother’s Day and spring decorating! But for today it’s just you, a pair of worn overalls and a sweater, and a little can of paint for detailing the floor boards inside the shop. No flowers or valentines dates for you this year. You did see that there was a nice looking bakery a little ways down the street, maybe you could pick up a little treat for after dinner or some nice bread for making fancy toast.

Just the thought of it makes your mouth water, and your tummy rumble. Maybe you could make it an afternoon snack instead. You cap the lid to the paint bucket, and wash off your hands in the sink in the back. It’s not actively snowing but it is freezing outside, so you pull your jacket on over your sweater and lock the shop up behind you. You steal a quick glance at it, admiring how well it’s coming along, before you tuck your hands into your pockets and make your way down the street to the bakery.

It’s getting on in the afternoon, and the bakery isn’t very busy at the moment. But you’ve seen the lines in the morning when the bread is fresh out of the ovens, hopefully there will be something left for you.

You pull the door to the bakery open and step inside, glancing up at the sound of the tinkling bell that alerts the man behind the counter to your presence. He’s probably the tallest, broadest, burliest man you’ve ever seen; and then he smiles at you. It’s a smile that takes up his whole face, and lights up his eyes.

“Hey, welcome in” his voice is deep and sweet. You can literally feel your heart skip a beat and you almost forget why you came in here.

“Hi, I was hoping you might have some pastries or baguettes” you say, approaching the counter. He seems to blank out for a second, because he doesn’t answer you immediately.

“Uh- no sorry no pastries. But I do have a couple of French baguettes left,” he says. You’re a little disappointed about the pastries, perhaps you needed to come in earlier in the day. He pulls a baguette from the bread counter and offers it to you in a long parchment bag.

While he rings up your bread, you take the time to look around at his displays and other breads. “What’s your specialty?” You find yourself asking, thoroughly impressed with the wide variety he has to offer.

“I’m really proud of my ciabatta rolls,” he says earnestly “but I’ve been working on a new roasted tomato and herb crusted bread that excited about,”

You smile at his enthusiasm, it’s great to see people who are passionate about their craft. “I’ll have to come back and try it when you’ve got it figured out,”

You thank the kind man, and step back out into the cold to make your way back to your shop. Instantly you regret not asking for his name, but then again he just works down the street you’ll find out eventually.

———

February passed by in an overcast and sometimes snowy daze. You are able to meet your deadline and open your new store on March 1st. It’s finally a little sunnier on your opening weekend and just that simple fact has people outside and milling about. People are anxious to usher in spring, and there is no better way to brighten up the tail end of winter than by having fresh flowers, lush green house plants and aesthetically pleasing succulents around to decorate your space. Your entire store front is practically picked bare by the end of your first day! Good thing you get fresh deliveries every day, and have a fully stocked back room to replace all your wares for tomorrow.

Business slows down just a touch, but you’ve still got steady foot traffic for most of the day all through the spring. The weather is warming up, and the days are getting longer. Prom season is coming up and you’ve already pre cutting ribbon and bulk ordering corsage boxes. Graduations will be coming up soon too, you make sure to mark on your calendar when the local schools ceremonies are so you can have bouquets and lei ready in time.

One warm afternoon in April it’s a little slow and you’ve already swept the store, washed the windows inside and out, and potted 15 new plants in the back; so you take a well deserved break by standing behind the counter and reading a book. The bell on the door chimes and you look up to see a woman wearing jeans and a polo shirt with the city logo embroidered on the chest.

“Hi my name is Jennifer I’m with the city’s Parks and Recreation department,” she introduces herself and offers her hand to shake. You smile and accept her hand, giving your name as well.

“I’m stopping by all the local businesses to give you this” she hands you a flyer “the city’s annual spring festival is coming up at the end of May. Traditionally we bring in food trucks and invite arts and crafts vendors from the area to come sell their pieces and get some exposure, in the last couple years we’ve been expanding it to other local businesses too. There’s more information on the website to sign up to get you a booth if you’re interested. I think having a plants and flowers booth would be perfect for the spring festival”

She stays to chat about the festival for a couple minutes describing how fun it is to see all the local artists showing their craft, children getting their faces painted, live music, picnicking, and coming together as a community to celebrate the change in seasons.

“This city really comes alive at community events,” she tells you “Free concerts in the park in the summer, cultural learning events, fun runs, around the holidays we have a big Christmas tree lighting ceremony and winter carnival, don’t even get me started on how much this city goes all out for Halloween!”

Jennifir leaves after another couple minutes of excited chatter about the various events put on by the city, and continues on down the street to invite your business neighbors to attend the festival as vendors too. The whole interaction leaves you thrilled at the opportunity to advertise your business, make some more money for the shop, and be part of the community! Your long forgotten book is tucked away in favor of pulling out your laptop to register yourself with the city planning committee to participate in the festival.

The next few weeks you work extra hard to get through prom season, and put in more hours than usual to get everything prepared for graduations as well. The days tick by in May. Mother’s Day is an amazing weekend, you put up a temporary photo shoot wall for mom’s, daughters, grandmothers, or really anyone to come in and take a picture with a flower wall backdrop. Another amazing success full of happy smiling people!

Finally the weekend of the festival arrives, people from the city have been cleaning up the park and working their tails off to get everything perfect for the event. A massive stage is erected in the park, the usual parking lots are lined with enclosed pop up tents for the vendors selling hot foods, extra trash cans are placed everywhere, and early Saturday morning the local businesses are arriving with their SUV’s and vans full of goods to set up their tables.

You are among that crowd. Busily working to get your table set up under a pop up tent for shade, your flowers and potted plants ready for display, making sure you have enough cash for making change in transactions, and cardboard boxes to help people carry their new plant babies home with them.

All around you other local businesses are setting up their booths too. You recognize a few of them that you’ve visited already, but you’re looking forward to seeing more of them. Beside you, you absolutely recognize the tall, broad, and exceptionally handsome man that owns the bakery down the street from you. Spending the whole weekend stuck next to eye candy, and artisan bread… even if you didn’t sell a single flower this weekend at least you’d have a good view.

The morning is warming up, people will be arriving soon, your coffee long since gone. You steal a glance over at the man carefully arranging his bread displays. He glances over at you too, and grins at catching you staring.

“Morning,” he says cheekily

“Good morning,” you reply, going a bit warm in the cheeks.

“Flower booth for a spring festival? I think you’re in the running for making the most profit this weekend,” he jokes looking at your pretty flower displays and cute potted plants. You laughed a little and eyed his selection of breads hungrily

“I dunno, people don’t want to carry around a heavy plant all day. But they do want to snack on some delicious bread,”

He laughs, and extends a hand to introduce himself. “I’m Paz by the way,”

You shake his large hand and tell him your name as well. It’s a firm handshake, worn hands and strong forearms presumably from kneading bread dough. The thought makes your tummy flutter, and your heartbeat quicken.

And so it begins. The two of you pull up chairs at the edges of your pop up tents, and spend the whole day laughing, talking, interacting with customers and making sales. At the end of the first day, he sends you home with a loaf of bread with Asiago cheese baked into the top, and you gift him a pretty green succulent and promise him they are almost impossible to screw up taking care of.

The second day of the festival is much the same, except this time he brings you a breakfast sandwich he prepared ahead of time.

“If you wouldn’t mind, I need a taste tester. I’ve been thinking about expanding my menu to add breakfast sandwiches,” he tells you with a shy smile. You gladly accept the sandwich and have to control yourself not to make embarrassing noises when you taste it.

“You made this from scratch?” You ask, taking another bite

“Well I made the bun,” he says, unwrapping his own homemade breakfast sandwich

“If you start selling this, I promise you’ll put places like Starbucks out of business,” you tell him “honestly, I’m gonna have to start coming down there every morning before I open,”

In his head, Paz thinks that would be an absolute dream to have you come see him everyday. But that’s not the kind of thing you tell someone you met 24 hours ago, so he settles for something else instead

“How far is your shop? Maybe you can have your breakfast delivered,”

“You didn’t know?” You ask “I just opened my shop on the far corner of the street your bakery is on. I actually came in to try your bread a couple months ago,”

Paz is a little embarrassed, he knew a business moved in down there but had no idea it was your flower shop. “No way! I remember you coming in to the bakery, but I had no idea you worked down the street,”

“To be fair the store wasn’t open yet, and I somehow managed to forget to introduce myself,” you tell him.

Just like the day before, the two of you spend the day laughing and chatting in between greeting customers and promoting your respective businesses.

In the early afternoon a man with shaggy dark hair, sun glasses, tattoos and a very cute little boy wearing a green bucket hat came over and started making conversation with Paz. He glanced over at you.

“Have you met Din yet?” Paz asks you “He owns the tattoo parlor across from the bakery,”

You smile and shake his hand, you see his little boy eyeing your selection of plants. “Do you want to pick one out buddy?” You ask the little boy, he nods enthusiastically and chooses a little pot with the beginnings of a strawberry plant in it.

“Shorty and I were just gonna go grab some funnel cake before we head home for nap, I just stopped by to see if you wanted some,” Din says

“Yeah, that would be great!” Paz says.

Din turns to you, and extends the same offer. You politely decline, claiming there’s no way you’d ever finish one on your own.

“You can split one with me,” Paz beams. Din nods and leads his son off into the crowd to acquire the sweet treats.

“I can’t believe you haven’t met everyone yet,” Paz says “We all get together on Tuesday nights after hours for beers,”

“Who is we exactly?” You ask, sitting back down in the folding chair the festival committee had generously provided.

“Most of the shop owners on our street, and a couple of others from around the corner. They actually convinced me to move out here and start my business a couple years ago,”

“I had no idea there was such a community amongst the business owners around here,” you admit.

“You’ve gotta come meet everyone next week,” he insists “You’ll fit right in!”

Your heart warms at the sentiment. One of your big fears moving to the city was not knowing anyone and struggling to find a new group of friends. This could be promising!

Din and his son make their way back and come sit behind the tables with you and Paz. You and Paz do split the funnel cake, and have a grand time chatting with Din and his little boy.

“You’re telling me you’ve been in business for three months and haven’t been dragged into the group? You’ve gotta start coming to Tuesday night drinks,” Din laughs

“So I’ve been told. I think you boys have convinced me, I’ll be there on Tuesday,” you laugh. Paz and Din give a little cheer.

“Everyone will be so excited to meet you! But until then I think the little stinker needs to get home for a nap,” Din says scoops up his sleepy son who’s been dozing in his dad’s lap for the last 15 minutes “I’ll see you Tuesday,”

Din gives a one handed wave and disappears back into the crowd.

The remainder of the afternoon is a bit slower, the last remaining festival

“I’ll come down and pick you up so you don’t have to show up on your own,” Paz offers “Besides I need to check out your shop!”

“Awe! Thank you, that would be great!” You reply, a subtle warmth blooming in your cheeks at the thought of him coming to visit your shop.

Your heart does somersaults in your chest. He’s so sweet and kind. And he’s inviting you to be part of his friend group. That has to be a good sign, right?

Taglist: @maybege @gallowsjoker @simping-for-clones @mxndoscyarika @hayley-the-comet

AN: This whole story, but this chapter specifically is very special to me. The city this story takes place in is based off of the two cities I have lived in, in my life. I grew up going to festival that takes place in late spring, that’s really important to the town I was born and grew up in... and the new city that I moved to as an adult is known for its public markets on Saturday’s where local vendors sell their flowers and their baked goods. I am just days away from moving back to my home city (temporarily) and due to covid I didn’t have the opportunity to attend the public market the last two years in a row. I don’t know if I’ll get to participate in the spring festival in my hometown this year.

[deansawthetvglow]

Prompt: For Dean's birthday, Cas Googles "presents for loved ones" and inadvertently follows recommendations for romantic gifts.

Shit. Okay. Hi anon, i forgot how to see inbox notifs and have no clue if u sent this during my drunk promt ask or sober prompt ask but will fill now.

Alright nvm ^^^ that didn’t happen.

 I lost this prompt for days after I got drunk and I couldn’t find it in my drafts and alas, finally. Anyways, this was written fully sober, lmao.

Just a Little Bit of Your Heart, 2.2k, 

fluff, light angst, post s14. (ao3 link if u want)

It’s January 20th, 4 days out from Dean’s 40th birthday and he still has yet to decide on a gift. It’s his first time, really, buying Dean a birthday gift. Sure, there had been the pack of funny socks he had snagged in passing from the check out at a Gas-N-Sip, but there hadn’t been any thought behind that, no planning, nothing that Castiel thought constituted the socks as a gift. Not really. 

Not only that, but there had never really been occasion to purchase a gift for Dean until now. Sam and Castiel had decided that, with the world coming to an end and all, Dean finally deserved a proper birthday party. In years past, he had either insisted on drowning out his birthday’s with booze or insisted on ‘no gifts.’ 

Castiel isn’t sure why, maybe because the eldest Winchester brother would only feel more indebted to the others around him, or perhaps because he simply didn’t like gifts. Either way, that’s why it became his mission to get the perfect gift for Dean. Something that isn’t a curse, but a comfort. 

The time after Mary and Jack had passed away and Chuck opened the gates of hell had been rough for Dean and him. Sam had kept a protective arm’s length between Castiel and Dean, insisting Dean needed time. It hurt to feel their bond being stretched thin as he’d watch Dean across the bunker from the corner of his eye, careful not to step into his space. Castiel had decided to stay in the bunker despite the tension though, Sam insisting they needed all hands on deck as they began on the long road to killing God.

Still, despite their close proximity, and the time they’ve had to heal, he can’t help but feel further from Dean. 

Cas remembers when Sam told a story of the time he gave Dean a chocolate bar and some motor oil for Christmas. Apparently, Dean had lit up at the sentiment, but Castiel can’t handle settling for something like that. 

Dean deserves something special. 

Castiel begins his search on Google using the simplest, most “Dean” search terms he can think of. 

Men’s flannels

Not special enough

Classic records

Maybe some time, but still, not good enough.

A new pair of boots

Shoes are always too risky. 

Cowboy costume

Halloween maybe, but not for this. 

Guns

Dean already has one he trusts. 

It’s been nearly two hours browsing Google and Amazon before Castiel has to take a break and let his head loll back with a sigh. 

After stretching a bit and standing up to pace the length of the bunker, he finally settles on a Google search that he’s sure will bear fruit. 

Gifts to show you care for someone. 

Castiel takes his time clicking through the links and scrolling through many of the lists. He nearly gives up when finally, an article entitled, “Gifts to Connect You to the Person You Care About”  catches his eye.

Cas smiles at the headline and clicks through the list, cataloging the possibilities away in his mind.

However, all those possible gifts dissipate from his mind as soon as he sees it. It’s perfect, and they have some in stock at the Bed Bath & Beyond an hour and a half away in Nebraska. With that, Cas calls a “Be back later!” into the seemingly empty bunker and heads out to fetch Dean’s gift. 

When he finally arrives at the store, he makes his way inside and heads to the sleep section, his eyes lighting up when he sees what he’s looking for on the shelf below a big “As Seen On TV” sticker. 

Next to the sticker it reads: “Bed Beats” 

Bed Beats are a pair of wristbands and compact speakers that are connected via wifi anywhere in the world. Just slip the wristband on, place the disc speaker underneath your pillow and send a request to your partner through the app. When they slip on their own wristband, the device will relay their heartbeat to your speaker and vice versa. Never feel disconnected again.

Castiel grins, giddy, and picks up the first box on the shelf. It’s exactly what he and Dean need. It’s the perfect way for Cas to watch over Dean without invading his space. It’s anatomical communication without speech. Cas will know when Dean needs help as his heartbeat speeds up, he’ll know when he’s at peace, he’ll know he’s alive. 

He also blinks at the bursting yellow sticker that sits on the top left corner of the box that exclaims, “Great for Long Distance Couples!” 

They may not be a couple, but with the way that their souls and relationship has grown distant, Castiel decides that’s enough to classify them as ‘long distance.’ 

As he waits in the line to check out, Cas also grabs a simple card and a tube of discounted, red wrapping paper left over from the holiday season. 

When he gets back to his car, he decides it’s best to get everything in order before presenting the gift to Dean. When he finally gets into the heavily taped box, he pulls out one set of the wristband/speaker combos and sets it aside for himself. 

Before shrouding the other set in the metallic, red of post-Christmas, 99¢ wrapping paper, he syncs the devices and downloads the app to avoid the hassle of setting it up later. 

Then, he writes, with his thigh as a sort of table, in the card with an old pen he found in the console of his truck. 

I’m including the instruction booklet in this card (please don’t read until after you open the gift!)

Dean, 

I know I’ve made so many mistakes lately, and that perhaps we do not see eye to eye on everything any longer, but this is a chance to connect without having to agree. Just to sleep and not be so alone. 

Happy Birthday. I hope you like it. 

Yours, Castiel

However, he scribbles out the ‘yours’ as it feels out of place in this letter. With that, he seals the card, and the instructions, into a white envelope with Dean’s name in angelic script printed on the front.

The drive home is pleasant and he can’t help but feel butterflies for the moment he gets to present it to his charge. 

The next days pass silently, Castiel with his gift for Dean hidden in his own closet and nearly forgotten amid all the preparations for the party. 

Sam was in charge of inviting people and Dean had insisted on being in charge of food and drinks. On the day of the party, Castiel sits off to the side as many of the guests enter, most are hunters he’s never met before, and he can’t help but feel like an outsider as the day of barbequing and reminiscing devolves into pie and drunkenness by nightfall. 

He’s glad to see Jody and Claire, but even then, their conversations are stilted, both of them want to speak primarily to Dean, the ‘birthday boy’, while Cas isn’t allowed that luxury. 

He sits away from Dean all night, only making contact to say “Happy Birthday, Dean” after he blows out the ‘4’ and ‘0’ candles that someone stuck straight through the latticework on a sweet, cherry pie. Cas smiles as Claire goes up and whispers something to Dean that makes him throw his head back in laughter and begin a lively conversation with her. 

That’s when he realizes he’s on the outside looking in. 

From where he stands, nursing a finger of whiskey, he can see Alex and Garth discussing the medical anomalies of Lycanthropes, Sam, apocalypse-world-Bobby, Donna and Jody playing some sort of cards-and-drinking game, a few people he doesn’t know attempting beer pong in the war room and even a pair of local hunters musing over the library’s expansive collection. 

He’s an outsider like he’s always been with the Winchesters. When he’s not of use, he feels unwelcome. He knows there’s never any ill intent, but even now, when he doesn’t even need his angel mojo, he still doesn’t quite fit. He doesn’t understand half of the banter thrown around the room, he can’t get drunk unless he drinks the entirety of the Men of Letters scotch collection, and he can’t interact with the guests without Dean coming up. 

At this, loneliness overtaking him, he decides to retreat to his room to wait the party out. 

He sends a nod and a tip of his glass to Sam before motioning that he’s leaving, Sam acknowledges him with a grin, drunk on whiskey and the excitement of the party, and Cas slips out of sight. 

Before letting himself rest, he sneaks into Dean’s room to place the card and the gift on his bed. 

He decides it’s best that way.

–

Castiel keeps his personal speaker and wristband close to him, beside his phone on his nightstand, hoping that some night it will be of use. He feels the uncertainty drift in and out as each night passes without so much as an acknowledgment of the gift. 

A week passes before anything happens. It’s 3 am when Castiel’s ears pick up on the small ‘ding’ that pops out of his phone speakers. 

He rolls over and grabs his phone. On the screen sits a notification. 

Bed Beats

Dean would like to share his heartbeat. Accept?

Castiel grins into the dark and arranges the speaker underneath his pillow before securing the soft band around his wrist at his pulse point. 

With a tentative thumb, he swipes to accept and lays his right ear down onto his pillow to hear Dean. He can hear his heart beating quickly, possibly a nightmare, Cas thinks, and wills his own jittery heart to slow. He has to be the grounding one for Dean, has to be a comfort. 

His own heart beats deep like a drum, and soon he can hear Dean’s heart rate slowing to match his own. Soon, they’re in perfect sync with one another. He feels closer to Dean than he has in months and hopes Dean feels the same. 

He listens as his charge’s heart rate begins to slow even more, to around 75 beats per minute, he notes, and assumes he’s slipping into sleep. 

Castiel, usually one for wandering the bunker after the brothers are asleep, doesn’t dare lift his head from his pillow until Dean ends the connection come morning light. 

It continues like this for many weeks, Dean requesting Castiel’s heartbeat in the wee morning hours, disconnecting at sunrise, and going about the days as if nothing has changed. 

Nothing’s really changed during the day. They continue to keep their distance. Dean thanks him for making the coffee one Sunday morning and Sam tells Cas, “See, space is all you needed,” his eyes sincere, “It’s healing.” But Sam doesn’t know the reason the healing process has begun to speed up. Cas can tell Dean hasn’t told his brother of the gift, and he prefers it that way. It’s the first thing between them that Sam isn’t clued into since before Mary’s passing. That alone brings him peace.

It’s a Tuesday in early March when everything shifts. Cas is lying on his back in his bed, nerves nearly taking him. Dean almost always pings by 3 am, and now it’s 45 minutes past and he’s trying to keep calm. 

A sound makes Castiel’s ears prick up, but this time it’s not a sharp ‘ding,’ it’s the soft sound of knuckles rapping on his door. 

Cas, beneath the covers in his most comfortable shirt, one Dean loaned him for the brief period he was human, props himself up on one elbow and quirks his head as the door opens softly, revealing Dean in his doorway. 

He’s in a Led Zeppelin t-shirt with holes around the seams, and a pair of black briefs, and the “Send Noods” socks Castiel bought him. 

“Dean?” 

“Hey, Cas” Dean whispers into the darkness as he steps into the room, shutting the door behind him with care. 

Words die on Castiel’s lips and his breath hitches as Dean pads, soft and calm, to his bedside. 

He lifts the corner of Castiel’s blankets ever so slightly and looks down into the glint of Castiel’s blue eyes as if asking permission. Castiel gives him a slight nod and holds his breath as Dean lifts the covers further and slips in under them. He positions himself with his head resting on the left side of Castiel’s chest, ear right above his heart and arm draped across him, hand gently thumbing at the soft fabric on Castiel’s right shoulder. 

Castiel can feel his own heart rate pick up, it’s swift and uncontrollable and it’s filling his vessel up to the brim with hard thumps. He’s beginning to wonder if he’ll ever breathe again when a low thud overcomes his near panic. 

As bright as a bell in a void, he hears it, Dean’s heartbeat, drumming from the deep. This time it’s his charge’s heart that’s strong and steadfast and convinces Castiel’s own to join it in slow synchronization. 

Castiel takes in a breath and slows his own heart rate. He sees Dean’s eyelids flutter shut and he lets his chin rest in the soft of Dean’s hair, his left hand rubbing slow circles into his back. 

“I missed you.” 

Dean doesn’t speak, but Castiel can feel the whisper of a smile move on his chest. 

As he lets himself drift into peace, thoughts blink in his mind at the pace of his heart. 

I fit here. Dean fits here. This is my family. This is who I love. This is home.

____

(Gift based on this!!!)

[momtemplative]

MASKED.

1.

In a house with two young kids, our quickest sanity-stabilizer in this COVID era was to head outside and go for a walk, or a bike ride, or to roller skate. We’d pay close attention to the proximity of passers-by, but typically the grassy fields by the bike paths were an open canvas for the kids to blow off some steam. And we’d all return home a bit winded and slightly more stable. 

Then, a little more than two weeks ago, a strong recommendation came from Governor Polis for everyone to wear masks in public. But what, pray-tell, was “public” referring to? 

Here’s what the CDC endorsed: wearing cloth face coverings in public settings where other social distancing measures are difficult to maintain (e.g., grocery stores and pharmacies) especially in areas of significant community-based transmission.

So that’s what we assumed Polis recommended as well. That night we even had a happy hour gathering with our neighbors, all at least 6-feet-away, but without masks. We didn’t feel like we were being sneaky or non-compliant, we were simply following the guidelines as we understood them. 

But then we started seeing people in their yards wearing masks, and on walks wearing masks— in addition to 6-feet! There was an eerie infiltration of mask-wearers, and, with that, the non-verbal communication of an abrupt change of protocol. Our sacred, oft-traveled, 1,000-step bike path that loops around the block started to feel unfamiliar, as if it were a movie set peppered with strangers, wearing homemade cloth curtains over their cheeks. 

We quickly felt like a minority out there with our bare faces.

2.

An afternoon walk was once a favorite time of day—quarantine or not. Quickly though, in light of the current mask situation, and before I began to wear one, my brain started to get stuck in a grinding pattern of managing everyone else’s whereabouts in accordance with my own. I noticed that I was judging those who were masked, at least in part because I was sure they were judging me. 

Their judgment and my judgment felt cut from the same cloth: judgement as a way of controlling the uncontrollable. There is so much confusion about protocols. So much fear of the radio broadcast of white noise and speculation that is to be our future. All these feelings get lumped together into just trying to do it right. I returned from one particular walk stiff as a board and deeply grumpy.

“Jesse,” I said, “I’m not going on a walk again without a mask.”

3.

I opted out of any domestic sewing of masks at first, and started with my old-lady cardigan tied around my face like a waist. I then upgraded to a bedazzled bandana that I bought to fill Opal’s Easter basket last year. I love the happy fabric, but it wouldn’t stay up over my nose for anything beyond the liquor drive-through (my singular biweekly errand). Store-bought masks are not an option. They’ve been back-ordered for weeks and if the stock is replenished, it needs to be saved for the blessed healthcare workers.

By the next weekend, Jesse and Opal wore masks that they made from a YouTube video, using mustard-yellow t-shirts and rubber bands, while on a bike ride. That ride turned out to be very brief because, according to Opal, it was so hard to breathe. 

4.

The solidarity and confidence that come from wearing a mask are helpful and significant, sure. But the act of wearing a mask changes the experience entirely. 

On a purely physical level, it muddles your peripheral vision, steams up your glasses, makes it hot and very hard to breathe. 

On a social-emotional level, the masks create a real separation between people. It feels similar to being at a costume party—even if the invite list includes most of your friends, everyone is suddenly anonymous. 

I walked behind two people (in masks) and a dog from a block away that I thought were my beloved next door neighbors. I even hollered at them. (They didn't hear me.) Then I got closer and realized it was a different dog and very much not my neighbors. It’s all very disorienting.  

5.

One week in, and Opal has taken Polis’s suggestion as gospel. Of course, I don’t blame her. Sometimes when we are out and about, so is the rest of the neighborhood. During those times, the mask feels safe and dare-I-say comforting. (Like we are good, complaint citizens. Go us.) But other times, there is nobody outside. I tell Opal, “Sweetie, we can keep our masks around our chins until we see someone (dozens of feet away!) and then put up our masks.” 

Opal’s reply: NOT A CHANCE.

I try to imagine what it would be like to experience all this at age ten. What other such details has her system become accustomed to over the last month? Zoom call playdates, online school, little sister around all-the-effing-time. Maybe some feelings come out sideways? Maybe everything seems overwhelming and busy even though very little is happening?

In the olden days, before COVID, any sort of outdoor trek was soul-nourishing for all of us. It ticks a lot of boxes: sunshine, fresh air, exercise for me and the dog and the kids, a brain reset. Now, masked, such an activity is beyond taxing. Ruth has no desire to keep her mask on and she’s a runner. We can bribe her with a lollipop to stay in the stroller, but the girth of the BOB, along with the leashed (80-pound) dog requires skill and intentional footing on an average day. Trying to juggle it all through a face-drape is the emotional equivalent of walking through tar. A guaranteed headache.

Returning to our backyard, with its creaky swingset and patchwork yard, and removing our masks (along with the associated invisible constraints) is beyond restorative.

“That’s the best part about a mask,” Opal said. “Taking it off and having the air taste so fresh and cold again.”

6.

On Sunday morning—a few days ago and two solid weeks into the mask-in-public rules of conduct—the kids were scattered on the floor watching Frozen while I folded laundry and Jesse tinkered away at the sewing machine. Project: to sew face-masks that fit each of us properly. It was a lovely scene of the times. I would imagine Norman Rockwell painting such an episode if he were alive during COVID. A family of four (plus cat, plus dog) in their natural weekend habitat. Slow to dress, sipping juice or coffee, and, sewing face masks.

“Ruth,” Jesse said, “Come on over here and try this on to see if it fits.” Ruth scurried over to him to try on her mask like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Later that day, I walked our dog wearing the mask Jesse so lovingly crafted for me (after three fittings). It was exquisite, hands-free, spacious around the mouth. He even used the sweetest yellow-petal, summer dress fabric. When I returned, I kissed him straight through the mask.

7.

In spite of a good fit, it still takes exponentially more effort to greet someone while masked—you have to yell or over-gesture to compensate for the fact that both of your faces are completely erased. Because we wear ours primarily outside, most people are in sunglasses with their masks. But if not, they are far enough away where eye-reading is not an option. It’s all a straight-up guessing game.

More often than not, for the sake of simplicity, it’s just me and the dog these days. Typically, I have my dog’s leash in my left hand, and a steamy bag of his shit in my right that gets carried for countless unpleasant blocks. This is due to the lack of public trash facilities on the neighborhood routes I find are easier to navigate within the guidelines of 6-feet-between. Bike paths are pretty tight if there isn’t open space to veer off on either side. And now I’ve got my mask on, and fogged-up sunglasses. The uniform is similar to that of someone on Halloween in a last-minute ghost-sheet costume, with just the eyes cut out, cobbling along with both hands full. This is not a “path is the journey” sort of moment. I’m lucky if I can twitch out a head-nod or an elbow-wave to a passer-by.

It feels important to counteract the separation that has become synonymous with health and life. But I’d be lying if I said I was able to muster a greeting every time.

8.

In our culture, masks (when not worn in a medical setting) often represent sinister actions—bandits or bank robbers or the KKK who want to hide defining features.

For many Asian countries, mask-wearing was a cultural norm even before the coronavirus outbreak. In East Asia, many people are used to wearing masks when they are sick or when it's hayfever season, because it's considered impolite to sneeze or cough in public.

The 2003 Sars virus outbreak, which affected several countries in the region, also drove home the importance of wearing masks, particularly in Hong Kong, where many died as a result of the virus. Says the BBC news: “One key difference between these societies and Western ones, is that they have experienced a contagion before—and the memories are still fresh and painful.”

I recently read a story about two black men who were wearing masks at Walmart—fully in compliance and trying to keep themselves safe—when they were accosted by police. It hit me like a whip how individualized each of us are experiencing this pandemic. I skoff at my mask because it’s a pain-in-the-ass. But I’ll never be faced with also having to weigh the risks of racial profiling.

Delving further, I read that to-mask-or-not-to-mask has become a way to take a political stance. Trump supporters carrying “My body, My choice” signs, with an illustration of a crossed-out mask—this is a common image to see in the media right now.

The Washington Post said: “Even as governors, mayors and the federal government urge or require Americans to wear masks in stores, transit systems and other public spaces to contain the spread of the novel coronavirus, the nation is divided about whether to comply. And it is divided in painfully familiar ways — by politics and by attitudes about government power and individual choice.”

So, clearly, it is about so much more than just a mask.  

9.  

This just in. 

In a press conference that took place a few days ago, April 20th, Governor Jared Polis and state epidemiologist Dr. Rachel Herlihy outlined how life may change in Colorado as soon as next week, when “shelter-in-place” shifts to “safer-at-home.” They are essentially the same, just with a select few businesses opening with strict distancing rules and incremental shifts toward less physical distancing over all. Polis mentions nothing different about mask-wearing. Meaning, still wear them in public, especially if you can’t get 6-feet-between, especially if you’ve been exposed or have symptoms.

I noticed an immediate difference on my walk following his announcement. There was a family of four playing frisbee in an open space without masks! My initial feeling was wait, WTF? (And yes, I realize we are living in a strange state of affairs for my initial reaction to a beautiful family frolicking in a field to be contempt.) There was a man throwing a ball for his dog in a park that still had many visible CLOSED signs—also NO MASK. (Again, WTF??) I then gave a wide, grassy birth to a group of mask-free bike riders. 

I notice my mask feels more like a burden on my face without the unifying solidarity of everyone doing it. We all seem to be getting different memos.

There’s a huge relief that people are back to having faces, to be sure. I miss people. I love faces. But I have to admit that in spite of my hemming and hawing, I’d gotten used to feeling protected. It’s impossible to make sense of any of it. Even little Ruth came in yesterday and gave a tiny cough. “I’m sick,” she said, “Since I didn’t wear a mask today.” 

Circling back to the facts, the only thing worth grasping at right now, I am challenged to find any bit of news to suggest that our household need to be wearing masks while out on walks—under any level of regulation thus far. Neither Jesse nor myself are working outside of the house. We don’t visit with friends or family. (Big sigh.* We miss everyone terribly.) The odds of us being silent carriers are beyond slim. We are not immuno-compromised. So wearing masks these last few weeks—while still on socially distanced walks—could probably be categorized as an act of cultural alignment, an act of doing everything we can for the cause. 

As of right now, this moment, I do not see our mask-wearing as being impactful to our macro OR micro community. So, for the sake of preserving the sanity of our tiny culture for the long haul, I vote that we wear our beautifully-Jesse-crafted masks on our chins, like flattened feathers at the ready. 

“As it (the “safer-at-home” regulations) rolls off April 27, we need to figure out how to run the marathon now that we’ve run the sprint,” Governor Polis said in his most recent press conference. “I hate to break it to you, but the easy part was the sprint.”

[tusara]

Get to know me!

Tagged by: @finasol (thank you very much! 😊)

Rules: Complete the fifteen questions and tag ten others who you follow but you want to get to know more!

Name: Missy

Age: ; )

Country: United States

Favorite color: Deep blues, reds, and purples, sometimes pinks.

When you made this blog: Heck, I think a little over 2 years ago, but I wasn't very active at the start.

Follower count: 141. Thank you all for your patience XD

Choose one superhero power: Flight. I used to have a lot of dreams where I was flying and I loved them so much. Feeling the wind rush past made me feel so free and happy.

Favorite drink: Eggnog. I have to wait until November before any stores will stock it, but the wait is sooo worth it \(TwT)/

A song you love right now: DOOM DADA by T.O.P, and Chase Holfelder's cover of "She Used To Be Mine". From one end of the spectrum to the other XD

Dream career: Video game designer or a voice actor. Video games have always been a big part of my life (I grew up watching my parents play), and I want to help make an amazing game one day.

Dream vacation: Any kind of hiking or backpacking w/ close friends or family.

Hogwarts house: Hufflepuff. One of my best IRL friends is a Slytherin, so we kinda make up for what the other lacks XD

Favorite character of the week: I'm split between 2 rn: Bayman from the Dead or Alive series, and Varric Tethras from the Dragon Age series.

How you like to keep your hair: It's always up and out of my face in a ponytail, but I always have strands that fall out of it.

Christmas or Halloween: Halloween. I'm a little old to go trick or treating, but I'm short and have a baby face, and will be going with other short baby-faced people, so no one will be any the wiser👌

Tagging: @mayor-of-mustard @ethereallabyrinth @spoonfullofworry @thomrainierskies @kiraragal200 @burritocappuccino @thesmolflowerprince @momochanners @questionboxjuliet and @inkling12

[messrsmemoirs]

What do you think Remus was doing before going to teach at Hogwarts? Or if you answered that already, what do you think his feelings were on teaching? Do you think he ever had a dream job?

Before teaching at Hogwarts, I think Remus spent a lot of years sort of lost, and drifting.  Both physically, being sort of out of work more often than not, but also emotionally. Remus had to really figure out who he was now that his entire world had sort of dissolved beneath him. Not only had he lost his friends, who were more than likely his entire social circle and formed part of his identity, but without Voldemort there was no need for the Order, either. There was no need to band together, no need to stay together after the war. So Remus had war brothers and sisters, but they weren’t close like the real thing or like his friends. And without the Order, Remus didn’t even have a purpose, or in the most basic sense, a job to do. Remus woke up the morning of November 1 1981 and he had basically become redundant and suddenly very, very alone.

What happens to people when they come home from war? From what I understand, there is this very strange feeling of familiarity that is somehow not familiar whatsoever. Once the celebrations had died down, Remus would have been left in what probably felt like a strange parallel universe: everything is the same, like Diagon Alley, Hogwarts, wizarding society... People say hello, the food still tastes like it used to, and familiar comforts like cups of tea are always there. Hell, the cup he left by the sink is still there, in the same spot. Only now, it’s like Remus can’t ever imagine living that life even though he has all the memories testifying to it’s existence. And there’s this gaping, aching whole of wrongness right about where the other cups in the sink are, with ghosts in the residue of tea at the bottom that were drunk by people who don’t exist. Not anymore. I think the first year Remus spent by himself he didn’t actually do much at all except survive.

Now I do of course like to imagine that he had some help. I really don’t think someone like Mother Hen McGonagall would have let Remus just wander off into the shadows. She knew what his bond with his friends was like. She knew that he’d effectively lost it all, etc. And I think she would have done what she could to check in from time to time, but there’s also a certain professional boundary between her and a former student that I don’t think is really let go until Remus himself becomes her colleague, so I think it was largely letters and maybe some surprise appearances of a Tabby cat with spectacles over for tea when she didn’t hear back from him. Someone like Moody would have... well, not checked in, I suppose, because Moody is an Auror and he’s, you know, Moody. But I think Moody would have invited him to do some odd jobs with him, or recommended him to others needing some work done. Moody isn’t going to hug Remus and tell him it’s okay, but Moody will certainly let Remus pick up his wand and fight the depression away with some exercise--and hey, if bad guys go down, that’s just a plus, right? Wink, wink. Maybe Hagrid kept in touch from time to time, running errands for Dumbledore, who would also have been keeping tabs on Remus I think because he’s not a heartless bastard like fanon tells him to be, and I think he did care for Remus on some level.

But we have to remember that Remus is also this very proud sort of fellow, and after he had gotten over the worst of his depression and stood up on his own two feet once again, he wanted people to think he had it under control. So those contacts would have died down, and then Remus would of course have had to move out of wherever he had been living once the last of his money from James had been used up and he didn’t have work enough to keep his place. Now, depending on whether you think of Lyall as having been alive, Remus could have moved back in with him for a time before deciding that he didn’t want to be a burden on his family. Again, this is the pride talking, but there are also still Death Eaters out there in the world. Death Eaters who may still do terrible things like what happened with the Longbottoms, even though the war is over. If they know who Remus is, and they probably do, Remus is always at risk. He may also not want to stay with family for that reason.

Now as far as things he could actually have done over the years, I think we’re looking at a selection of odd jobs and actual, open homelessness.

What are the sorts of jobs available to a werewolf? Remus has not been publicly outed yet, and so he can maintain some work for a time if his absences don’t become noticeable as a pattern. I do think Remus would have shown up for work the morning after spending the night eating himself alive, though, if he felt he had to. Look at PoA: obviously the timing was poor, and of course there’s the whole “dementors are going to search the train and it’s practical to have Remus there for chocolate remedy slash plot reasons”, but he still would have been pretty much dead to the world at Hogwarts. And there’s no way of knowing whether his absences from teaching were his own choice (given that he’s actually doing much better since he’s in control under the effects of Wolfsbane) or maybe Madam Pomfrey drop-kicking his stubborn ass into bed where it belongs, but either way, Hogwarts was our only window into his career life, and Remus is shown taking breaks after full moon and it’s something that was subsequently noticed by Hermione, a 13-year-old girl. Now suppose there’s a 50-year-old witch or wizard with a business and a family who has a prejudice against werewolves, and how far do you think Remus could make it disappearing at the worst possible time? And even if he didn’t, he does sorta look like he gets hit by a truck every month or so, like suspicious clockwork.

Suffice it to say that legitimate, over-the-table work is not going to be very reliable for Remus. Unfortunately, he’s much more likely to get a job where people don’t ask questions, and those jobs are the less reputable sort. Smuggling illegal dragons eggs, or cursed artifacts--things that someone like an expert in the dark arts could handle. Maybe grunt work like the shipping industry where trolls do the heavy lifting but there’s paperwork to be filed and boxes to be packed, and how else are we supposed to get things like the Monster Book of Monsters to the book store? Wear some gloves. This also leaves Remus open to possible blackmail: “I’ll keep you on, but if you cross me I’ll send the Capture Unit after you.” (Of course, Remus isn’t stupid, and he’d reply, “And I’ll be sure to tell them the names of all your associates and your business partners,” etc. So it’s a careful dance.) And it makes him unintentionally part of the stereotype of werewolves as criminals, because even if all he wants to do is live his life and eat supper once a week or so, he’s doing work that society considers bad and if he’s caught all the responsibility is on him.

There’s also the potential that he worked outside of the wizarding world, too. Muggles don’t have the same knowledge of werewolves; they don’t openly fear them so much as they have this ghost of a fear that’s now a fun Halloween costume. Nobody’s going to actually believe that Remus J Lupin is a very real werewolf in modern day England, ha! So why not get a job as a cashier, or as a bookstore clerk, or a stock worker? It pays. Though I realize as I type it that there’s of course the problems with exchange: is one pound worth half as much in sickles or knuts? Could Remus work full time at Aldi and still barely make enough to eat? Surely there was an economic boom for wizards following the decline of Voldemort, but what about England as a whole? Did the exchange rate sort of stay comfortable close, etc? We just don’t know if it was really feasible for Remus to live as a wizard and work as a Muggle, so maybe he worked and lived as a Muggle.

Between those periods, though, I think Remus was not fortunate enough to avoid homelessness. I think he would have lived in a colony at least once, even if he hated it, simply because they had resources he needed at the time. He would have left ASAP, of course, but still. I expect he would have learned to keep himself clean and trim in the sink of a public bathroom, washing himself in the cold with some rough spells meant for tougher work that actually sting a bit but at least he’s clean afterwords. I think he probably learned to sleep on the Tube, maybe riding it back and forth a few ways until he woke up and was kicked off or felt people staring. And I think he did his best to appear in control at all times, even if he never felt like he was and would actually refuse help if it was offered.

I do have some thoughts on what his dream job could have been as well, and I’ll add that onto this ask since it’s relevant.

I do think Remus wanted to teach. In a perfect world, I think he could have gotten the job early and even earned himself a nice pension. But I think Remus realized from his time as a Prefect (or even tutoring other students) that he had a knack for it, and that he really enjoyed helping others learn. I headcanon that the briefcase he had with the peeling letters was a gift from the Marauders, so that he could have it for his first day on the job. And, he did have it, didn’t he? (*sad little sigh*)

Anyway, I have these other headanons that Remus grew up knowing how to speak Welsh since Hope was Welsh and Lyall met her in Cardiff. I imagine that Remus lived in Wales for his early life, and that they moved around a lot but tended to be in Wales for a while before eventually settling in rural England (i.e. a certain cottage in Yorkshire we may all be familiar with). And about this time in the eighties, Wales was getting it’s language back, so to speak. It was historically beaten out of the speakers, literally. And around this time, the government of Wales was actually beginning to put up bilingual street signs, and Welsh schools were popping up. I play with the idea sometimes of him having an apprenticeship or something at one of the newer schools who would have needed a fluent speaker. You never know, right? Honestly, the things that happen in life...

Anyway, I can always think up some specifics if that’s what you’re looking for but I hope this sort of covers most of your questions!

[talesmaniac89]

The Magic of Halloween

Summary: Castiel x reader - The reader tries to show Cas what Halloween is when the angel is confused about the holiday.

Triggers: None, just fluff

Word Count: 2973

Y/N = Your name ¦ Y/H/C = Your Hair Colour

—

Castiel had constantly been looking around warily as you put groceries into your basket. His brow furrowed as he kept stopping or turning around to look at things as you passed them. Sure the confused puppy dog look was kinda cute, but you were starving, and dinner still had to be made once you got back to the bunker. So honestly, you just wanted to finish shopping as soon as possible. Even if your crush was acting freaking adorable.

So as the angel stopped once more to look around as if the shop itself was part of the confusion your hand froze from here you’d been reaching out for the ground coffee to face him instead. The angel had gotten more used to humanity and all of its little quirks, but from time to time there were still some things you had to clarify.

“What’s up Cas?” You asked as you followed his gaze over to the snacks section to the left of you. Though you couldn’t really spot anything out of the ordinary. The aisle was a little over stocked, due to the season. But that shouldn’t cause that level of confusion in the angel.

“Why are there plastic skeletons hanging up around the store? And there are eyes in the candy section,” Castiel said, pointing towards the Halloween treats in the snack section before his eyes travelled up and over to some of the store’s Halloween decorations.

Of course, the holiday that was such a commonplace thing for you. Your favourite time of year, Halloween, wouldn’t be as usual for the angel. He didn’t have fond memories of dressing up as a kid and walking door to door asking for treats on the threat of tricks. Nor would he have memories of later years of watching bad horror movies with friends once you were too old to go trick or treating ‘cause it was no longer “cool”. To him October was only the tenth month in the year, nothing more. The angel had yet to experience the magic of Halloween. Where anyone could be anything.

“It’s for Halloween… It’s a celebration that stems from old the old Samhain celebration to ward off ghosts,” You said, knowing full well that your explanation was lacking. But hell, how did you explain something as strange as Halloween to an angel?

“So what do monsters and skeletons have to do with warding off ghosts? Sam and Dean use iron and salt,” Cas, the adorable puppy-eyed angel of the lord asked, clearly still confused as you both started walking through the store again to finish shopping as you tried to piece together a proper explanation.

“Well… It developed into this holiday where we embrace the scary stuff instead. Kids dress up as vampires, ghosts and other characters and go asking for candy. Some carve pumpkins… Like that one,” You said, nodding to one of the store decorations of the typical jack o lantern. “You decorate with scary stuff and watch scary movies. It’s like a celebration of spooky stuff,” You said with a shrug, slightly surprised by your own inability to properly explain your favourite time of year.

“So children dress as monsters?” Castiel asked, clearly still not getting the magic that was All Hallows Eve. “And they eat candy shaped like eyes?” He added throwing a quick look back in the direction of the snack aisle that was quickly growing smaller behind you.

“Yeah… Well, not all of the candy is shaped like that and some kids dress like princesses, or knights, or their favourite cartoon character,” You added as you gratefully reached out for the pie in Castiel’s hand to put it in the basket as you added a few other groceries in as well. “And adults dress up too, not just kids,”

“I don’t think I understand…” Castiel said after turning your words over his head a few times. His bright blue eyes still swimming in questions as he let his head fall a little to the side and the confused furrow in his brow grew. “Why do you do this?”

“Well… Honestly it’s mainly just for fun,” You said, smiling wryly as you gave up on giving the angel a satisfactory explanation of the holiday. “It has a history, but Halloween today, is more just about having fun and eating a metric ton of sweets,”

“Dressing up as bloodthirsty monsters doesn’t sound fun,” Cas said, still clearly unable to understand how those not living your messed up lives would see these types of scares and monster costumes as funny and exciting. 

To hunters, like with Sam and Dean, Halloween was a reminder of the things you had to give up to keep the rest of the world safe. A reminder that most people out there still slept soundly at night, blissfully unaware that the monsters they dressed up as once a year were in fact real. And to Cas, it probably seemed like something akin to playing with fire.

“Humanity is weird Cas, but sometimes we just need to feel alive. And I guess for some, Halloween let us feel that,” You said with a shrug, wandering slowly past fake cobwebs and grinning skeletons towards the registers.

Yet, though you had mainly given up on giving the angel a sufficient explanation, due to your inability to put the nostalgia and the thrilling feel of butterflies in your stomach that came with Halloween into words, Cas still looked confused and unsure. Making up your mind you decided that in some cases it was better to show, rather than tell. And hell, you would never pass by the opportunity to spend some quality alone time with your crush.

“Look,” You said with a soft smile as you turned to face him fully in the aisle, moving your basket from one hand to the next whilst Castiel kept the other full one still in his arm, as if the weight didn’t bother him. “Let’s go out on Halloween Eve. I’ll show you what it is,”

Castiel’s sky blue eyes brightened and the last clouds of confusion faded as he smiled at you with a small timid nod. Happy to get to spend more time with you, though you at that time interpreted the happy smile as just plain happiness at the imminent answers to his many questions. Both of you blissfully unaware of the other’s feelings as you planned your Halloween date-that-wasn’t-a-date.

—

“What is this place?” Castiel was turning to look in all directions as you happily pulled him along into the Halloween Fun Fair that had been set up close to the Men of Letters bunker. His eyes jumping from decorations, to the many kids in costumes and on again to the many booths. His big blue eyes mirrored the many lights and lanterns as he took it all in. The way the angel looked like a kid in a candy store had a thousand tiny butterflies tickle your heart and soul as you hid a smile and glanced around, taking in the sights around you.

“A fun fair. There’s booths, rides, a haunted house, and even a hay ride,” You said, stretching your hands above you before gesturing for Castiel to follow you over to the ticket booth. “Let’s have fun!”

“Yes,” Though Castiel answered with the positive, he still looked slightly confused as he followed you towards the ticket booth. Stopping from time to time to look at the happy, laughing children dressed as vampires, ghouls and even an angel. The small smile on his lips at their adorable costumes not lost to you as you smiled at the bighearted angel. He just had so much love in him, for all of humanity. No matter if they were in costume or not.

“(Y/N)?” Castiel called out for you, stopping you in your steps halfway towards the ticket booth, his eyes still focused on the little girl dressed as an angel. For a second you both just stood still, waiting for his question, though none came as he seemed to struggle to formulate it. “Why do people dress as things opposite to what they are, to humans?”

“It’s tradition… But I guess it’s so that they can be something different for a day?” You said, looking at the many little witches and monsters running around, mixed with astronauts and cowboys and many other of the big dreams of little children. Biting your lip and furrowing your brow you decided to add to your last statement. “And some do it to live a different life, to live a dream and be what they’ve always wished they could be,”

Castiel’s soft smile stayed in place as he turned from the crowd of costumed kids and adults to look over at you instead. Though there was something slightly wistful in his eyes, a dream he couldn’t fulfill by putting on a costume.

“I think I can understand that,”

—

“Cas! Let’s go to the haunted house next,” You said, smiling and excited. You had long since forgotten your original mission of letting the angel see what Halloween was all about and were now instead just enjoying the time you got to spend with him. Alone among a crowd of people.

“Haunted? Should we call Sam and Dean?” Castiel said, looking worried as his eyes went to the many kids running around high on sugar and candy floss. “We should also get the children out of here…”

“No, it’s not actually haunted. It’s an attraction… Something fun like the carousel we just tried,” You said, holding back a chuckle as you knew the angel’s heart was in the right place. Though you knew Sam and Dean Winchester wouldn’t appreciate you calling them in on a faux-burn-and-salt on Halloween when they finally got a night off. “I heard the people in line for the last ride say it was really scary,”

“Why do you want to be scared?” Cas asked, though he followed you either way. Hurrying behind you and smiling as you turned to walk backwards to speak to him. Your happy mood slightly contagious as you bounced around as if you were suddenly a little girl again, not the cynical hunter that life had molded you into.

“‘Cause… It’s fun!” You said with a laugh, offering up your hand as the angel kept being jostled around by the running kids and adults in a hurry to try everything. “It makes our hearts beat faster, and we feel alive,”

“So does this… Human contact I mean,” Castiel said, his hand touching yours, though his words were lost to you over the hustle and bustle of the busy fun fair, and the angel chose to not repeat himself when you asked him what he had said. Instead locking the words deep inside as he continued watching you with a smile. Inexplicably happy, just because you were happy.

—

“Shit!” You laughed off the swear words that left you as another one of the props in the haunted house jumped out at you. Loving the way your stomach tickled with each jump scare as you carefully maneuvered your way through the Haunted House. They had really gone all out on this one. It was truly a masterpiece among haunted houses. Or at least fake haunted houses.

“Are you ok?” Almost as soon as you jumped, Cas was right next to you, his deep voice in your ear to make sure you heard him over the sound effects of the house and one arm protectively held in front of you whilst the other reached for his angel blade. Ready to smite some Halloween decorations. 

He had done that several times throughout your walk, ready to protect you every time something jumped out at the two of you. And honestly it made your heart beat faster than any jump scare ever could.

“I’m fine Cas, none of this is real,” You said with a soft smile, giving the angel’s arm a squeeze to stop him from producing the angel blade and stabbing the animatronic. Honestly, you didn’t even know what would happen if the angel blade came into contact with electricity. And you’d rather not find out.

“I know. I am sorry. It just looks real,” Castiel said with a sigh, his arm dropping from his blade without a fight as he let you lead the way further through the house. The lights of the outside fair finally coming through up front for you as you rounded the corner with no major additional jump scares.

“It’s fine… I like that you try to protect me…” You said, and though you’d meant for the words to drown in the background noises and sound effects of the haunted house, the sound effects failed you once you reached the exit, making your words ring clear. You could feel your cheeks heat up as you gave a silent gasp, as if to breathe the embarrassing word back in to hide them in the part of your heart you kept secret from everyone.

Yet, Castiel heard them clearly, stopping just outside the Haunted House before stepping out of the path of exiting people and pulling you wordlessly by the wrist towards him. His eyes serious, yet warm as they peered down at you.

“If I could I would always protect you (Y/N), from everything,” Castiel said, his voice deep and words ringing honest and true. Of course he would. You knew he would never let anyone harm those close to him. Because any harm coming to Dean, Sam or yourself would hurt him too. At his words and the realisation of how the angel probably interpreted your words your embarrassment waned, though you feared your smile probably followed. Softening into a weaker version of its former self.

“I know Cas, you always do so much for the Winchesters and me,” You said, biting your lip and looking down to hide how it secretly hurt you that you were just a friend, a family member to the angel. After all, if that’s what he wanted you to be, that would be where you’d stay, safely within his group as you hid your true feelings deep in your heart.

“No… I mean I want to protect you…” Castiel sounded slightly frustrated at himself, stopping his own sentence with an agitated sigh as he bent slightly to try and look into your eyes from where you tried to compose yourself behind (Y/H/C) strands of hair. “(Y/N)…” Cas continued once his eyes locked with yours, the questioning way he looked at you, urging you to answer as you looked up and fully faced him again. Ready and composed quickly after years spent on undercover hunts.

“Yeah?”

“I think I finally understand Halloween,” Castiel said, an unfamiliar hint of hesitance to his tone as the angel tried to choose his words carefully. His eyes glancing away from you as he instead once more focused on the decorations, lanterns, and happy people parting like a sea around the two of you.

“Yeah? So you get the magic now then?” You said, making your voice sound chirpier and happier than it was as you smiled at him. At least your smile was true, you were happy for the angel who wanted to know everything about the world. Happy that he had learned something new.

“Yes… It’s a day where people smile a lot, where they try to make their hearts race and their dreams come true,” Cas said, his explanation warming your heart as you smiled. As your smile reached him, his eyes turned serious and he focused on you again. “I want that too… But not just today... I want it every day,”

“What do you mean Cas?” You said, your smile fading as confusion replaced your original elation at the angel’s understanding. Did he want to celebrate Halloween every day of the year? Or just for the four of you, Dean, Sam, him and you, to be happy, always? Yet before you could let the questions build in your mind the angel in front of you blew them all away with two simple sentences.

“I want that with you. To smile with you, to make your heart race, to make my dream of being together with you come true,” Cas said, the deep baritone of his voice sending electric shocks into your heart as his features stayed serious as if to underline the honesty in his words and his wish.

“What are you…” You started, barely getting the words out through the cotton mouth that had developed from the first shock of words that sounded suspiciously like a confession of feelings much past that of friendship and family. Yet, before you could even finish your question, Castiel supplied you with an answer.

“I am in love with you (Y/N),” The sound of that handful of words leaving the angel, your angel, seemed to magically blanket everything around you. Silencing the joyful screams from the haunted house behind you and the laughter from the cotton candy booth in front of you. Leaving only his words to fill your world in a sea of soundless static as your heartbeat set the rhythm. Your own words coming easier now as your smile grew, spreading as happy tears threatened to spill.

“Me too Cas, I want that every day too,” You said, your words barely a whisper, though your angel caught every one of them as he smiled cautiously, before slowly, almost painfully so, leaning down and brushing his lips against you in the ghost of a kiss. The kiss quickly deepening as you responded in kind and the two of you, angel and hunter, shared a sweet kiss under the warm, soft glow of the many lanterns before walking hand in hand through the fair.

That, that was the true magic of Halloween.

Please do let me know if you wish to be removed from the tag list

Tags:  @auszimbo @upon-a-girl @gallifreyansass @mogaruke @skybinx-blog@delisp@jensen-jarpad  @supernatural-jackles  @27bmm  @just-another-busy-fangirl@ecsj@deathtonormalcy56 @imboredsueme @itsthesamegametoday @riversong-sam @dslocum89 @authoressskr @spooookyscary@winchesterbrothersforever@maydayfigment @ria132love @kristendansmith

[coffeefairy]

Halloween

From the title you can see when it was meant to be posted but I figure better late than never! A little Mad Whale one-shot. Lightly angsty but ending with tooth-rotting, cavity-inducing fluff. Rated teens and over. Features a same sex romance - don’t want, don’t read.

Hope you like it!

Percy Whale sat back, his glasses perched on his nose, a new thriller open on his lap and a glass of rich red wine at the side table next to him. His phone was off and he’d bargained with himself that he wouldn’t check his emails for at least two hours. The evening was his.

As head surgeon for the Grimm Memorial Hospital he rarely had any free time at all. When he wasn’t on shift, he was preparing to be or spent time doing research and external consultations. Today was a freak occurrence but one he had decided to make the most of.

Settled in he dove into the story with a content sigh. He’d only gotten past the first two pages and the description of a grisly murder when the bell rang. He considered letting it ring. He wasn’t expecting anyone. But it could be a delivery, out of state hospitals sometimes couriered him medical charts when they needed help. So he got up, marked the page and opened the door.

There was no one outside. Or so he thought until he looked down. At about thigh height, a ghost, Spiderman, an astronaut and a fairy chorused “Trick or treat!” With a sinking feeling in his stomach he realised today was October 31st. Halloween.

“Oh. Right.” He pictured his empty cupboards, never stocked as he spent so little time at home. “Erm...One second.” Venturing inside he rifled through his kitchen. When he returned he held out a bag of carrot sticks he’d found hiding in the fridge.

“Here you go, take as many as you want.”

The fairy turned on her heel, the ghost took a step back, Spiderman said “n’thanks” behind his mask but the astronaut plucked a stick from the bag and bit it.

“Eww, it’s actually carrots!” Then they all filed off the porch. To his dismay, Percy spotted more little costumed people crowding on the street. He slammed the door shut and wondered if he should turn off the lights and pretend he wasn’t home. Then again, he didn’t know how seriously the children took the “trick” part of the evening and he really didn’t want to have anything unpleasant put in his mailbox or clean toilet paper from his yard. So he sighed and left the lights on.

This time he only managed on page before the bell rang again.

Heaving himself up, he grabbed the bag of carrots and opened the door. Pretty much the same scene played out again, this time to Buzz Lightyear, Dracula and what could be mini Hilary Clinton.

Over and over, the door buzzed and carrot sticks were frowned upon. He only got a few more pages in his book and he was getting mightily annoyed with his evening getting interrupted. How late could these children be allowed out of bed, anyway?

The doorbell rung once more and he put the book down with more force than necessary. After this one he’d turn the lights off and go to bed. He might as well use the extra time to sleep if he couldn’t spend it reading.

Opening the door he found a pretty little blonde girl dressed as a jedi on his porch.

“Trick or treat!”

“Right, I know it’s Halloween and I know you’re expecting candy, but see I didn’t go to the store so all I have are carrot sticks. Do you want one or are you going to stomp off?”

“Can I have one, please? I love carrots.”

He blinked and frowned. “Ah...okay. Here,” he handed her the whole bag and she grabbed a handful before handing it back. “That’s all right, you keep that.”

“The whole thing?” Her eyes were wide.

“Sure.”

“Thanks!” She propped a stick in her mouth and munched. “Mister, do you think you could tie my shoe? It’s loose and I don’t know how too.”

This was very far from the evening he’d pictured but amused with the straightforward kid, he sank to sit on his knees.

“Okay, foot here,” he patted his knee and obediently she put a moderately clean tennis shoe on his jeans. Tying it quickly he heard steps on the porch, too heavy to be a child and figured the chaperone was coming to check on the little jedi to see what was taking so long. Wise, the thought to himself. There were all kinds of weirdos out there.

“Daddy, I got a whole bag of carrots!” The girl announced.

“Good haul. Will there be any left for me?”

Percy snapped his head up from the little tennis shoe. He’d know that voice anywhere. He hadn’t heard it in fifteen years or so but he knew it immediately.

When he looked up he met the eyes that peered down, past the little girl’s shoulder and down at him.

“Percy?” The word was drenched in disbelief.

“Jefferson.” He set the little foot down and got up.

“You know the mister, Daddy?”

“I used to.”

“A long time ago?”

“Yeah, a long time ago.”

Though he was speaking to his daughter, Jefferson’s eyes hadn’t left his since he spotted him.

It had been a long time.

He’d changed, grown taller and broader over the shoulders. Lean muscles covered in jeans and a black overcoat. His hair was windblown and his face chiselled in the weak porchlight. A dart of unbridled lust shot through Percy and he swallowed. So the man had changed but the reaction was the same as always.

Percy crossed his arms over his chest. “So...how are...things?” It was a lame question, forced out of him from politeness.

“Fine. And you?”

“Likewise.” The cold of standing on the porch with just his sweater and jeans was getting to  him. Or perhaps it was the Ghost of Halloweens Past. “Did you bring your wife for the trick-or-treating?”

Jefferson shook his head.

“Daddy’s dee-vor-ced,” the girl helpfully piped up from between them.

“Oh.” He shifted, let his arms drop. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be.” Jefferson’s grin was as mercurial as it had been all those years ago and something in the vicinity of his chest cavity contracted.

“Right. Well…” He looked back over his shoulder, into the house.

Jefferson stiffened slightly. “Are we keeping you from your company?”

“No, no. I’m just reading tonight.”

“I see.” He put a hand to the little girl’s shoulder. “Well, we should be off. It was...nice to see you.”

“You too. And you,” he directed to the mini jedi.

“Bye!” she called and marched down the steps from his porch. Jefferson lingered a moment, as if he wanted to say something, but then decided against it and with a nod he followed his daughter.

Percy closed the door behind them and leaned his forehead against the wood. Jefferson Madden. After all these years. He had no idea he was living in Boston. No idea he had a daughter, that he was divorced.

Because you didn’t want to know, he reminded himself. Though Jefferson would sometimes appear in the papers he always made sure to skip those parts. He hadn’t looked him up online or asked any of their common acquaintances about him. All to avoid hearing anything that would call him to mind or see any part of him that would make the old picture in his head come more alive. The way he saw him in his memories was sketchy, like a stop motion movie reel. It ran, interrupted, parts missing and out of focus. But it still ran. It always had. Ever since the summer when they’d both been sixteen and he’d been hired to tutor the young heir of one of the world’s biggest business conglomerates. It wouldn’t do for him to get kicked out of school and as a desperate measure a tutor Jefferson’s age had been brought in. Percy.

He remembered seeing the other boy for the first time, trudging down the stairs in the largest house he’d ever been in. Bark brown hair that waved around his face, a defined jaw and eyes the colour of steel. His heart had started hammering in his chest, his palms had grown clammy and his throat felt slammed shut. He’d never experienced anything like it before. A door had been inched open to something new and profound was on the other side.

The doorbell rung again and he jerked free from the reverie. Not more trick-or-treaters. Why hadn’t he turned off the lights and headed upstairs already? Unable to escape as the people on the other side would be able to see his shape through the window in the door, he opened it.

Jefferson, carrying his daughter and wearing a sheepish expression stood outside.

“You’re back,” Percy stated dumbly.

“We are...I just discovered I’ve lost my keys and my wallet. I called the locksmith and he says the earliest they can be there is tomorrow morning...I don’t suppose we could…” He looked away for a moment. “I wouldn’t, except we just moved back and I don’t really have anywhere to...to go.”

Realizing Jefferson was asking if he could stay, everything in Percy recoiled. He’d been hurt enough by this man and he should just slam the door in his face. But he was carrying his sleeping daughter, and he looked harmless wearing that sheepish expression.

“Fine.” Percy stepped back to let them in. “She can take the guest bedroom upstairs and you can have the couch.”

“Oh, I’ll share with Grace. She doesn’t take up much room and she’ll be frightened if she wakes up alone.”

Damn the man. Percy had no wish to share the upper floor with Jefferson, he’d much prefer it if he slept downstairs, as far away as he could get.

“Very well. It’s the third door on the right upstairs.”

“Thank you,” Jefferson said and edged past him, careful not to hit the doorframe. He disappeared up the steps and Percy headed into the kitchen to refill his wine glass. Then he downed it and poured another. His nerves, vibrating in his stomach, felt a little less twisted, as if coated in oil and he distracted himself with taking out another glass.

He heard the other man walk around upstairs, and it put tension in his spine. For a moment he considered sending an SOS text to Ruby to have her come over and distract him from Jefferson. But his best friend was out with Archie and their children trick-or-treating. It wouldn’t be fair to pull her away with a friendship code red. He’d have to manage on his own.

Percy put on some music, fiddled with the lighting, moved the glasses. Then he thought it looked like a date and turned the music off and the lights brighter. He was still determining the right amount of light when Jefferson returned and he stopped himself.

“Is that a drink for me?”

Percy nodded, edging backwards. This way they had the whole breakfast bar between them.

“Thank you. Trick-or-treating is mad. You’re surrounded by little dressed up people, it smells of candy everywhere and you get a headache from all the noises and lights.” He took a sip of wine and sighed contentedly.

“You used to always like loud noises and bright lights.”

He remembered Jefferson had always surrounded himself with noise. Music, wherever he went.

“I like my own noise. Or maybe I just got old.”

“You don’t look old.”

“Neither do you. In fact you…” A very vague colour washed over Jefferson’s cheeks. “You look good.”

Percy knew he’d been a scrawny kid the last time Jefferson saw him. Though he wasn’t in Jefferson’s league, he’d filled out since high school, gotten rid of his constant glasses and had a better haircut.

“Thanks. You...look well.” Well? He looked better than he’d ever had and just seeing him in his kitchen made Percy’s heart pound in his chest like a hammer on an anvil. The brown, slightly wavy hair that looked so soft to the touch, the eyes that struck a colour between gray and blue, like a winter’s lake, the quick smile - all were the same as they’d been. And they affected him just as they had. The wide shoulders, the sculpted chest and the crease in his cheek when he smiled were all new but they just built on the attraction that had always been there.

Cut it out, he told himself. He was a grown man, an intelligent, educated, sensible man and he could resist something as basic as physical attraction.

Jefferson accepted the half compliment with a half smile. Starting forward he stopped on the other side of the breakfast bar. Percy edged back a little further, the kitchen counter pressing against his back. He couldn’t back away any further.

“So you did it.” Jefferson was looking at the post stacked on the counter next to his glass. “Became a doctor. Like you wanted.”

“Ah...yes. I did.”

“Graduate top of your class, doc?”

“I...well, there were a lot of intelligent people there and…” Jefferson’s eyes were amused while they rested on his face and he stopped his stumbling. “Yes. Yes, I did.”

“I always knew you would. Do you like it?”

“Being a doctor? I do.”

“Everything you thought it would be?”

“Absolutely.”

“And do you still get a kick out of people calling you Dr Whale?”

Percy was vividly reminded why the man in front of him had used to be able to make him laugh so much. And the way he said doctor chased a thrill up his spine.

“Of course I do.”

“That must be great. Reminded every day you reached your goal, made something out of yourself. I never amounted to much. Just like my dad predicted.” He shrugged and turned the glass by the stem, watching the liquid swirl.

“You’re something. You’re a father.”

Jefferson looked up, surprised, like he hadn’t thought of it quite that way before.

“You have a lot more than a career can offer. If I…” Percy’s voice trailed off, the implication hanging in the air.

“So you...you don’t...There’s no one? You’re not with anyone?”

Percy was wildly tempted to make up a boyfriend, someone tall and built who was out of the country a lot but always came back and took him on the most romantic dates.

“No.”

“Me too. Single, I mean,” Jefferson tripped a little on the words.

Percy wondered if the other man was trying to be empathic or if he actually cared for him to know he was single. Don’t be stupid, he told himself. Jefferson appeared to prefer women and he’d come to peace with that a long time ago. Or so he’d thought. He despaired at how little it took for Jefferson to drag his thoughts back to where they’d always been concerning him. Even as he remembered how he’d been hurt his fingers ached to card through that soft, floppy hair. His eyes searched out Jefferson like a magnetic pole, his gaze tripping and getting stuck on how he had laughing creases spanning to his temples, how a day’s stubble roughened his jaw, how his hands looked wrapped around the glass. He didn’t know how long he could stand to be around him before the sensations drowned him completely. He wouldn’t be able to trust himself then.

“Do you want to watch a movie? I’m sure there are specials on,” he blurted. Anything to distract him from Jefferson’s presence.

“Ah...sure.”

Percy topped off their glasses and they moved to sit on the couch. Jefferson didn’t sprawl like he was wont to do but rested his head on his hand, elbow on the armrest so he was sitting actually leaning away from Percy. The doctor breathed a little sigh of relief he at least wouldn’t have to have the other man in his personal space. He flicked the TV on and picked the first thing that looked like a movie. So focused was he on Jefferson he didn’t realize it was Ghostbusters until the screen filled with pink goo.

Why did that have to be on? Would Jefferson remember? He glanced sideways. Jefferson was staring at the screen, a slanted half smile on his face. Did that mean he did remember, or was it related to the movie? Could he recall, in as much detail as him, the moment they’d first kissed was while watching Ghostbusters on TV? Percy remembered vividly how aware he’d been of Jefferson’s presence throughout the evening. Every time he shifted, he’d noticed, his eyes unwillingly returning to the TV screen when he forced them. The scent of Red Vines in the air, Jefferson’s laugh, the way the couch had felt under his hands. He remembered it all. He remembered when he hadn’t been able to take just sitting there anymore and he’d bid goodbye to their friendship in his head before reaching out. His hand had shaken as he touched Jeff’s shoulder. The other boy had turned quizzically, a smile still on his face before Percy covered it with his lips. It had been a quick pressure of warmth, then he’d pulled back, braced for the angry yelling. But Jefferson had blinked slowly, like he was trying to work out some kind of code. Then he reached for Percy’s collar and instead of shaking him, pulled him close and kissed him. It had been clumsy and and unskilled but Percy’s heart had burnt in his chest and he’d felt the room around them disappear in a wave of blinding light.

Now, sixteen years later, they were sitting in the same way, watching the same movie. And his fingers ached to reach for him in the same way.

More than the years that had passed stood between them. Jefferson had never chosen him. When it mattered, he hadn’t chosen Percy. The other boy had moved on, had dated, married, had a child. Percy was the one who had been left behind, wanting and heartbroken. It had taken him a long time to put himself back together. Just because an accident of fate had brought the other man back into his life didn’t mean any of that had changed.

So he resolved to ignore the heat stirring in his stomach, the longing that rested like mist around his heart. Fastening his eyes on the screen, he stared unseeingly at the movie.

He was so focused on ignoring him, he didn’t notice when Jefferson shifted, or when he moved closer. It was only when he felt their knees were touching he came back to reality and froze. He knew he should move his knee away, should inch away. Jefferson probably hadn’t even realized he was doing it. He glanced at him. The other man was still watching the movie, his eyes dancing as the huge marshmallow man moved across the screen. Percy’s eyes fell back to their knees touching. Jefferson was wearing black jeans, his were blue. The area where they were actually touching was incredibly small and yet he felt like the nerve endings in that spot had blazed alive. So focused was he that every sensation increased, Jefferson’s skin seeming to burn through the fabric. Then he felt a touch to his shoulder. Sure Jefferson would be grinning at catching him staring, he steeled himself and turned his head to meet his eyes.

Jefferson’s gaze burned into his with a look that made air catch in his throat. Then his lips were on Percy’s and his hands cupped Percy’s face. Surprise only lasted a split second and his resolve to protest barely a moment. So with a sigh he wound his hands in Jefferson’s hair like he had wanted and took everything he wanted to give.

The kiss that had started timid, questioning, quickly warmed to passionate before hurtling into desperate. Percy felt like a house that had been left empty for years had suddenly been unlocked, opened and lit. The rooms he had once known held life once more. Shifting, he turned to face Jefferson and encouraged the other man moved to allow Percy’s leg to settle between the back of the couch and his hip. Pulling him closer, wrapping his arms around his back and tilting his head Jefferson deepened the kiss. Percy’s heart galloped in his chest, his breathing fast and shallow. So long. It had been so long. Like a man wandering through the desert he had found water and he wanted to drink it down in deep, fast gulps.

Jefferson was just as eager, his hands running over him hurriedly, his breathing strained. It seemed like a miracle. A miracle under his hands. Jeff hooked his hand under his knee and in one move backed, lifted Percy and slipped him lower on the couch so he was almost lying flat on his back. Hovering over him, he lowered himself, closer and closer. His chest melded to his and Percy couldn’t help rolling his hips. Jefferson groaned deep and the sound rumbled through Percy. Mirroring the gesture, Jeff ground against Percy and the unexpected friction made his back arch off the couch. Desperate, Percy pushed his hands between them and found Jefferson’s belt buckle. Fighting with it, Jefferson sat back. Then his hand came to rest over his.

“Wait. Grace.” The one word had Percy’s hands stilling. With a slow smile, Jefferson tilted his head up by the chin. His eyes were so dark they were almost black. “Next time.”

Percy knew there would never be a next time, that he was on borrowed time from the past. Something in the time space continuum had created a pocket where he and Jefferson were in the same place, feeling the same. Maybe it was even a dream.

Then Jefferson kissed him again and he didn’t care. Didn’t care if this was all he would ever have. As long as he could have this moment. So he returned the kiss and pressed Jefferson to lie back on the couch, turning the tables.

o.O.o

Percy sat at the breakfast bar the next morning dressed in the jeans from last night and a white t-shirt. His feet were bare and his coffee cup sat before him untouched. Staring down onto the counter, his head in his hands, he wondered if he could diagnose himself as temporarily insane or if one of his colleagues would have to do it to ensure as little bias as possible. He must have taken a leave of his senses if he made out with Jefferson until the small hours. If it hadn’t been for the fact he’d heard Grace talking in the guest room and felt his lips were tender from the previous night’s activities, he’d have thought he’d dreamed it all.

Why? Why was he such a glutton for punishment when it came to this man? Hadn’t he suffered enough without having the unavailable, gorgeous, infuriating man back in his life? But however he berated himself he knew the weak spot was there all the same. Jefferson had been his first love. He would always hold that place. If it happened again he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. Jefferson was a drug and to have him running through his bloodstream was an unbeatable high. He’d do anything for it.

He heard steps on the stairs and sighed. It was time to check himself into rehab again. The second Jefferson left.

“Morning,” Jeff spoke from the doorway. He leaned against the doorjamb and Percy’s mouth went dry. His hair was still tangled from the night before, his lips just a little swollen.

“Mm,” was all Percy managed and he gulped some coffee to ease his throat. All it did was scald his tongue.

“We’re just leaving, the locksmith says he’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

“Right.” He got up. “Do you...want some coffee? Breakfast?”

Grace opened her mouth, the enthusiasm alive in her eyes. But Jefferson shook his head.

“I’m afraid we have to go.”

Percy nodded. There it was. The end of the dream. Cold, harsh reality was knocking on the door.

“Of course.” He got up and showed them to the door. Grace sped out with a quick “bye”, spotting some children in the yard next door and beelining for them. Jefferson moved slower, putting his hands in his pockets and weighing on his feet.

“Right...I guess...I’m going.”

“Yes. Goodbye, Jefferson, it was...interesting to see you.”

Jeff’s smile flashed for a moment. “You too, Percy.” Then he walked down the steps and turned up his collar to the wind. Percy watched for a moment longer before shutting the door. Sighing, he stared accusingly at the couch. How could it look exactly as it had yesterday? All innocuous and dumpy.

There was a knock on the door and expecting girl scouts or mormons was surprised to see Jefferson.

“Jefferson. Did you forget something?”

“Yes.” His eyes were laughing. “Trick or treat, Percy?”

“What?”

“Come on. Trick or treat?”

Percy sighed. He wouldn’t put it past Jefferson to shove a handful of mud in his face or something at him if he said trick. Maybe that would help him seem less perfect. So he rolled his eyes and crossed his arms and responded,

“Trick.”

“Will you go out with me?”

Percy blinked, dropped his arms to his sides. “I…”

“Please?” Jefferson stepped closer and put a hand to his cheek. The kiss that followed was different from last night’s. Soft, longing, lingering.

“Yes.” He had breathed the word before he knew it. Jefferson’s lips curved before they met his again and patiently swallowed every last objection Percy could think of.

“I’ll call you.” Jefferson rested his forehead on Percy’s for a moment before leaving with a last peck. He was almost all the way to sidewalk when Percy woke and called from the edge of the deck,

“Jefferson!” The other man spun on his heel, wearing a wide smile and his coat hanging open. “What if I’d chosen “treat”?”

“Then you’d have taken me out. It has to be a treat for the asker, remember?” Then he winked and was off.

Percy watched him and Grace until they got to the end of the street.

Epilogue

One Year Later

“How does it feel to be on this side of the action?” Jefferson asked behind him and Percy turned from watching Grace ringing the bell of a blue door across the street.

“Better.”

Jefferson stood with his hands in his pockets, smiling as Grace eagerly grabbed a fistul of gummy worms from the lady who lived in the house. She was a dressed as a mad scientist this year and stood out among the many princesses and Iron Men.

“And you wouldn’t rather sit at home with a good book and a glass of wine?”

“And miss this? No way. Besides, Grace promised me half her haul if I came with.”

“Really?” Jefferson sidled closer. “Cause she promised me half her haul.”

Percy chuckled. “Yeah, we’re still struggling with the fractions.”

“Thank God it’s you and not me. I detest fractions. And short division. And the multiplications table.”

“Daddy, daddy, look, I have ten more candies now!”

“Ten, wow! How many do I get?”

“Half.” Grace said stolidly and bit into a gummy worm.

“And what about Percy?”

“He gets half too.”

“And you, what do you get?” “The other half, silly.” Then she turned to Percy, her mouth full of gummy worm and her hands sticky, smelling of sugar and crackling excitement.

“Dad, can you tie my shoe?” She wiggled her small trainer clad foot.

Percy felt the world still around him, the word laying a weight around his shoulders. A weight he had never thought he would have ever wanted but now couldn’t imagine living without. The weight of responsibility and love for the little girl in front of him. He felt Jefferson’s hand on his shoulder, squeezing. He’d heard it too.

“Yeah,” he croaked. “Yeah, of course I can.” Percy crouched and she put her foot on his knee while munching on her sweet. He tied her lace and with a called thanks, she set off for the next house. Still crouching he felt Jefferson’s hand on his neck, rubbing. Then the other man crouched next to him as well.

“She knows how to tie her shoes now,” Jefferson said.

“I know.”

“I guess she made it official before I could.”

“What?”

“It wasn’t really the time and place I pictured, but hey, Grace picked it and I trust her. So, Percy, what do you say? Will you marry me? Us?”

He sat back, on his knees, resting on his heels. Water from the rain wet street seeped through his jeans.

“I…”

“I know it’s fast, and we don’t have to. But I want you to know I want to. I want you, forever, Percy.”

His voice seemed to have gotten trapped in his throat, emotion choking him. “Of...course, I want to.”

“So, you’re saying…?”

“Yes! Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Jefferson laughed and pulled him close for a kiss, sitting in the middle of the street surrounded by children, laughter and the repeated words “Trick or Treat!”

[wallpaperpainter]

Seven Taboos About Acrylic Paint On Skin You Should Never Share On Twitter | acrylic paint on skin

Ciara Parizek/MDN Jamie Hardt, affairs administrator of Independence Inc., holds the aftermost art box with a canvas, acrylic acrylic and brushes that she alone off on May 15 to those who will participate in Brushes and Brains basic painting class.

Like abounding added alert North Dakotans, bodies with disabilities of any array are accomplishing the same. Having to break at home for a continued aeon of time can be demanding for some and mentally cutting to others. Jamie Hardt with Independence Inc. in Minot is there to advice by giving them a artistic and advantageous way to cope.

Independence Inc. is a ability centermost for absolute alive and has been in business back 1995. The staff’s mission is “to apostle for the abandon of best for individuals with disabilities to alive apart through the abatement of all barriers,” according to the Independence Inc. website. Not alone do they awning Minot, but additionally 11 added counties in North Dakota, some actuality over two hours away.

Wednesday at 2 p.m., Hardt is hosting a basic painting chic through Zoom, alleged Brushes and Brains. The food for the 10 participants were purchased locally and accept been put in art boxes and alone off or mailed to their homes. The boxes board an 8- by 10-inch canvas, baby containers of acrylic acrylic and a array of acrylic brushes.

“We had to achieve a few simple modifications to the brushes to board those with bound dexterity,” said Hardt.

There are assorted affidavit why she chose acrylic acrylic instead of watercolor or oil paints. Acrylic acrylic is non-toxic, abundant easier to apple-pie up if it gets

Seven Taboos About Acrylic Paint On Skin You Should Never Share On Twitter | acrylic paint on skin – acrylic paint on skin | Allowed to my blog, on this time I am going to demonstrate in relation to keyword. And now, this is actually the initial photograph:

Info On Face Painting Books.. | acrylic paint on skin

Think about picture over? is that incredible???. if you feel thus, I’l l explain to you a few graphic again down below:

So, if you like to have all of these fantastic photos about (Seven Taboos About Acrylic Paint On Skin You Should Never Share On Twitter | acrylic paint on skin), click save button to store these shots to your personal computer. These are prepared for obtain, if you love and wish to own it, simply click save logo in the article, and it will be instantly down loaded in your laptop computer.} As a final point if you like to have unique and the recent photo related to (Seven Taboos About Acrylic Paint On Skin You Should Never Share On Twitter | acrylic paint on skin), please follow us on google plus or bookmark this blog, we attempt our best to present you regular up grade with all new and fresh images. We do hope you enjoy staying here. For some upgrades and recent information about (Seven Taboos About Acrylic Paint On Skin You Should Never Share On Twitter | acrylic paint on skin) pics, please kindly follow us on twitter, path, Instagram and google plus, or you mark this page on bookmark section, We try to present you update regularly with fresh and new pictures, like your surfing, and find the right for you.

Here you are at our website, contentabove (Seven Taboos About Acrylic Paint On Skin You Should Never Share On Twitter | acrylic paint on skin) published .  Today we’re delighted to declare we have discovered an awfullyinteresting nicheto be discussed, namely (Seven Taboos About Acrylic Paint On Skin You Should Never Share On Twitter | acrylic paint on skin) Many people trying to find info about(Seven Taboos About Acrylic Paint On Skin You Should Never Share On Twitter | acrylic paint on skin) and certainly one of them is you, is not it?

EMMY on Twitter: “Hey sisters Dont smile when u have white .. | acrylic paint on skin

i’m so talkative （painted directly on skin with Acrylic paint .. | acrylic paint on skin

Easy Ways to Paint a Face with Acrylics: 18 Steps (with Pictures) – acrylic paint on skin | acrylic paint on skin

Skin Tones Satin Acrylic Paint Set – 18 “Golden Brown”, 18 “Espresso”, 18 “White”, and 18 “Flesh” -Bundle of 18 – acrylic paint on skin | acrylic paint on skin

this is amazing! but never paint on your skin with acrylic paint .. | acrylic paint on skin

Fab18: Tips For Playing It Safe With Halloween Face Paint – Mrs .. | acrylic paint on skin

REMOVING ACRYLIC PAINT OFF MY FACE! BTS FOOTAGE – acrylic paint on skin | acrylic paint on skin

Why Good Face Paints are so Important – acrylic paint on skin | acrylic paint on skin

acrylic paint face painting safe – Google Search | Face, Face .. | acrylic paint on skin

Young woman painter with acrylic paint on face Stock Photo .. | acrylic paint on skin

Is Acrylic Paint safe to use on skin? – BabyCenter – acrylic paint on skin | acrylic paint on skin

Non-professional “non-toxic” acrylic Face paint creates a toxic .. | acrylic paint on skin

Paintertainment: Paintertainment FAQ: Is Any “non-toxic” Acrylic .. | acrylic paint on skin

Is It Safe to Paint Your Body with Acrylic Paint — and Other Body .. | acrylic paint on skin

Full Face of Makeup Using ACRYLIC PAINTS – acrylic paint on skin | acrylic paint on skin

Paintertainment: Paintertainment FAQ: Is Any “non-toxic” Acrylic .. | acrylic paint on skin

Can you use acrylic paint on skin? – Quora – acrylic paint on skin | acrylic paint on skin

Painter Legend https://www.painterlegend.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/05/info-on-face-painting-books-by-flynnaxxhfqkfzn-issuu-acrylic-paint-on-skin.jpg

[phynxrizng]

A WITCHES CONFESSION ABOUT HALLOWEEN

PAGAN A Witch’s Confession About Halloween OCTOBER 25, 2017 BY LAURA TEMPEST ZAKROFF Photo by the author of a festive display in an Atlanta neighborhood When I was a young Witchlet, the words Halloween and Samhain were largely interchangeable in the larger community. Typically the phrasing would be something like, “yeah, Samhain – aka Halloween…” – this thing, also known as that thing, same thing – especially when dealing with the general public. My understanding was that it was a way to say, “this thing is based on our beliefs, another connection to be aware of.” As the years have gone by, more and more distinction, sometimes with the aid of a crowbar, has been made. Generally that Halloween is a secular, manufactured or other-faith origin day, while Samhain is sacred, witchy, and ancient. Which is totally fine, and something I find interesting to observe. Human behavior, especially in regards to trends and changes, fascinates me. For me personally, what has changed over the years is my relation to Sabbats (in the Wheel of the Year sense). I’m not inclined to mark a specific day with a rite or celebration unless I feel called to do so. Instead of focusing on a specific day, I am marking and observing a larger seasonal shift. As I mentioned in my working with the dead post, some things aren’t seasonal to me either – they’re a year-round kind of thing. So if I’m remembering and working with the deceased on a regular basis (especially on their birth and death days), that tends to take the oomph out of a specific day or time that others may devote to it. I acknowledge Samhain, but I’m not likely to perform a specific rite on my own for it. So what about Halloween then? Here’s my confession: I freaking LOVE Halloween. To me, Halloween isn’t about remembering the dead, as much as it’s about celebrating life and its cycles. It’s about playfulness, creativity, confronting fears, spooky stuff, and finding beauty and life in death and decay. It’s a celebration of the wyrd, weird, and wild. It’s a time where sometimes you can really be yourself inside and out. It’s not about dressing up or buying costumes, though I enjoy watching other folks do it. As someone who must outfit for the stage regularly, I don’t get much of a thrill getting into costume. In fact, I have been known to snarkily refer to it as “amateur night” – but I still get a kick out of it. (I’m a Gemini, I can be an asshole at the same time I love and enjoy something.) As someone who makes a living out of being an artist and thinking creatively, I love to see other people shift their consciousness to play. I think it’s healthy and fun for folks to use those muscles more, to see how costume can transform the spirit – even just for one night. “Communing” – new painting by the author Halloween represents creativity to me. In my family, we never bought costumes from the store or rented them – we made them from scratch and spare parts. The first Halloween I can remember, my grandmother sewed for me an E.T. costume, and my brothers were Reeses’ Pieces (made from hoops and fabric). Grandmom was a seamstress and could make anything with a pattern (and then some.) My dad has always been crafty with his hands, so there was the year someone was a Coke can, a Sony walkman, a can of Campbell’s soup, and other fun things. The Catholic school we went to had a Halloween parade for many years, until it was phased out by the time I graduated. Scares about razor blades and drugs in candy in the late 80’s and the infamous “you’re too old” (despite my brothers having done it through high school, so it was more about girls being out on their own at night fears) curbed trick-or-treating. Mom still decorated the house though and pumpkins were procured and carved.  But as fears fueled by Satanic panic and stranger danger cut back on Halloween festivities, as I grew up, I found myself tied more deeply to the season itself. I became more aware and appreciative of the shedding of orange, yellow, and red leaves against brilliant blue skies. The smell in the air and the temperature shift makes me feel even more alive every year – like waking up after slumbering under the heat of summer. The telling of spooky stories and ghosts, of transforming of front yards into graveyards, bedecked in bones and cobwebs. Meanwhile the changing habits of the squirrels, rabbits, and birds talk of upcoming changes, and preparing home and self for the winter ahead. Speaking of home preparation, it’s my favorite time of year to shop. I try not to accumulate STUFF, but I love acquiring useful, well-made things that are decorated with some of my favorite witchy and spooky motifs. Leading up to Halloween (and on serious sale afterwards), I refresh my stock of kitchen towels and linens – covered in ravens, owls, bones, and witches. I replace out broken mugs and dishware with new ones. I definitely needed that bin shaped like a giant black cat for a storage basket. So yes, it looks like Halloween at my house all year around. And that makes me stupid happy. It’s also why I love going to New Orleans this time of year. (And when I lived in New England, it was a trip to Salem, MA.) New Orleans is such a mix of old and new, grit and glitz, dead and living spirits – and it dresses up with no reserves this time of year. But it’s not too crazy for someone who gets anxious around large crowds. We spend time with folks who are another kind of family, perform our art to add to the festivities at various balls and other events, and enjoy being alive in the middle of it all. When you think about it, days and seasons can come and go without us doing anything about it. We don’t acknowledge them because we HAVE to – the world isn’t going to stop because you didn’t do a certain ritual for a Sabbat. It will continue on. But when we can find pure joy in revelry, in feeling more alive, in celebrating what makes us wyrd – that’s truly living and acknowledging the sacredness in life.  I hope you all have a very happy and playful Halloween! TAGGED WITH:HALLOWEENPAGAN NEWSLETTERSAMHAIN...MORE Sponsored Links You May Like This app will get you speaking a new language in 3 weeks Babbel Diabetes Treatments Yahoo Search What Does Your German Last Name Say About You? Ancestry by Taboola October 18, 2017 Samhain Season: 4 Ways I Work With the Dead October 26, 2017 Navigating the Witch's Maze in Dark Times  RECENT COMMENTS 0 COMMENTS "Thank you, to Laura Tempest Zakroff, for your article "4 Ways I Work With The ..." CHARLENE MCCLARNEN FLINT SAMHAIN SEASON: 4 WAYS I WORK ..." "Thanks, Laura. Shared on FB." MACHA NIGHTMARE SAMHAIN SEASON: 4 WAYS I WORK ..." "I've experienced this in the gender equity sphere. Older Second Wave Feminists are potential allies ..." MACHA NIGHTMARE A WITCH’S MANIFESTO "Not a whiney old geezer at all - always a pleasure to have your feedback. ..." TEMPEST A WITCH’S MANIFESTO BROWSE OUR ARCHIVES   FOLLOW US!   GET THE LATEST FROM A MODERN TRADITIONAL WITCH SIGN UP FOR OUR NEWSLETTER  Enter email address SIGN ME UP!Also, send me the Pagan Newsletter and special offers.  Search this blog... GO! POPULAR AT PATHEOS Pagan 1  8 Ways to Celebrate Samhain RAISE THE HORNS 2  Five Prayers for Ancestors Most People... DANDELIONLADY 3  Samhain – A Solitary Ritual JOHN BECKETT 4  Irish-American Witchcraft: Elf-Locks, Tangled Hair, Ill-Luck,... AGORA  RELATED POSTS FROM A Modern Traditional Witch  PAGAN Navigating the Witch's Maze in Dark Times A MODERN TRADITIONAL WITCH  PAGAN Samhain Season: 4 Ways I Work With the... A MODERN TRADITIONAL WITCH  PAGAN A Witch's Manifesto A MODERN TRADITIONAL WITCH  PAGAN Who is the Teacher of the Witch? A MODERN TRADITIONAL WITCH  TRENDING AT PATHEOS PAGAN  Samhain is Pagan Christmas Samhain is not everyone's favorite sabbat, but it is truly the season...  Navigating the Witch's Maze in Dark Times When confronted with a puzzle, there's a compulsion to explore, maybe get...  The Bagabi Incantation: A Summoning to Samhain Where does the Bagabi incantation come from? Does it conjure the devil,...  Witchin' in the Kitchen: Headless Horseradish Kielbasa and... My German ancestors used horseradish as a warding talisman against the boogyman....  Reclaiming Civilization: A Case For Optimism For The... Brendan Myers’ new book Reclaiming Civilization is not perfect, but it does...  Less Bitching & More Witching The witch is forged in the flames that destroy others. The witch... VIEW ALL PAGAN BLOGS  What Are Your Thoughts? LEAVE A COMMENT  206 Shares ABOUT US ADVERTISE WITH US PRIVACY POLICY TERMS OF SERVICE WRITE FOR US FOLLOW US ON FACEBOOK Copyright 2008-2017, Patheos. All rights reserved.   REPOSTED BY, PHYNXRIZNG

[indy-bindy]

Meeting

'God damn it!' I can never find the damn store I needed when I really needed it. Hmm.. I mean I'd been walking for probably maybe a full hour that should've only taken maybe ten minutes to find. I was starting to get really annoyed. Jesus, friends, why the hell couldn't you just tell me where the fuck it was? I just wanted to find something for my stupid cybernetics to really work and this was really pissing me off. So, I texted them telling them I had to give it up, and noticed my phone was on it's last two percent. With a groan of frustration, I looked around and spotted a tiny park in the middle of the city. Good thing it was like eight at night, but it was darkening fast because it was fall now, and everyone was starting to close up their shops, minus the many bars around here. I guess that's the joy of hanging in downtown Seattle all the time. Meh. Now if I could find my portable charger. I was rummaging through my bag for a few moments and swearing to myself under my breath when I heard a very loud cawing. It was strange, because most the crows were cawing to alert others. This caw was..I don't really know the best way to put it. It held a demanding tone to it, as if it was seeking the attention of humans and not other crows. I mean, the bastard scared me from looking in my bag to him, perched on a tree branch literally like a foot from my left shoulder. The branch was slightly sagging from his size, he looked almost as big as a bald eagle and was so black it was hard to tell if he even had feathers or if he was just a solid mass of shadow. "What the actual fuck?" I managed to inquire, my breath escaping me. One loud caw was the reply, and then he hopped to the ground. Before I really could get a chance to so much as exhale, he melted. I'm not fucking joking. He melted. His beautiful midnight feathers melted and fused together as he began to grow even more, the feathers becoming fabric. His body made rather horrifying sounds as the bones and everything moved and shifted, only to reform into what I was pretty fuckin sure was human skin. For a fleeting second, I saw literally so much I didn't think a crow could be so well blessed to have. I had to blink, though, my eyes were watering as I stared quite blatantly, my eyes affixed to his body as he formed a loose black t shirt and black jeans, kinda loose fitting and looked rather good on him. His hair was short and black. He was totally clean shaven except a stubble just starting to grow on his chin and sorta running across his jaw. This dude stood probably around maybe 5 and half to six feet tall and he was fucking gorgeous. Dude didn't even need a fucking scythe. He could reap my soul by just looking at me and I would literally melt. He had the most intense dark eyes and was that perfect in-between of wiry/muscled without looking emaciated or like he could break me in a hug. Ugh. Those kinda guys were kinda gross to me. But this...Holy hell. "Greetings." I could feel that sensation one gets when they know they're gonna be seduced and both want it horribly but also are afraid they're gonna fall in love in a single second flat. I cleared my throat feeling suddenly shy, uncertain as to how to reply. "H-hi.." I stammered, dumbstruck and scooting over on the bench for him. He smirked. Damn it. Don't do this to me. "What..ah..what brings you here?" I managed. "I had a mild craving for a drink, thought I could see if anyone around here would happen to have one. Nice to meet you, by the way. I am..well..Death. Of course, I'm pretty sure you got that." He sat down besides me. "But you ought to just call me Max. Literally everyone knew me as that when I was alive." This absolutely gorgeous man sat down besides me and draped an arm over the bench behind me, scooting a hair closer. "Would you happen to know where a guy could get a good beer around here? I would be most grateful." His voice was so nice to hear, kinda deep and sexy, but not overwhelming. I stood up and adjusted my bag. "I know this is probably on the list of shit I should never do, but you'd have decent luck finding some in my place. My friends always leave me really interesting beer to try and I never get around to it because I'm more of a hard liquor kinda chick myself, but you can just get drunk or whatever on it, it'd save it from going bad. I also have hard cider...Oh but you don't wanna hear me ramble. Come on, it'll be cool to have company!" I smiled and starting to walk to my place, the grim reaper following almost soundlessly behind me. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ After about ten minutes, somehow I had found us the way home. Good thing I remembered a shop I had walked by earlier, decorated with cute dancing skeletons. "I always found it interesting how humans celebrated Halloween," Max commented. I stopped only for him to run right into me, pushing me up against a wall for a moment against a perpendicular building. It may have been a small moment of silliness, but for a second I could feel this intense feeling. Not fear...a little spark. I blinked up at him and he placed his palms against the wall on either side of my face. "My apologies," He murmured. 'Why is he talking to me like this..is he going to..? No, he just wants to drink and talk to someone. He probably does this shit all the time..' He removed his hands and pulled away. Fuck, his body was like right there. I didn't feel cold, surprisingly. Instead, it felt really hot. "Don't be," I mumbled and removed myself from the wall. "Don't forget to breathe" He admonished lightly, forming a pure black cloak around his neck, the cape of it riding the light breeze as we kept walking. I tried my best not to think of the fact that I literally was letting death through my door, but I also couldn't give two shits. I was 24, yeah, but I had nearly nothing. No friends, no family close enough to touch, my mother was really busy like my dad and my brother was off with his girl for all eternity, plus most of my friends were really busy. I spent a lot of my life for a very long time idolizing him and when he would come for me. I didn't exactly know this was what the universe had in mind for me. We finally got to my place and he waited for me to opened my door, which I was struggling a little to open. Dang newfangled locks were supposed to be easier, not harder. After a few more seconds, I managed to click it open and then pushed the door open. "Welcome to my abode." I said, smiling now that I was home. Max stepped in, closing the door behind me. "What a cute and small place.." He turned to me and without even the hint of a warning, I found myself pushed up against my door, pinned again by his body and my hands held to my door. His face was right up in mine, eyes holding mine in a steady and dark gaze. "M-Max?" I managed, breathless and flushed as I tried to pull my wrists free. His grip was very sure and I felt a slight discomfort trying to move. "What are you-" I was cut off was a burning kiss that made my heart miss a beat and the air leave me. Shit. Was he taking me away now? I moaned softly into the kiss before I could stop myself, loving the surprising softness of his mouth against mine. He let go of one of my wrists and I was about to slide my arms around his neck, but he pulled away, lightly feathering kisses down my cheek, my jawline, then down my neck, stopping specifically just before the base of my neck. "So fragile." He murmured, tingles racing down my neck as I gasped softly, an inaudible moan escaping me. "I thought you wanted a beer.." I managed, trying to maintain some level of composure as he kissed a bit further. "Yes. But. I. Want. You. More. Little. One." he kissed his way down my neck and was working his way down to my collarbone. "I can help-" He shook his head as he kissed me again, harder, heated and with an intensity I've never felt from anyone. His fingers found my zipper and he pulled it down, unveiling. Slowly. I wanted him to hurry, to get what he wanted from me so I myself could have a drinks. I tried to help him but he pulled away, lightly biting my lower lip. "No," He smiled and finished pulling my zipper down, kneeling before me. Deft fingers made short work of my shoes and I had them off in no time. I felt sort of weird, no one just does this kind of stuff to me without some level of awkward. "I like these, by the way. I'm not much for fashion, but you look good in these." He winked at me and I could feel myself melting a bit. "Death and thigh-highs.." I giggled some at the idea. Someone who collects the souls of the deceased wants to touch my body in ways I'm pretty sure I could never really explain...Woah, Nelly. "Mira, sit." He ordered, after pulling my last stocking off. I did as told, followed by the mighty grim reaper, who sat facing me. "Come close, Mira. I need to finish unwrapping you." I scooted closer and he pulled me into his lap, hands splayed over my back as he admired the view. "Do you like my shirt?" I asked. It was actually akin to a corset, tightly made and pushing my breasts up against me, making them much more noticeable. I didn't know I was going to end up actually not alone for a night, so I thought it'd be funny to wear something sexy today, plus I was hoping to get someone at the place I had been looking for. It was kinda pink and it had a column of hooks marching up the center. Sleeveless and strapless, it accentuated my curves and my body, making me look a bit skinnier than I actually was. Apprehension set in as he started to unbutton my jeans, pulling the zipper down and hooking his fingers into the waistband. He peeled them off, planting kisses down my legs before unzipping my shirt. I finally got my chance, and climbed into his lap, my fingers slipping under the hem of his shirt and pushed up, my wrists catching his shirt. I slid it up and he bowed his head so I could get it off completely. I felt my shirt also fall away and he dropped it to the floor, seizing my arms and holding them to my back. 'He won't let me touch him much. Hmm.' His kisses trailed down to my bra and he kissed the little bow between my breasts, working his way down my body and sliding his hands to my back, finding my the hooks on the back of my bra and deftly undoing them. "Say goodbye to your barrier, little one. You are mine, now." I swallowed hard as he hooked his thumbs in my underwear, pulling down. I met with resistance. "Please.." I murmured, "Slow down. I need to feel you, too. If I am yours, than you should be mine." He lightly kissed my cheek. "Oh no, little girl. I am totally getting what I desire so much. I know you'll enjoy everything I have to give you, but worry not," His dark eyes seemed to light up in what I was sure was probably a rare moment of warmth, and in them I saw a multitude of beautiful colors, ranging from full black to copper to gold to brown and to chocolate colors, to the color of autumn leaves as they bid their final farewell. I felt like I was watching a gorgeous movie that only I was allowed to see. "Max.." I breathed. Those eyes looked into mine and I felt my heart skip a beat. I blinked shyly and looked away. "I will not take you away, little one. Your time is far from over." I pressed my body close to his and he slid his hands upwards, cupping my breasts and kneading them slowly, gently. I sighed in bliss, my fingers lacing into his hair. "Please.." He leaned down, capturing one of my nipples in his mouth, the other surrounded by warm fingers that teased them and pebbled them into stiff little peaks, a knee spreading my legs apart. I gasped from the intense sensations firing through my nerves like static, my hands gliding down his back while he kissed his way down my skin, his fingers finding their way between my legs and lightly rubbing my clitoris. "Max, please let me have you.." I begged, my back arching from the feeling as it rushed up my body in a wave of intense bliss. He chuckled against my skin and continued until he reached his fingers. He moved his fingers, lightly teasing my outer labia before pushing his fingers deep into me, and not just one, but two. I felt like I was going to melt around him. I clenched my vaginal walls, wanting to feel him inside me.. "Hold on, Mira," He breathed against me, "Let daddy go." He ordered and his fingers slid out of me. "No, damn it!" I cried as he pulled away, only to pull me upright and lean me back against the couch. He knelt on the floor and resumed his assault on the most sensitive places of me, his tongue entering the mix as he started to lick deeper and deeper into me before pulling back and lightly licking and teasing me once more. He drew a line straight up to my clitoris again, sucking a bit on it for good measure while I writhed and shuddered around him, a powerful surge of pleasure spiking through my entire body. "Please, daddy! I'm gonna come!" I bit my finger hard, my teeth digging in and cutting through a bit. "Please!" I mewled.  The man that was death took orders from me, lifting my hips and eating me out with a drive that couldn't be matched by most people and was doing it so well that I did come, explosively. I felt the clenching sensation as all my muscles started to spasm and my hot juices drenched him. He seemed to not mind, drinking me like I was the best cup of cream in the world. "Yes!!! Fuck! Me! Please!" I cried. He pulled away, suddenly kissing me and thrusting deep into me. I felt the sweetness of my fluids in my mouth as he deposited my come in there. I swallowed, moaning loudly. "Kitten feels so fucking tight.." He groaned, resting his hands on either side of my face as he went at me, thrusting hard and with solid, long strokes that seem aimed for my g-spot. I cried out loudly with every single thrust, my body tightening more and more around his cock as I slid my arms around his neck. He leaned down, his teeth finding my neck and biting down softly at first, but as we got closer to orgasm, his bites became a bit harder. "Ready?!" He growled into my ear. My body was so coiled up I felt like I was about to explode, bliss and absolute ecstasy clouding my head and taking me away to a whole new place. Max suddenly bit down, hard, his teeth breaking the skin and I felt the waves of bliss wash over me every few seconds. "Oh, yessssssss...." I purred, clinging to him as I felt his cock pulsating and his semen flooding into the depths of me. Our juices combined, spilling out of me and onto my couch. Good thing it was leather. I wrapped my legs around him until he finally finished, wrapping his arms tightly around me. Our breathing was slowing a few minutes later and I finally got up, wrapped in my bathrobe since I needed to shower anyways. "Max?" I asked, looking over my shoulder at him. He lay gloriously naked in my sheets and was smiling sleepily at me. I could feel the heat in my face and I looked away. "Did you still want that beer?" I heard the sheets rustle, then felt him gently run his finger down my spine, sending an intense chill down my back. "Yes, please." His reply was simplistic and held no specific emotions. "There's some blood on you. Let me clean it first." He went off to the kitchen and returned moments later with a damp towel and wiped me down with it and an alcohol swab he seemed to have procured. "I didn't mean to do that," He mused. "Don't worry, I've been through much worse." "I would know. I've seen you so often and you always somehow were so cheerful. That's why it made me happy the day I came for him, he won't bother you anymore." He smiled and slid my bra over my shoulders. "Allow me." Hold up, what? Woah. I could feel myself turning slightly red. “You don't have to do that." I mumbled, but he was already fastening the hooks with precision before  looking through my drawers, finally selecting a pair of cute sky blue ones with little penguins on them. "Hey! I can dress myself!" I giggled. "Jesus, I'm not a kid. I can do all of this stuff here without any help." I said, as he sauntered back to me, kneeling and started to dress me. His fingers made short work of it and seemed to have far too much practice in this. I didn't care, though, it was kinda funny to see the almighty spirit of death trying to hunt me down some pjs. He found some pants and picked his shirt up off the floor, shaking it out. He dropped it next to me on the floor and repeated the process with my pants, then pulled them up to just below my belly. "Arms up." He grinned at me. "I don't need your help, Max. I can adult!" He chuckled and suddenly pushed me against my bed, his eyes becoming serious. "So you think you can adult? Could you adult enough to win against me?" I nodded, doing my best to keep a straight face. I felt a sudden dark tendril of fear and desire streak through me as he drew himself to his full height. "Can you win when you alone are simply half-mortal?" I blinked. "Small girl, you have no idea what I am capable of. Only a fraction of a fraction of the truth." Damn it. "So you can actually control your kiss of death or whatever..?" I asked, entering the kitchen and opening the fridge. I leaned on the door some and sighed. What to eat? "Yes. I could easily take the life you have fought so hard to maintain in the blink of an eye." He'd followed me and was now steadily breathing against my neck. I flinched slightly from the proximity. "Do you like having random sex with people or is that just me?" He snorted. "Of course it's just you, all these other humans are too fragile for me. Like I could save them from me. I am simply a result, however. You..however..you're not fully human." He stated, reaching for a Shock Top and backing off. He was right. I was a cybernetic machine. "That is why it would be a bit harder to take you, anyways. You're still part machine, something that lasts much longer than most humans." I smiled and settled for making a sandwich for myself. "Did you want any food?" I asked, looking over at him. He shook his head. "Unless it's you." He stood and sauntered over to me, placing the jelly I had just taken out of the fridge on the counter and trapping me against the counter. Again? I would probably die from the amount of sex that could happen. I leaned back on my hands and looked up at him. "Why?" He shook his head and leaned closer, his breath surprisingly fresh despite what we had done. Must've snagged some of my mouthwash or something. My breathing was picking up and I could feel my blood pressure rising fast. I bit my lip and gently placed my hands on his chest, uncertain as to whether I wanted to kiss him. Instead, I pushed him back some, then slipped under his arm, grabbing the jelly and hunting my peanut butter down. Max was on the couch, tying his boots. "I actually must take my leave. I need to go collect souls." He seemed to be brooding slightly. "Hey," I said, "Don't worry, I still hope you'll come by to visit sometime." I finished making my sandwich and started to eat. He picked up the bottle and drained the rest of it, his eyes searching the apartment. "Recycling is by the front door," Both of us got up and he almost ran into me a second time, though not as compromising. "Ladies first," His voice sent a tingle through my body. "Thanks. Be careful out there..who knows what will try to defy you this time." I smiled and we headed for the door. Damn it. I wish I could have a roommate. It sucked to live alone sometimes. "Mira, I'll come back sometime. Otherwise, I will see you when your time comes." He kissed my forehead and I just felt this comforting wave surrounding my head. "Don't do anything stupid, though. Tonight could've ended differently if it had been someone else." I shivered to think if he had been anyone else. "Be careful out there, Max. Come by whenever you feel like it. I have saving the world stuff most of the time, but I'm pretty sure we will meet again." He nodded and I opened the door. "Bye, Max." I smiled and gave a little wave. "Bye, Mira." He took off, melting away into a giant mass of darkness and then reforming as a massive crow once more, taking flight into the starry skies. A few moments later while I was watching tv, it occurred to me to look down for a second. When I did, I felt kind of bad. He forgot his shirt.

<3 END <3