this is me except the facebook part

spider emoji review

sleek and elegant. everyone hates on apple emojis but i like most of them and she is no exception. excellent attention to detail with the legs too. a little lacking in personality though.  4/5

the shading or whatever art term describes those grey parts is just so weird to me. she is not a Friend and i don’t trust her. 1/5

i like the addition of the dots but hate the fucking border. someone needs to stop microsoft honestly 3/5

fuck samsung this looks like a beetle with eight legs. the colors are awful and her tiny fucking legs will not hold up her body. 0/5 

a better-executed version of the facebook one. the eyes truly show her beautiful personality and her muted black color scheme is very striking!! 5/5

I actually like the design a lot on her. very unique twist on the spider design. but she doesn’t really have personality. she’s beautiful but she’s not my friend. 3/5

I LOVE HER!! So beautiful and so soft!! i adore the minimalist design!! i don’t even need to see her eyes i already trust her with my life. 6/5

love the smile but she’s pretty ugly. like i can tell they tried to make her seem friendly but she’s just a lil unsettling. love the perspective though very different. 2/5

i love spiders but this one seems sinister. i support and respect her but i would give her her space. also weird shading. 2/5

Time To Clean Up This Blog And Keep It For The Sincere Satanist!

Time to unfollow some Blogs on Tumblr and get things ready for the Work I want to do here ~ 18 of the first 22 Blog posts on my dashboard were porn, mostly Oral Sex.

While enjoy using Tumblr far more than Facebook which I have now left, I want to focus my own Blog on here on Satanic Working and Infernal Occultism but for some reason (with the exception of certain individuals) my Blog seems to be attracting Porn addicts, LadyBoys and Gay Porn Merchants ~ sorry but this is not for me and what I am working on is not for you.

I am a serious Satanic Occultist and committed to the seeking of knowledge and wisdom of the Satanic Occult Arts of Black Magick ~ only others of this way of thinking will be a part of the coming Order THE UNHOLY SEE!

Clearing things up

So last weekend i went to see some punk bands like Antidote and Sick On The Bus.

I hangt with a lot of friends of mine drinking and stuff. I also took some speed and got super drunk and stupid.

What happend was that after the so, after passing out on the streets i finally made it to my hotel room where i took a topless pic of myself and drunkenly sended to some friends but found out i wasn’t just send to the people i met to send it to.

Lots of people thought it was stupid but an honest mistake and didnt really make a big deal out of it. (Some of those follow me here on tumblr and can confirm this)

Except for a girl called meg.

As it turns out meg is a non-cis punk who is underage. Me only realizing i sended her that snap by accident in the morning.

But without saying anything she posted on facebook the following:

As it turns out she is underage

Claiming i an “known to be begging for nudes from underage kids” which blew my mind into outrage, cuz we only replied to each others snaps about studs, patches and other diy stuff. instead of going bezerk i tried to tell her my part of the story and apologized, but no response.

This is what happend and i feel really shitty that it made such an outrage which, if it was somebody else i too would me angry and judge the person cuz shit like that doesnt fly in my book!!

Please reblog and share so this false allegation will be deleted

Spirit guide - Cultural Appropriation?

Does anyone know if using the term “spirit guide” is culturally appropriative or not? I know spirit animal should not be used by non-native people period, but I can’t find anything about whether or not spirit guide is ok to use. A lot of people have been asking me because I mod a Wiccan discourse group on facebook and I can’t find anything. 

update: i stayed up all night researching and this is what i found -

so as it happens ~ the concept of the spirit guide, as distinguished from the spirit animal, for the most part does not and never existed in MOST native american religions. there’s a couple exceptions (some tribes in alaska, as well as the mazatec tribe in mexico), most indigenous american people considered it offensive to be equated with shamanism and its practices (assuming a trance state in order to commune with the spirit guide). Unlike the concept of the native healer or medicine man, the shaman’s state was normally involuntary. The concept of shamanism actually came from Russian Sibera and throughout the centuries spread throughout the globe, mostly to tribal cultures on mostly every continent. So to reiterate, it still wouldn’t be ok to claim you’re a shaman if you’re not actually of a culture which practiced shamanism, as the shaman was inextricably linked with his tribe and couldn’t exist without them. In most cases hewas chosen by the tribal leaders to be the shaman and forced to undergo a painful near death experiences, with the only way out being him assuming the role of the shaman. The shaman lived a hard life and had to suffer through involuntary trances and “spirit harassment” which took a serious mental toll on the shaman.

So, no one can just be a casual shaman. However, with that being said, anyone CAN enter into a trance state and commune with a spirit guide. It would NOT be considered shamanism, and should never be referred to or conflated with actual shamanism. But the concept of the “spirit guide” is not culturally specific to one culture. Spirit animal is still not acceptable if you’re not native though.


Ahh at long last we get to share these cosplays with you!! They are not at 100% yet but we decided to do a shoot anyway! Elf!Sasuke and Dwarf!Sakura from Kishi’s LOTR AU chapter 679 cover!! (ノ´ヮ´)ノ*:・゚✧

Everything pretty much made by me except our shoes and the chainmail! It was a lot of hard work and I really did struggle at some parts so I apologize that it’s not completely accurate yet, we just wanted to share our work because we are so excited and LOTR and Naruto have been a big part of our lives since childhood hahaha. More to come soon! Hopefully with videos and the rest of Team 7 :D 

We really hope you like the pics! Thank you so much for your support!  Much love always ♥ ♥ ♥


Sasuke’s Facebook || Sakura’s Facebook || Photos by us!

I have this vague memory from my childhood, of watching what I am pretty certain was a queer retelling of the Cinderella story. It was animated, in that sort of rough sketchy way that seemed to be dominant in the 90s, and it was British, I remember the accents clearly enough. It was recorded on the back of a VHS, likely by mistake, because I can’t imagine either of my parents wanting to watch it, but for whatever reason I found it and watched it.

I didn’t know what was going on other than “hey it’s Cinderella but with boys”. I think my little child brain thought the “two ugly sisters” were just really dedicated pantomimers in fancy dresses, but with hindsight they were likely meant to be drag queens. And they bullied  the shit out of their adopted little brother Elliot, usually called Ellie, if I recall, for being “not like them or like any one else for that matter” which I just thought they meant was “you don’t look like us, so we’re going to be mean to you because you look scrawny and ugly, here wash all my shit.”

I forget if there was an evil step-parent figure, there likely was. But what I do remember, was that the Fairy Godmother appeared in a shower of rainbows, and Ellie’s transformation resulted in him wearing a dress which he didn’t like, but he liked the shoes, so he ended up wearing a  nice blue suit with pink high heels which he twirled around in, admiring himself in the mirror, thanking the Godmother and then running off to the party to “meet the girl of his dreams” which, my little child brain had figured out by now, Ellie, you’re supposed to like boys, any boy who likes heels is supposed to like boys, I’d heard my dad’s brothers using slurs often enough to know Ellie was a feminine boy and I knew what that meant and then I really knew I was watching something I wasn’t supposed to be watching because all the adults I knew spoke about it with such vitriol it was frightening.

It’s taken me well over twenty years, sitting here thinking about this random cartoon that sometimes pops into my head, that Ellie was likely genderfluid, and possibly either bisexual or asexual. Somewhere on the spectrum of queer but not Gay. I remember the party, I remember thinking I should maybe turn it off because Ellie and the man might kiss and that would be bad but I didn’t know why, I just knew what I’d been told. But once he got there, Ellie decided not to kiss anybody even though Prince Charming wanted to. He was just happy to be there, in a safe space, where other people dressed and looked like him, and no one was being mean. And him and Prince Charming were having a nice conversation when of course the ugly-step-sisters showed up and ruined it, saying he shouldn’t be there with real people because he wasn’t their real family so the invite didn’t extend to him. And Ellie stood up for himself! He shouted at them! And called them mean and hurtful! And everyone stopped to stare…and Ellie returned home at midnight, donning his usual grubby looking clothes, and hiding his pink shoes in the closet and the whole thing ended with Ellie going back to work and I remember thinking, “hold on, that’s not how it’s supposed to go, he’s supposed to keep the shoes on and live happily ever after, this isn’t right!”

I was distraught, that wasn’t how fairy tales were meant to end, and I couldn’t ask my parents what it meant because then they’d know…but I still remember thinking, “I wish he’d kissed Prince Charming”, because how could a kiss be worse than sadness? What could possibly be so wrong about a kiss, that you deserved to never to be happy…and that always comes into my mind when people say things like “but how will I explain that to my child?!” and my reply is always “so you think it’ll be easier to explain why another human being doesn’t deserve to be loved?” because that, that was what I needed explained to me as a child. Not why the ugly-sisters wore dresses, not why Ellie wanted to wear pretty shoes and almost kissed another man, not any of it, except for how it ended…

Part of me still isn’t sure what I watched and I’m bloody furious I can’t find it anywhere because I want to see if I’m remembering it correctly. But it left a lasting impact…clearly, as I sit thinking about it twenty some years later, mulling it over in my head as I watch family and indeed some supposed friends argue on Facebook about how they don’t see the need for LGBTA people to be in shows or books, because surely none of it matters, and why does the Orlando “thing” need to be about sexuality, why can’t it just be a human tragedy.

And I’m just sitting here on the cusp of posting a reply which is the equivalent of nuking bridges via orbital strike and thinking because you won’t let them, you won’t let them, and anyway, what’s so wrong about a kiss…

pastelcandycorn  asked:

I would like to ask your opinion on something and what you think of this? There was a girl I was friends with and she was anti-sjw. Recently, (2-3 months ago) she decided that she was going to do an 'experiment'. She is Latina so she decided to use her minority privilege as a way to threaten teachers who were white (to get better grades), whites in general, and anyone who disagreed with her so she could send SJWs after these people. (Part 1)

^^(Part 2) She has proved that she is either playing both sides, or she is full SJW now. Do you think she went about it the right way? She didn’t tell anyone about this ‘experiment’ except for one person (he is black btw). I was her best friend and she came to me for everything but didn’t tell me about this experiment. She has even made comments about me being white and over Facebook has admitted that she wants whites to die. Her boyfriend is white.

Wow. Either your friend premeditated this ploy of cashing in her minority points and masked it as an experiment or she was joking around but quickly figured out how much she can get away with using identity politics and the race card and it drove her a little over the edge. Like many of our friends, once they get a taste of the narcissism and entitlement plagued throughout the left, once they indulge in the victimhood and they learn that white people are to blame for everything, from when they spill their coffee or can’t get a job, they become addicted to it. It seems as if your friend has given in to this temptation. In my experience, trying to find a middle ground and leaving politics and race out of your friendship works quite well but if she’s clearly going after you or if she’s become unbearable, just stay away from her and worry about yourself. Thanks so much for your message, feel free to update me or chat any time :) xx 

I Shouldn’t Have Called

Submitted by:

I had just dropped off my daughter, Chloe, at school, and was on my commute to work. As I was driving, I remembered that I had to give Chloe her antibiotic. Nothing big, just an ear infection that seemed to have gone away, but you’re always supposed to finish the prescription. When I got to a red light, I took out my phone and called the school. On the third ring, a woman picked up.

“Hello, Nancy Harp, how can I help you?”

“Hi,” I said. “Could you send Chloe Sanders to the nurse’s office? I have to give her an antibiotic.”

There was a short pause, then, “I’m sorry sir, we don’t have any students by that name here.”

What? “Could you check again?”

Another pause.

“No sir. I’ve looked through all of the ’S’ names; there isn’t a Chloe Sanders here.”

Is this a fucking joke? I thought.

Or, wait.

Ah, could her mom have listed her under that jackass’s name? Spiteful bitch.

“Try ‘Chloe Boener’. B-O-E-N-E-R.” Yes, that’s seriously his name. Unfortunately, it’s pronounced “bay-ner”.

“No, sir, I’m sorry. We don’t have any students under that name.”

Now I was getting mad.

“Of course you do! I just dropped her off! Why don’t you type her name in to the database, or whatever you use, and see if she comes up?”

Yet another pause. I figured she was typing.

“Um…I’m sorry sir, I don’t understand what you’re asking me to do.”

Out of frustration, I started raising my voice. “What don’t you understand? Type in Chloe’s name and search the database!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir, but I can assure y–”

I hear yelling and what sounds like a siren in the background, then the phone slamming against something.

I hear someone scream “Come on!” And what sounds like “hold on!” In reply.


“Yes? Nancy? What’s going on?”

“There’s a fire, sir.”

“Oh my god! Chloe!”

“Sir, quickly, could you give me a description of her? I’m going to try to find her after we evacuate.”

I’d made an illegal U-turn and was already speeding toward the school. Understandably, Nancy sounded as rushed as I was.

“Uh…shoulder length, light brown hair, dark green eyes…um…about 4'5”…pale–“ I was cut off by agonized screams. 

Movies can never get this detail right. They can’t prepare you for the sound of someone truly in unbearable, unfathomable pain. The sound cuts you down to your soul and it seems like you can almost feel the pain with them.


By the crackling, I knew the fire was in the room. Nancy was burning. She had stayed on the phone with me. I shouldn’t have called.

Going as fast as I could without hitting any small children or animals playing outside or missing any turns, I closed in on the school. Almost there. When I pulled up, I saw the most horrifying thing in my life.

Or, I thought I did.

On a second look, the school was fine. No fire. No alarm. Not even any children standing outside. Relieved but confused, I looked at my phone. I checked the number on my previous call.

Huh, wrong number. Shit, did I somehow call the wrong school? And what school is on fire then?

What school lost a worker?

I shouldn’t have called.

Looking back down at my phone, I realize something: the number IS right.
There just aren’t enough numbers. There is no 1-area code, just the last seven digits. The call shouldn’t have even gone through. 

I walk into the school and give Chloe her medicine in a daze. I don’t even remember doing it; I only know because she told me later that the nurse’s receptionist said to tell me to call first next time.

I didn’t go to work that day. I went home and looked up “school fires”, “elementary school fires”, “recent fires in [my area]” and, finally, the one I was most afraid to search: “Nancy Harp Death”.

I’d rather have not added on the “death” part, but both “Nancy” and “Harp” are common enough names that that search brought up almost only Facebook pages with the occasional blog post about Nancy Grace.

I came across an article about a school fire in 1954.

In it, some of the staff were interviewed. All escaped except one.

According to another receptionist, “She was on the phone with some crazy man, and she insisted on staying on long enough to find out what his daughter looked like, even though we have no one by that name here. We tried to stay with her, but eventually we had to look out for ourselves as well as any other children that were still in the school. After we got out of the office, the fire closed in and blocked the doors. Poor Nancy got trapped inside.”

The rest of the article was about how the school would be rebuilt with better safety precautions, passingly mentioning the few that were seriously injured.

I never should have called.

Credits to:

Got my standing desk...

…but instead of getting one unit for my laptop and a second unit for my monitor, I only got the one for my laptop. I’ve sent an email to the company and hopefully they’ll get back to me because this sucks. I paid extra for both. Hard part is that I couldn’t find a contact form on their sight except for Facebook, Twitter and Pinterest. I’m not on Facebook or Twitter but I suppose I could try contacting him on Pinterest if all else fails.


Tomorrow we’re having friends over for dinner. It was a bit of a surprise that they were free (they work retail). So we’re scrambling to get everything ready for them. Pretty much done other than making peach cobbler and cleaning bathrooms. Which I’m going to do after I get this post done.

Got 700 words written. Also got two more stories ready for uploading. I’ve got five left to go and I’ll be good for the rest of the year. Then I can set everything to preorder and plow through the Muirin reformats I’ve been plugging away on.

Goals for tomorrow include writing while I’m at work as I won’t have time at home, having a small dinner party (with pulled pork for dinner–so fancy! *grin*), exercises, work-work, and more covers, ebooks, all that good stuff.

Off to bath and early bed for me–goodnight everyone!

Another Prince Party at Paisley Park

-Sara Savoy 

Every week my friends ask me what I am doing on Saturday night and every week my answer is the same vague non answer inclusive of  “Yeah I might have plans, I’ll let you know.”   After two years of spending my Saturdays waiting anxiously to hear if Prince will let us into his 55,000 square foot recording studio and concert hall in Minnesota, it has become so ingrained in me that when I do not get the invite I feel a bit like I am wandering around forgetting something. Understand this.  I am on call for Prince on Saturday nights. 

Every party at the park is different and that is what makes it so much fun.  It is always and adventure and the “you never know what might happen” part of the experience is what makes it so much fun.  Last night was no exception.  Early in the week, FKA Twigs announced via her Twitter Stream that she would be playing at the park on Saturday night.  The frenzy started, the Tweets, Texts and Facebook Messages erupted. The buzz had begun. 

Last night I left my house at about 10:15p.m.  It was a cold, snowy night with slippery roads and semi-hazardous conditions.  It didn’t really faze me; I have driven much worse roads to get out to Paisley Park.  I knew the Purple Gods were looking out for me; I was not going to miss it!   There were cars in the ditch and it took me extra time to arrive, but I got there just in time to get ushered into the NPG Club Room right before Miss Twigs took the stage. 

The house was packed.  Standing room only, the parking lot was full and people were streaming in from the overflow parking up the street.  The energy was good.  It was going to be a fun night! 

I said hey to all the regulars, we are such a tight knit family now.  Kathy, our unofficial Club President was there to frost me with a stick on Swarovski crystal for my cheek.  All the cool kids were wearing them.  Oh it was on!

Twigs is stunning.  There is no other way to describe her ethereal beauty or her sweetly sexual voice.  Her music makes you blush.  It is the kind of unique sound that a guy wants to put on to get his girl in the mood.  Kind of like a modern day techno female Barry White. 

A few people were awkwardly trying to dance but it wasn’t really dancing music.  About halfway through the first song Prince popped in through the door and bolted through the back of the room, up the stairs and took his throne on the couch at the loft above us.  He was wearing all white.  A white artistic tunic with white matching custom bell bottoms and of course, his trademark fro.    The first thing I looked for were his feet.  After the colossal disappointment that I had at seeing him on Saturday Night Live wearing flats I physically needed to see him back in his heels.  Whew!  They were there.  All is right in the fashion world again.   Beautifully fitted upon his feet were white 4-inch platform boots that literally made my heart skip a beat just knowing they were back.  Say what you want about it being all about the music.  For me it is about all of him and Prince just isn’t the same person to me in his EasySpirits. 

The entire energy of the room always changes when Prince is in it.  He literally brings an aura.  People were whispering and peeking up to see him and the “So do you think he will play tonight” rumors began. 

Then I saw guitarist Donna Grantis in the back of the room.  Hope began to build.  Then came a Hannah and Josh sighting near the entrance.  Finally, Ida joining Prince upstairs.  The gangs all here, this is happening. 

After about an hour-long performance by Twigs, we were ushered into the stage hall through the large doors in the back of the room.  Josh Welton was onstage playing a new track that has yet to be released.  It sounded awesome!  I had flashbacks of when we heard some of the music from ArtOfficialAge for the first time and had a moment of “I am so blessed” to be here. 

The lights were different.  Instead of the standard lighting setup for rehearsals the lights were very dance club like, with splashes of purple and yellow bouncing and flashing to the beat.   I took my standard place to the left of the stage, 3 rows in.  This is where I always am in case you ever want to find me at a Prince concert.  This is where he sings to and I wanted to make sure that he could find me.  In my head I believe that he will look for me here. 

Alas, find me he did.  As Josh played new song after new song intermixed with new remixes of FixUrLifeUp and other AOA and Plectrum songs, Prince bounced through the crowd and right up to my friend Karla and I and literally popped into our faces.  Now I have talked about this before.  For some reason when Prince comes near me I completely lose my cool.  I cannot contain myself and no matter how many times I tell myself that I am not going to be cool next time, I always completely freak out. 

“GETUPONSTAGE! GETUPONSTAGE! GETUPONSTAGE!” I shrieked at him as I flailed my hands wildly and my eyes bugged unattractively out of my face.  He shook his head and laughed. 

Of course, not a full minute later he came by us again.  I did it again. 

“DON’TGO! DON’TGO! DON’TGO! DON”T GOOOOOOOO!!!!!” I blabbered at him as I scared him away with my completely frazzled Prince brain. 

Why does this happen to meeeee.  Why!  Prince I promise you I am not such a crazy person, I just simply cannot help it around you.  Please have me over for coffee sometime, I promise you will like me when I’m chill. 

Well he listened to my DON’T GO battle cry.  All of those that have been at Paisley have heard him play Let’sGoCrazy Reloaded.  Hannah, Ida, Donna took their places on stage to form their 3rd eye and the familiar beginning guitar riff began.  He was playing.  HE. WAS. PLAYING!  There he was.  Prince onstage.  Here we go!

Oh Prince was in his element.  If Prince is free and feeling it, you are going to get yourself a SHOW and boy he was feeling it last night! 

IF you don’t like. 

The world you livin in

Take a look around

At least you got friends. 

Go crazy we did!  I literally started to cry when he ended the song with the guitar refrain that was straight from the movie that began this whole lifelong obsession of mine. 

Oh man this was fun!

He went on to have both Josh and DJ Michael Holt mix in new songs as we danced while waiting for him to return to the stage. 

Then he came back.  This time with a funkadelicious guitar, showcasing “Play that Funky Music White Boy” in which each musician on stage took their turn going completely freaky with it.  Donna and Ida were shredding their guitars and of course Hannah, killing on the drums in the back.  Hannah I love to watch you play because you smile nonstop and you are just loving it girl!   It has been so much fun to see this band grow together to become amazingly talented individuals that form a cohesive team of raw talent. 

As usual, mid-song Prince took a moment to look my way and wave at me.  Everyone around stopped and turned to see who he was waving to.  Hi Prince.  Thank you for that! Thank you for letting me know that my psycho babble doesn’t really scare you.  Much.  

Oh my we were just getting started! 

One of my all-time favorite moments of the night came when DJ Mike spun up “The Wobble!”  All of the regulars took their places in the back of the room to “Get in there, yeah, yeah” as the young crowd all around us sat back and watched how it was done.  Oh yeah we got this.

At one point he came up to me a third time as I sat with Karla by the door taking a rest.  You guessed it. 

“HI PRINCE! HI PRINCE! HI PRINCE!” I prattled at him. 

Once again.  A Prince grin and a head shake in response.  Well at least I make him laugh, right?

I went to console myself for my erratic behavior by doing THE BIRD on the dance floor with the crew.  Hannah, Ida and Donna were doing it along with us but they were back by the forbidden ping pong tables, blocked back from us from behind the fences.  It wasn’t that long ago when they used to come dance with us, remember those days?

Shortly before 2am DJ Mike stopped and played his typical last song, which is Clouds.  This is key for us in the know that the party is winding down.  I got my coat, bought my merchandise and waited for the lights to come on.  But alas, after a few moments of silence DJ Mike started DJing again and that was clue for get on ready for the big show to come!

Pro tip:  If you ever go to Paisley Park never EVER leave before they turn the lights on.  Never.  The best things always happen to those of us who wait. 

At about 2:15a.m. Prince and co took their places at the center of the stage and we did not even know what the hell to do with ourselves as Prince played song after song including:  Plectrum Electrum, Take Me With You, Hot Thing, Kiss, I Could Never Take the Place of Your Man, When Doves Cry, Sign of the Times and a 35 minute version of House Quake.  At one point Prince traded keyboards with Ida Neilson and took control of her guitar.  Prince on bass.  Prince on guitar.  Prince on keyboards.  Prince controlling the room. Prince impressing a girl.  Oh he gave it to us all right. 

As Prince was singing Kiss he was positioned at the keyboards and when he got to the part of the song

“I just want your extra time and your kiss

Yes, oh, I think I wanna dance, uh”

…when he said the word “dance”, Twigs popped into the center of the stage out of nowhere and gave us a manifestation! Prince played to her, she danced for him.  We were all there but neither of them was seeing any of us.  Oh we were feeling it. 

Twigs grinded and twisted and flew all over the dance floor.  In a symbolic expression of completely freeing herself she untangled her tresses from their bind and tossed her head as her braids spun wildly out of control. 

The chemistry was electrical. 

Prince immediately went into Hot Thing and Twigs kept on with her overt display of confident sexuality and Prince said, “Turn off the lights!  There aint nothing to see up here!” 

When the crew didn’t turn off the lights because they thought he was joking he said it again and again until they obeyed. 

We were left dancing in the dark.  After Hot Thing was over, Twigs disappeared and Prince climaxed the night with a 35-minute rendition of House Quake where he told us “Get away from my stage!  There aint nothing up here!  Go on out on the dance floor!”  To which we all submitted. 

Dancing live in the dark to HouseQuake in the Palace that Prince built.  Unreal. 

When it was over we hovered to the side of the stage and watched as Prince sat on the side of a ping pong table dangling his well-heeled boot while charming Twigs with his aura.  They didn’t see any of us.  The lights came on, Prince stayed engaged with the girl.  I have never seen him stay in the room when the lights came on.  Ever. As quick as the lights went on, they went off and we were ushered out of the park and out of the party that will live on in the memories of those who were gifted to be there. 

It is left up to the imagination whether or not Prince got the girl, but I am guessing the odds were stacked clearly in his favor. 

What Prince wants, Prince gets.  I am just glad he lets us go along for the ride.   I pulled into my driveway this morning at 5:15am. 

Thanks  again Prince, Hannah, Donna, Josh, Ida and DJ Mike for another great night at the Park! 

Until Next time. 



Follow me on Twitter and Instagram @Sarasavoy 


Okay so I’m actually super proud of my Ranger’s Apprentice cosplay. I started making it in 8th grade, but it wasn’t very impressive back then so I slowly remade each part until I finally finished it this year!!

Still can’t figure out how to wear the quiver with it, but I’ll figure that out later…

I hope you guys enjoy it!!

I need to say thanks and omg

Okay first off, I want to say hi and thank you to a bunch of new followers here today! Secondly, WOW.
I did not expect this kind of boom haha, like, seriously. I was at work this morning and logged in to check messages and shit, I nearly fell off my seat I didn’t know what was going on!

For those of you who don’t know, some beautiful creature out there created a facebook page for WYIM translated in Spanish.
Like, they took their time to translate and everything. I seriously don’t know what to say except thank you!
A part of me was mad for a second there because they hadn’t asked permission from me first, but after seeing the impact it’s had on my watch count and everything, I hold no hard feelings haha

Thanks so much again for joining in the fandom guys~! I welcome you with open arms and and open heart~ Let’s get through this story together! And many more in the future!! :-)

In celebration of this occasion, I’m going to host a livestream! I’ll be working on a Pucca short while I chat with viewers~ So come on down if you’re keen to meet me and chat about the story! :-)

I hope to see you there! <3


A bit long but hopefully worth it :)

For the last four years I have posted something on this Tumblr, on my twitter and on my Facebook EVERY SINGLE DAY – for four years, no exceptions, and I’m not planning to stop. I’m doing it for a lot of reasons. Because I always see things, read things and feel things that I want to share. Because I want to let you in on my journey, because I want you to feel like you’re a part of all this. But mostly, honestly, I’m doing it for selfish reasons. It’s my way of capturing this journey of mine, this life of mine. And because sharing my journey with all of you makes me feel less alone. It gives me someone to sing for, to write for, to talk to. And that has changed my life. To, at least hope and believe, that someone out there can relate. And care. And maybe even enjoy it.

Going back through these 4 years of posts, tweets and journals, you will see me go through achievements and storms. Happiness and heartbreak. Inspired days of music and days of rain with no one around. And that’s why I’m doing this. 
Some of my friends find me silly when I always run to post something here every morning, telling me that it’s okay to turn off the internet one single day. But they don’t get it, because it’s the consistency of a little step every day that builds the journey. Something small every single morning that slowly builds up the story line of four years. A story line, that through daily determination with no exception, because I believed in it with all my heart, turned into my life.

So, after all these years, I’ve had hundreds of new ideas and plans and things I would like to achieve and do and be. I’ve lost track of the real path a few times, strayed out on foreign land, explored new interests and voices, sounds or styles, but there is one single thing that always pulls me back; the hunger to learn and grow and improve myself. As a writer, as a songwriter, as a producer. As a person, a friend, a daughter. I’m a lifelong student, and if I launch a project, release an album or publish a book that completely fails and that everybody hates, I will still feel fulfilled if I learned something in the process.

So what I want to say to you with this last post this year, is just simply thank you for letting me pursue my dream of growing as a songwriter, writer and person. Thank you for letting me record, produce and release my new album this year, and with that grow as a producer and artist. Thank you for giving me memories through my House Shows that I will never ever forget, teaching me how to not close in on myself, trust other people and understand different ways of living. Thank you for constantly giving me a reason to keep writing and learning when I some days lose sight of it, because you’re teaching me about giving back and about being accountable. And even, thank you for sometimes righting me when I’ve done wrong. For telling me that I can do better when I’ve settled. Thank you for not judging me when I make mistakes, but for letting me know and then learn together with me.

So finally, here’s to another year of growing, learning, feeling and seeing. Experiencing and exploring. Falling in love and learning heartbreak, finding new favorite bands and reading books, road trips and nightly conversations by the sea. Morning texts from someone you love, long walks home in the snow and endless possibilities to do something you never thought you could do. Here’s to the first day of spring, when the air is crisp and you feel lighter. Here’s to staying inside a whole weekend when it’s raining, with too much coffee and acoustic music. Here’s to trying something new, and maybe failing, but leaving it with one hell of a story. Here’s to setting goals, like for me writing four new books, release a new acoustic EP and start the journey of my third full-length. I want to collaborate with other artists and creative people, and I want to sing my heart out on stages all over the world. 

So here’s to not settling and here’s to facing fear. Enjoying the free fall and the rush of adrenaline.
And finally, here’s to how I found you, and here’s to how you found me. Happy New Year my friends 

“She was unstoppable. Not because she did not have failures or doubts, but because she continued on despite them.”
— Beau Taplin

Little (Cameron Dallas Imagine)


Rating: PG-13

Time: A few months ago

Author’s Note: Here is the beginning to a few part imagine, the new parts will be uploaded soon, but it’s 1:23AM, and I haven’t showered, and I have school tomorrow. 

Little did you know, he would ask you to marry him that night at MagCon.

“Four years.” Cameron smiles. He was always like this on your anniversary, except this time, we were in Pennsylvania for MagCon. “You never told us how you met!” Mahogany exclaims, you blush and smile at Cam. “Long story short, we were fourteen, it started when he friended me on FaceBook. Then, he messaged me on FaceBook and was like ‘I didn’t mean to add you, sorry’, and we started talking.” Cam says.

“Well, you two love birds, when are we going to get a little Cam?” Matthew asks, laughing. “When Big Cam puts a ring on it.” You joke back.

Little did you know you would get in a huge fight and you would walk out. Little did you know you were pregnant.

“Y/N Jenner.” The lady says, you stand up with Kim, Kourt, and Scott. Lately, you’ve been really sick. You haven’t left the house for a week, it took the three of them just to get you to go to the doctor. She weighed you and asked the usual questions.

You hated having the camera crew here, you didn’t want Cam to see you hurting, but he probably didn’t care anymore. The nurse stands up and tells you the doctor will be in in a few minutes.

Scott is really close to you, he is always there for you, and can always make you smile, but today is different, you don’t want to be happy. You only want to be happy if Cameron is here.

The doctor knocks before walking in, she smiles at you. “Congrats on conceiving!” She grins, your bottom lip trembles. You lie back on your side and start to bawl, putting your sleeves over your hands and wiping your tears. Kim and Kourts’ hands are pushing your hair back and Scott is asking the doctor to leave for a second.

You would have to do this by yourself, you can’t tell Cam. You still have to try and finish school! You want to run into his arms and have him tell you everything would be alright.

You jumped up and ran out, ignoring Kim, Kourt, and Scott.

“Kendall?” You cried into the phone. “Y/N? What’s wrong?” She replied. “Can you pick me up?” You paused to cry. “Please don’t ask.” You added.

She pulled into the back alley of the doctors office and ran towards you. “Y/N, c’mon, let’s get out of here.” She says, helping you up, not caring that you were muddy and wet. You knew Kendall wanted to ask about it, but you kept your face towards the window, watching the rain pour down.

Little did you know mom would let you move to London and live with your friend.

“I need to get away and figure things out, away from all of this.” You said, keeping your eyes on the mug with coffee in it. “I think it’s a good idea.” Kourtney replies.

Once you had gotten home, mom had you change then tell her what happened. When you got down, Kourtney and Kim had already told her.

“I just-” Kylie cuts her off. “Mom, let her do it.” Khloe nods, “She doesn’t think she is going to tell Cam, but most importantly, she is pregnant, she has to get away from the sadness.” Mom nods.

Little did you know you would write Cameron a note the day you left.

Dear Cameron,

I love you so much.

You made me laugh. You made me smile. You made me feel like I was perfect. You made me feel warm. You made me sing horribly and act like we could sing. You watched movies with me. You played video games with me. You took pictures with me. You made and kept me safe. You made me want to be in your arms. You cooked with me. You made me feel like I belonged.

You are the one I thought I would marry. You were the one I thought would be right next to me when I graduated. You were the one I thought I would have my children with. You were the one I thought would hold me for the rest of my life. You were the one I thought I would say ‘I do’ to. You were the one I thought I’d be picking out baby names with. You were the one I thought I would sleep next to everynight. You were the one I thought who would love me.

But you don’t anymore and that saddens me, because I will love you to the end of time.

I guess you did do some of the things with me, you did give me my first child.

I hope you know that moving away wasn’t to hurt you or keep you from the baby, I just need to figure things out. I need to see my happiness again, because for me, it’s just you, but you don’t feel the same about me.

I’ll make sure you meet the baby when he is born.

My number is going to be shut down and I probably won’t post on Instagram, Twitter, Vine, or Youtube anymore.

If that fight never happened, then I’d be right there with you, and we’d be celebrating our baby, but I guess somethings happen for a reason.

I love you so much.

Little did you know you would tweet for the last time in eight months.

@Y/NJenner: Guess I saved the Y/NDallas username for no reason, I remember when he told me I should do that, on our first anniversary.

@Y/NJenner: Sometimes the people we would take the bullet for, are the ones behind the trigger

@Y/NJenner: I love you so much Cameron, you are my forever, but I guess I wasn’t yours.

Little did you know how Cameron would react, when my family would drop the letter off.

Kim, Kourt, Khole, Kylie, and Kendall all showed up on Cameron’s doorstep to give him the letter. Cameron looked like shit when he opened the door.

“Ugh-Um-Ugh, Hello?” Cam says. “This is from Y/N.” Kendall trails off, handing him an envelope.

“I’m sorry it turned out this way, Y/N didn’t want to leave, but she has to figure things out. You have to understand where she is coming from.” Kim says, before handing him an ultrasound picture. Cameron stares at it and when he looks back up, they are gone.

Little did you know that Cameron would try and get my mom to send you his letter.

Dear Y/N,

Please don’t think that, I love you so much it hurts. I want to be the one you marry. I want to be the one to be right next to you, not only when you graduate, always. I want to have my children with you I want to hold you for the rest of my life. I want to say ‘I do’ back. I want to pick out baby names with you. I want to sleep next to you everynight. I do love you.

It kills me to think that you don’t know I love you.

I love how you hardly wear makeup. I love how you would rather wear leggings or jeans than dresses. I love how you think you sing like shit, but you could possibly be one of the best singers ever. I love how you could try something once and be amazing at it. I love how you kiss. I love how you do normal everyday things. I love your hugs. I love your face and body. I love how you always helped other people. I love how you were always so humble and you never let fame get in the way. I love how unique you are. I love how you make me feel special. I love how pretty you are when you cry. I love how you have to squeeze into your jeans. I love how you only like one thing at Starbucks. I love how much you try to hid your shoulder and back dimples. I love hoe your hand fits in mine.

I could write a thousand more things that I love about you. I wish I could be saying this in person. I should have loved you more, because now you think I don’t love you. I guess it is a good thing you will love me until the end because I will love you until this world dissolves.

I regret that fight, more than I have regretted anything in my life, because after that fight, my life was gone.

Even though it makes me have negative feelings, I get that you have to figure stuff out, but if me not loving you is why you are leaving (Which I just have proven wrong,) then what else do you have to figure out?

I love Beckett Hamilton Dallas for a boy and Eleanor Mahogany Dallas for a girl.

I love you so much Y/N.

Little did you know, mom wouldn’t give it to you.

He was a safe place for my heart to go. He was my friend who I was in love with but who kindly knew better than to accept me which I’m greatful for now. We never could have been happy in a real relationship. We lost touch when we each got married, which I’m ok with.

I miss him because he’s only one who really knows certain parts of me, parts that got lost a long time ago. I wish our children could meet. I wish it was possible to stay friends with someone who you’re in love with, but I don’t think it is.

This isnt the last time I talked to him but this is the last message I could find from his deleted Facebook account. I have no way to even see his face anymore, except old photos and drawings I keep tucked away. I wonder, will I ever stop thinking about him?


My eulogy from yesterday’s memorial service for my dear, dear Davyd:  

Thornton Wilder wrote, “The greatest tribute to the dead is not grief but gratitude.”

So first of all, I am deeply grateful to Davyd, for all that he gave me, for all that he taught me, for every single day of the ten years we spent together. There was love, there was laughter, there was growth, companionship, and expansion. I looked forward to seeing him first thing in the morning and I wanted him to be the last thing I saw at night.

He was a completely original person, unlike anyone I ever met. I fell in love with him instantly, as though I had been waiting for him.  He was in every way the perfect counterpart to me and I loved every aspect of our life together.

My friend Colette said to me, “Davyd always had a soft defiance about being different.” And that’s true. He never based his behavior on what was expected of him by others, but instead by his own sense of what he thought was right for himself.  And by living his life in this way, he taught me to become a more authentic person. 

He was attracted to the misfit, the outcast, the rejected; that which others might not find beautiful he found beautiful, and in his paintings you can see his love and search for the numinous.

He was such a sensitive soul, in a way that many great artists are, and with that sensitivity came great suffering.  As long as I’ve known him, in spite of our happy life together, Davyd also seemed to hurt for the world.  He hurt for children.  He hurt for the broken-hearted.  He hurt for those who had no voice. When Katrina happened in New Orleans he sat in front of the television and cried for days, and afterwards stopped watching the news because it would disturb him so deeply to see a world in such turmoil.  His pain seemed based in early experiences in his life, that always pursued him like a shadow, and yet he continued to pursue his inner growth. At various points, early on in our ten years together, Davyd suffered from horrible migraines and unexplained seizures.  And yet, he found a creative solution. He began to paint and to express himself in the most courageous way.  Davyd’s life began to bloom like a magnificent flower.  

He also dove into the subconscious to find meaning and answers for his life experience.  He wrote, “The mysterious experiences we go through while dreaming are amazing. If one keeps a dream journal, then one can take in what one is being told by the unconscious. For example, I dreamed about a butterfly, which flew through the forest each night. My life moved differently because of the way the butterfly came to me in my dream…I believe one should honor what is seen in dreams. Own it. In this instance, a butterfly is most definitely a good omen. Yes, it’s three o’clock in the morning, but I write it down. The mind tells us something important for a reason. This beautiful creature is also flying, moving upwards to where there is transformation.”

It causes me great pain to say that I do not know what descended upon him in his final days, what triggered this awful event, which has been so devastating to me and to those who loved him.  He seemed to slip away quickly, almost completely without warning, to either myself or his doctors. I have thought back through things that happened this year: there certainly were issues that had come up, but they were issues we’d faced before together. Perhaps there was a perfect storm of events. The truth is I just don’t know.

And not knowing has been its own special kind of agony. And I have been plagued by guilt and confusion, that somehow I missed some sign, or that there is something more i could have done to bring some different result.

Everyone, and I mean everyone, has been so kind to me and has reached out in so many loving ways during this time; from all my colleagues at the various shows I work on, to Twitter fans of the shows on which I work, to people I admire but have never met. But for quite a few days I was inconsolable, I felt so lost in my grief.

Then earlier this week, I woke in the middle of the night, agitated and unable to sleep.  And I received a message on Facebook from a stranger I’ve never met.  The stranger’s note to me gave me comfort and I was able to go back to sleep.  I wrote back and the next night they wrote again, and we have been corresponding every night this week, and I’d like to share some of what they wrote:

“In the most important times of our lives, so many parts of us come forward to help cope with the crisis. The mind, heart, spirit, soul want to help us – the animal that we are who is so lost – in whatever way that they can. Except we’re too devastated to sort things out, to give those parts direction, and so we reel around even more frightened by the energy in our body, by our old routines, by the world outside seeming to go on as if nothing has happened.

And so I will make a suggestion that I have found helpful that may be of use to you.  There is a Father in you – not your father, but the one that is filled with that archetypal energy – who is very powerful, kind, just, and thoughtful. Let him take you in hand, the way you would if you had a child who needed you. Let him remind you before sleep and whenever you panic that Davyd is safe.  Perhaps imagine him in his studio painting or see him traveling to places he loved. Remind yourself that you can rest while he’s doing these things, just as you would if he was physically there.

Allow yourself to imagine him near you when you need him – just as you felt him before. Do not deny yourself his company and comfort because he is no longer on this plane. Nothing but his company will do, and it isn’t fair to make yourself squash the longing for him.

None of this will give you what you so desperately want – to wake up and this to all have been the longest, worst nightmare of your life. But when times are this painful, sometimes we behave as though we must get things in hand in a rational, authoritative way.  As though the world itself is ever rational or we ever have the authority that our fears tell us we need to be happy.

The terrible truth is we are all one moment away from losing whomever is most precious to us if we were blessed enough to find someone, and wise enough when they came to embrace them. And it seems to me that you both lived your life together as fully and consciously as you could.  So, please be kind to yourself – let yourself feel his love and presence.

If you can use your imagination in all seriousness to open yourself to him and to what you need from him – and then allow your many parts to help realize these needs – you will be able to work through all of this together with his help.  It isn’t fantasy or indulgence or madness, rather it is exactly the gentle love that you have always known with him, which filled your life for these many years together.

You don’t have to do it without him. You know him as well as you know yourself. And if you had died in an accident, would you ever have left him alone? Wouldn’t you be doing all you could to reach him and bring him comfort?

Each human being, if we are honest, is one big science experiment. Some people somatize life’s pain into cancer or other physical illness that breaks them down. Others have the kind of brain chemistry that will not allow them to keep thoughts moving, energy moving – they are forced to fixate to the point of such pain that they do not experience any equilibrium of emotion. We need to find the compassion in ourselves to realize how very vulnerable we all are to that which is beyond our control.

If he’d had terminal cancer and you could have said all the things you wanted to say to one another before he died. I’m going to guess that he would have told you that he would never leave your side, even if you couldn’t see him any longer.  And you would have promised to allow yourself to feel him – to listen and watch for him – to go on sharing life as was possible.

He couldn’t tell you he wasn’t going to stay. He hid it from you to have one last time of happiness and for you to know how much he loved you. That is such a terribly painful thing to accept. But I feel certain from those photos of you, that he was trying to tell you how very much he loves you – to leave absolute evidence of his love.

He seems like a person of tremendous physical energy – allow the energy that drove his body to reach you now.

The most important gift that you can be given in this life is the opportunity to love wholly and to grow in that love with another person. You are responsible for getting up every day with love in your heart and sharing your life with Davyd. No one knows what your life was really like except for the two of you – and the people who have room to feel the radiance that surrounds such love.

Sadly, many people are so terrified of illness, death, and grief that it keeps them from giving and receiving deeply. And they are suspect of those who take the huge risk of giving oneself completely.  

One of the most important books I ever read is Viktor Frankl’s, “Man’s Search for Meaning.”  It is a meditation on the human drive to find meaning in this existence, and by doing so, to grow and endure, to transpose devastation into hope.  

Frankl realized that he endured the concentration camps because of the love he felt for his wife.  That it didn’t matter whether she was alive or dead, that the love he felt for her gave him purpose in the most terrible and futile of places.

Also, one aspect of this masterwork of human experience that affected me most deeply was his recounting of the way he, and all the survivors, were treated with indifference or some version of, "we too have suffered”, when they returned home.  A man who for years thought that he had reached the absolute limit of all possible suffering now found that suffering has no limits, and that he could suffer still more, and still more intensely.

In grief, each soul enters an altered state. I love Dostoyevsky’s words, “May I be worthy of my suffering.” When someone fully engages the truth of their pain, they honor the gift of love.

You are not responsible, as none of us are, for the choices of those whom you love. Rather love is an act of honoring their essential otherness. We cannot save one another – for that is to deprive them from the depths of their own path and inner work.

That Davyd took his life is not his failure or yours. It is the very human response to the pain that became a poison inside of him. Anyone who cannot feel compassion for such a crucible is not able to look suffering in the face and see their own image.

Gather to yourself the happiest, most empowering moments of your loving life with Davyd – celebrate them every single day. If cynicism ever gave anyone anything valuable then it would be worth the energy it takes to sustain it. But love is ever expanding if we allow it to follow its natural course. Loving Davyd made you love the world more, to be more fully alive in it, to stand amazed before the beauty that greets anyone who is willing to open their senses and heart.

Take all that love and keep it going – love the world more for having given you someone of his quality. You will grieve and cry and the pain will be hardly comprehensible – but it is the only choice if we wish to honor the gift of love.

You and Davyd stand for the center of all you believe to be holy and transcendent. You have the right to mourn his physical absence every single day. But allow no one to take from you the joy in your adoration of this amazing man, and let no one speak against his courage in fighting for as long as he did.

I celebrate your love more than I feel sorrow for his passing. Clearly, I mean this in the sense that love is always triumphant, and the particulars of loss are less important because it is always inevitable.  

We are all terminal, but we are not all marked for great love. And not everyone who has the opportunity to love and be loved chooses it. Only the most courageous, the most determined to know the work and intricacies of love come to joy of the eternal sort.

Your love for Davyd is eternal, and I feel his love for you is eternal. That is all that matters…ever.  

I am not writing in this vein to imply that you should not feel all the depths of loss and grief.  Rather to express that as you do feel those things, you are honoring love not its loss.  

When we step out of this body, from all reports, we are filled with all-encompassing love – all-forgiving – endless love. I take enormous comfort from that knowledge.

If you can imagine suddenly losing depth-perception, the world would still be 3-dimensional. Davyd is in that space between what you can see and what you know to exist.  

Your drive to love him has taken you to places you never imagined existed, and this is just another place that you are going together. No one has to understand that or approve or affirm it – your life will be a witness to the fruit that grows from your continued love of such a remarkable man. You will honor ever more deeply what was most important to him in the world, and all that he taught you.

You said in your note that you were “constantly colliding with your guilt and despair”. I believe that, understandably, you are in shock and still making sense of the events. Still trying to track down the way back to the moment when you could have said or done something to change his mind.  

But you are not, nor were you ever, the impetus for his life or death. You are the man who loved him and shared your life with him – his husband. That is enough to feel, Norman. He always belonged entirely to himself.

As much as possible, please try to see and hear how he would react to your fear that you failed him. Imagine him there before you, and feel the manner with which he would implore you not to take that responsibility upon yourself. Such a gentle, kind, fine man would never allow you to believe you that you neglected him or failed him, therefore influencing his decision to leave his body.

Hold him close to you, Norman, with all the tender power you possess. You don’t ever have to let go of loving him. You aren’t holding his spirit back – love such as yours is always a gift. The great spirit guides tell us time and again, there are only two choices:  love and fear.  

Every single time you feel lost and afraid, just say to yourself, “I choose love.” And that statement, even if you have to repeat it again and again until you feel the shift, will help you stand up with your back straight and you will again be a vessel of love. The heart-broken and devastated vessel is a vessel of love, nonetheless.

Know that you are surrounded by love that has always been, and always will be, with you.”

Last night, as I was preparing this service, I received another message from this kind stranger. They sent a poem they’d written and I’d like to share it with you.

Symphony & Lamentation - The Chamber Orchestra of Philadelphia, 1996

Mozart’s French horns hollow us 

the way sorrow’s terrible days can.

As the oboes and cellos join

our chests inflate, like a lover trying

to fill the silence trailing loss 

with uncertain murmurs and breath.

Eight violinists bowing in unison, your 

trembling hand tightens around mine.

Then, percussion and ensemble led

by a rumbling piano.  We are lost

to ourselves, useless to do anything 

but go on enduring such sounds.

Finished, everyone on their feet,

beneath the sound of applause 

I can’t find the sweet words of praise – 

tactless and rent – I curse and choke.

At the center of companionship

is grace.  Surprised, you turn to me,

and without shaming me, you take 

my arm, kiss my face.  We survive 

even this, the way ecstasy devastates. 

Ruins so beautifully our small lives 

by making us, for a moment, more—

almost great.

I thank you deeply for coming here today to honor this man.  I have great friends. Davyd has great friends. And so, I take courage from this thought:  Loving Davyd has made me love the world more, to be more fully alive in it, to stand amazed before the beauty before me, opening my senses and heart.

I find strength in the idea that there is order in the universe, amidst the chaos. The order is love. We are all just passing stardust anyway. Some, like Davyd, are beautiful comets, passing quickly in the sky, while some, like me, are slowly imploding stars. But all of it is beautiful and all of it is love.

Planes, trains and automobiles

Sam and Jess buy Dean a plane ticket so he can fly in for their wedding, not knowing that Dean is terrified of flying. 

Cas is the guy who gets sat next to the extremely nervous Dean. At first he thinks Dean is just annoyingly fidgety and bad tempered, as he keeps snapping at everyone. At one point during the flight he sees Dean close his eyes and rock himself, his breathing becomes erratic. Cas then realizes what’s really happening with Dean. 

He takes Dean’s hand and talks him down from an oncoming panic attack. Cas then spends the rest of the flight trying to distract Dean from the flight. To comfort Dean with statistics about how safe air travel is. He holds Dean’s hand and let Dean feel his steady pulse as they tell each other everything about their lives.

Dean ends the flight a shaken mess, though he knows it would have been impossible if it hadn’t been for the cute gentleman sat next to him. 

He gets swept up at arrivals with a hug from Sam. The last he sees of Castiel is the guy giving him a small smile and a wave as he walks away. It only occurs to Dean when they’re in the car on their way to the wedding venue that he didn’t even get Castiel’s last name. 

Not that it matters, he tells himself. No one falls in love with a stranger after a few hours on a plane together. No one falls in love with someone who was as much of a nuisance as Dean felt he was during that flight. 

The wedding goes well, Dean cries more than he’ll ever admit at how happy Sammy and Jessica look together. 

In the back of his mind he can’t stop thinking about the guy from the plane – but what’s he going to do? Track the dude down and ask him out on a date? That’s just not happening. 

Dean refuses to take a flight back. With Sam and Jess safely on honeymoon, Dean books himself onto a train. He’d drive, but he can’t stomach the thought of a rental for a journey that long, which doesn’t exactly leave him with many options. 

He’s settled into his train seat, wistfully looking out the window and thinking of his less than pleasant flight in. He’d have regretted everything about that day if it hadn’t been for meeting Castiel. 

“Is this seat taken?” 


“Um, hey,” the other man smiled awkwardly. 

Dean felt himself laughing. “What are the chances that we’d be on the same train?”

“Ha…” suddenly Dean got a sinking feeling as Cas looked extremely guilty. “About that, I just, well–”

“Did you follow me here?”

“No! Nothing like that! But I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind. The chances of you taking a flight seemed small. And then from how you talked about your car, the chances of a rental seemed small but not impossible, but then I remembered we talked about there being on train out a week from this place so… I don’t know, here I am. 

“I booked myself a seat on the chance you might be on board. I just wanted to get that out there. If you think I’m the biggest creep, I can leave now, well, go to another part of the train at least. 

“But Dean, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. We never exchanged contact details. Have you ever tried using Facebook or Google to search for Dean? I even tried Dean who is scared of flying, Dean with the most beautiful green eyes. Dean who loves his car more than anything, except his brother.

“This might honestly be the craziest thing I’ve ever done, I just had to know though. Gabriel, my brother, he knew something was up, he told me I’d regret it forever if I didn’t find you again, and Dean, I’ve regretted enough already for a lifetime.”  

Dean took a moment to sort through all Castiel’s words. 

“Dean Winchester,” he stuck he hand out. 

“Castiel Novak.” Cas gently shook Dean’s hand. 

“You are crazy, but I feel like, somehow, if I’d never met you again, I would have been wondering, possibly forever, what could have been.” 

“I know what you mean.”

By the end of their journey this time, they parted with names, numbers and even a few quick kisses having been swapped. 

“I think Dean Winchester-Novak would be even easier to find on Google than Dean Winchester,” Cas would tell Dean one day, three years later. 

"That’s so lame Gabriel must have put you up to it. But yeah, I’ll marry you,” Dean kissed Cas tenderly. “Gabe does have some great ideas sometimes.” 

“Like telling me to ignore my doubts and find you again?”

“That’s definitely one of his finer ideas.”