deposit a gift


First of all, it has been a WHILE since I have done a personal post in these tags and there is a lot to catch y'all up on but I did have a special tip.

We’re always trying to figure out ways to accept money while keeping anonymity. Of course, CASH IS KING but sometimes your SD wants to send you money fast so you can get whatever you need. So after money, what is the best way to receive funds?

I have heard many people like Ca$h , Venmo, PayPal. But one of the biggest issues I have found is that despite using an alias, each of these methods DOES IN FACT reveal your real name in one way another.

So my personal favorite(and this was a tip another SB had told me about a while ago ) is Google Wallet. What’s really nice about Google Wallet is that it is attached to the name on your google account. So you can set up an alias for your new Gmail account, and when you verify your real bank account, that information is left private. Your SD will not be able to call and try and solicit that info (mine and I just tested this out) and vice versa. His name is protected despite his bank account or debit card (with his real name ) is attached. So when he sends you money, the only name that you will see will be whatever name he put when he signed up (and yes, this can be fake and not match up to your real bank account info and there won’t be an issue), and his email(again if he’s smart this will be a secondary email solely for this).

There are monthly limits, which are fairly generous given its online:
1.Bank account transfer: Limit of $10,000 USD per single transaction and $50,000 USD per 5-day period.
2.Debit card transfer: Limit of $2,500 USD per transaction and $10,000 USD per 30-day period.

If you live in Florida: You can withdraw up to $3,000 USD every 24 hours. Debit card limits still apply.

As with all things, be cautious of the terms of service. And be mindful of how often you use it. But for a means to accept smaller deposits for plane tickets or gifts, this is definitely an option to consider!

Happy Sugaring, everyone!

anonymous asked:

I am interested in the Sicilian and Italian traditions! Can you direct me as to where to learn more about this/explain the basics of this practice? Thank you so much- your blog is great:)

Italian Witchcraft and Folklore

Hey! That’s wonderful! They’re surprisingly difficult to find any accurate information on!
My best resources are the article by Sabina Magliocco titled Witchcraft, healing, and vernacular magic in Italy, a less reliable article (that mixes witch-lore and folk magic all together) by J.B. Andrews called Neapolitan Witchcraft, and Carlo Ginzburg’s book The Night Battles about the benandanti in Friuli (Northeastern region of Italy).

If anyone knows any other sources feel free to list them!

Italian witch lore is very old, as there have been legends of witches in this region for a very long, accountable period. The word strega (witch) most likely comes from the Latin strix (screech owl) which witches were thought to take the shape of in the night. The practice of witchcraft is called stregoneria, a male witch is a stregone, and a female witch is a strega.
There are more legends of Italian witches in the south (particularly near Naples). One of the most famous is the story of the witches of Benevento, who convened beneath a walnut tree on a hill therein, and danced and worshiped the Devil. This tree was supposedly cut down.

There is a popular image of a witch who arises among Christian tradition in Italy, even still today. This witch is called Old Befana or Bella Befana(Bruta BefanaBella Befana or Vecchia Befana) who is a good witch who lived alone in a small cottage. One day, three wise men knocked on her door. “Behold! The child of God is born, (yada yada) we’re going to find him and bring him gifts! Will you join us Old Befana?” Now, Old Befana was glad to hear the news and excited to meet the new babe and give it what gifts she could. However, she was not one to shuck her responsibilities so she said she would have to wait until her chores were completed. They agreed and she saw them off, before finishing her cleaning. Once her duties were completed, she packed up her presents for the babe, hopped promptly onto the broom she had just finished sweeping with, and flew out the chimney into the cold night. However, they had not told her how to find them again! Not wanting to deny the boy his gifts, she decided to give some to all the little children she passed on her way, as any might be the new born child of God. Every year on that same night, Old Befana rides out on her broom and deposits gifts for little children, in hopes that one day she will finally find the baby Jesus and give him the presents she has been holding all this time.

In southern Italy, many of the tales of witches (streghe) and folk healers (fattucchiere, or ‘fixers’) tell of the songs they sing to work their magic. Unfortunately, this seems to be all anyone knows on the subject, and I can’t find any references or information on these songs!
In lore, the witches of both benevolent and malefic natures are closely related or interchangeable with more faerie-like spirits. The Janare of Naples/Janas of Sardinia (lit. followers of Diana) are magical women said to live in Neolithic shaft tombs and are expert weavers and spinners. They sometimes intermarry with humans, but are very different from the cogas  (or little cooks) of Sardinia, who are malefic witches that cook and eat their victims.

Most folk magic in Italy has died out, even in many of the rural areas. What is documented and what remains is all, unsurprisingly, Catholic magic. Much of it draws to saints, prayers, and Catholic holy tools. One name for this form of magic is benedicaria. However, much of it seems more agricultural or magical and less religious in nature. There is no point assuming this other source is pagan, because we could never prove where almost of any of it originated.

Most witchcraft you will find today in Italy, especially in urbanized areas, is of a New Age or Neo-pagan persuasion. Neo-Wicca is about the best you can hope to find, and even that is comparatively rare to that found in Great Britain, Australia, and the U.S.

In conversations about Italian magic and witchcraft, Raven Grimassi’s book Italian Witchcraft tends to come up. THIS BOOK IS UTTER BULLSHIT. HOGWASH. STUFF AND NONSENSE. It’s almost literally just Neo-Wicca with different names and some made up information. I’m not exaggerating. If you have this book, it’s better off as kindling than on your bookshelf. Just saying.
Charles Leland’s book Aradia: The Gospel of the Witches is a pretty piece of poetry, and perhaps has some truths in it, but it can never be relied upon. His source is not credible, and the information doesn’t add up well. It is a beautiful book, but not an accurate account of Italian magic or witchcraft.

Here are a few blog posts I have made relating to Italian witchcraft and folk magic:

The Curse of the Lemon and Pins

Neapolitan Flying Ointment

The Use of Stones in Italian Folk Magic

Charm Against the Evil Eye

To Cure Jaundice

To Cure Worms

To Bind an Eagle from your Flock

To Keep Birds from the Crops

anonymous asked:

Woozi angst where you and him get into a major fight and don't speak or have anything to do with each other for a few days. When he comes back one night early he finds you cry while curled up somewhere listening to his music. Please and if you don't want to just ignore it.

((Ask and you shall receive, my beautiful Anon! I’m not exactly sure if this is what you wanted, but I definitely tried my best. So I hope you enjoy it and thanks for being the first one to request a scenario!))

Pairings: Woozi/JihoonxReader

Genre: 85% Angst/ 15% Fluff

Word Count: 2,213

Summary: One night. One night was all you asked for and he couldn’t even do that. Was it really too much to ask? Were you really that much of a burden? You really did love him, but maybe…it was time to go. 


This wasn’t supposed to happen. The evening wasn’t supposed to come to this, not after the length of time you had gone without seeing one another. You were supposed to be happy, overjoyed even! You were supposed to crave each other’s company and spend the night catching up while wrapped in each other’s embrace.

After a month and a half, the night was supposed to be perfect. Not like this. Not filled with such…animosity.

There you both stood in the living room, at least ten feet of space between you with your hardened gazes locked. The tension in the room was so thick, you could practically take a bite out of it. Your arms were crossed tight over your chest and you could see Jihoon’s hands curled into trembling fists. The dinner you had so lovingly prepared for your long awaited date night sat cold and untouched on the dining table, an unfortunate casualty to the fight.

Finally, someone moved. Someone spoke. Jihoon’s lips parted to release a deep, agitated sigh, as if this moment were the biggest burden of his life. “I’m really not in the mood for this. I’m exhausted,” he said, dragging his hand down his face.

“Oh, like I haven’t heard that tune before,” you snapped back, narrowing your eyes to match Jihoon’s glare, “Why not try to play me another excuse? Because that one’s getting kind of old.”

“It’s not an excuse,” he growled his gaze sharp and intense, “Why are you being so annoying?”

“Now I’m being annoying? Well, excuse me for wanting to spend time with my absentee boyfriend who couldn’t even be bothered to show up on time to the first date we’ve planned in almost two months. No phone call or text message to at least warn me that you were going to be two hours late!”

Jihoon’s mood only seemed to worsen, his expression darkening the longer this went on, “Why are you acting like this? You knew when we started dating that there would be times I would have to focus more on my work than on us. Why are you throwing such a big fit about it now?”

You couldn’t believe the nerve he had, making you out to be some whiny, petulant child. Anger and disappointment coursed through you, making it difficult for you to keep the tremble out of your voice. What made it worse was the look he gave you, as if you were just one big problem not even worth his time and he couldn’t wait to get rid of you.

“Of course I knew, Jihoon, and I’ve been nothing but supportive of you. The only time you heard from me, if you ever cared to check for any messages from me, was when I tried to make sure you were eating or sleeping properly, getting the rest you deserved because I know how hard you work and how busy you are! With the boys as my witnesses, and despite being busy with my own work and projects, I still made the time to try and check on you. I even came by the dorm a few times with food for you!”

“Well, obviously you weren’t that busy if you still had time to do all that,” Jihoon remarked, an icy sharpness to his voice, “You have no idea the work I have to do, the pressure I’m under constantly. And then having to deal with you-”

“Deal with me?!” you repeated, face burning with anger, “Is that what I am to you?! Something to deal with?! Just a burden?!”

“As of late, yes! That’s all you are! A burden!” He finally exploded, making you flinch at the show of aggression, “The constant phone calls! The text messages! The whining and complaining and nagging! Hell, the only reason I even agreed to this dinner was to shut you up!”

‘Don’t you dare cry. Don’t you dare cry. Don’t you dare cry…’ you chanted again and again as Jihoon’s harsh words cut into you, making eye contact a brutal ordeal as you refused to look away. You refused to let him see how much you were breaking.

Not that he seemed to care either way as he scoffed and turned back towards the door.

“Where are you going?” you questioned, cursing your wobbling voice as you followed after him.

“Back to the dorm. I’ll sleep there tonight,” he muttered, picking up his bag and sliding into his shoes.

“What? That’s it?” You laughed mockingly, devoid of any warmth or tenderness, “You’re just going to leave without trying to work this out? Without trying to hear me or listen to me? Oh, I see…that’s too much of a burden for you. To spend one night with the person you supposedly love is just something you can’t handle. Maybe I should just disappear? Would that make you happier, Jihoon? Would your life be better!?”

He said nothing, making you more of an emotional wreck.

“Dammit, answer me! Jihoon! JIHOON!”

He only cast you one final, cold glare before he left again, slamming the door in this wake and leaving you terribly alone. You succumbed to the broken shivering attacking your body, falling in a heap on the floor as you attempted to fight back your sobbing, your gasps for air the only sounds to fill the stillness.

A week passed after your fight with neither one of you attempting to contact the other and Jihoon soon found himself standing at your door with the biggest bouquet of your favorite flowers he could carry in one hand, your favorite dessert in the other and an even bigger apology at the ready. He was in the wrong that night; he knew that and while his stubborn pride kept him from admitting it for the first two days, by the third day, the guilt had hit him full force. You didn’t deserve the way he had treated you, especially not after you’ve been so patient and understanding, lovingly support him all the way. He should have embraced you, kissed you and loved you the minute he saw you instead of snapping like he did.

Now, he was going to fix it. He’s going to swallow his pride and fix it. He’d rather feel foolish for a moment than to lose you forever.

With a deep breath, he opened the door and stepped inside, “Y/N? Jagi, are you here?” he called into the apartment, “Y/N, can we talk please? I want to apologize.”

He walked further inside, his feet shuffling against the hard wood floor. He just made it into the living room when he froze. There were about three boxes placed in supposedly random spots, your personal belongings laying inside.

“What is…What is she doing? Why are these here?” he whispered, voice shaking as the very last question you asked him that night came rushing back to memory, “She can’t be…”

With his grip on the flowers and dessert tightening, he made his way to the bedroom, taking note of the empty places your things once occupied and now sat in boxes. Walking into the bedroom, his heart dropped at all of your clothes removed from the closet and laid on the bed, a box on the ground with a few articles already inside. He was starting to shake, a lump forming in his throat that he tried to swallow down. A quiet, muffled sob pulled his attention to the other side of the bed, Jihoon slowly creeping towards the sound. There, curled up against the side of the bed with shoulders shaking and face buried in one of his sweaters, he saw you…crying with abandon.

He did this to you…He broke you like this.

“J-Jagi,” he stuttered, your broken state killing him inside, “Jagi, please…please don’t cry.”

You made no attempt to stop. In fact, it appeared you didn’t even hear him. He knelt beside you after depositing the gifts he brought onto the bed, finding your phone lying beside you on the floor. Picking it up after realizing your earphones were plugged into it, he tapped the screen…and discovered you were listening to his music. Not just the tracks he made for Seventeen or even the ones that didn’t make it into any albums, but all of the covers that he made as well. That lump in his throat thickened and your feeble form blurred as tears stung at his own eyes. Even after the fight, even in the middle of packing your things to ‘disappear’ like you thought he wanted, you still listened to his music. You still cared for him. You still loved him.

He acted without thinking, his arms wrapping around your unsuspecting form and pulling a surprised shriek from you. You struggling against his hold, more than likely believing he was an attacker, did nothing to faze him as he only tightened his embrace.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Jagi. I’m sorry. I’m sorry…”

You sat in shock for a moment, your earphones having been ripped out to enable you to hear his apologies. His scent enveloped you, one you will never forget, and his nose was buried in your hair as he apologized repeatedly.

“Jihoon,” you whispered, clutching the arm hooked under your chin, your thoughts too jumbled to think properly, “What are you…Did you leave the studio earlier? I thought you would still be working. I thought I had more time to pack.”

“Stop. You don’t need any time for that,” he insisted, shifting the two of you around until he was seated on the floor with you between his legs, his arms still right around you and his face still hidden in your hair, “You can’t just pack up like this. You can’t…You can’t leave me. I won’t let you. I won’t…I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

He hiccupped and you were finally made aware of his shivering and discreet sniffing. Wiping away your tears quickly, you pulled back from him far enough to get a good look at his face. The shimmering trails of his tears stained his cheeks, rendering you speechless; you had never seen Jihoon cry before, not even on his most frustrating days. Instinctively, almost protectively, you reached out your hand to brush underneath his eye, catching the tears that continued to fall. He took hold of your hand fast and held your palm to his cheek, this only making him cry harder.

“I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean any of it, I promise. You’re not a burden. You never were. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I took you for granted like the idiot I am!”


“Please…I can’t do this without you. I need you and I promise to be better. Give me a chance to be better. Please, Jagi! I’m so sorry I hurt you! I’m sorry!”

You pulled your hand away and then threw your arms around him, holding him hard and fast as he did the same. He sniffled as he finally broke down completely, clutching you as if you would disappear if he loosened up at all.

“I forgive you, Jihoon. I forgave you a long time ago,” you mumbled into his neck, your tears washing fresh down your face, “I just wanted you to be happy, that’s all.”

“I will always be happy right here with you. I love you, Jagi,” he responded, peppering your neck with kisses.

“I love you, too, Jihoonie.”

You slowly pulled away, not wanting to startle him, and looked at his puffy face. You giggled a little at his state of being, no doubt mirroring your own gross, tear-streaked appearance. You took up the end of your shirt and wiped underneath his eyes, Jihoon smiling lovingly afterwards.

“I really do love you, Y/N,” he whispered, taking the tissue you offered him as you took the box down from your nightstand, wiping his nose.

“I know you do, Jihoon.”

“And I’ll help you put all of your clothes back. I don’t ever want to see them like this again unless we’re moving to a house, which I’m going to get for us one day.”

You giggled and blushed at his determination, brightening up when he pulled down the flowers and desserts; “I got these for you,” he stated, blushing a pretty pink color himself before smiling proudly when you shrieked in delight.

“These are beautiful,” you swooned over the flowers before bouncing excitedly at the sight of the dessert, “Oh! And you got me my favorite! Will you share it with me? We can listen to some music and relax a little bit.”

“I’m all yours, Jagi. Whatever you want to do, I will do it.”

You smiled bright as his arms tightened around you, his fingers locking together on your stomach. You picked your phone up and chose your favorite playlist, the one packed with all of Jihoon’s songs. You gave him one side of your earphones and hit shuffle, his sweet voice filling your ears as he softly crooned. Jihoon couldn’t keep the smile off of his face, his heart once heavy and broken magically mended back together as you fed him some of the dessert. Before you could take a forkful yourself, he leaned down and pressed a tender kiss to your lips.

anonymous asked:

Hey... For the prompt thing... Would you be interested in a post novel 13 Shizuo trying to understand his changing feelings for Izaya with Celty, because Shinra told him weird things about Izaya. In the end, he decides to search for Izaya and bring him back... I don't really know if this would interest you, I hope this is good enough for you, because I'm not so good with creating prompts...

I was talking about like non-canon stuff but this works as well haha. Here you go!

Word limit: 700 words

Word count: 700 words

“…That Izaya took the blame for Shinra being stabbed…what the hell…it isn’t like him at all.”

Shizuo muttered under his breath, but his eyes held no anger.

[Do you still hate Izaya?]


[You were thinking about what would it have been like if Izaya and you had been on better terms right?]

Celty asked, for it was Shizuo who had brought up Izaya’s past.

[Maybe it’s not too late. Kazane-chan is a good girl, so if she wants to invite Izaya maybe he isn’t as bad as we thought.]

“….But didn’t you say Izaya would have used me for bad things if we had gotten along?”

Shizuo tilted his head in slight confusion, and Celty responded sheepishly.

[Ah…I did say that, but that was the past. I don’t think you would let Izaya use you now.]

Shizuo lapsed into silence as he raised his gaze towards the sunset, murmuring, “…I’m still not strong.”

“…At the coming of age ceremony, Traugott told me being weak is not a crime.”

[Oh, the martial artist you admire… Wait, he called you weak?! Just how strong is he?!]

Shizuo gave a wry smile, “Yeah, he’s amazingly strong…anyway he meant the weakness of my mind, I think. That’s how I realized I am a very weak person…”

Leaning against the guardrail, Shizuo looked up into the sky, muttering, “The strength to accept someone’s life…I haven’t gotten it yet. A guy like me doesn’t have the softness to accept everything, but –”

Celty regarded Shizuo in concern before he said it like an epiphany, “Hey Celty, people don’t change right?”

[Yeah, it’s hard for people to change.]

Shizuo dialed a number and held his phone to his ear, having come to a realization of some sort.

“Hey, Kazane. It’s me. …Yeah. I’ll do it. I’ll drag the flea’s ass back to Ikebukuro.”

[Shizuo? What’s…with the change of mind?]

Shizuo kept his phone, giving her a half sheepish, half self-deprecating smile.

“Well, when I become a little bit of a better person someday, I want to attend a coming of age ceremony at least once in my life.”

“I told you right, Izaya? That someday I would let you meet my brother and Shizuo again!”


“Shinra nii-san isn’t here, but he’ll definitely be there with Celty and everyone else if you come back.”

“Hey wait –“

But the girl who had given the promise over the phone was already gone. Izaya stared at the closed door, as he felt his gaze on him.

Shizuo moved forward, but stopped when Izaya tensed. The blond opened his mouth, but no words came out. He brought his hand out from behind his back.

“I…brought ootoro. I heard from Shinra it’s your favorite…”


“I’m…not going to hurt you. …I won’t hurt a guy in a wheelchair.”

Shizuo muttered as if to himself as he walked towards Izaya and deposited the gift on his lap.

Izaya was afraid to be alone with him.

Izaya was afraid of him.

Shizuo could have said many things. He could have apologized. He could have asked Izaya about his past.

But when he looked at Izaya in his wheelchair, he said –

“Do you…want to come to the hotpot party?”


“Everyone…will be there. All your humans…”

Izaya was silent. Shizuo inhaled.

“…Just a yes or no, Izaya. If you say no, I’ll leave you alone.”


“…I see. You no longer have the softness to accept everything.”

It was the look in Shizuo’s eyes which gave Izaya his voice back.


Shizuo turned back. He lowered himself in front of Izaya’s wheelchair, and held out his hand.

He stayed there for a few minutes as he met Izaya’s gaze, until Izaya’s fingertips touched his.

A smile spread across Shizuo’s face as he admitted sheepishly, “We never did attend the coming of age ceremony, did we?”

As if remembering the old days, Izaya’s voice came out automatically, “Because Shizu-chan picked a fight with me.”

“Tch, you weren’t free of blame either….well, I was at fault as well.”

Izaya smiled, and Shizuo felt like he had found what had been missing in the past two years.

“…You’re going to help me become a better person…flea.”

Blue Eyes, Black Eye

Based on this imagine over at imaginexhobbit.

Warnings: Protective!Dad!Dwalin.

Word count: 1,701

Sequel: A Beautiful Fit

“Well, would you look at that,” my father giggles as he takes the child into his brawny arms. “Would you just look at her? Precious little jewel, ain’t she?”

Never before had I ever seen my father, the great and formidable Dwalin, so soft; ever so gently, as though he’s afraid of breaking her, he cradles my daughter, running his thumb along her chubby pink cheek. Sitting up in my bed in the infirmary, I watch him coo and giggle and smile, seemingly unable to stop himself gushing over her.

Keep reading

Meeting the Family

A fluffmas prompt requested by Anon.

MAJOR thanks to @fairytailpeach for this one, she worked some major magic on this baby and I couldn’t be more grateful. Holy moly. Thank you!

Read on FFnet Here

Read on Ao3 Here

He could see her fidgeting out of the corner of his eye. As he drove down the highway, there would be nothing left of the nail on her index finger. He wasn’t sure why she was so nervous to be honest. He had complete faith his father would adore her.

A red light was approaching and as he slowed the car towards its intended stop, Gajeel reached out to grab the hand closest to him. He brought her exposed wrist to his lips.

“Calm down, there’s no need to be a ball of nerves, Levy,” he placed a kiss to her pulse point.

Levy sighed, “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one meeting your father!”

“Nah, I’ve met him before. He’s an asshole.”

“Gajeel!” Levy scolded.

The light turned green and with one more kiss, he dropped her hand to place it back on the wheel.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

What Christmas would be like with Por Dameron and one for Kylo Ren too if you were able to? (Even tho it's after Christmas)

This is such a cute thought! Also, I don’t know if this is modern AU or TFA, so it’s a bit of both.

Poe Dameron

  • Super festive. 
  • Tacky Christmas jumpers are his jam. He doesn’t like ones with glitter or pompoms so much, but he adores kitted ones. He owns so many knitted Christmas jumpers.
  • Whenever Poe gets excited, so does BB-8, so he makes them a little tinsel crown and downloads a sleigh-bell sound, which BB-8 uses a lot to show festive excitement. The first time he does it, there’s a solid three hours of BB-8 rolling around Resistance Headquarters, stopping every few feet to play their bell sound and show off their crown to the other pilots.
  • He’s the type of guy to put reindeer antlers on your dog, if you have a dog.
  • Christmas music playing from pretty much the start of November. If it’s not, you can probably catch him humming it. Sometimes he doesn’t even realise he’s doing it.
  • He likes getting presents for everyone, mostly because he likes making people happy.
  • For people he really cares about, he gets really sweet Christmas presents with a lot of meaning behind them, like a souvenir from the place you first met, or something to do with an in joke.
  • His christmas tree does not have a theme, it’s whatever decorations he likes, plus ones that have been in the family/given to him. If you have kids, you better believe that all the bits of terrible christmas art they do at school will be hung on the tree every year until they have to take it down themselves.
  • Even though he stars buying presents super early, he still seems to have an incredible amount to do on Christmas Eve. You’re not 100% sure what all of it is, but he always goes to bed after you and there’s usually a few more presents under the tree the next morning that you hadn’t noticed yesterday.
  • He wakes up late on Christmas morning; he’s not really a morning person in general, but he’s just so happy and content on Christmas morning with you that getting out of bed doesn’t really matter all that much.
  • Christmas lunch means inviting everyone around or out to eat. He loves being around people he cares about on Christmas and sharing as much joy as possible.
  • Boxing day is a day for rest. It’s a day he spends chilling with you, often watching movies together, cuddled up on the sofa, ordering take out for lunch.

Kylo Ren

  • Says he doesn’t like Christmas and that he takes inspiration from the grinch, but also owns at least three Christmas jumpers and one isn’t even black so I guess he’s lying and festive.
  • He’s surprisingly adept at buying gifts; you would almost think it’s some sort of Force power, but no, he just seems to know exactly what everyone wants.
  • He loves hot cocoa. Not ulterior motive, no hidden secret. He just really loves hot cocoa.
  • He never buys a gift for Hux because it’s Hux.
  • He does, however, exchange cards with Captain Phasma.
  • He tries to have a theme for his Christmas tree, honestly he does. It’s mostly sliver and red, but there’s a few little trinkets here and there that don’t fit the theme, and at least two Darth Vader ornaments. He’s still not sure where he got them from or if they were a gift; it seems they just appeared on his tree one year and he never bothered to ask about it.
  • He absolutely hates the idea of Santa. He has from a very young age. The thought of someone breaking into his house while he slept, eating his food and depositing gifts was really weird to him and he was always confused as to why people found it endearing. Even now that he knows that Santa’s not real, he checks all the doors and windows to make sure they’re locked and secure on Christmas Eve.
  • He likes spending Christmas day with you, occasionally getting calls from some of his friends, and in the afternoon the two of you attend the First Order’s Christmas function (because that’s apparently a thing now).
  • He always seems to be away on Boxing Day. He never says where he’s going, but I’ll tell you a secret; he’s going to boxing day sales. Part of it’s to buy things, part of it is simply because he likes being around a large group of people who don’t know who he is, and also don’t realise that he could devastate them via the Force if he wanted to. It’s sort of messed up.
  • He sends a gift to Leia, Han and Chewbacca every year, but he never tells anyone. It’s labelled ‘From Ben’.
A Step Too Far

He had seriously contemplated not responding. Not looking up from his phone. Pretending he hadn’t heard. It’d be so easy. After all, that had been his escape these past few months, always on his phone. “Case”, “research”, “email” or some other excuse to keep from having to actually interact with the world around him. It had even been made into a joke a while back. Sherlock didn’t help as he’s always on his phone.

But this time John was wise to his avoidance. “Sherlock?” John knocked on the back of the phone case, his fingers tapping loudly against the metal. “Can you please put that down?”

Sherlock looked up into a pair of questioning blue eyes, a jolt traveling down his spine at how close they were. Straightening up to put some space between he and John, he worked to regain some control. “What is it, John?”

“I was talking about dinner.”

“Dinner?” Sherlock swallowed. What had he missed? Was John wanting to have dinner with him? They had just solved a case but it’d been months since John had celebrated with him. But if John wanted dinner, Sherlock could be amenable. Maybe Angelo’s? Or maybe John would want take away. Maybe they could sit on the sofa like the old days and Sherlock could pretend even for a night that things hadn’t changed.

“Yes Christmas Eve dinner, at the house. We want you to come. Greg and Molly are going to be there and Mrs. Hudson too. And you’ve barely spent any time with Rosie.”

Ah. That kind of dinner. Not a night for the two of them, not a night for Sherlock to sink into the comfort of forgetfulness, to ignore the fact that John was no longer living at Baker Street. No he had a family now. And Sherlock’s role was that of friend, best pal, invited over to the cheerful family gathering to play homage to the couple and their offspring. Sherlock could think of several places he’d rather be, including back in the dungeon in Serbia. At least there the torture was mainly physical.  “Actually-” Sherlock began.

“Please, Sherlock,” John cut him off before he could think of a suitable excuse. “It would mean a lot…to me, if you would come.” John looked at him with those eyes, the brow scrunched up with concern, and Sherlock was lost. In the seven years he’d known John, he’d never been able to deny him anything when asked in that manner.

“What should I bring?”


When the day arrived, Sherlock was sure there was no chemical solution on earth strong enough to make it through the ordeal he was facing. He’d stood by John at the wedding, laid his heart on the table and gave him away to a woman who would later prove to be a lie. But he forgave her, for John, always for John. And after Magnussen, John had stayed by her side to raise their child. Rosie. Again, Sherlock had stood by at the birth, the christening, trying not to show how much he was crumbling inside. For while he dearly loved any part of John, how could he not, Rosie was just another reminder of something he’d never have. John would never be his. Not the way he wanted. All he could have was this, the role of godfather, “Uncle”, best friend. Forever sidelined. Sherlock was willing to take it, but it was still a painful pill to swallow.

Some days he railed, how could John keep asking so much of him? Would he never be satisfied until Sherlock was nothing more than a lifeless husk? How could he not know that Sherlock would give anything, do anything for him? How could he not know how much he loved him? Other times Sherlock reminded himself it was for the best. This is what John wanted. The life he desired. And Sherlock had broken himself to help give it to him, and there was no going back.

With a sigh, Sherlock gathered his presents for John: A lovely cashmere jumper in blue that would complement his eyes, and Rosie: a bee plushie and blanket, and stepped into the cab. He’d chosen just a bottle of wine for Mary, red and sweet though he knew she preferred white. He couldn’t resist just a little defiance.

As the cab swept through the city streets, he glanced at his phone, praying to whatever gods that were listening that someone would commit some gruesome crime that forced him away. Or maybe Mycroft could start a war. Perhaps he should have asked for that for Christmas this year. Perhaps he should reconsider the secret offer that Lady Smallwood had slipped him under Mycroft’s nose. Anything to get out of London, and quickly.

All too soon the cab pulled up to John and Mary’s flat. Sherlock stepped out, holding his packages like a talisman against the colorful tableau he could see through the window. Molly and Greg, no longer dancing around each other, sharing heated whispers near the buffet.

“Good on you, Molly,” Sherlock whispered, smiling. It was beyond time she found someone who would treat her properly.

Sherlock stepped up to the door, hand poised to knock, when something new caught his eye. John and Rosie, swaying lightly to the Christmas music. John was lit aglow by the fairy lights hung over the hearth, and he and the baby created a gorgeous image of joy. Sherlock closed his eyes and for one shining moment could imagine himself there, stepping into that dance, wrapping his arms around the pair of them and holding tight. It was a vision so visceral his bones ached with the want of it. John, family, a place to belong. In his mind’s eye he could see it clearly, John turning to him, a smile on his lips, his eyes shining and bright. Sherlock would kiss him, taste his laughter, steal it and make it his own. Rosie, warm, and so alive against him.

Mary’s laughter broke through his haze, and he opened his eyes to see the three of them, her occupying the position he had just imagined himself in, laughing together, their arms around one another and the baby. The images in his head shattered like broken ornaments, swept to the winds of regret. His die had been cast. John leaned in to kiss Mary, and Sherlock decided he couldn’t do this, couldn’t stand around and pretend to be happy. Not tonight. This was asking too much.

He turned around to leave, and just then noticed a black town car pulled to the curb. The door opened and out stepped Mycroft, impeccably dressed as usual but missing his umbrella, a fact that gave Sherlock a moment’s pause.


“Some roads are best left unwalked, don’t you agree, little brother?”

Sherlock scoffed, “You would know, have you ever actually walked anywhere?”

Mycroft tilted his head at Sherlock, eying him warily.  “Have you made a-”


“Good. Now are you joining the fracas or could I interest you in a more private celebration?”

Sherlock turned back, surveying the party through the open curtains. Rosie was now propped on Molly’s lap, John and Mary standing close by entwined in one another. That way lay madness. He bent down and deposited the gifts on the front step, arranging them so they might be seen before someone accidentally trampled them underfoot.

“I’m sorry John. Happy Christmas,” he whispered, before straightening up and moving towards the waiting car.

tags and notes under the cut

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

How about hazel giving nico and reyna matching sweaters and them loving them

The gang is in Reyna’s apartment in New Rome today; The Seven, Rachel, and Nico all piled into her modest living room around a tiny tree. The stack of presents reached from floor to ceiling and they’ve been spending all morning tearing apart colorful paper and chugging down mugs full of warm cocoa.

Nico and Reyna are curled up together in a chair off to the side of everyone else. They’re watching peacefully and quiet as always, mugs of hot chocolate in their hands. everyone else is laughing and smiling and its the loveliest holiday they could have asked for.

The Christmas morning festivities are winding down, with most of the presents opened already. Hazel is handing out her gifts now, tossing Percy a perfectly wrapped parcel and he grins from ear to ear. He unwraps it to reveal a panda pillow pet and immediately starts crying. She continues down the line, giving everyone their gifts and a chance to open it and show it off. She holds onto two of them, presumably for Nico and Reyna, until everyone else has opened theirs. She then scoots through a mountainous pile of ripped wrapping paper and ribbon to gently deposit the two gifts in Nico’s lap. He thanks her with a gentle smile and hands Reyna hers.

Hazel smiles bright, looking excited. “You have to open them together though!!” she says, stepping back and taking a seat with everyone else as they all turn to watch patiently. Nico feels himself turning red, both because everyone is watching and because apparently he and Reyna’s presents were special. He gave her a glance out the corner of his eye to see her staring down silently excited at her gift.

They tear them open together and reveal to everyone,

Two matching sweaters. Hideous sweaters. Sweaters that are completely uncool. Nico holds his up to show the most gaudy thing he’s ever seen, black and sparkly like tinsel with little skeletal reindeer running across it. His name is on the back, and Reyna’s is equally disastrous, with little pegasi instead.

They meet eyes and burst into a fit of up-roaring laughter. Hazel couldn’t be happier, smiling wide and laughing with them. Its honestly the best gift they could have asked for.

thas all u get cuz its almost 3am and im sleep but this was a fun lil ramble

anonymous asked:

You should write a short Drabble about this whole raspberry scent thing!!!!! Yes that would be so cool!!!

*laughs nervously* if by “short drabble” you meant I should write a 1200+ word ficlet rife with domestic fluff, then here you go!! 

Exfoliating - SFW

“You better go first,” Kagami laughs, unlocking and opening the front door to his apartment before stepping aside. Daiki grunts his agreement, noticing how Kagami presses himself against the wall to avoid accidentally brushing any part of Daiki as he passes by, scrunching his nose.

“I can’t believe the fucker barfed on me,” Daiki groans, struggling to get out of his shoes without bending to untie them.

Kagami gives him a lopsided smirk. “He probably finally had enough of looking at your face.”

“I thought Nigou was the one true bro!” Daiki whines, ignoring Kagami’s jab. Why bother rising to such an obvious lie?

“I thought I was your one true bro,” Kagami snorts, shoving Daiki toward the bathroom. “Gimme your clothes so I can wash ‘em.”

Daiki strips his shirt and jeans off in the bathroom doorway, trying to keep the soiled fabric away from his face, the smell overwhelmingly sour. “Next time he’s sitting in your lap, and I’m gonna drive.”

Kagami gathers Daiki’s clothes into a pile, holding them at arm’s length. He makes a disgusted, faintly terrified face at the thought of having to hold Nigou for an entire car ride. “As if your driving wouldn’t make him sick- you take turns like a fucking drag racer.”

“Gotta go fast,” Daiki replies, dropping his boxers and peeling off his socks. When he looks up, Kagami’s standing with one hand on his hip, appraising him with a stern expression. Daiki’s vaguely offended that Kagami isn’t drooling over his naked body, despite the fact that dog vomit isn’t exactly known as an aphrodisiac. Still, he tests the water. “Wanna join me?” He waggles his eyebrows for emphasis.

“No, fuckwit, I gotta do laundry,” Kagami snaps, but a slow smile creeps across his face. “The faster you get clean the faster I might actually wanna touch you again.”

Daiki raises his arms, about to lunge and see how much of his Kagami’s face he can touch before being shoved off, but Kagami slams the door closed with frightening speed, pushing against it from the other side to keep Daiki at bay. Daiki slips one hand through the gap in the door, groping blindly at whatever of Kagami he can get, a maniacal laugh building in his throat.

“Get yer gross puke fingers off me,” Kagami growls. Daiki finds himself suddenly pitching forward and nearly tumbling to the floor as the pressure on the other side of the door gives way. He catches himself and peers around the corner, where Kagami’s watching him from the corner of his eye as he gets the detergent out of the cupboard and tosses it on top of the pile he’s gathered in the hamper.

Daiki sighs, leaving the door open as he finally heads toward the shower. He turns the water on, letting it run until it’s warm enough to tolerate before getting in, taking the detachable showerhead off to spray his stomach (where Nigou deposited the bulk of his…gift) directly. He applies a light rinse at first, then looks around for some type of soap, shivering at the phantom feel of the gunk still crawling over his skin.

Kagami keeps his stuff on a shower shelf that hangs from the shower spout, completely different from the array of half-empty bottles that decorate the edges of the bathtub in the Aomine household. At least I can see what all the damn bottles are at my place, Daiki thinks, fumbling past the 2-in-1 shampoo/conditioner combo and the women’s shaving cream Daiki likes to pretend Kagami doesn’t use to take care of his particular manscaping requirements.

He finally spots a bottle of Old Spice body wash at the back, right next to a pink tube of…it’s written in English, but Daiki’s fairly sure it says something like Raspberry Facial Scrub. He knows the word 'facial’ well enough from frequent visits to American porn sites. Lathering himself quickly with the body wash to take care of the last of the vomit residue, Daiki keeps his eyes trained on the raspberry stuff, rereading the label several times to make sure he’s not hallucinating.

Once he’s done he puts the body wash on the edge of the tub, then plucks the facial scrub from the shower basket. He pops open the cap, brings it up to his nose, and squeezes lightly, the scent of raspberries hitting him like a strong orgasm, smudging his thoughts at the edges.

The smell is so familiar, nostalgic, threading itself around his heart and tugging. He’s caught its fragile scent before, on Kagami’s pillow in the middle of the night when Daiki wakes, reaching out for him, using his broad back as a shield for protection from the nightmares that still lurk deep in the shadows in his head.

He’s smelled it in the morning, Kagami fresh out of the shower, hair dripping onto the towel around his neck, stubble brushing Daiki’s lips when he leans in to press a kiss on his strong jawline, often in the hopes that his playful nips will lead to something a little bit hotter than oatmeal for breakfast.

Raspberry motherfucker, Daiki thinks, slightly annoyed as he pours a generous dollop onto his fingers. That’s why his face is all smooth, too. Cheater! He smears the paste over his cheeks like warpaint, grinding the smell into his skin, half in love with the butterflies it stirs up in his belly.

“Daiki? Daiki are you-” Kagami rounds the corner into the bathroom, the door still wide open.

Daiki’s fist clenches in surprise, squeezing the tube and sending a huge glob of it splattering across the wall tiles. The steam carries the smell with it, filling the entire bathroom with its sharp sweetness.

“What the hell are you doing with that?” Kagami scowls, twitching the shower curtain aside.

“Exfoliating,” Daiki says, sticking the tube back in the basket while continuously scrubbing with the other hand.

“You’re only supposed to use a little bit, not half the tube!”

Daiki stops to take a long sniff of what’s left on his hand. “Why do you even have this? Isn’t it for women?”

Kagami shrugs, unabashed. “Mom sends it from L.A. I dunno. Keeps the zits away, I guess.”

“It smells like pie.”

“I can…get a different kind, if you want?”

No,” Daiki protests, a little too fast, a little too loud. He yanks the curtain aside a little more, ignoring the water pattering onto the bathroom floor, and pounces on Kagami before he can escape. Kagami yells something incoherent as Daiki wraps his arms around him, water soaking into his t-shirt where he clings. “Don’t even think about it.”

Kagami exhales slowly, giving in to his fated dampness and enveloping Daiki in a hug. “I didn’t know you liked raspberry pie so much. Geez.”

“That’s what we’re having for dinner, right?” Daiki mumbles, running his fingers through the hair at the nape of Kagami’s neck.

Kagami lets out a long suffering sigh. “You could try to convince me to make one,” he whispers in Daiki’s ear. “I mean…I might as well join you now.”

Daiki only smiles, tugging Kagami into the shower with him. Maybe the raspberries aren’t the thing causing the butterflies, after all.


Believe it or not, it is holiday-selling season at The Paper Poppy Store!!

We make every piece by hand, and therefore have a standard 2-3 week processing time– which means you better get to browsing! ;) 

It is especially important to order as soon as possible if you live outside of the US or if you plan to request a custom order. 

Starting today, through November 10th, we will be doing an early bird FREE-GIFT PROMOTION with every purchase. 

These gifts will correlate in value with your order ($4 gift for an $8 sale, $20 gift for a $24 sale, etc- up to a $30 value) and will be chosen at random, although you can offer a suggestion of the type of item you would like! One per customer, please. This is a Tumblr-ONLY offer, so you MUST LEAVE A NOTE letting us know that you saw it here and would like your gift. 

Check out our huge selection: feminism, eating disorder recovery, body positivity, neurodiversity pride, fandom, politics, mermaids, animals, LGBTQ, pronoun-themed pieces– and of course- spoons, disability, and chronic illness awareness. 

There is bound to be something for someone you love- or a treat for yourself. 

Happy shopping!!

Marvel's Agents of S.A.N.T.A.


I originally wrote this for littlescienceloves in celebration of the AOS Exchange (without knowing her identity), but I’m so incredibly happy that I was given the honor of writing this for someone I already knew and followed - not to mention someone that I think is amazing. Happy holidays, sweetie! Hope you enjoy your gift. :)

In light of recent events, Skye is determined that the team’s Secret Santa exchange goes off without a hitch. But things don’t always go as planned, and Fitz finds himself with more than one reason for not wanting to participate. Set after What We Become.

Fitz pretended to busy himself with checking the lab inventory as he waited for Jemma to finish her examination. He knew Jemma had probably given him the task for more than one reason, to distract him from the growing pit in his stomach or to make him feel useful or something. Fitz hadn’t argued with her, because he knew she was fighting back tears even more than he was. But as much as Fitz tried to focus on his work, he kept seeing that gaping hole, that pitch blackness that had swallowed too many people he cared about, the darkness that not everyone had returned from.

He was thankful when he eventually heard the click of the small torch.

“Everything looks great,” Jemma said a bit too brightly. “No broken bones, heart rate is perfectly normal, and your pupils are dilating properly, so no head injury either.” She shook her head as she started to put away her supplies. “Honestly, you’re very lucky, Mack. You fell over a hundred feet. I don’t know how you managed to walk away from that, with barely anything to show for it.” She paused near one of the cupboards, and though Fitz was on the other side of the room, he could see the strain in her expression as she turned around. “You say you don’t remember much?”

Keep reading

For my angel

It’s Cas’ first Christmas with the Winchesters and you. You wanted to make it special.

Warnings: fluff

Although Castiel had been around for many Christmas’ he had never taken part in one, except for the first one of course. This would be the first year he would exchange gifts, and you had no idea what to get him.

“Cas,” you called. “What would you like for Christmas?”

Cas looked at you with a puzzled look on his face.

“What do you mean?” He asked, obviously confused.

“For Christmas, you know when you give each other gifts; celebrate the birth of the baby Jesus. What do you want?” You explained giggling slightly.

Cas looked down blushing.

“Oh, I don’t know Y/n. I’ve never had Christmas before. Well, that’s not true I’ve had over 2000 Christmas’. But I’ve never exchanged gifts with anyone before. Don’t get me anything; I don’t want to be a burden.” He said, looking uncomfortable.

“What the hell Cas? Of course I’m going to get you something. I just haven’t gone angel shopping before and want a little heads up on what you would like. But fine, if you won’t tell me I guess it will have to be a surprise.” You smirked, knowing Cas couldn’t stand getting any sort of suprise.

“No wait, maybe I’ll find something I want.” He said, eyes wide, and a look of panic on his face.

“No, no. Too late, you’re getting a surprise.” You sang and skipped away. Now you would have to find the perfect gift for him.

You resolved to ask Sam and Dean their opinion; maybe they could shed some light on your dilemma.

You walked into the library to find Sam reading some book on transgender werewolves. You didn’t quite understand the ins-and-outs of it, but you were glad if you ever came across one Sam would know what to do.

“Hey, Sammy,” You whispered in his ear from behind, making him jump slightly.

A grin spread across your face, it wasn’t very often you gave renowned hunter Sam Winchester a fright.

He turned to look at you, smiling.

“Y/n, what’s up?” He asked; seemingly glad for a break from his research.

“I need your advice.” You explained. “What do I get Cas for Christmas? I mean he’s an angel, how am I supposed to work with that?”

“Well,” Sam said, a serious look on his face. “That depends.”

“On what?” You asked

“On what you got me.” He answered breaking into a grin.

You laughed and smacked his arm.

“I’m being serious you douche. Come on, I seriously need help with this.”

“Fine, fine.” He said, laughing. “Why don’t you get him another trench coat? I’m sure he would love that.”

“Sam no, that’s a terrible gift. Plus I’m sure he would never part with the one he has.”

“Well sorry, I was just trying to help. Next time I won’t bother.” He huffed, feigning being offended and returned to his book.

“Fine, I don’t need you anyway.” You joked. “I’ll go ask Dean.”

You found Dean lying on his bed listening to Metallica, which was how he usually spent his down time. He looked up at you when you entered his room, and smiled, taking off his headphones.

“Hey Y/n, are you coming to finally try it on with me or what?” He asked smirking.

You laughed.

“Of course Dean, I am here to confess my never ending love for you.”

“I knew it, Sammy owes me ten bucks.”

“Yeah, whatever. I seriously do need your help though.”

“Shoot.” He said, a more serious expression spreading across his face.

“I need to know what to get Cas for Christmas. As I have already asked him and he ‘doesn’t want to be a burden.’ That asshat.” You scoffed.

“Well,” said Dean giving you a knowing look. “I know what he would like for sure, but it’s just a case of whether you’re willing to provide.”

You were intrigued.

“What is it? I’ll get him anything.”

Dean leaned in closer, motioning for you to do the same. He looked around as if to make sure that no one else was listening.

“You could give him a big ol’ kiss.” He said, pulling away and laughing.

You blushed bright red. Dean knew you had a bit of a crush when you first met him, but you got over it when you realised he was an angel, and would probably never feel that way about you.

“Shut up Dean. I’m being serious.”

“So am I.” He defended, raising his hands in the air. “Cas has a sweet little crush on you, and I’m guessing you still like him from your reaction. Just give him a love letter or something, it will be hilarious.”

You walked out of the room shaking your head.

“I knew you would be no help, you’re worse than Sam at this.” You mumbled loud enough for him to hear.

“It’ll work Y/n, trust me on this.” He called as you left, still laughing.

You walked into your bedroom and sat down on your bed, thinking. Was Dean telling the truth? Did Cas really like you? Your stomach did somersaults when you thought of the possibility. You guessed you did still harbour feelings for him.

You wanted to test out this theory, to find out if he did like you or if Dean was only messing with you. You decided on what you would get Cas, and rushed out of the bunker to get it, excitement building within you. Cas’ first Christmas was going to be a good one.

Finally Christmas arrived, and you all celebrated it together in the bunker. This was the first year that you had all planned for Christmas in advance, as it was the first year you had a permanent residence.

Sam got Dean a bottle of whiskey and some new AC/DC cassette tapes for the impala.

“Thanks man, these are the best.” Said Dean, clapping Sam on the back.

Sam nodded and handed Cas his present. Cas opened it eagerly, finally showing excitement for Christmas. It was a new trench coat, it was a good thing you didn’t take Sam’s advice and get him one aswell.

“Thank you so much Sam.” Cas said gratitude in his eyes.

“You’re welcome buddy.” Sam replied.

Sam then handed you your present, you took it and opened it smiling from ear to ear when you saw what it was.

He had gotten you a pair of Christmas socks and a Carver Edlund Supernatural book. Only the boys knew of your secret love for the Supernatural series.

“Thanks Sam.” You laughed, loving your presents.

“Okay dorks, my turn.” Said Dean, shoving your present towards you.

You opened it and saw that he had gotten you a necklace. It reminded you of the one Dean used to wear.

“Thanks Dean, I love it.” You told him and placed it around your neck.

He smiled and nodded, eager for the others to open their gifts.

He got Sam a new flannel shirt, which would only help grow their already huge collection. And he got Cas a Christmas tie.

“You got to change it up a bit man.” Dean joked.

“Thanks Dean, for the tie and the advice.” Cas chuckled. “Alright, I guess it’s my turn, unless you want to go Y/n?”

“No you go Cas.” You told him.

“Okay, here you go then.” He said giving everyone their presents.

He gave Sam a book on angels, one of the few that was not in the bunker’s inventory.

“I hope you like it. There is no other book like it anywhere.” Cas explained.

“I do Cas, thank you. You didn’t have to go through that much trouble, I really appreciate it.” Sam ensured.

Cas then passed Dean his present, a new black leather jacket.

“Cas, man, I don’t know what to say. Thank you.” Dean said, slightly speechless.

It seemed that even though you all agreed to go small with the gifts, because you had no income other that your fake credit cards, Cas had put a lot of effort into getting everyone something really special.

“Okay Y/n, you open yours now.” Cas said as he deposited your gift into your lap.

You looked at Cas as you picked up the present. He looked extremely nervous, and was fidgeting with his hands.

When you opened it you saw it was a teddy bear with a bow wrapped around its neck. You recognised it anywhere. It was the teddy bear you had as a child. You had told Cas about it once, saying that you had lost it when you went on holiday one year.

You couldn’t believe he had found it. You just stared at it, eyes wide and slightly tearful.

This seemed to make Cas uncomfortable though, as if he thought you were upset with what you got and didn’t like it.

“I’m sorry Y/n, I know it’s not very good. I shouldn’t have given it to you, I’ve just upset you.” He stuttered, moving to walk away.

You stood up and walked over to him and caught him it the biggest hug you could muster.

“Thank you Cas, I love it.” You whispered.

When you pulled away you saw he was very red in the face, which caused you to blush deep red as well.

Sam and Dean looked at both of you smirking, probably waiting for one of you to confess your feelings.

Finally it was your turn to present your gifts. You handed Sam his first. He opened it slowly, making you nervous.

Sam laughed when he saw what you gave him, a hairbrush with a note attached saying “To comb your mane” and a beanie hat. You knew he liked them even though he never admitted to it.

“Thanks Y/n, you’re the best.”  He snickered.

Next you gave Dean his present. He was by far the easiest to shop for. You got him some new tools for baby, as some of his broke recently, and some oil to keep her going.

“Just what I needed, thanks.” Dean said, smiling at you.

Now it was time that you had to give Cas his present. You were really nervous about how he would react. Had you overstepped the mark or would he feel the same as you?

You handed him his gift, barely able to look him in the eyes. He smiled at you and gingerly opened his gift.

When he saw what was inside he gasped. It was a bracelet with an angel on it, but you had made a tiny trench coat for the angel and sewn it on. Attached to it was a small piece of paper saying “For my angel.”

Cas was quiet for a long time, making you extremely nervous. You wondered if you had gone too far, you shouldn’t have trusted Dean and should have played it safe.

Your thoughts were interrupted when Cas turned to you with determination in his eyes. You were afraid that he would reject you and tell you he didn’t like your gift.

Instead he put it on his wrist and swiftly moved towards you, grabbing your face and catching your lips in a kiss. You instantly responded by clutching the lapels of his coat and holding him to you, unsure if you would ever let go.

You pulled away when you heard Sam clear his throat; you had completely forgotten they were there.

You looked at Cas and smiled, his face only a few inches from yours.

“So you liked my present then?” You asked quietly.

“Yes,” He replied, staring into your eyes. “The only thing you got wrong is that you’re my angel.”

roenok replied to your link “I have had the weirdest afternoon ever.”

From bitter, terrible experience, I can tell you that the bank may demand a letter from your parents, stating they have given you the check freely with no obligation to repay. They may also need a copy of the check. I think it is to make sure you are not getting your down payment from loan sharks? Anyway, a check from my grandma delayed my closing by several days while I tracked that stuff down. Check with loan officer.

Oh, that’s SOP at this point – right now I’m literally waiting on the bank to give me verbage for the “letter of gift” my parents will need to sign. We would already have written one but the loan officer has to set the terms and I don’t have a specific loan set up yet. 

Apparently the more vital issue is that the money needs to be in my name for as long as possible prior to the actual purchase – the letter of gift is just part of the preapproval paperwork. Though I should have thought to scan the check before depositing it. I do have a copy of the check on the deposit receipt though, and “gift for down payment” is in the memo field nice and clear, thank goodness. Bless Mum’s Canadian upbringing, she has the nicest handwriting.