#i love warty pumpkins and gourds

[rootedincuteness]

I sent Bobo, Stormy, Murray, and Lil’ Bit to the store to pick out some interesting gourds and pumpkins... and this was the result. Bobo got a white one, of course, because that’s his favorite color. Murray liked the gourd with green all over it, and Lil’ Bit was loving its warty-ness. And Stormy chose to go with a nice, big, classic orange pumpkin. Not a bad selection, right? These guys have great taste! =)

[honeybunchesofbucky]

Bucky and the Pumpkin Patch

Sam x Bucky-Fluff

Warnings: Mention of knives? Other than that just Bird and Bionic Man being adorable.

Summary: After not celebrating Halloween since his childhood, Sam shows Bucky what he's missed.

Halloween in 2024 was a lot different than in the nineteen forties. Kids dressed up scarier, women dressed up freely and showed as much skin as they wanted, and people celebrated it everywhere. The minute October first hit, Bucky Barnes was thrown into the whole new world of spooky. Sam had insisted on showing him everything he missed for the past ninety years. All the halloween movies, new candy, and his favorite traditions from him and Sarah’s childhood. Bucky, though he was still stuck in his usual autopilot of grump, was internally thrilled. He loved to see the joy on Sam’s face when he told him about taking his nephews trick or treating and Sarah’s halloween themed cookies.

Ever since the two started openly dating a few months ago, they have been inseparable. They moved to a small home near Sarah’s, and Bucky easily became part of the Wilson family. Sarah was the most supportive and kind person he’d ever known, and dinner at her house became a regular affair. Slowly but surely the bionic staring machine warmed up, and though he didn’t say it much, he felt the most whole and loved he’d felt in his entire life.

And that’s what brought him to this point. In the middle of a pumpkin patch, with Sam a few feet away with a wagon full of pumpkins they all could carve. It was quite the sight. The SuperSoldier’s crystal blue eyes staring down one of the uglier looking pumpkins, the one everyone seemed to pass by. He was enamored by it.

“Bucky?” Sam walked over to his lover, looking between him and the warty misshapen pumpkin, a smile forming on his lips when he realized. “Do you want to get that one?”

Bucky’s stern expression softened slightly at the idea, his eyes never leaving the gourd. “No, it’s okay. We have enough.” But none of them were Bucky’s. Sam had strolled through every inch of the patch with him and the sergeant had yet to pick one.

“Buck, you’ve been staring at it for the past ten minutes. I think you two have a connection.” He chuckled, “Go ahead and get it.”

Bucky huffed, looking over at Sam. He was right. He did want it. Bucky wasn’t used to getting something just because he wanted it, especially not since the days of being on the run and only buying only essentials. “Okay, no need to pull my arm.” He grabbed the pumpkin and held it in his bionic hand.

Sam grabbed Bucky’s free hand and walked to the counter to pay. As Sam pulled out his wallet, his eyes landed on the cooler of caramel apples next to the cash register and he froze. This time it was Bucky who smirked, gently moving his lover over and saying to the cashier “Five of those please.” Before Sam could open his mouth, Bucky turned to him and said,“You had a connection.”

“Damn it, Bucky.” He laughed, shaking his head and handing the woman the cash.

“Uncle Bucky?” AJ tugged on the Sergeant’s sleeve.

Bucky turned his attention to him, his face softening. It was just recently that Sam’s nephews had started calling him Uncle Bucky, and it always made his heart melt. “What’s up, buddy?” He turned on his seat at the picnic table, wiping the pumpkin off his hands.

“I need help carving my pumpkin.” He looked at the small plastic carving knife wedged into the pumpkin.

Bucky smiled, picking up AJ with ease and sitting him on the table. “Alright. You hold onto the pumpkin and I’ll cut it.”

The little boy smiled, giddily holding onto the gourd as he watched Bucky pull out his pocket knife from his jeans. The blade was massive. Something he always carried in case anyone ever tried to harm him or Sam. It was an old habit he kept from his Winter Soldier days. But he never thought he’d be using it to carve a pumpkin.

He carefully cut through the design AJ had traced on it, sticking his tongue between his teeth as he concentrated.

Meanwhile, Sarah stood in the kitchen, looking out the small window shaking her head. “Is he using his knife to carve a pumpkin?”

Sam, who was eating one of the cookies Sarah and Cass had just decorated, nearly choked on the orange frosting. He walked to the window and burst into laughter. “Yes, yes he is.”

Sarah let out a laugh. “Look how happy AJ is.” She smiled when she saw the excited look on her son’s face as Bucky reached his vibranium hand in the pumpkin and scooped the guts out.

Sam’s chest bloomed with warmth. A few months ago, Bucky was sure he was awful with kids.

“I don’t know how to take care of kids, Sam!”

Yet here he was, his black and gold metal fingers holding up stringy pumpkin guts, making disgusted faces so AJ would laugh.

“I’m going to bring him some paper towels before both of them are covered in it.” Sam chuckled, squeezing Sarah’s shoulder before grabbing the roll and walking out to the yard. “You both are going to smell like pumpkin for a year.”

Bucky looked up at Sam, a huge smile plastered on his face which turned into a smirk when he looked at AJ, nodding before they both turned to Sam and threw some of the pumpkin insides at him.

Sam gasped, the side of his face covered in it. “I know you didn’t just do that.” He set the towels down before smirking too.

“Oh crap.” Bucky picked AJ up and set him on the ground, “Run!” The two of them took off, Sam chasing after them as they laughed, dodging pumpkin guts that Sam threw at them. A chunk of pumpkin hit Bucky’s back and he yelped.

Sam froze before turning and running. “Come on, AJ.” Bucky picked him up and put him on his shoulders, running after Sam as AJ giggled uncontrollably.

Sam laughed, looking behind him before he stopped at the picnic table, bending over as he caught his breath. “Okay, I surrender!”

“Oh come on, Cap! Already?” He chuckled, setting a giggling AJ down on the table and walking over to Sam, patting his back. “Who’s the old man, now?”

“Shut up.” Sam huffed, standing up straight and pushing him playfully. “I’ve had to eat all the imperfectly decorated cookies, okay? It’s hard work and doesn’t make for good running conditions.” He grabbed his stomach.

Bucky rolled his eyes, “You poor thing.” He sat down and smiled at AJ, who was admiring his pumpkin.

“Thank you for helping me, uncle Bucky.” AJ smiled up at him and hugged his arm.

Bucky’s face softened again, a proud smile forming on his lips as he hugged him back. “You’re welcome.”

Sam sat next to Bucky and kissed his cheek. “I told you. They love you.”

Bucky’s cheeks turned crimson, his watery eyes meeting Sam’s. “Thank you, Sam.”

[twofrontteethstillcrooked]

7 Oct. Suptober: Young at Heart

After the interview, wherein the employee revealed nothing useful about the night of the purported zombie attack, Dean had taken one glance at a sign about $2 hayrides. In that instant, Cas witnessed him light up like a jack o'lantern with eyes blazing.

He'd looked heartbreakingly young.

s9 au where Cas was never kicked out of the bunker and Sam is recovering from Gadreel, just fyi; deancas at harvest time

"Hey, welcome back," Dean whispered. 

Since Cas had fallen asleep -- it seemed -- with his ear pressed to Dean's chest, he had no difficulty hearing him.

Cas shifted in the v of Dean's legs just enough to be able to look at him. "We're on a hayride," he said, not asking a question as much as stating a fact that seemed as surreal now as it had twenty minutes ago.

"We are." Dean smiled with his eyes. "You conked out like you'd been drugged, man."

They were pressed into flatbed wagon atop a scattering of loose, sweetly musty-scented hay and amongst a scrum of children eating caramel apples and adults talking rowdy. The wagon rumbled over a series of tree roots as the path the horses took came out of a copse of trees and into another part of the farm; partial moonlight illuminated a long field of tall, spindly skeletons.

Cas blinked. As the wagon banked to follow the edge of the field, a wind gust made the corn stalks chitter in strange ripples.

Dean tightened his arms around him. "Still cold?"

"I guess," Cas mumbled, shivering as much from the warmth of Dean's body as from the spookiness of the corn. He yawned, and frowned.

Dean chuffed a small laugh. "The ride ought to be over in thirty minutes, and then you can crash at the motel good and proper."

"I thought." Cas realized he didn't know where his thoughts were in fact going. "We don't have to talk to the second witness again?"

"Nah," Dean said, dropping his volume again, eyes intent on Cas. "Sam called. He's doing okay, getting back up to full strength. Said he and Jody are gonna hit her up at the hospital before visiting hours are over."

"Ah. Good." Cas gave into a second yawn. "I don't understand why I'm so tired."

"Cost of being human, I think," Dean said. In his face was something like sympathy, something like regret.

Cas was grateful for the former and wished he could erase the latter. He wasn't ashamed to be human, despite all he missed about being angelic. He'd survived the fall, and being with Dean and Sam gave his new life an intention, a direction. He struggled to sit up and shake off the cobwebs in his mind. 

Dean didn't let him go far, arms still encircling him. The wagon bumped and rattled over the muddy farmland, and the children whooped and giggled. Cas watched Dean watching them, Dean's eyes gentle and a smile just barely hidden on his mouth.

I love you, Cas thought with wonder, the words in his head like an explosion of crows lifting into flight. 

When he came back to himself, Dean was watching him intently. Cas could not for the life of him guess at what Dean was thinking.

Dean looked away to clear his throat. His cheeks were a little pink. 

Cas's mind flitted away from that. He took a second to purposefully take in their surroundings again. 

Hmm. Still mostly corn stalks.

The entire concept of paying someone to drive them around and through a field of harvested corn was so spectacularly foreign to Cas that they may as well have been drinking enough alcoholic slushies to stun a musk ox or flinging large pumpkins into a pond via cannon or medieval trebuchet -- two other activities that were available to be enjoyed for a price at this bustling Hartford cider mill and farmstand. They'd come to interview an employee of the market, and she'd talked to them while selling fresh edible donuts, coated in sparkling sugar, and bumpy, warty gourds that apparently nothing and no-one ate and which were only grown as decorative seasonal items. Cas sometimes resented that being very long lived had not given him a single advantage when it came to deciphering the cultural mores of the upper midwest.

After the interview, wherein the employee revealed nothing useful about the night of the purported zombie attack, Dean had taken one glance at a sign about $2 hayrides. In that instant, Cas witnessed him light up like a jack o'lantern with eyes blazing. 

He'd looked heartbreakingly young.

Cas would have followed him anywhere, and was. At least the cornfield wouldn't open up into a direct portal to hell or a headquarters for the living dead...he hoped.

An incline in the path back towards the farmstand had everyone oohing and ahhing, jostling into and off of each other, as the horses went faster, almost at a gallop. An apple core went whizzing over Cas's head and into the dark. Dean was grinning. A kid next to them was holding out her small hand to bestow upon him what was, as far as Cas could tell, a fake orange and yellow pointed tooth. When Dean had accepted her gift, she directed her benevolence at Cas and placed another tooth in his hand, before stumbling back into her older brother's lap. 

Cas squinted at the object now in his palm. The tooth was slightly sticky, probably because a toddler had been holding it for who knew how long.

"Candy corn," Dean explained. "You eat them."

"Do you?" Cas asked faintly. 

Laughing without being loud about it, Dean shook his head -- Cas had said something funny. Cas popped the tooth (kernel?) in his mouth and chewed. The waxy candy tasted like honey, sort of, a brief burst of sugar before it was swallowed and gone. He remained skeptical.

Dean had one arm around Cas's waist and one hand on his knee, fully bracketing Cas in. A piece of straw was trying to poke itself through Cas's jeans to scratch him by the ankle. A woman at his feet was picking corn silks out of a baby's curls. The baby was wailing like a banshee. On the opposite edge of the wagon, two kids were having a slap fight while another kid refereed. Dean put his chin over Cas's shoulder and flexed his hand on Cas's knee.

Cas had never wanted to stay anywhere ever as badly as he wanted to stay in this moment.

The bedsheet ghosts and straw-headed pumpkin people that were staked to the entrance of the hayride road could be seen in the distance. The passengers would have to awkwardly roll off of the wagon in a few minutes; Cas would have to leave the shelter of Dean's arms and clamber back into the working world on shaky legs. He breathed against a heaviness in his shoulders, his stomach. Possible zombies to investigate, et cetera.

The horses whinnied to a halt. 

Dean and Cas put their feet back in the yard. The real world, Cas thought.

At the motel, Cas cleaned up for bed in the tiny bathroom while Dean talked to Sam on the phone. The easiest way for Cas to tell the case wasn't anything special was Dean not raring to go back out into the crisp October night. The victim had some interesting things to say but also a head injury, and Sam was staying to help Jody keep the conversation coherent, if that was something that could be achieved under the circumstance. 

Cas shuffled into the room in his borrowed sweatpants and hoodie. Dean hung up and joined him on the couch by the window. 

"No other attacks reported so far," Dean said. 

"Seems promising." Cas bit back a smile at the sight of Dean's hot dog pajamas.

"Yeah." Dean scooted closer. "Hey."

Cas waited, head cocked, trying not to focus on all the places where Dean and he were touching.

"Never got to go on one as a kid, so, uh. Thanks for coming on the hayride with me," Dean said.

"You're welcome, Dean," Cas said, leaning towards him without really meaning to.

"Yeah?" Dean said, which didn't seem to be in response to anything, but then he was kissing Cas soft as a breath, and his hands were pulling Cas closer, and Cas was kissing him back, finally; and it didn't matter, Cas thought, what the question was, or even if there had been one, because this -- Dean's mouth warmer than candlelight, Dean making a noise like he'd been starving and was grateful to be fed and Cas desperate to hear him make that sound again -- this had been the answer all along.

[punkpoemprose]

I Love You Pumpkin- A Kristanna Week “Yellow” Fic

Universe: Modern AU Rating: G (It’s just fluff y’all) Length: 2826 Words

For day 3, yellow, I went with concepts of “harvest” and “joy” to make a little pumpkin farm date AU. I threatened to write one of these a while back after going on a pumpkin farm date with my boyfriend, but didn’t finish it for Halloween. I hope y’all will enjoy it anyway!

Anna took Kristoff's hand as he helped her out of his truck. He was, as always, the most courteous man she'd ever met. It was just in his nature, she thought, to take care of others. Since they'd started dating she'd truly come to notice and appreciate just how second nature it was for him to help. 

It was one of the things she loved most about him, his willingness to step up and support her. She was glad for it, because it coincided with a particular inability on his part to ever say no to her. She knew that it was silly to plan a whole day around going to a pumpkin farm meant for children without bringing any children along, and yet when she'd suggested it, he'd just smiled and nodded and let her make the arrangements appropriately. 

"I'm so excited!" 

She was barely able to contain her desire to bounce up and down in her seat when she spotted a little hand painted sign with the farm's name just ahead on the path leading away from the gravel parking lot. She hadn’t ever gone to a pumpkin farm, at least not that she could remember. Her family didn’t do many outings at all after Elsa got sick, and while she’d been reassured by many that she hadn’t missed out on much, she still felt that she had missed something.

Kristoff understood. He’d had all those childhood experiences that Anna craved, but he’d had them after turning eight, when his parents adopted him and strove to give him the childhood that every other normal kid had. He understood that while most people didn’t think a trip to the pumpkin farm was important, it was important to Anna. For him, she knew, that was enough a reason to take the half hour drive.

"I noticed," he teased, squeezing her hand a couple times as he swung the passenger side door shut, "You were bouncing your foot the whole way here. You only do that when you're nervous or excited and I figured my driving couldn't have been that bad, so it must just be the pumpkin farm anticipation."

Anna smirked, squeezing his hand back and rocking up onto her tiptoes to press a kiss against his cheek.

“You’re an excellent driver. I trust you completely. I don’t even grab onto the door like I do when Elsa drives.”

He grinned at the compliment and chuckled at the mention of her sister’s driving. It wasn’t exactly a secret that Elsa was a bit of a distracted driver, often too caught up in her own thoughts to notice someone in front of her braking until the last second.

She pressed close to his side as he led them toward the gravel path that led to the pumpkin farm. It was a warm afternoon for autumn, the morning had been frosty but the light breeze didn’t chill Anna in her flannel and bluejeans, nor did it seem to affect Kristoff. It carried on it the scent of popcorn and something sweet.

“I read on the website that they have a fudge house,” he said, either noticing the scent for himself or being somehow able to sense Anna’s mouth already watering, “Is that going to have to be our first stop, or?”

Anna shook her head as the many small buildings of the farm came into her view. She could see the sign posts just ahead pointing to the different attractions offered by the farm, among them being spooky displays, a haunted haywagon ride, a small family friendly corn maze, a barnyard, and of course, the pumpkin patch. Sprinkled between there were small shops selling snacks and small trinkets that Anna already knew she’d be picking up before they left. 

“Of course not. They have a barnyard, we have to start there.”

She felt Kristoff bump into her side playfully and rocked her hip over to bump him in return.

“Of course, how could I be so foolish. It’s not as if you’ve ever seen a chicken or pig or goat before.”

She had, on more than one occasion, visited his family’s small farm and while there petted their livestock and most recently spent time picking apples from their orchard. She hadn’t been raised in a large city, but she had been far enough into town that she hadn’t spent much time around animals as a child. Helping her collect eggs for his mother and bringing her to see their newest goat when it was newborn were other ways he’d tried to help fill in gaps for her. They were experiences she treasured, particularly the memory of him, hand over hand, helping her to bottle feed the small kid.

“I’ll have you know sir,” she said with mock annoyance, “That they have a mini horse.”

He lifted both hands in surrender, picking up hers with his as he did so, not releasing it even as he teased her.

“Well then, that changes everything.”

***

After the time spent speaking in a baby voice to the miniature horse, Anna brought Kristoff along with her to look into each and every little display set up on the property. They tossed coins into a witch’s cauldron in return for a wish, watched as a skeleton popped out of a steamer trunk, and spent some time listening to children speaking to a giant talking pumpkin, asking her questions about her life to which she promptly replied.

“You’d be great at that job,” Kristoff mentioned as an aside as they walked away from the children.

“Being the lady on the other end of the microphone in the pumpkin?”

“Well,” Kristoff offered, “I don’t think she’s actually in the pumpkin, I assume it’s an intercom situation, but yes. You’re great with kids and you’re smart so I think you’d come up with quick answers and keep the magic for them.”

Anna felt her heart skip at the compliment, but Kristoff carried on walking them toward the fudge house like it had been nothing to say something so kind. She often wondered whether he knew how much he affected her when he said things like that, or when he casually reached for her hand, or when he kissed her, even chastely. There were days where she thought she might catch fire under the warmth and multitude of his affections, and he never acted as if it were anything more than natural.

She sometimes imagined a future where he was like that with their kids, kind and loving, doling out praise and affection easily and with little pomp and circumstance. His free way of giving affection, even when he was cranky and acting gruff was one of her favorite things about him.

“I guess I should inquire for next season then if things don’t go well with my teaching job.”

He smirked and leaned down to kiss her on the cheek quickly as they walked behind a building out of the sight of prying eyes.

“They love you there, you’re the best third grade teacher they’ve ever had. I saw the crayon drawings on your fridge to prove it. I don’t expect you’ll need the job. Unless of course, you’re planning on buying enough fudge to fill my truck, because then you might want to think about it.” 

***

She didn’t buy enough fudge to fill his truck in the least, buying two large pieces, one for herself and one to give her sister if she didn’t eat it on the ride home. Kristoff had bought them both cider and doughnuts that they called an unhealthy pre-dinner snack before buying their tickets for the corn maze and hay wagon ride. 

The afternoon had dimmed down and night approached nearer, and while the corn maze hadn’t been much match for them, Kristoff being able to see the exit the whole time due to the way they’d cut the corn down shorter for the kids, the hayride proved to be quite fun. As they passed by different “haunts” on the path the tractor and wagon took, they worked together to spot little secrets or decorations that made the displays even more interesting.

Kristoff had been the one to notice a lightning rod in the woods behind Frankenstien’s monster, and Anna had been the one to tell him that one of the monster masks on the trees had been painted, scuffed up, and generally repurposed from a kid’s superhero costume. A scarecrow with glowing eyes caught Anna off guard, and Kristoff had taken the opportunity to pull her closer to his side as she jumped. 

While it wasn’t truly frightening, and while the air wasn’t quite cold yet, Anna had been happy to have the excuse to cuddle in close to him. Leaning her head against his shoulder as they chatted a bit more about the displays and discussed their thoughts on what pumpkin they should purchase before leaving.

***

“We have to get the ugly one Kris,” she said, purposefully giving him puppy dog eyes and sticking out her lower lip. 

Of course she knew that the theatrics were unnecessary and that he would consent to any pumpkin she chose, but it was all part of the fun. She had to convince him to love the oddly shaped, warty, off kilter pumpkin as much as she did.

“No one else will pick him, and he deserves a home for Halloween. It’s like the tree in Charlie Brown. It’s not such a bad little pumpkin.”

Looking directly at her, she saw him trying to hold a stone face. His eyes betrayed too much mirth though, for any real protest to be present in his thoughts. 

“Maybe,” he said with a sigh, a smile forming quickly on his lips as he cracked, “If we carve enough out of the one side, he’ll balance better. If not I’ll grab some shims and we’ll give him a support system to keep him standing up on the porch.”

She excitedly lifted the pumpkin from the ground at his approval and acted as if she didn’t watch his hands twitch as she carried the large gourd towards the checkout stand. Many others had caught her eye as they walked through the neat rows of pumpkins and squash, but this oddly shaped one had called to her. It was awkward to carry, and while Kristoff didn’t offer to take it from her as she hefted it along, she saw him in her periphery putting his hands into his pocket so as to not reach for it. 

“I’ll pay the man,” he said, clearly not being ready to watch the balancing act that would ensue if Anna were to hold the pumpkin in one arm and try to riffle through her purse with the other. 

She thought it might be funny to attempt it, if only to see his crabby side come out for a moment. He was never mean, of course, but he did sometimes grumble like an old man, and she often found it enjoyable to kiss the crankiness out of him.

It was a pastime of hers that she found he also enjoyed.

With the pumpkin paid for and their adventures concluded for the day, they set off for his truck once more, the sky getting darker by the minute, but still bright enough to see quite well by.

“So,” he asked as he loaded their pumpkin into the back of his truck, paying particular attention to ensuring that it would not roll despite its odd shape’s propensity to do so, “Was this the pumpkin farm experience of your dreams?”

Anna nodded, seeing the pumpkin successfully loaded, and turning to open the door to the truck.

“All that I could dream of and more,” she said, patting her purse where the remainder of her chocolate fudge, as well as her sister’s piece were located, “Thank you for coming with me. I had a great time.”

He stepped around to her side of the truck, offering her his hand as she stepped up to enter the cab, releasing it only when she was seated so that he could close the door behind her.

She watched from the passenger seat as he shoved his hands back into his pockets and walked around the truck to enter his side. 

There was a bit of an odd look on his face, like he was mulling something over in the short five step walk. His hand was still in his pocket when he opened the door with the other and climbed in, swinging it shut, a bit awkwardly, with the hand that was not in the pocket.

“I’m glad you had fun… I’d like to make everyday… no, that’s not it…”

He was mumbling a bit and Anna offered him a confused look and a tilt of her head. He wasn’t usually a man who started saying something and cut himself off unless he was still thinking about what he wanted to say, or unless he was trying to say something important.

“Anna, everyday I’m with you is an adventure. I never thought that I was the type of man who wanted to wake up to a surprise everyday, but I guess it’s no surprise that I love you, and if pumpkin farm dates and ugly gourds and small animals are what you love then I guess I love those things too. If you’ll let me, I want take you on adventures, and hold your hand for as long as we can.”

He pulled his hand from his pocket, and in the quickly dimming light of the afternoon turned evening, she saw a small shining ring in his large palm.

“Anna, what I want to ask you is… will you make me the happiest man alive and do me the honor of letting me call you my wife?”

***

The ring was beautiful and unique, the stone in the center being a beautiful yellow-orange, flanked on either side by smaller stones set into leaf-like shapes. Anna could hardly breathe, let alone speak, so for a moment she simply flapped her hands in surprise as the tears rolled down her cheeks. She nodded yes quickly, and managed to choke it out as he watched her with a shy smile.

“I’m sorry this wasn’t as special as I wanted it to be, but I’ve been trying to find the right time for weeks, and I tried to take you out to dinner last week but I got called into work and I wanted to do it with your sister there so you could have her and…”

Anna leaned across the console of his truck and wrapped her arms around him, the hug not quite as full as she wanted it to be with the separation. She kissed him fully on the lips when she got him close enough, stopping his apology in the middle as she showed him exactly how perfect he’d made the proposal, and every moment of every day before it since they’d met. 

They sat like that for a long while, pulling each other close and kissing and smiling and wiping away happy tears, until finally he slid the ring onto her finger and they were content to take a moment to breathe with their hands clasped atop the console.

“I was so nervous tonight,” he admitted, his thumb running along hers as he spoke.

She shot him a look of surprise, then laughed. 

“You didn’t seem nervous at all. You never seem nervous when we’re alone together.”

He smiled at her in return and shook his head, “I was checking my pocket every ten seconds for the ring and then I kept wondering everytime we did something. Is it the right time? Should I propose in front of the mini-horse or on the hayride?”

She couldn’t help but snort at the idea of being proposed to in front of a miniature pony. She probably would have loved it in the moment though, given it was Kristoff proposing.

“This was perfect. Just you and me, in your car, knowing that we’ll get to show all our friends and family later but just having the moment for ourselves. It was perfect.”

“Well, just so we don’t slight anyone… we could send the mini horse a wedding invite.”

She swatted him playfully and fell back into her seat, releasing his hand so that she could put on her seat belt.

“Or we could head to your parents house now and inform them… and maybe also the goat.”

“Do you want the goat in the wedding?”

“No,” she said, mentally making note to call her sister as soon as they were on the road and have her meet them at Kristoff’s parent’s place, “But if we have it on the farm it would be rude not to invite all the residents.”

She heard his laugh, rich and joyful, before she felt his arms wrap around her again, pulling her as close as possible for another kiss.

[lupienne]

The Reality - Negan and Lucille

Hey guys, here’s a little Halloween fic of Negan and Lucille. I started it like two years ago and never felt motivated to finish it. So I finally sat down today on Halloween and wrote the end of it, and while I’m not really happy with it... whatever. Here it is anyway! I think it’s kind of bittersweet, but that’s just me. 

-

The Reality

Gourds were on porches, leaves on the ground, and the stores were filled with pumpkin-flavored everything. The crisp air was a slap to the lungs, in a good way.

I'd always loved Fall, and I'd always looked forward to Halloween. That night when reality wavered on the edge. When you could be dark or light, the opposite of yourself – when you could be anything for just a few hours.

I hadn't been a fan of the days passing by lately. Dread sat like a tumor in my stomach.

The reality was... that reality fucking sucked.

I watched my breath puff out white as I came home on Thursday. Maybe it wouldn't fucking rain this Halloween. We might get snow instead.

After dinner, I polished off a few apple cider donuts, then settled on the couch to watch TV with Lucille. She was quiet and sleepy-eyed as the clock ticked towards my bedtime. The holiday was days away, falling right splat on a Saturday.

“Tony said he found some fuckin' booze flavored like Candy Corn. I hope that's not all he's gonna have, because that's gross as fuck.” I yawned. “What do you think I should dress as? Fuck, I shouldn't have waited until the last minute.”

We always attended Tony Synder's party down the block. I wasn't really crazy about the guy, but I'm not gonna pass up free food or secretly laughing at the neighbor's costumes. (I always looked fucking amazing.) I liked to switch up my style, but Lucille usually dressed as a witch. And not some sloppy, warty green hag...but a hot fucking witch. Her slim figure in a black corset, her tits pushed up, her cascade of black curls falling over one eye. In years past, we'd come home from that party partly drunk and ripping each other's costumes off as we stumbled through the door. God damn. I was almost getting hard thinking of it.

Almost. The past few years, Lucille had me at arm's reach and I couldn't blame her. I was shit, I was an unfaithful piece of shit, but she-

That shit didn't matter anymore.

“He-Man,” she said with a chuckle. “I want to see you rocking that little leather harness.”

“Goddamn, that's right on the edge of indecent exposure. Isn't he practically naked?”

“Why do you think I suggested it?”

“I would make a hot blond.” I slid closer to her, and she nestled against my side. “You gonna be my Bewitching Beauty as always?”

She was quiet for so long I thought she'd fallen asleep.

“...think I'm gonna sit this one out.”

“But why?”

“I don't know. Just not up to it, I guess. But you go, have fun. Maybe you'll find a hot date.”

I swallowed hard. After everything....I couldn't laugh at those types of jokes.

“...Stop that shit. You're the only hot date I want. I don't wanna go alone. We don't have to stay long.”

“Look, Negan, they won't want me there.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? Tony adores you, which is why I ain't his biggest fan, cause I know he's always wanted to stick his dick in you-”

She let out a laugh that was more of a scoff. “Doubt he feels that way now. Nobody wants a dying woman at their party, making things awkward.”

I felt like I'd been punched in the goddamn balls. My stomach went to my throat and I roiled with sudden nausea. Eyes burning with acid. I fought it, I fought it motherfuckin' hard . My jaw clenched like I was in rigor mortis, my body shuddering.

“Don't...don't say fucking shit like that.”

She nudged my ribs. “God, calm down, Negan. What about this, huh? I don't have any hair.”

“It's Hallo-fucking-ween. Everyone is wearing a motherfuckin' wig right now. You'll fit right in.”

She leaned her head on my arm. “I'm tired. I'll think about it. Ok?”

That meant no. But it wasn't official yet, so I was gonna stop at the party store and buy that fucking He-Man getup and the best witch wig I could find. She'd change her mind right quick once she saw me in that loincloth.

As she went to bed, I stared out the window at the orange light of our Jack-o-lantern. The nausea had settled back into my bones. A constant undercurrent, moving through my veins like poisoned blood.

Too many tricks, life. Not enough treats.

---

Friday night. I stopped at the party store. The cashier rung up my purchases, then looked me over with a twinkle in her eye. I refused to be flattered – ok, I was kind of fucking flattered. The wig for Lucille was the most expensive they had. If you squinted, it looked nearly like her natural spill of curls.

At home, I put my hand on the package, and felt a rush of fucking darkness come over me. I had to fucking sit there, like so many nights, fighting the thoughts that stung like needles. If I let them keep stinging, the tears would come – the fucking breakdown would follow.

So I fought it. I shut it down. I fucking locked it up, because Lucille doesn't like it when I fall apart – and why should she? I'm the man. I'm supposed to be her rock. She hates it when I cry. I hate it when I cry.

So I fucking smiled when I walked in the door. I smelled Chinese food. Lucille was already piling mine onto a plate – the sweet n' sour chicken I love. All she ordered was a tub of Wonton soup. I frowned, but said nothing. At least she's eating.

She looked at the bag in my hand, and she too, said nothing. “Dinner's ready. And I rented some Halloween movies.”

We ate and watched Child's Play and Micheal Myers and a leprechaun who makes bad jokes. I didn't mention the costume or the party, but I knew I'd be going alone. I spend the last movie wondering how I'll excuse my wife's absence, and how the fuck I'm gonna endure the pity in their eyes. It fucking pissed me off. That they're putting her in the ground already. That she's putting herself there.

“Honey,” she rubbed my tense arm. “You ok?”

“Yeah, babe. Just...indigestion.”

And damn this woman, she got up to make me a cup of peppermint tea. I sat there numb, wondering what the fuck I'm going to do without her.

----

“By the POWER OF GRAYSCALE, behold my glorious sword! ...and by sword, I mean dick.” I adjusted He-Man's fake-fur loincloth. Played with it, flipped it around. I wore some black boxers under it, but I was still worried about...slippage. I looked so fucking ridiculous.

I slid on the blond bob wig, examining the hot mess in the mirror. “Haha, oh yeah! What a fine motherfucker. Jesus H Christ. I am a glutton for punishment. Ok, babe. I'm decent! Come check me out before I head over there!”

“It's Grayskull, not Grayscale. Get it right, Negan.”

The bedroom door swung open and my mouth dropped. My Lucille stood there, the black wig cascading over her shoulders. Her body, slimmer than ever, hugged by a slinky black dress and purple corset. Glitter dusted her chest and cheeks.

“Goddamn, woman.”

“I couldn't miss out on that Candy Corn booze.”

I smiled, but we both knew she wouldn't be drinking that. She'd be spending the night over the toilet. I had to banish that thought fuckin' quick. She already spends too many nights over the toilet.

“I'll taste test it for you first. Let you know exactly how fucking disgusting it is.”

-

We headed down the block, passing early Trick-or-Treaters. The rain had come after all, but merely presented as a pathetic drizzle. The mist in the air diffused the street lamps into yellow balls of light. I wish I'd brought my coat to drape over Lucille's bare shoulders. Spooky music played from our elderly neighbor's house and he waved at us. Lucille waved back.

Tony's yard had become a graveyard of cardboard tombstones and dry ice. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Lucy shiver.

“Want me to go back and grab a coat?”

“Don't be dumb. We're almost there.”

On the porch, Tony's tween kid sat in a lawn chair with a bowl of candy. No costume, how quaintly rebellious. She looked bored as fuck until we rolled up, and then she snickered openly. Dear fucking God. I hoped my loincloth was in place. My nipples were like fucking pebbles on either side of the plastic harness. I quickly banged on the door.

Tony opened it. “Negan! And Lucille! Very nice, very nice. Love the costume, although I'd never call you a witch. Or anything rhyming with it.”

We did an obligatory laugh. The tween rolled her eyes.

“You look cold, Negan. Better step inside. I got the lager ready to go.” Tony had the same damn smirk as his kid.

“Why did you pick this costume for me again?” I muttered. We passed through the entryway strung with a beaded curtain of bats and spiders. The living room was bathed in red light and Monster Mash blasted from the stereo. Tony's wife always went all-out with this shit. A skeleton sat in the armchair and fake cobwebs were every-fucking-where. I hoped the dry ice didn't affect Lucy's breathing.

Wifey Tanya came over, hugging Lucille and complimenting our costumes. I glanced down, wondering how they saw her. Did they know the shadowed eyes and gaunt cheeks weren't make-up? Did they notice the weight she'd lost?

I still saw beauty. The cut flower, vibrant and blooming –just don't think of the future, the withering-

Freeze that shit in time. I closed my ears to nothing but the soundtrack of screams and creaking doors, back-lit with the wailing of ghosts. Party guest voices blabbered over it all. We melted into the past. It was another party like the parties of years before. Slightly pathetic in that 'thirty-something's hanging out' kind of way. Laughing too loud. Secretly sizing each other up.

At least the lime green jello shots were good.

So yeah, it was just another lame party, and because of that, it wasn't. Because for a while...we were normal. Lucille laughed. I saw her smiling. Within her costume, she wasn't the Sick One. She was the mischievous witch, mingling with devils and cowboys and kitty cats.

Mrs Tillerman from school was there. She drank too much of that nasty Candy Corn atrocity. I caught her checking me out and I felt – for maybe the first time ever – ashamed. Other women looked at me too, making slightly-tipsy comments in my direction. I was glad Lucille was across the room, no doubt bored out of her mind listening to Ms Crouch talk about her fucking kids. And by kids, I mean her cats.

“Mmm, hello, He-Man. Nice sword. Remember that time after school?” Mrs Tillerman, winking and nudging.

“Sorry, He-Man has no fucking recollection of that.”

She'd sucked my dick once. Just once. That was really enough for me. I think I'd only allowed it because I could. Now, I saw what a fucking piece of trash I was. Hopefully, when she sobered up, she would too.

“You don't?” She took another swig from her solo cup and let out a burp. I quickly turned her in the direction of the bathroom. Just in time, because Lucille was drifting my way.

“Motherfuckin' crowd is getting drunk. There's probably going to be barf in the apple-bobbin' water. As if bobbing for apples isn't fucking gross enough.” I had to yell as The Addam's Family theme blasted from the speakers.

“Yeah.” She looked pale under the glitter.

“You had enough?”

I knew she had. We'd done it, we'd made our appearance, we'd given proof of life. I squeezed her hand, then found our host. I was tired, had papers to grade, been a great party...you know the bullshit, Tony.

-

We walked home silently. I wanted to ask how she was feeling. It was a lump in my throat. She'd probably just be annoyed. Say I was worrying too much. Say she was fine.

The warm glow of our porch washed over us. It sparkled the glitter on her cheeks, flushed pink from the cold. I wanted badly to kiss her. Instead, I fumbled in my He-Man boot for the house key.

Kids screamed and laughed on the street, swinging their bags of candy. It was just another Halloween in a long line of them, stretching out into our future. Maybe ten years from now, our kid would join the others.

Tomorrow, I wouldn't think like this. But tonight – fucking dammit, I was going to pretend we had years ahead of us.

I got the door open, got us in, shut it against the chill.

“Fuck. Don't know if that was worth going to. You have fun?”

The orange glow filtered in through the glass panel of our front door. Moonlight through the windows, silvering the interior. Everything was dark, but sharply edged with white. Lucille turned to face me. She discarded her witch's hat, the wig – no...her hair, looking real and soft and luscious, spilling onto her shoulders. She slowly drew one hand up my naked stomach and my skin shivered under the touch.

“He-Man,” she rasped. “I've put you under my spell.”

“Lucille...?”

“It's Lucianna. Maiden of the Night. And I've cast my spell upon you.”

I imagined she'd gotten that crap from those dumb novels she liked to read. The ones with guys who wished they were as hot as me on the cover. “Oh yeah? What spell is that?”

Her hand drifted under my loincloth. I let out a breath. Shit. I hadn't felt her touch me there for weeks.

“The spell of Lust. I'm irresistible to you.”

She didn't need a spell for that.

She rose to her tiptoes, her cold arms against my chest. “...Negan. Make love to me. “

“...but...Lucille...”

It's too strenuous for you. You'll be tired. I'm afraid I'll hurt you -

She didn't look tired. Her eyes were dark and wide, her skin sparkling. The chilled hands sliding under the plastic harness were strong and sure. Her lips hungrily pressed to my chin. “...Don't resist me, He-Man. Give me this night – a Halloween like we used to have.”

I fucking melted like the half-frozen rain under the burning Halloween moon. What could I do?

“By the power of Grayscale, I pull forth my sword, Lucianna!”

“That's Grayskull, He-man!” She laughed as I backed her to the couch, my hands fumbling at her corset. “Ooh, that's such a big sword you have. You sure you can lift that thing up?”

“Witch, I'm gonna impale you so fuckin' deep with my hard steel. You just fuckin' wait.”

“Oh, I'm waiting, but you still have your clothes on.”

Heh. Good thing He-Man was half-fucking-naked already. The witch was helpless to my brute strength as I lifted her and carried her into the bedroom.

-

To be honest, there wasn't anything rough or hard about it. Even on devil's night, I had to maintain some sense of restraint. My hands gently stroked ribs under frail skin, planted kisses onto delicate shoulders and licked along a ridge of collarbone. Lucianna, my withering flower, her beauty stretched across bones.

Her hands, digging hard into my shoulders, her legs, wrapping me like squeezing pythons – well, they felt anything but weak.

After, we lay breathing and nestled together. The light outside came and went, broken up by drifting clouds. Lucille's sharpened features were softened. Her wig was still on and still looked real as fuck – money well spent. Her eyes, half-lidded, were tired, but tired in a good fucking way.

“Not a bad fucking Halloween, huh, Lucy?”

“Pretty damn good fucking Halloween,” she whispered.

She closed her eyes, and I watched her, drowsing there in the dark. Her spell was slowly melting away; her magic could only veil the truth so long.

But for a few hours, reality shifted and wavered on the edge. She was alive, she was here, and we would spend our nights beside each other, just like this.

For just the brief span of our last Halloween night, I could have it. It was my reality.

And the reality was... that reality was fucking great.

[bodejustice]

🕸️ - your muse and mine go to a pumpkin patch

Halloween starters!

“Oh, I love going to look at all the weird pumpkins people grow!! Thanks for bringing me!”

Both agent of chaos and detective of justice had an appreciation for the fall season with its oddball activities, seasonal treats, and relief from summer heat, but it seemed Kaos had taken things one step further with pumpkin patch exploring: She had found where stores got all their weird gourds. Thr Turbans, Carnivals, Hubbards, Winged, and the stars of the year--Warty Goblin pumpkins, which Bobby was obviously getting a kick out of as he weighed two small, ugly pumpkins in his hands.

[marybromley]

Brian Minter: The evolution of fall decor

Whenever I have visited Eastern Canada during the autumn, folks living there have really outshone us Westerners in terms of outdoor fall décor. Their porch displays of fall wreaths, hay bales, cornstalks and gourds changed the complexion of whole neighbourhoods.

Today, however, the younger generations here in the West have upped the game, and my hat is off to them. This trend has been building for quite a while, and now the fall décor movement has taken off at light speed. Because our homes will be the centre of our universe for some time to come, whatever creative changes we can make will lift our spirits, even just a little. It’s all about celebrating the season.

As far back as I can remember, the veggie and fruit stands in B.C.’s Interior have always created the most amazing seasonal displays. Pumpkins, gourds and squash were the lead actors in their fall presentations, and what an impression they made. Traditionally, Halloween has been celebrated with displays of orange pumpkins, but for Thanksgiving decor, it’s about the many new colours and shapes of pumpkins.

For some time now, white pumpkins have been the trendiest colour for autumn décor. From miniature pumpkins, like ‘Baby Boo’ and ‘Casperita’, and the round, pure white ‘Snowball’ (12 cm x 12 cm) to the larger ‘New Moon’ (40 cm x 30 cm) and ‘Full Moon’ (50 cm x 60 cm), a whole range of white pumpkins are available in different sizes and shapes. Pumpkins that have warty skins are also popular, and ‘White Specter’ (22 cm x 22 cm), with its bumpy skin, adds to the diversity of the pumpkin family.

Breeders and growers continue to strive for the purest white variety that does not change colour in full sun or as it matures. To accentuate this new look, accessorizing with white outdoor mums and blue-green eucalyptus plants helps take fall decorating in a new direction.

The interest in pastel coloured pumpkins, which have a softer look, has grown significantly in the past few years. The ‘Doll’ series features quite heavily ribbed pumpkins that have a deep cavity in the centre and a rather squat look. ‘Porcelain Doll’ is an exotic pale pink; ‘Blue Doll’ is a pastel blue; and ‘Indian Doll’ is a pastel orange. All these unique pumpkins combine well or make attractive features by themselves.

Creative designers are taking advantage of the deep centre cavity in the ‘Doll’ series and are tucking in a soft plastic saucer filled with well-draining soil and planted with succulents that spill over the sides. These stunning centrepieces can last for months.

Of course, orange pumpkins still have an important role to play in fall décor, and they are especially nice when complemented by orange and rust coloured mums, dried cornstalks, ornamental grasses and hay bales.

Dried cornstalks are being replaced by ornamental grasses, especially bunnytail pennisetums and the more compact varieties of miscanthus, like ‘Yaku Jima’ or the elegant, thin, white and green stems of ‘Morning Light.’

Traditional winter squash, like acorn, buttercup, butternut and the larger hybrid varieties, have long been loved for their flavours when baked, but the hot commodity for decorating at this time of year are those cross over squash that have unusual shapes and colours. The deep green, heavily warted, flat shape of ‘Marina di Chiogga’ makes it an eye-catcher. ‘Galeux d’ Eysines’, a deeply warted, pinkish beige looks just like the heritage antique that it is. Perhaps the most extraordinary is the blue-grey ‘Triamble’, with its three distinct folds — it looks like a puckered face. This delightful variety is a true novelty, and it injects great fun into any autumn display.

As fall decorating transitions to Christmas décor, these pumpkins and gourmet squash, when dried thoroughly and stored in a dry location, are delicious when baked, cooked or turned into cookies and muffins.

Although not edible, many gourds have unique shapes, and they will add an element of humour to your creative displays. The swan gourd, a white and green speckled variety, has an oval body and a long neck topped by a smaller round head. When nested in a basket of straw, it looks exactly like a swan sitting on a nest. The apple gourd, with its white and green colouring, resembles a huge apple. Light green, pear-shaped Martin birdhouse gourds can be hollowed out and used as bird nesting boxes next spring.

It’s Thanksgiving this weekend and even though we need to keep our ‘bubble’ small because of COVID, we can all create some wonderful seasonal porch displays to delight neighbours and passersby. Every little bit of cheer helps, and really … despite the current situation … we still have a lot for which to be thankful.

Brian Minter: The evolution of fall decor published first on https://weedkillerguide.tumblr.com/