The whites have gotten to my little brother. He’s a trump supporter in favor of the wall. When I mentioned our Mexican immigrant grandmother, all he said was, “She’s not an illegal to my understanding. What’s your point?”
There’s a boy whose voice is a siren song to my flowers; under his tone they bloom more beautifully than ever before.
He first wandered into the tiny shop on a rainy morning, as the succulents protested where they were being dripped on, and he brushed rain-damp brown hair from his eyes and sang a lullaby to the insomniac moonflowers until they rested as they were supposed to, and then he smiled at me. He had no umbrella, he explained, and hoped he could wait out the rain here.
I did my best to ask why he ignored the cafe next door in favor of my over-crowded shop and again he smiled and took a seat and the tulips stretched to reach him, petals brushing the back of his neck. I mouthed an apology, batted them away until they grew as usual, and he let out a little chuckle at my tone of reprimand. When I asked his name I was met with yet another curl of his lips; it seemed all he did was smile or sing, a hum in his throat even as I continued moving the cacti away from the leaky window, and he did sit there until the rain let up.
He was strange, but a good strange, a familiar strange, the way the glassblower on 4th Street feels, and he slipped through my wards like silk as he left after an hour of companionable silence, the violets shivering as he whispered goodbye.
Fleur: Mon cher told me to do zee “What’s in your bag” so here I am.
Fleur: I tend to wear zings with few pockets.
Fleur: I try and practice my English by reading a lot.
Fleur: Molly is ‘aving me read zis children’s book for our kids. Zey love it. As do Bill. ‘owever he tends to tease me with by saying zat my accent ruins his nostalgia. I get ‘im back by making ‘im read in french for zee kids.
Fleur: ‘ermonie got me some muggle plasters since Dominique tend to trip a lot. Zey are adorable.
Fleur: Bill got me zis for our first wedding anniversary.
Fleur: Good for sad children, tired ‘usbands and ‘orrible cramps.
Fleur: Bill caved one day at Diagon Alley and got a pygmy puff for Louis. He named it ‘arold and it tends to favor sleeping in my bag.
((OOC: I’m really late with this one but hey I love this concept. Thanks @acciocauldroncakes for tagging me to do it and @kapitan5o for the amazing idea!))
Me (softly to myself): Wait For It is a song sung by a trans man and you will never convince me otherwise. The line “And if there’s a reason I’m still alive when so many have died, then I’m willing to wait for it” is a line specifically written for me, a Trans™.
Summary: A case lands you and Dean at a college party.
Warnings: Driving after drinking (don’t drink and drive, kids!), implied smut
“A college party? Are you kidding me?” You groaned as Dean smirked at you.
“Hey, you’re acting like I have control over this. It just happened to work out in my favor.” He laughs, winking. “College chicks are hot. They’re so… Energetic.”
“Okay, too much information.” You waved him off.
Dean had called you yesterday, asking if you could join him on a hunt. He said that Sammy was too sick to go with him, and it wasn’t one he could do alone. You agreed, not thinking much of it, and this morning he came to your house to pick you up.
“What kind of case takes us to a party, anyways? You never told me what we were hunting.”
“The frat house it’s in, there’s been sighting of a ghost there. I figured it’s worth checking out.” Dean tells you, motioning you to get in his car.
“I’m confused. What exactly do you need me for, then? I’m pretty sure you can kill one by yourself.”
“A party is the only way we’ll be able to get into the house without anyone asking questions. As much as it pains me to say this, I doubt they’ll let me in if I’m not with someone. I’m…” He trails off. “Anyways, the point is, you’re young. Young enough to look like a sorority girl. And you’re hot. You’ll fit right in with those people. You can get us in.”
You try not to blush at him calling you hot. You refuse to give in to his games and flirtation. Ever since he met you a few years ago, he’s been trying his hardest to get with you. But you know his reputation- he’s a player. And not to mention, he’s ten years older than you. But that doesn’t stop you from being insanely attracted to him.
“Well I guess I should find something to wear.”
“Y/N…” Dean’s jaw drops as you step out of your motel room’s bathroom. “You look nice.” He clears his throat.
“I know.” You say cockily. You had on your black, long-sleeve, skintight dress that landed just below your butt, along with black pumps. You had your y/c/h waved, and you had on the most makeup you’ve worn in ages.
“Yeah, uh,” Dean said awkwardly, scratching his head. “Should we go?” He points to the door. You notice how flushed he looks, and you giggle.
“What?” He asks.
“Nothing at all.”
The car ride there is silent, the hum of the impala filling the air. It’s not a long drive, but it feels like hours with how quiet Dean is being.
As he turns onto another road, you see a big house down the street with Greek letters on front.
“I think we’re here.”
There were people outside mingling, but you could see the real party was inside. It looked insane in there. You hadn’t partied like that since high school.
“Are you ready to go in?” You ask Dean, stepping outside into the warm spring air.
“Born ready, baby. Let’s gank this sucker.” You were so focused on this party that you forgot that you were on a case.
As you two made your way to the front door, a group of girls giggled at Dean, waving and winking at him. You roll your eyes as Dean relished in the attention they were giving him, waving back.
“We’re hunting, remember?” You remind him, not sure why you were so bothered at the fact that girls were flirting with him. You expected it to happen- he was a good looking man.
“Yeah, yeah.” He grumbled. You two reach the front door only to stopped by two guys, looking at you oddly.
“He with you?” They ask you, eyeing Dean.
“He’s my boyfriend, gotta problem with that, boys?” You say sweetly, putting your “sex eyes” on. They look at each other, as if questioning whether or not to let him in.
“Go ahead.” They finally said, opening the door.
The inside was crazy. Loud music playing, drunk people grinding and kissing everywhere. It stunk of cheap beer and liquor, but everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves.
“I suddenly see why Sam liked college so much. It’s all babes and beer.” Dean said, noticing how many girls were looking at him.
“Let’s just find this thing and get out of here, alright?” You sigh, not liking that you were feeling jealous. As you begin to try and walk through the crowd, you grab a cup of whatever they were serving, drinking it quickly. You knew you’d regret that later, but in the moment it seemed like a good idea.
You two went around every inch of the house, scanning for EMF. Nobody even questioned you two, they were so drunk.
“I can’t find anything. This was a bust.” Dean sighed, putting the scanner away.
“You know, I’m beginning to think that you just used me as a way to fuck some college girls.” You teased, running your finger down his chest. You felt a little drunk; you knew you shouldn’t have drank that drink, being a lightweight.
“Nah.” He looked at you nervously, laughing.
“You know, maybe we should stay a bit. I’m kinda having fun.”
“I thought you were so eager to leave?” He raised his eyebrow at you.
“Let’s have some fun, Winchester.” You whisper in his ear before pulling away from him, laughing. You grab his hand, and lead him back downstairs to where the rest of the people were. You grab two more cups, one for you and one for Dean.
“Woah there, maybe you should slow down. You’ve only had one cup and you’re already wasted.” Dean grabs your hand, stopping you.
“Maybe you should make me.” You wink, moving your hand out of his and taking a big sip. You go out into the crowd of people, beginning to dance to the music. Dean’s eyes go wide as you begin to grind on him, but he doesn’t stop you.
“With the way you’re acting, I’m not sure how long I can control myself.” He admits. You turn around, looking at him dead in the eye.
You lean forward and kiss him, tasting the alcohol in both of your guy’s mouths, although he is significantly more sober than you are. He is taken aback at first, but kisses you back before pulling away.
“Let’s get out of here.”
He walks you back to the impala, his arm supporting you as you two walk, and he helps you get into the front seat.
“I don’t think I’ve ever met a girl with such a low tolerance as you.” He chuckles, starting the car.
“Mhm,” You respond. As he drives, you reach your hand over to his lower region and begin rubbing.
“Y/N…” He says lowly, biting his lip. “As much as I would love for you to do that, now is not the best time. I’m driving.”
The ride to the motel is seems even longer than it was before. Sexual tension fills the air, both of you itching to get to the room.
“Damnit.” He hisses, and pulls the car over to the side of the road. “I can’t wait.”
He leans over to you, kissing you hard. You kiss back with the same amount of roughness, hungry for more. He slips his hands underneath your dress, lifting it up. His hands roam all over your back, hitting every inch of skin, before unhooking your bra. You lift off his shirt, and unzip his jeans.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Dean asks, lust filling his eyes.
Breathing hard, you pull your dress back over your head as Dean pulls his jeans back on.
“Baby girl, I gotta say, you were great. Better than I could have ever imagined.”
“You certainly lived up to expectations.” You admit.
“Glad I could satisfy you. Always happy to help. Anytime- and don’t take this as a joke- but anytime you need me… I’m here.” He laughs.
A spread for my fellow heathens and pagans alike. This was inspired by the roaring thunderstorm that’s covering Houston right now and my recent hunger to incorporate my Norse heritage into my practice and readings.
This is most powerful when done on a night with a loud and ferocious thunderstorm.
Thor is the Norse god of Thunder, and was well known as a champion of the people. He has immense courage and an unshakeable sense of duty. Thor is the protector of the weak and a critical thinker who saw unconventional solutions to problems. Right now seems to be a vulnerable time for everyone, and I wanted to create a spread to harness the strength, wisdom, and courage of Thor. I hope you all find it as informative as I did.
I shuffled five times while chanting in my head “Son of the strength of Mother Earth, show me where I am weak, and show me how to be strong.” You can also use the runes he favors to charge the reading
1. My Weakness(es): Ask for a better view on where your struggles lie.
2. My Fears: How can I better see what my fears are, or where they lie?
3. How to Gain Courage: Whether it be over my shortcomings or where I am weak.
4. My Strengths: Sometimes it is hard to see where you do best, it doesn’t hurt to ask for clarification.
5. Thor’s Wisdom: A little nugget of intelligence and wisdom to help you along your journey.